“Those of you without other tasks,” he said, “see that no sign of our activities remains here. I do not know all of your talents as Old Harvey did, but you know them. Divide yourselves according to your abilities. No one of you is to return to the Hive until it is done. I will remain until the last to inspect the job.”
He stooped, recovered the flashlight he had left beside the Outsider female, extinguished it, put it in his pocket. Workers already had bound the female and were ready to take her back to the Hive. It saddened Saldo that he would never see her again. He didn’t think he wanted to watch the questioning. A sudden anger at Outsider stupidity shook him. They were such fools! Whatever happened to her, she deserved it.
Saldo glanced around at his troop. They were busy obeying his orders and they appeared content on the surface, but he sensed an air of uncertainty underneath. They knew how young and untried he was. They obeyed out of habit. In truth, they were still obeying Harvey. But Harvey had made a fatal mistake. Saldo promised himself that he would not make such a mistake.
“Get down on your hands and knees and be thorough,” he said. “Two of the nightmasks were shattered. There will be splinters to recover. Get them all.”
Saldo wandered up through the tall grass toward the place where he knew two of his troop were readying the vehicle for removal to the Hive. She had come down this way, that Outsider female. How odd it was that they wandered around freely when they were fertile, as though they had no concern whatsoever about selecting the best male for breeding. In truth, they were not like a brood mother at all. They were merely wild, fertile females. Perhaps someday, when there were many hives, such wild females would be captured and put to proper breeding, or they would be neutered and employed in useful work.
Some of the cattle that had fled the scene of disturbance had returned, drawn by curiosity, no doubt. They were bunching up in the open below the place where his troop worked, and they were facing the troop. The smell of blood and the noise had left them on edge, but they offered no threat. The cattle could not see his workers, but his workers could see the cattle. Saldo held his stunwand at the ready and moved to place himself between the cattle and his troop. A good imagination could guard against the unexpected. If the cattle charged, they would be knocked down by one sweep of his stunwand.
As he moved, Saldo stared off across the rangeland toward the distant glow of the town, a dim reflection on clouds. It wasn’t likely anyone that far away had heard the shooting, but even if they had, they would be sensible. Townsmen had learned to be reticent and cautious about Guarded Valley. The Hive possessed a buffer there, too, in the person of the district deputy sheriff, Lincoln Kraft. He was Hive-born and one of the most successful fronts they’d ever produced. Other Hive observers moved as ordinary Outsiders in the town, as well. There were even more important fronts in the Outside world. Saldo had seen two of them when they visited the Hive: a senator and a judge. They filled dangerous posts that someday would not be needed.
The sounds of his troop busily carrying out his orders pleased Saldo. He sniffed at the night air, detected a smell of gunpowder. Only the Hive-trained would be likely to recognize that now. It was but a faint trace among many other odors.
The cattle began to quiet down and a few left the bunched herds to graze. This annoyed Saldo. Bunched up, the cows did not offer temptation, but he knew how disturbed his workers were. One of them could conceivably take a lone cow. That must be prevented. This would be Hive land someday, and they might even have their own cattle. But for now, such protein cost too much in plant energy. Such wastefulness must be left to the profligate Outsiders and their cattle must not be molested on this night. Nothing to attract unwanted attention must occur here.
Saldo returned to his workers, moved among them, speaking in a low voice. They must not take any cattle. There must be time for this earth to conceal marks that were not erased. No suspicious Outsiders must appear here for as long as possible.
Someday, Saldo told himself, there would be other hives, many of them sprung from this one parent he served which now must conceal all trace of itself from the Outsiders. For now, they must be cautious and guard their future. They owed this to generations of countless workers as yet unborn.
The words of Nils Hellstrom.
Our main breeding lines must be designed with the utmost attention to Hive necessities. In this, we walk a much tighter edge than do the insects who provide us with our model for survival. Their life begins as ours, with fertilization of a single cell, but the miracle of creation differs for us from that point onward. In the time it takes a single human embryo to develop, an insect can produce over four hundred billion of his own kind. We can increase our Hive birthrate many times over, but never can we hope to match this proliferation.
A worker came down the beaten-grass path from the Hive, waving to attract Saldo’s attention. There was still no sign of dawnlight, but it had turned colder as it often did here just before daybreak. The worker stopped in front of Saldo and spoke in a low voice. “Someone’s coming from the Hive.”
“Who?”
“I think it is Nils himself.”
Saldo turned his attention in the direction indicated by the worker, recognized the oncoming figure by his gait. Yes, it was Nils. He wore a nightmask, but carried no wand. Saldo put down a sense of relief tempered by a surge of displeasure. His decisions had been the correct ones, but Hellstrom chose to come personally. Immediately, Saldo chided himself. He could almost hear the reprimand in Harvey’s aging voice: Isn’t that what you would do? The leader of the Hive could do no less. This thought restored Saldo’s feeling of calm competence. He greeted Hellstrom casually.
Hellstrom stopped a few paces from Saldo, examined the scene before speaking. He had seen Saldo at the instant the younger worker had identified him. The recognition had been obvious in Saldo’s movements. The loss of Old Harvey touched Hellstrom deeply, but he noted with approval that Saldo was doing all the necessary things. Saldo had the instincts of a good protector.
“Tell me what has happened and what you have done,” Hellstrom said.
“Have you had no report from the ones I sent to you?”
“They reported, but I would prefer that the leader of this search troop give me his own assessment. Sometimes, workers miss important things.”
Saldo nodded. Yes, that was wise. He told Hellstrom of the discovery of the Outsider female, the shooting, left out no detail, even to the wound on his own jaw.
“Should your wound be treated?” Hellstrom asked, peering at it. What devilish bad luck if they lost Saldo, too!
“It’s a minor wound,” Saldo said. “No worse than a small burn.”
“Take care of it as soon as you return.”
Saldo heard concern for him in Hellstrom’s voice, was warmed by it.
“I heard Old Harvey choose you as his second-in-command,” Hellstrom said.
“I was his choice.” Saldo spoke with calm confidence.
“Have any of the others displayed evidence of resenting this?”
“Nothing serious.”
Hellstrom liked that answer. It said Saldo was aware of incipient challenges but felt able to deal with them. He no doubt could deal with them, too. Saldo carried himself well. He possessed a sure sense of rightness. There was about him that unspoken air of dominance. It must be tempered, though.