Hellstrom's Hive

“How could they let those—those Outsiders get away with that bicycle?” Hellstrom stormed.

He stood almost in the center of Hive Central Security, a chamber deep within the Hive that could tap into and repeat the data collected from any of its internal and external sensors. The room lacked only the positive direct visual backup of the barn aerie to make it the most important security post in the Hive. Hellstrom often preferred this backup post to the aerie. The sense of bustling workers whose activities spread outward all around gave him a feeling of protection that he believed helped his thought processes.

Saldo, who had made the report, shuddered under the combined weight of Hellstrom’s wrath and of complex personal knowledge not only of the danger this development brought, but of the judgment error that went directly back to the prime male. Saldo was shaken in his innermost being. If only Hellstrom had heeded the words of warning. If only . . . But it would not be wise to remind Hellstrom of this as yet.

“Our surveillance workers did not know what was happening until it was too late,” Saldo explained. “Fancy had emerged earlier and they were lulled into a sense of complacency. A closed truck drove up. Four men went into Peruge’s room and two of them emerged with the bicycle. They were driving away before our people could get across the street and try to stop them. We pursued, but they were prepared for that and we were not. Another truck blocked our pursuit and let them get away. They were at the airport and the bicycle was gone before we could catch up.”

Hellstrom closed his eyes. His mind felt clotted with foreboding. He opened his eyes and said, “And all this time, Fancy was down the street at the restaurant eating Outsider foods.”

“We’ve always known how she is about that,” Saldo said. “It’s a defect.” He made the vat sign, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“No.” Hellstrom shook his head. “Don’t be too quick to discount her value to us. Fancy’s not yet ready for the vats. Where is she right now?”

“Still at the restaurant.”

“I thought I ordered her brought in.”

Saldo shrugged.

Of course, Hellstrom thought. The workers were fond of Fancy and many of them knew about her defect. What harm was there in letting her finish a meal of exotic Outsider food? Fondness could be a defect, too. “Have her picked up and brought back immediately,” he ordered.

“I should’ve ordered that myself at once,” Saldo admitted. “No excuse. I was at my station monitoring our communications with town when—no excuse. All I thought of was hurrying down the gallery to you.”

“I understand.” Hellstrom indicated a communications console ahead of him.

Saldo moved to the station quickly, relayed Hellstrom’s order. It felt good to be taking positive action, but his deeper disturbance was not eased. What did Hellstrom mean with his mysterious allusions to Fancy’s value? How could she possibly help save the Hive with such behavior? But the older ones often did know things denied to the younger. Most of the Hive’s workers knew this. It did not seem possible that Fancy was helping, but the possibility could not be denied in the face of Hellstrom’s positive assertion.