Hellstrom's Hive

“Does that shock you?” Hellstrom asked.

He was a blond man of medium build, whose appearance suggested no more than the thirty-four years Depeaux knew the Agency’s records credited to him. There was a great sense of internal dignity about Hellstrom, a sense of purpose that revealed itself in the way his blue eyes held a direct stare on anything or anyone of interest to him. There was a feeling about him that he contained more energy than he released.

Hellstrom stood in a laboratory confronting his captive, who had been tied into a plastic chair. The laboratory was a place of polished metal and gleaming white surfaces, of glass and instrument dials illuminated by a flat milky light that came from a coving completely around the ceiling’s edge.

Depeaux had awakened here. He did not know how long he had been unconscious, but his mind was still fogged. Hellstrom stood in front of him, and two completely naked women guarded him. He knew he was paying too much attention to the women, another pair of amazons, but he couldn’t help it.

“I see it shocks you,” Hellstrom said.

“Guess it does at that,” Depeaux admitted. “I’m not used to seeing so much naked female flesh around me.”

“Female flesh,” Hellstrom said and clucked his tongue.

“Don’t they mind us talking about them this way?” Depeaux asked.

“They do not understand us,” Hellstrom said. “Even if they did, they would not understand your attitude. It is a typical Outsider attitude, but I never fail to find it strange.”

Depeaux tried a cautious testing pull at the bindings that held him to the chair. He had awakened with his head throbbing, and it still ached. There was a pain right behind his eyes and he had no idea of how much time had passed. He recalled starting to speak to the three young women his flashlight had revealed, then he’d been startled into silence by the sudden awareness that many more similar figures filled the darkness all around him. A confused welter of memories clouded that recollection. God, his mind still felt so thick. He remembered speaking, an innocuous and stupid response brought about by fear and shock. “This is where I left my bicycle.”

Christ! He’d been standing there, holding the damned bicycle, but those opaque diving masks had daunted him. They gave no clue to the eyes behind them or to intentions. The wavering double wands aimed at him could only mean threat. He had no idea what those wands were, but a weapon was a weapon was a weapon. The double wands branched from short handles which the young women gripped with a firm sense of competence. The tips of the instruments emitted a low hum that he could hear when he held his breath, wondering if he dared try to break through the circle. As he wondered, a night bird swooped toward the influttering insects attracted by his flashlight. As the bird swept past him, a figure in the dim area beyond the light raised her double wand. There came a sudden dry hissing, the same sound he had heard all around him crossing the fields. The bird collapsed in the air and plummeted to the ground. A woman scrambled forward, stuffed the bird into a sack at her shoulder. He saw then that many of the women carried such sacks and that the sacks bulged.

“I—I hope I’m not trespassing,” Depeaux ventured. “I was told this was a good area for my hobby. I like—to watch birds.” As he spoke, he thought how stupid that sounded.

What in hell were those wands? That bird hadn’t even flopped once. Hiss-bang! Merrivale hadn’t said anything about this. Could this be Project 40, for God’s sake? Why didn’t the crazy broads around him say something? It was as though they hadn’t heard him—or didn’t understand him. Did they speak another language?

“Look,” he said, “my name is—”

And that was all he could remember, except for another brief burst of that odd hissing-hum off to his left and, yes, the painful sensation that his head had exploded. He remembered that now: explosive pain within his skull. His head still ached as he stared up at Hellstrom. Those wands had done it; no doubt of that. The two women standing guard behind him carried the same weapons, although they weren’t wearing the masks of the group that had encircled him.

I’m in the soup, he thought. Nothing to do but brazen it out. “Why do you have me tied up?” he asked.

“Don’t waste our time with the ingenuous approach,” Hellstrom said. “We must keep you secured until we decide how to dispose of you.”

Depeaux, his throat painfully dry, his heart suddenly pounding, said, “That’s a nasty word, that dispose. I don’t like that word.”

Hellstrom sighed. Yes, it had been a poor choice of words. He was tired and it had been a long night and it wasn’t over yet. Damn these Outside intruders! What did they really want? He said, “My apologies. I don’t mean to cause you needless worry or discomfort. But you are not the first person we have caught here in similar circumstances.”

Depeaux experienced an abrupt sensation of deja vu. He felt that he was reliving something half-remembered because it had not been his own experience, but something that had happened to someone close to him. Porter? He hadn’t been all that close to Porter, but . . .

“And you disposed of these others, too?” Depeaux asked.

Hellstrom ignored the question. This was all so distasteful. He said, “Your credentials identify you as a salesman for a fireworks company. One of the others who intruded here worked for this identical company. Isn’t that strange?”

Depeaux forced his words through a dry mouth. “If his name was Porter, there’s nothing strange about it at all. He told me about this place.”

“No doubt a fellow bird watcher,” Hellstrom said. He turned his back on Depeaux. Was there no other way to meet this threat?

Depeaux recalled the bird the woman had knocked from the night sky. What was that weapon? Was it the answer to the mystery of Project 40? He decided to try another tack. “I saw some of your women friends kill a bird last night. They shouldn’t do that. Birds are an important part of—”

“Oh, be still!” Hellstrom spoke without turning. “Of course they killed a bird—and insects, rabbits, mice, and quite a few other creatures as well. We couldn’t waste the night sweep just picking you up.”

Depeaux shook his head. Night sweep? “Why do they do that?” he asked.

“For food, naturally.”

Hellstrom glanced back at his captive. “I must have time to consider the problem raised by your presence. I don’t suppose you’ll drop your subterfuges and tell me the whole story?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Depeaux protested, but he was sweating profusely and knew Hellstrom could read that sign.

“I see,” Hellstrom said. He sounded sad. “Do not try to escape. The two workers there know they must kill you if you try to get away. There’s no sense trying to talk to them. They don’t speak. They’re also quite jumpy; they can smell your difference. You are an Outsider in our midst and they’ve been trained to dispose of such intruders. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Hellstrom strode from the room, pushing aside a sliding door. Before it closed, Depeaux glimpsed a wide corridor filled with milky light and thronging with humans—males and females, and all completely nude. Two of them passed the door as Hellstrom left, causing him to hesitate. The two, both women, carried what appeared to be a naked male body, the head and arms flopping, swaying.