Captain Osullivan ordered the Main Continent cleaned up, using teams from each of the nine ships in Fourth Fleet.

“That’s so we all smell as bad,” the com officer on the A.S. Beijing was heard to say to the com officer of the A.S. Strongbow. The comment was wisely ignored.

The removal of all the dead Hivers would require combined efforts, since the safest way to dispose of so much carnage was to vaporize it. While that left strong odors behind until the prevailing winds dispersed them, the pheromones matched none that might activate a queen’s response.

“Not that many queens survived that horrendous battle,” Captain Osullivan remarked. “What effect will that have on the real estate we’ll be selling to queens we want to settle there, Mr. Voorhees?”

“Some vegetation thrives on being burned out once in a while,” Voorhees replied. “Whether that holds true for this planet I don’t know, sir, but I do know that the longer we delay getting rid of the corpses, the longer it’s going to take to prepare the vacant facilities for new residents.”

The battlegrounds had to be plowed and decontaminated to remove the taint of the body fluids spilled so futilely. Not many viable crops remained unscathed, but what there were were fertilized with the dung kept in the queens’ facilities for that purpose. The stored eggs in each facility were vacuumed out of their repositories and those were flung into the seas and lakes for whatever denizens lurked there.

“Too bad the Hivers don’t fancy fish,” one of the CPOs on that detail was heard to remark. “Lots of aquatic types.”

The next job, preparing the vacated quarters for new residents, was made easier by Commander Makako’s records of every queen facility on the entire planet. By pointing out the sites of the most recent “boundary” skirmishes, she could show the xenbees where to find the most aggressive ones. These would be kept busy enough in their new quarters to forget about extending their holdings. Her observers had also identified several young queens who had only begun to lay eggs and develop an entourage.

The best job, according to the scuttlebutt of Fourth Fleet, was following the Nose around. Jeff had explained to Pierre Laney the urgency and importance of applying his unique Talent to the minute, but important, differences of smell in queens’ quarters. If the relocation was to work effectively, the queen must think she was still in her original quarters. Once Laney was assured that he was in no personal danger, and how important it was to replicate the distinctive aura in each facility, he accepted the job, and the enormous fee that went with it.

A spare man in his forties, he had indeed a remarkable nose, in size and appearance, for it was, as Cyrano de Bergerac had described his, a veritable rock, a crag, a cape ... a peninsula... of a nose, reddened, with capillaries fanning out on both cheeks. He totally ignored any stares it caused, evidently well accustomed to every kind of reaction, but when he first came on board the Asimov, he had a habit of taking a quick sniff of each area he passed through.

“I can find my way about anywhere in total darkness entirely by scent,” Laney confided in Captain Osullivan, for he was naturally included in the captain’s mess. His manner was always gracious and he was as good a listener as a nose. “Some places are more interesting”—he tapped the tip of his thick nose—“than others.”

“We’re grateful for your willingness to serve,” Captain Osullivan said.

“A change is as good as a rest,” was Pierre’s reply, with a broad smile. “I’ve never been on a spaceship before. For that matter, I’ve never been off Earth.”

He never got tired either, in his relentless tour of the deodorized facilities. He carried a wrist pad on which he made notations.

“Chemical formulas for the distinctive aromas,” he replied to Voorhecs’s query. “However, I rarely forget one.”

“Never thought of these,” Voorhees murmured, gesturing around him at the empty queen quarters that they were currently evaluating, “as aromatic.”

“Oh, they are, whether or not they are also pleasant to smell or so faint that only I can differentiate. Aroma does imply nice, as does scent. Aromatic suggests something stronger. But reek, smell, stink, pong, stench, fetor, redolence, all evoke memories in our minds of other times and places where our olfactory sense has met with that... flavor... on a previous occasion. Think on it,” Pierre Laney suggested. “Aroma, smell, fragrance, whatever...” And he gave a Gallic twist of his hand. “The mind”—he tapped his proboscis—“and the schnozzola remember.”

“Schnozzola?” Voorhees echoed, his eyes protruding in astonishment.

“Schnozzola,” Pierre echoed with a dignified nod of his head. “An ancient comedian with a beak like mine”—he caressed it with an affectionate finger—“made an advantage out of what others would have called a disfigurement. Now, of course”—another Gallic wave of his hand—“physical perfection can be easily achieved.” He shrugged in a dismissal of physical perfection as the ideal. “Now do I get to see the occupied Hives?” he asked.

Voorhees respectfully gestured for Pierre to precede him out into the fresher air, wondering how the queens had turned on the air-circulation device that Thian had mentioned.

They moved more cautiously in their searching and assessment of the quarters of the queens, scheduled to be relocated on the Main continent to relieve the population pressure and the threat of more territorial battles on their continents. Once Laney got over the initial shock of seeing a Hiver queen, propped up on her hind legs watching the green wall screen and whatever messages it conveyed to her, he followed wherever Voorhees and his security team led him.

“I did review tapes taken of the queen at Heinlein Moon Base, you know,” he confided to Voorhees after the first investigation, “when Prime Raven approached me for this assignment. Being in the same ... ah ... chamber with one is quite another matter.”

On his return to the Asimov, he would also concoct, as he called it, the essence of each live queen.

“There are so many to be remembered in such a short time, I should not like to put queen thirteen’s scent where queen thirty-three’s should be. No, no, such a mistake would queer the entire operation,” he explained to the laboratory technicians who assisted him.

The concerned head technician informed Captain Osullivan that the Nose apparently took little sleep.

“Ah, but I need little sleep.” Pierre beamed at such consideration when Etienne Osullivan expressed anxiety over his diligence. “I only require four hours a night, you see. I love my work, you know.” His brown eyes twinkled as he held a cautionary finger to his lips. “I have even discovered several new fragrances from the musk of the queens.”

“Really?” Osullivan was surprised.

“Of course.” Another Gallic shrug. “Many of the most popular perfumes are based on remarkable substances.” He held up his hand, bowing his head as one who is divulging an important fact. “I have made up several, quite passable colognes. Your female officers are kind enough to say they are enchanted.” He winked again.

“So am I!”

“No good did it do them,” Lieutenant Rhodri Eagles remarked dryly, twiddling his thumbs where he had stretched out a long body in one of the comformable chairs in the Talents’ lounge aboard the Constellation-class ship.

The captain gave him a long stare, and as if it had been his idea and not his captain’s look, he straightened up and clasped his hands together.

“Do we know if it took its scout ships with it?” she asked those in the room.

“No sir, we don’t,” said Commander Wayla Gregorian, the science officer.

“Mostly they do,” Rojer said, “or they have no way of getting to and from the sphere when they reach their destination.”

“Unless of course,” Roddie remarked, “they’ve got ground-to-ship transports we’ve never seen.”

“A distinct possibility.” Major Kwan Keiser-Tau frowned at the security risk that could pose.

“However, I’ve never seen any,” Rojer said, from a position of more experience with Hivers than anyone else in the lounge, and looked at Captain Hptml of the KMTM. HAVE YOU, SIR?

The large bronze-colored ’Dini shook its head. HAVE BEEN IN COMBAT WITH SCOUTS. NEVER BEEN TO AN OCCUPIED PLANET WITH LIVE QUEENS. THE POSSIBILITY EXISTS.

“Since your experts”—Major Keiser-Tau inclined his head stiffly but respectfully in Hptml’s direction—“seem to think that the planet Prime Thian explored is atypical and since you, Rojer, were at Xh-33 when its spaceworthy craft were demolished, we shall proceed with caution.”

As ever, Roddie said in a ’pathed aside to the Talents in the room.

His hide gets skinned if we get hurt, Rhodri, Flavia reminded him.

“Prime Raven is anxious for us to reconnoiter,” Captain Soligen said.

The world they were fast approaching had three big, sprawling continents as well as small islands that might once have been connected to the main continents. Ice caps glittered at both north and south poles. There was little seismic activity anywhere, so the planet was old, geologically speaking. The initial probes indicated it was well settled and most of the arable lands had been laid out in typical Hiver field patterns. One of the continents narrowed on the equator so that, from space, it looked like a tightly corseted caricature of a Human figure. Soligen pointed to an area above the “waist,” a wide plain with a range of hills that separated it from the ocean.

“I propose we start with this one. There appears to be a large enough underground area to house scouts.”

“If they have any left,” Roddie said, but he was paying close attention to the briefing.

“Certainly they have no sphere, just the debris that suggests one was in geosynchronous orbit to that field. Helm”—Vestapia raised her wrist com to her mouth—“how soon before we reach orbit?”

“Four hours twenty minutes, Captain.”

She rose. “Very well then, Major”—she turned to the security officer—“assemble a small team to accompany our Primes. I shall be most interested in having a running commentary on your exploration.” She turned at the door leading to her bridge. “The treated hazmat gear is to be worn.”

And don’t forget to brush your teeth and gargle away the garlic, said the irreverent Roddie, though his expression was bland.

I just hope I’m around when you forget and speak those mean thoughts out loud, Flavia said, rising.

“Thank all the gods that I don’t have to go with you. The temperature down there is like Clarf’s,” she added, jerking her thumb at their target on the planet.

“I don’t know about anyone else,” Roddie said, “but my hazmat is able for any temperature.”

“Even the frost when you get cheeky with Vestapia?” Asia asked.

Roddie slowly brought his head around to look down at his youngest sister.

“Look who’s talking about cheek!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands as if in defense. He shot a quick glance at Rojer, who merely smiled at Asia. “I should never have encouraged him to court you.” He laid a hand flat on his chest and appeared wounded to the core. “Serpent to my breast.”

Asia only laughed, and putting a hand on Rojer’s arm, hauled him in the direction of their cabin off the Talents’ lounge.

“Remember,” Roddie called after them, “we have to report in four hours and... ten minutes.”

“Nothing’s stirring, sir,” the sergeant said.

“Not even the dust,” came a low murmur.

“Can it!” the sergeant ordered. “Found what seems to be a manmade ... excuse me, unnatural formation. Spread out there, Monks, see how far it goes. Might be the opening to the underground.”

“Check for anything resembling a... manufactured remote or spotting device.”

Rojer peered past the wiry, shorter security major and then jumped to the ground ... holding up his hand to silence Kwan’s protest.

“Ain’t no one here but us chickens, Major,” Lieutenant Rhodri Eagles observed as he dropped beside the Prime.

Rojer hunkered down to push a finger into the obviously manufactured seam, looking along its length until he saw the scout reach the end and hold up his arm. The man pointed south, indicating the perpendicular direction of the seam.

“This is it, then. There’s enough space to send an optic down.” Rojer indicated the opening.

The major snorted, but beckoned to one of his technicians, who promptly came forward swinging the equipment pack from his back to a ready position. Kneeling by the crack, he inserted the optical wire, pushing it down, then kept his eyes on the dials and the small screen.

“Nothing down there but dust, and some sort of equipment stacked against the far wall. Over there, underneath us,” he said, pointing to well beyond the parked shuttle.

Tell Captain Soligen, Flavia, that the stable’s empty and the barn door’s still locked, Rojer said.

Do I repeat exactly what you tell me, Rojer? There was a ripple of laughter in Flavia’s tone.

Whatever. She likes a good laugh now and then. We’ll move out now, Kwan ever vigilant, to the nearest facility, about two kilometers from here, I’d say, Rojer added, adjusting the glare by darkening his helmet’s visor. “Can we move out now, Major?” he asked politely.

“To the target area, Captain?”

“That’s the idea, Major,” Rojer said, controlling his impatience with the methodical officer, and beckoned for Asia, Mialla Evshenk, Yakamasura and Wayla Gregorian to exit the shuttle.

Nice touch that, though, Asia said, grinning up at her spouse, reminding you that you may be a captain in the Talents’ lounge but he outranks you on the ground.

Roddie was carefully walking the very straight line of the hatch, did an abrupt right-hand turn with military precision, a hundred meters to another right turn, to the other end and around back to them ... leaving a straight line of boot prints to mark out the underground garage.

The rest of the surface team exited the shuttle, and at Keiser-Tau’s gesture, some trotted out to the perimeter, heads turning from side to side in careful survey. Others bracketed the specialists. When his scouts reported in that all was clear, the major signaled them to return. Once his team had reassembled, Keiser-Tau raised his arm and led them at a jog trot up the slight incline from what had been the queens’ landing field.

The terrain altered abruptly into lush green vegetation, obviously cultivated, neat tamped-down earth marking well-used paths.

“They sure do keep a tidy garden,” murmured one of the troopers.

“Maintain silence,” the major said, a scowl in his voice and probably on his face. He stopped at the edge of the cultivation, looking this way and that.

“The queens do not, I repeat, do not see or hear us, Major,” Rojer said.

“If they could hear, the patter of booted feet on an empty chamber would have roused some reaction,” Roddie added.

“As you say, Lieutenant.” Kwan awarded the T-3 a bare turn of his head in acknowledgment.

“Nor should we trample down the fields of corn,” Mialla said, pointing to the neat, well-used paths. “We can easily stick to them. There’s certainly nothing else moving. Major,” she added deferentially.

“Keep to the paths. Sergeant, take the point.”

Mialla used his momentary distraction to snatch a leaf from the nearest plant and was stowing it away in a specimen container before Keiser-Tau could protest.

“Need to analyze everything cogent to the project, Major.” Her remark was not an apology. When that crop ended and a new, feathery plant was visible, she also took samples of that variety.

Following the paths, they came to a T-junction.

“And leading directly to our target too,” Yakamasura said.

The security officer grunted, but despite his scans of the surrounding fields, nothing moved save the top leaves in a light wind.

So quiet you can hear the leaves growing, Asia said to Rojer.

A grunt from the major had the sergeant and two others jogging up the track to a distant pyramidal structure, the slope to its open side plainly visible as a black maw.

“We can move out now.” Keiser-Tau’s raised arm gave them a needless direction.

Both Mialla Evshenk and Yakamasura paused long enough to gather botanical and soil samples on their way, a patient rear guard stopping as they did so.

I didn’t think a Hiver world would look so grand, Asia confided to Rojer. There was just enough room on the path for her to jog beside him.

That’s because you’ve only seen the ruined ones before. Xh-33 is... was like this, he said, shaking his head. The Columbia had received copies of the Xh-33 massacre. Rojer had been particularly horrified by the slaughter, since he remembered his probes across the orderly landscape now ruined by war.

Major Keiser-Tau halted them twenty meters from the slope into the facility. He sent the sergeant to the vantage point of the top of the pyramid and the man adjusted his visor for distance, turning slowly as he searched for movement. He paused, stiffened and pointed. The major adjusted his helmet, but he had to join the taller sergeant on the structure to see what had alerted him.

“A group of inbound workers from the look of them,” he said. “Up here, everyone. We’ll let them precede us. Some appear to be carrying leaves and things.”

Without haste, the specialists joined the major and his troopers, where they too could see the advance of swaying backs.

“All in step too, looks like,” someone murmured.

“Worse’n boot camp,” another anonymous voice added.

“Silence.”

Roddie twiddled with a setting on his helmet. “MAYDAY! MAYDAY!”

“Cut out the nonsense,” Rojer said, because the major had gone into a crouch and his troopers had drawn their weapons.

“I told you they wouldn’t hear us.”

The major walked up to the T-3, his face contorted with rage. He was a full head shorter than Rhodri Eagles. “You’re on report, Lieutenant.”

“Yes sir,” the lieutenant replied briskly, saluting.

Roddie! Asia said in exasperation. One day one of these funny little things you think up is going to backfire on you.

So everyone tells me, Rhodri said with a carefully ’pathed sigh.

The surface party watched the stalwart workers trundling along, their backs loaded with freshly plucked wide, red-veined leaves.

“Like chard,” murmured Mialla Evshenk softly.

The burdens covered most of the creatures so that details of their appearance were obscured. They counted one hundred pairs of workers descending toward the facility. Still in impeccable files, they walked around to the entrance slope and disappeared into the maw. A mechanical rumble startled everyone.

“Sending the harvest to the processors,” Rojer said. “Remember the data from Thian’s downside visit?”

“Oh yes, of course,” Yakamasura said, smiling with relief.

Keiser-Tau gestured to another technician, who activated a handheld device, turning it as it followed movement below.

“Life-forms are now in a short tunnel and proceeding into a low wide...” one of the technicians reported, his handheld sensor following the movement.

Hole in the wall, said Roddie Eagles, irrepressibly.

“... stable or some sort of holding place.” A long pause. “No more movement there, sir.”

“Where is there movement, Corporal?” the major demanded.

The corporal walked, as if on eggs, across the top of the structure and then stopped at the edge of the roof. “Farther below, out in that direction, sir.”

“Laid out just as Thian’s planet was,” Rojer said. “And Xh-33, though I never got into the queens’ quarters.” He gestured for the major to lead on.

We need GC readings everywhere... and samples of any dirt, Flavia said. And keep talking. To me, if not to the major.

So Rojer described everything as the ever vigilant major led them cautiously down the slope. Yakamasura and Mialla took dirt samples, having to dig with their bootheels to loosen enough tamped earth to fill their containers.

Once inside the structure...

“Ooops. GC is picking up a high concentration of selenoaldehydes and selenoketones, sir.”

Rojer reported that to Flavia.

“Night visor on,” the major ordered needlessly. Everyone had already adjusted their helmets to see in the underground darkness.

“The workers would have dumped their loads down a ramp directly in front of us, and the moving belts are still taking the stuff wherever it needs to go,” Rojer said. “The tunnel to the queen’s quarters should be to our left.” He felt a vague sensation of uneasiness, yet with Thian’s report to reassure him, he couldn’t imagine what he need worry about.

The major grunted and signaled for advance scouts to go left.

“Tall narrow tunnels all right enough, sir,” was the report.

“D’you think we could have a look at where the workers went?” Yakamasura asked wistfully.

“Is that necessary?” Keiser-Tau asked.

“Well, if this report is to be as complete as Prime Thian’s was, then we should,” he replied in his most conciliatory manner.

“Corporal, take four men and Dr. Yakamasura...”

“Me too, please,” Mialla said, putting up her hand.

“And Dr. Evshenk...” The major’s sigh was audible over the com.

When they had come to the end of the long narrow tunnel which Rojer described as well as he could—his apprehension still keen—their emergence into the queen’s lair was almost anticlimactic. In fact, it was almost a duplicate of Thian’s visuals. Scuttling things were running around on the floor, and the queen, sitting among the attendants who were busy stroking and cleaning her many limbs, had her black eyes on the quivering, changing wall screen.

I’ve been here before, Rojer said to Asia, who squeezed his hand and, ever so slightly, pulled him back the way they had just come. Nothing new or any different.

“We need GC readings, Prime,” the major said, and held out something to Rojer. “And this remote is to be placed...”

Rojer took the remote, removed the strip from the adhesive on the back of it and ’ported it into place, exactly where Thian had positioned his.

Now, let’s get out of here, Asia said. Something is butting into me.

“Could we be under attack, sir?” the sergeant asked, shifting his weight and lifting first one leg and then the other, trying to look all around him at the same time. Rounded beetles were buffeting him.

“Same thing happened to my brother, Sergeant,” Rojer said, with as much reassurance as he could. “Just more of the queen attendants.”

I’ll say one thing. There was an odd touch of pride in Rhodri Eagles’s voice. She isn’t as big as my queen at Heinlein Base.

“We’ll need to find scraps, fragments, something metallic, Major, for carbon dating of this facility,” Rojer said.

“Sabin, can you find any metallic refuse in the workers’ garage?” Major Keiser-Tau said over the com, but he spoke softly, as if he too was impressed by being in the presence of the queen.

“Yes sir. Some sort of tool. Some broken bits just scattered about.”

“That may suffice. Now let’s get out of here before they begin to smell us,” the security officer said.

If he had cautiously led the specialists to the chamber, he now rapidly led them all out again and into the wide-open spaces. There were many sighs of relief heard over the connected coms.

How many of these do we have to go into, Rojer? Asia asked.

Oh, we have to do a fair number to make a valid report, honey... He felt the least bit of a reluctance she was trying to hide from him. But you don’t have to go to another, if you don’t want to.

Asia stood up as tall as she could, which was not quite to Rojer’s shoulder. Where you go, I go. But it is spooky down there.

No. Asia brought her hands up to her suit, startled by his observation. We don’t. Trust you to remember that.

I kept waiting for it, Rojer said, only just realizing that that was what he had been anticipating.

Fooled me too, Roddie admitted with a sheepish grin he allowed only the two Talents to see.

They felt the sting-pzzt, though, the moment they opened their helmets back in the shuttle. Sabin had draped a lumpy sack over his feet from which emanated the unique Hiver pheromones. The return ‘portation took seconds, and the moment the deck officer opened the shuttle door, the three Talents ’ported themselves to the lounge.

“What on earth ...” Flavia began when she saw all three lifting an arm and smelling it.

“Well, it didn’t stick to us,” Rojer said with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“What didn’t stick?”

Rojer explained on his way to his bedroom, Asia on his heels, both peeling down the hazmat suits as they walked.

“The sting-pzzt, for one thing,” Rojer said.

“Sweat and dust for another,” Asia said, and waggled her fingers at Flavia before she palmed the door shut.

“There’s still room for more Hives.” Yakamasura agreed with Mialla Evshenk.

“But it would be better if there were fewer, rather than more, queens,” she said, giving a satisfied punch to the key that finished her personal evaluation of their efforts. “So where do we go from here?”

“Doubtless, we’ll be asked to accept a message tube with that information,” Roddie said, yawning hugely and settling his frame more comfortably on the couch.

A rap on the door from the bridge startled everyone just as an eerie chuckle touched the minds of the Talented.

“Come in, Captain,” Flavia called, having checked who was knocking. “New orders seem to be on their way.”

You guessed it, Flavia, said Earth Prime. Message tube coming in, and if the captain has her resupply list...

Warn her. The flimsies in Captain Soligen’s hand suddenly disappeared.

“How did that happen?” She looked around the room, glaring at Roddie.

“Earth Prime effected immediate acceptance of your supply list, Vestapia,” Flavia said, managing to keep a straight face. “I didn’t have time to warn you. And here...” She held out her hands, cocking one eyebrow briefly, as she ’ported a pillow into them. A message tube landed square on the pillow. “... are our orders, ma’am,” she added with a flourish of her hand.

Vestapia looked down at her right hand, fingers still in a gripping position, then at the message tube, and slowly walked over to it.

“I suppose just about the time I get used to the vagaries of Talent, I’ll lose you.” She poked at the tube and jumped back when Rojer, using kinesis, opened it and the tightly packed data disks spilled onto the carpet.

“Not anytime soon, I hope,” Rojer said, meaning it.

Vestapia picked up the packet with the Admiralty seal on it and broke it open, scanning the contents. “Famous last words,” she said, clicking her tongue, and looked at Rojer. “Earth Prime needs you, and Asia, to help with Operation Switch.”

“Operation Switch?” Rojer asked, confused.

Roddie, craning his head around to the data disks on the floor, read the titles and flipped one into Rojer’s hand. “Operation Switch! All the data you need for background on the new and spectacular Xh-33 real estate program.” He clasped his hands behind his head and stretched out again. “Better you than me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Vestapia said ambiguously, and returned to the bridge.

Zara’s tone brightened immediately. I do. She chuckled. Using the principle that the last place you look is the right one, I started at Ward Nineteen. She chuckled again. There was considerable wagering...

That’s also why I was going to call you. Zara’s tone turned grim. The very honorable Gktmglnt is going to have to convince the older keepers that they must depart from tradition, by eliminating the valeric acid analog and reducing the phenol content, to regulate reproduction. The younger ones, and I am blessed by having only one old fart flapping about in dismay over interrupting “creation,” see the sense of the process. They’re quite willing to go along with it, although lota Aurigae must be the only world where we could use all the ’Dinis that can be created—at least while mining is in an intensive stage to supply more Washington class ships. Pass the word along to Grandfather and Gollee Gren. They’ll see that those who need to know will be informed. I’m tubing the formal stuff directly to you, Elizara.

Thanks! Elizara was aware of Zara’s pride in having achieved such a notable success.

My ’Dinis are real pleased too. They helped me every step of the way, arguing with the old fart—its name is Frtlmp, so that word fits it perfectly. Elizara had no trouble imaging a malicious expression on Zara’s face as she said that, and the medical Prime laughed out loud. It wouldn’t know what I meant even if I spoke its nickname out loud.

Pal and Dis would, Elizara said, still chuckling.

Especially on those, Elizara said. Furthermore, it would be easier to explain the noncreation in the Fleets.

Thanks, dear, Elizara said as she heard the message tube rattle into the basket behind her. Again, you’ve done very well.

Thank you. And if Elizara thought that Zara had responded in an unusually modest tone, she was right. Her experience in the hibernatory, especially curing the victims of the Clarf disaster, had matured her as a healer and as a person. We will have to do more field tests, as it were, to be sure it works on all ’Dini color groups.