Hellstrom's Hive by Frank Herbert Read Free Book Online

specialty is concerned. We have found nothing incriminating.”
    â€œWhat about planting something on him?”
    â€œIt is contraindicated because of his stature in education. Too many would believe his protestations.”
    She sat back then, quiet for a moment. Presently, she said,“You will inform the Chief that there must be a profit in this somewhere. We are not satisfied.”
    Not satisfied! Peruge thought, tapping his finger impatiently on the taxi’s black plastic seat. But they were afraid, and that was enough for the time being. If the actual material of the Project 40 file panned out, if it developed along the lines he and the Chief had purposely not reported, there would be profits enough for all, including Dzule Peruge. It would never be a weapon, of course. The thing created too much heat in its own circuits. But at low temperatures, that heat might be translated into an induced heat for metal and plastic products. At the very least, it would transform metallurgy, reducing present costs by a breathtaking factor. There’d be profit in that!

 
    Brood instructions for selected workers. We use the language of the Outside, but with our own meanings. It is important that the key distinctions not be confused. The practices of concealment demand this. Because we are virtually defenseless against the best forces of the Outside, our major defense remains in their never learning that we live among them, patterning ourselves after Hive creatures.
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    As the afternoon above Hellstrom’s valley wore on, Depeaux began reflecting on the briefing sessions with Merrivale. It was a matter of emphasis, but he began to wonder just how many agents had been wasted on this project. Merrivale was a very queer duck—that damned affected British accent and all. There had been times when he gave off the distinct impression that he admired Hellstrom. It was Merrivale’s pattern to admire only success, but it was an admiration always tinged with fear. The closer to Merrivale the success occurred, the greater his fear.
    The isolated valley continued to bake in the hot autumn sun. Depeaux grew somnolent and there were moments when his eyelids drooped.
    He forced himself to concentrate on the farm buildings. If the last reports were to be believed, Hellstrom himself was somewhere down there in one of those buildings. Nothing showed itself to confirm this assumption, however.
    Why would Merrivale admire Hellstrom?
    An abrupt slamming sound shocked Depeaux into full awareness. He saw movement at the far-left corner of the barn-studio. A wheeled cart came into view. It was an odd vehicle, reminiscent of an old-fashioned railway baggage cart, the hand-pulled kind used in stations. It had high slat sides and big spoked wheels. A high-pitched voice called out a command from somewhere behind the building, but Depeaux could not make out the words. It had sounded like “work a load.” That made no sense, though.
    A young woman strode from behind the barn to the front of the cart and, at first, Depeaux thought she was nude. The binoculars revealed skin-colored briefs, but she wore no bra, no blouse. Her feet were tucked into sandals.
    The powerful glasses put Depeaux right up next to the young woman as she lowered a steering bar that had been caught upright at the front of the cart. She had firm breasts with dark nipples. He was so intent on watching her that he almost missed the approach of another young woman clad the same way, noticing her only when a strange third hand entered his field of vision. The young women were enough alike to be sisters, but they didn’t fit the descriptions he had of the women who served as officers of Hellstrom’s corporation. Their hair was light gold.
    The young women took the steering bar and, pulling on it, trundled the cart toward the north gate. They moved with a bouncing urgency Depeaux found inconsistent with the long wait that box had enjoyed outside the gate.