But as they were on their way to their rooms, in superficial innocence, a noise developed outside. Knot peered out the window, as any citizen would do. “There’s a fire out there!” he exclaimed.
It is the mutiny, the bees explained.
Somehow Knot had not thought of it as a building-burning escapade. I thought the hive was only showing its power, making a demonstration, not actually trying to kill people.
We do not mean to kill people, only to get their attention so they will negotiate. We must show them our power, yes, but in a manner they cannot ignore. We must show them that we can destroy them. You would not present our case, so now war begins.
Knot shook that off. He still did not care to accept the blame for a war. Obviously he had underestimated the destructive potential of the hive. Some of your bees are pyro-psis?
No. We are a stable, superior species. We breed only telepaths. The rats are less advanced, less stable; they have pyros and other weed talents.
Weed talents. Add another major concept to the arsenal! By that definition, human beings were the weediest of all.
Still, bee definitions aside, it made sense. The rats were larger, longer-lived creatures; they would have had fewer generations aboard spaceships, and less chance to work into a stable mutant form. They would still have a tremendous number of deleterious mutations, and a few positive. They would have the wide range of psi talents that man did. That had been evident when Hermine got caught by the rat trap in the solar station. That, in fact, had been Knot’s first intimation that the animals were developing psi powers comparable to those of man. So much had happened since that experience that he had not had occasion to dwell properly on the significance of that discovery. He really should have done so.
The rats cooperate with the bees? Knot inquired.
For now. We bees are better unified and disciplined. The hive coordinates.
The hive coordinated the talents of the other animals. It thus became their version of the Coordination Computer. This could certainly be a serious threat. The lobos represented one problem, but perhaps they were only one of a coincidental complex of problems, any of which could eventually destroy CC. Literal bugs in the governing machine could bring it down soon enough. CC would have to do some major overhauling of its policies, to survive the rise of the animal kingdoms. No wonder Hermine had been so anxious about his refusal to cooperate.
Of course it’s serious, the bees agreed with a certain species pride. If need be, we shall destroy your kind and govern the planet in your stead.
That suggestion put it back into perspective. Bees running a planet? Ludicrous! Oh, I think mankind will not be destroyed in one night, Knot thought tolerantly. Still, he realized, incendiary rats could make a lot of mischief in a city. What will happen when the rats and the hive start disputing for territory between themselves?
We will destroy the rats, the bees thought.
Uh huh. And soon the planet would be in chaos, as one species after another tried simplistic solutions to their problems. Man, at least, had been well broken in. No new species would gain, in the long run. Maybe he should have tried to negotiate a peaceful settlement; at least he could have educated the hive somewhat.
A flash of movement caught Knot’s eye in the wan light. The colored roaches were running about nervously, and beginning to fade into translucency. That meant danger. Personal, immediate threat.
Knot put a hand down for one to climb on. It was the yellow one. “Hey, Yelbug—what’s the matter?” he murmured. But the roach was unable to tell him.
The weasel is sending, the bees thought faintly. The matter is urgent.
Knot concentrated on Hermine, but read nothing. Too far away for me to receive, he thought back. Can you bees read her?
Yes. Then, in response to his prompting, they relayed the message: Mit says the lobos will burn this house tonight. Hurry.
So the roaches’ fear was justified! How quickly a seeming vacation and recuperation period had become the familiar nightmare of combat and chase. The lobos intended to take advantage of the cover provided by the creature mutiny to eliminate their enemy without implicating themselves. Clever, ruthless, efficient; exactly what he should have anticipated from Piebald. Finesse had planned to trick the lobos by moving out a day early; Piebald planned to strike similarly early.
Tell Finesse, he thought to the bees. He had not joined the hive, but they were allies at the moment, since a fire would wipe them all out together.
Finesse had gone to the bedroom. The bees buzzed off in tight formation. Knot set down Yelbug, then ambled into the bedroom and lay down on his bed in his clothes, as though too lazy to undress properly yet. He wasn’t sure what kind of observation the lobos might have operating now, with the failure of electricity, but wasn’t taking any chances. They were not unduly dependent on electrical tools anyway. Everything had to seem normal for the circumstance.
He lay there, rehearsing escape plans. He would have to gather the roaches and rats, coordinate with Finesse in the dark, and make early contact with Hermine. From that point, Mit’s clairvoyance would govern. Once they got clear of the house, they merely had to keep Finesse and Klisty out of sight. Knot could walk openly, knowing he would soon be cleanly for gotten. Unless the lobos decided to shoot him with a laser, and blame the killing on looters.
Knot decided that he, too, had best remain hidden, as much as possible. Their preplanned route to the space shuttle should still be good; it existed only in their minds. If it was unsafe, Mit and the invisible roaches would advise him. Except how could he see that they were invisible, in the dark? And how could he be sure that he hadn’t simply misplaced them? Be a shame to act precipitously because the roaches could not be detected in one pocket, only to discover them in another.
Certainly there was danger, but with the animal allies and Finesse’s psi they should be able to navigate safely through. He hoped. Their formidable collection of psi talents no longer seemed like such a perfect shield. He was concerned, but not really alarmed—or so he would convey to the others.
Finesse should have the message and be ready now. Knot rose silently, and found her waiting for him. Klisty stood in the hall; Finesse must have sent the bees to alert her too. Good.
This time they all left the house from the window, dropping silently behind bushes as Knot had the prior night. Again the houndcats were out—but they hesitated to approach the vicinity of the escapees. Finesse’s psi was at work.
The lobos were out too. Bear right, the bees advised, relaying Hermine’s directive. There is a lobo behind the bush ahead of you. He hears you but will forget.
They bore right, avoiding the lobo. They threaded their way through a gap in the hedge and stood outside the estate, looking back. The house was silhouetted before the light of fires in the near distance. There was no sign of occupancy, but it was the same with the neighboring houses. All the residents were lying low, waiting for the authorities to get the situation under control, as they had been advised to do before the power failed. Macho citizens weren’t so macho at a time like this. Presumably many couples were passing the time by making love, as was traditional in such situations. Knot wouldn’t have minded being free to do that too.
A small breeze rose, carrying toward the house. “Stations ready?” a communicator box inquired. So they had independently powered equipment; that made sense. “Spread the ignitant; this has to burn fast and hot to catch them before they can escape. Fire the adjacent estates too; it has to look like random animal arson.”
The nearest lobo went to work, spraying flammable mist toward the house. Knot stood and watched, sorry that the property of the gross one’s brother, their benefactor, was about to be destroyed, but knowing that any attempt to interfere would be foolish. It was best to let the lobos believe that the three visitors had died in the flames—for now.
Still, this galled him. Knot decided to exert his inconveniently individualistic nature again. Will the hive summon a real arson animal
? he asked the bees. To fire the terrain behind the lobos?
There was something like an insect chuckle as they assimilated his mental image. Agreed.
The roaches stirred in his pocket. We must move out, he thought, and reached out to squeeze Finesse’s arm in warning.
They hurried away. The lobos, intent on their own mischief, were not aware of the escaping party. Even the tightest of the traps became pervious when clairvoyance was involved.
Then the lobos fired the brush. Enhanced by the ignitant, it burst into violent flame that the wind fanned rapidly toward the house.
And behind the lobos, a rat ran—and fire blazed up in its track, a line of it burning toward the lobos. In a moment the closure was complete; the arsonists were trapped in their own mischief. Knot smiled grimly and turned away; he couldn’t stay to watch the fun.
Naughty man! Hermine’s faint, admiring thought came. He must have been projecting his mood.
“Problem,” Finesse murmured. “The route I’d worked out goes through the lower-class housing region—and Mit says that is about to be torched.”
“But the high-class neighborhoods won’t be safe either,” Knot pointed out. “The lobos will be watching them. They hate the Macho upper class and want to destroy it; they’ll be concentrating on the best estates.”
“Yes. So we have to hide elsewhere.” She frowned; he could make out her expression more by the set of her body than by her shadowed face. “But tonight fire is a danger anywhere.”
“I could locate a water conduit,” Klisty said eagerly. “That’s the safest place, if there’s fire.”
What does Mit say to that? Knot asked Hermine. He saw that Finesse was now carrying the weasel and crab, having picked them up when Knot wasn’t paying attention. With their psi, rendezvous was easy.
He says it gets complicated, Hermine replied. We should stay above ground as long as possible.
So be it. They wended their way through the city, losing themselves in its streets. People were coming out in increasing numbers, becoming aware of the fires. Soon the limited reserve power failed, darkening the remaining buildings of the city: the hospitals, police stations, and transportation centers. More people came out, not understanding how a minor problem with animals could get this bad. Now the Macho citizens did not seem at all bold and mighty; they were disorganized, confused, frightened people.
The way is opening, Hermine advised Knot. Mit has found a channel. We must move to the end of this street in fifteen minutes; then we shall be safe until ship-time.
Let’s go! Knot thought with relief. They walked rapidly down the street. He had largely recovered from his wounds, thanks to the excellent medical care he had received, but his leg and abdomen still gave twinges as he exerted himself, and he was not strong. He would need to rest as soon as they were safe.
There was an explosion in a factory building nearby. A column of fire shot slantingly into the night sky, bright smoke roiling from it. Then the dull boom came, as it were an aftershock, shaking the pavement so that windows cracked and loose tiles dropped from the neighboring roofs.
There was a scream of hurt and terror that made them all freeze momentarily. But there was no sound to it. “That was a mental scream!” Finesse cried.
Do not pause, Hermine thought urgently. The opening is narrow, and will close off soon.
Oh, the fire—we are trapped! It was the anonymous person again, the thought seeming female. She was evidently caught in the building that had just been ignited. Knot exchanged glances with Finesse. They both knew it would be folly to ignore Mit’s warning; they had to move.
Then Klisty ran toward the building. “We can’t let her die in fire!” she cried.
Knot and Finesse followed. They knew it was foolish; they probably could not help, and would pay for it exorbitantly, but they had to try.
Stop! Hermine thought desperately. This is where precognition ends.
Knot hesitated. This was no minor delay, then; this was a significant turning point in the entire mission. Mit’s ability would be crippled if—
A third time the scream came. Knot galloped on after the girls. If this was fate, so be it; he was human too.
They came to the building. It was a monstrous warehouse. Flames illuminated its upper interior, making the small windows stand out in stark brightness against the exterior gloom. An inferno, inside, with the fire steadily eating downward.
The roaches in Knot’s pocket were restless; it was dangerous here. As though he needed the aid of psi to tell that!
You are throwing away our chance! Hermine thought despairingly. Just as you did when we entered the enclave chasm.
Yet we did some good there, Knot reminded her.
Mit says we may survive, but probably won’t catch our ship.
Our ship departs tomorrow, Knot responded. We should have time. But he knew time was not the question; the loss of half Mit’s psi was the real issue. They faced a completely unknown future, by following this course. They might be all right, or might all die instantly in another explosion of the building.
But he was really reacting on a gut level to a woman in distress, and playing a private hunch. He thought he could help, and still catch the shuttle. And how could the lobos suspect him of staying in the area this way, instead of fleeing? They would assume he had headed straight for the shuttle and try to cut him off there.
Yet Mit’s precognition had not been speculation; it had fathomed a safe way through—that Knot was now giving up. Knot was no precog; his hunches and guesses were virtually worthless. So he could sum it all up: he was basically crazy.
Yet Finesse and Klisty had led the way. Why weren’t they dashing for the shuttle? Did they share some sort of morbid wish to miss the ship? If so, why?
The mental scream came again. They had paused only an instant, assessing the situation, though to Knot it seemed like a long time. “All right, let’s not dawdle while she burns,” Knot snapped. Bees: can you safely fly in there and investigate?
We can try, the bees buzzed, not even questioning the need. Theoretically they were here to make sure Knot did not betray the hive; now they had been co-opted to his purposes. Probably because the power of his human mind overwhelmed them, at this proximity. He had become their hive. They took off in their formation.
There was another explosion in the building, blasting them with heat and light. The flames dropped two stories, eating more rapidly toward the ground. Come back, vitamin bees! Knot called mentally. This is too dangerous for you, after all.
They straggled back, shaken by the blast but intact.
“I can help!” Klisty cried. “I can find a water pipe leading inside.” She stretched out her arms and closed her eyes, concentrating. Knot knew Mit could probably do the job faster, but it was better to save the crab for more critical work. “Over there—slow water moving.” She pointed.
“A sewer pipe,” Knot said. “Is it possible to get in and out, quickly?”
Mit says there is an access conduit beside it, Hermine thought.
So Mit was back in action. Lead us to it, Knot thought. I don’t like the way that building is blowing up.
It will destruct completely in thirteen minutes, she thought reassuringly. But Mit is not sure you can effect a rescue in that time.
I’ll try, though. At least Mit and Hermine had stopped reminding him of the disaster of his course. They weren’t nags. Knot followed directions and found the conduit entrance. He crawled in—and discovered he could not move efficiently. His body was wrong, and on hands and knees he found his injuries hampering him, and the cramped pipe prevented him from improving his lot.
“I’ll do it!” Finesse cried. Knot peered up at her, and saw her face changing color in the fierce illumination of the flickering flames.
At the moment she most resembled a creature of hell, but her mission was that of an angel. “I’m smaller, and in better health.”
“You were lasered too,” he reminded her.
“
Minor—and I don’t need my collarbone for this.”
Knot yielded to common sense. “Make it fast!”
She wriggled past him, bestowing a kiss on the way, and disappeared down the smaller pipe. Hermine and Mit were with her, so he knew he should have confidence in her security. Still, the occasional shaking of the ground as the building disintegrated, and the inexorably approaching flames made him increasingly nervous. He also worried about Klisty, outside on the street. Check on her, he told the bees, and they set up a continuous circuit, buzzing from pipe to street, reporting: good...good...good. It was reassuring.
Then Hermine’s thought came: It is a woman with a mutant baby. She is injured; we cannot bring her out.
Failure, after all! But he would not accept it. Then save the baby! Knot thought. If they could rescue the baby, they might also rescue the mother. He thought fleetingly of Thea the mermaid, longing for her baby. He hoped she would never be trapped in a burning building.
Mit says he can’t see the baby’s future—or ours, if the baby is with us.
A psi neutralized? This could be a problem. Is Finesse’s psi operable in the baby’s presence?
A pause. Yes. Mit cannot answer, but Finesse was able to make me afraid of spider webs.
So the baby’s psi-negation affected only Mit. That would be a grave liability—but suddenly the nature of the crab’s reservations about this diversion mission was coming clear. No one liked having his psi blocked out.
Still, they wouldn’t have to keep the baby; they just had to rescue it. Then they could separate from it, and Mit’s talents would function properly again. Bring the baby out. Hurry. That fire is close, and any blast could put it down to the basement.
Mit doesn’t foresee a blast.
Mit’s precog is nulled.
Oh. The weasel had been set back by the realization. Then: Finesse wants to know what about the mother?
You really can’t rescue her?
She is mortally injured and will die within an hour anyway; only her concern for her baby sustains her now.
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