The Hive

by Orson Scott Card

  “Why do you fuss over the device anyway?” said Ibrahim. “Let the dogs have their war. What is it to us? It gives us information we do not need. Messages for ships, reports, policy changes. This is the bark of the dogs. What use is it?”

  “Someday we will do a DNA test, brother,” said Khalid. “Because I cannot believe that you and I share a mother. Your intelligence came from a stone or a tree. The ansible is knowledge, Ibrahim. Knowledge is power. Power is rule.”

  “The slaser rifle is power,” said Ibrahim. “The shields on our ship are power. The thrust of our engines is power.”

  “This is why you will die a fool,” said Khalid. “Because you do not see and understand. The ansible is what has allowed us to identify and seize supply ships. You would not have that stupid tablet in your hands if the ansible had not informed us of vulnerable traffic lanes. We eat because of the ansible. We avoid capture because of the ansible. We survive because of the ansible.”

  “You are the man of men,” said Ibrahim. “The ansible did not make you so. It is a tool, brother. You will rule fine without it.”

  Khalid wasn’t so sure. Rulers only remained in power if the people under them ate well and lived free of fear. Could Khalid provide that without the ansible?

  When Maja brought his supper later he told her about the ansible going silent.

  “It’s been upgraded,” she said. “Do you not remember? The ship we took it from, the communications officer who gave it to us, he said the Fleet upgrades the ansibles every four or five months. It’s been eight. The Fleet has made new ansibles now. With a new network. The network this ansible was on has been retired. It’s like a knife without a blade now.”

  Khalid remembered now, yes. Upgrades. The IF marine had said that. Perhaps we should not have killed him, thought Khalid. Perhaps he would be useful now. He could tell us how to acquire a new ansible. Or he could make some modification to this one to connect it to this new network.

  “You are restless,” said Maja. She was one of the few members of the crew he could speak with openly. She was his lover, his counselor, his most deadly enforcer. She had killed more marines than Ibrahim and Maydox and Breaker combined. Often with nothing more than her dagger, as she opened her victims’ throats. And yet here alone with him, Khalid felt no danger from her. That had faded. She had seen what he was and the power in his rule.

  She slid up next to him, embraced him, and placed her head on his shoulder.

  “The ansible put me at ease,” said Khalid. “It kept me confident.”

  “Why?” said Maja. “They were words on a screen. Words not even directed at you.”

  “Yes, but those words told me what the Fleet was doing, where they were focused, what they were saying.”

  “And you wished they had spoken of you?” said Maja.

  “Yes,” said Khalid. “Or so I thought. I think now perhaps not seeing my name is what put me at ease.”

  She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him. “Why?”

  “Because it meant the Fleet was occupied elsewhere,” said Khalid. “The words told me they were not looking for us, that we were not their concern, that we could do as we pleased.”

  “And now that you don’t have an ansible, you worry that they are coming for us?” said Maja.

  “Only a fool wouldn’t worry,” said Khalid.

  “But the IF are deceivers,” said Maja. “If they were coming for us, and they knew we had an ansible, they would send us misinformation. They would keep the ansible active and feed us mundane intel so that we wouldn’t become suspicious. They would not silence it. That would put us on alert. They would try to deceive us.”

  “Perhaps,” said Khalid. “But I do not like it. When the Fleet chatters about supplies and ships and deaths, I think, they are not looking for Khalid. Now I am not sure what they speak of.”

  “They speak of the same things,” said Maja. “Their talk is no different. No one is coming here for us, Khalid. The Fleet must focus on the Formics. We are safe here.”

  “Until the food runs out,” said Khalid. “Until the men get hungry for more juice.”

  She frowned. “Why do you sour so? You rule this country.”

  He scoffed. “A country of less than sixty men. That is no country.”

  “I do not like this talk,” said Maja. “You should not speak so. We are New Somalia. No one rules us here.”

  “They may not rule us,” said Khalid. “But we must know our enemy. The Hegemon has resigned. Without the ansible, how am I to know who the new Hegemon is?”

  “What difference does it make?” said Maja. “What is the Hegemony to us? We are not bound to their laws and taxes. We are not subjects of the Hegemon. They are several billion klicks away.”

  “Distance does not matter,” said Khalid. “This war will not last forever, Maja. And when it ends, what hope is there for us? If the Formics win, there will be no world, no supplies. We will starve out here, or they will hunt us down. Either way, we die quickly. And if the Hegemon wins, the corporates will come back and drive us out. We cannot hold this place. And then where will we go?”

  “Wherever we want,” said Maja. “If the Fleet wins the war, we will continue to do what we do. There will always be supply lines to hit. We can live forever out here.”

  “You are wrong,” said Khalid. “If the Formics are gone, then the Fleet will no longer be occupied. With nothing better to do, they will hunt us down. We would not last long.”

  She pushed away from him, angry. “This is not the Khalid I know. Khalid is the father of fear.”

  “Yes, but it is Khalid who is afraid. The future is not so clear.”

  “Is that why you took these four women from the mining ship? To give yourself a new future?”

  She was scowling at him, and her question had completely thrown him. “The women? What do they have to do with this?”

  “We have not taken women before,” said Maja. “And now you take four. Why?”

  Khalid shrugged. “Because Breaker cannot cook, because we have plenty of food supplies but no one who can prepare it well. Breaker nearly set this whole space station aflame. These women will cook for us, do laundry.”

  She folded her arms. “That is the worth of a woman to you? Cooking? Cleaning your filthy clothes?”

  He sat up, startled. “Why are you harsh all of a sudden, woman?”

  “You do not call me woman. I am Maja. I have a name. And I am more than the meals I prepare and the socks I scrub.”

  Khalid frowned, baffled. “What meals? You do not cook or scrub clothes at all.”

  “Perhaps because I do not want to be perceived as nothing but a scrubber of socks.”

  “You are speaking nonsense, woman,” said Khalid.

  “Maja! That is my name. Maja. Has your lust for these women made you forget already?”

  Khalid stiffened and then laughed. “Is that what this is about? You think I lust for these women? Is that why you have such fire in you? You are jealous?”

  “You took these women to take them as your wives, didn’t you?”

  Khalid shook his head. “That was not my intent.”

  “And yet you prohibit the men from lying with these women. You told them that any man who touches these women would answer to your slaser. I heard the words.”

  “And what of it?” said Khalid. “I will not have my men prey upon these women.”

  “And why not?” said Maja. “Because you want to prey upon them yourself?”

  He slapped her. She had pushed and pushed, and he would not tolerate her attacks. “You forget your place, woman. You do not speak to me so. I am Khalid.”

  Her face darkened. “Yes. The mighty Khalid. The king of the universe. We all know your name, great one. I wonder if you can remember mine.”

  She pushed away from him and flew out of the room.

  He had never struck her before, but she had been wild with her fury. What choice did he have? And why would Maja push him so? Why shoul
d she be jealous? Khalid had not touched these women. He had not even looked upon them other than to assess their usefulness in the kitchen and laundry. They were workers. He had given the men rules and kept them away from the women because he would not have the women harmed. That would diminish their usefulness.

  He went to the kitchen and checked on the women. They were busy preparing the next meal, but they became stiff and shifty-eyed when they saw Khalid, as if a tiger had been let loose among them and they were all pretending it wasn’t there. They focused on their work with the pots and food and ovens as Khalid watched them. They were like caged animals, jittery and uneasy. It looked as if they hadn’t slept in days.

  Khalid approached the one nearest him, and she averted her eyes.

  “What do you think of our home here?” said Khalid. “This factory, all to ourselves. It is a prize, is it not?”

  The woman didn’t answer.

  “Come, speak. What is your name?”

  The woman stared down at the counter.

  He left the kitchen. He did not want to speak to these women further. They left him feeling dark inside. Angry. He should have left them on their damaged ship.

  He ate alone in his quarters that night, tinkering with the ansible, searching for some way to connect it to the network again. A commotion in the corridor stopped him. Shouting. Movement. The sounds of a struggle. Screams. Fired slasers. The banging of boots on the metal grated floors as a mob of people in magnetic greaves came closer.

  Khalid flew to his chair and grabbed his slaser.

  A moment later the door was kicked open and there stood Maydox with twenty men behind him. They were armed with slasers and swords and smaller blades. The sword in Maydox’s right hand was red with blood. The slaser in his left hand was fired up and beeping green, ready to go.

  I should have killed Maydox long ago, thought Khalid, for this was mutiny and Maydox was clearly the father of it.

  “You have forgotten where you are, Maydox,” said Khalid. “This is the private quarters of your ruler. To barge in with such violence is foolish, as I might mistake you for my enemy.” Khalid held the slaser loosely by his side, but it was charged and purring and ready.

  Maydox was a broad man, with scars upon his chest and back received from money fights with blades and whips in his home country of Afghanistan. Maydox wore the scars like badges of honor, and Khalid should have known that such a man would only be trouble and corrupt the hearts of others. Khalid never should have welcomed him into the crew.

  Maydox raised the sword and pointed it at Khalid. “You take women as a prize and keep them only for yourself? This is how you lead?”

  “There is blood on your sword, Maydox,” said Khalid. “Any man who spills blood among my men must answer with blood of his own.”

  “Your rule is over, Khalid. It is time for a new man to stand and lead us.”

  “And who might this man be?” said Khalid. “You? A man who whispers lies to these fools who follow you? I have not touched these women. They are here to feed us and keep us from smelling like dead animals, though I don’t think there is enough soap in the world to get that scent off you, Maydox.”

  Maydox scowled. “Put down the slaser.”

  “How can you lead New Somalia if you are not even Somali?” said Khalid.

  Maydox laughed scornfully. “New Somalia? This is no country, Khalid. You live in a dream of your own making. The men laugh at you behind your back for such a dream. A country has land, resources, families, communities, laws, order. You have none of these things. All you have for a country is a madman who thinks himself a king.”

  “Where is my brother?” said Khalid, for he knew at once that Maydox would be smart about this mutiny, removing lieutenants before coming to the general.

  “Ibrahim is dead,” said Maydox. “This blood you see is his. Dead like your dream, Khalid. Dead like you and your rule.”

  Khalid had feared this day would come. Men like Maydox were restless, hungry, insatiable. They would not follow Khalid forever. They wanted their own rule, their own crew.

  They had killed Ibrahim. The truth of that was like a knife inside him. His own brother. Dead. They had likely killed Maja as well.

  “You wish to challenge me for the right to rule?” said Khalid.

  “No challenge,” said Maydox. “You die here. Now.”

  “This is not our way,” said Khalid. “Any challenge to rule must be made in combat. You choose the weapon, and one of us lives or dies.”

  Maydox laughed. “You only prolong your death, Khalid. I have fought fifty men in such fights and never lost.”

  “Then you will make it fifty-one, if you are so skilled. You have twenty men with you there, Maydox. Which means there are others here in the facility who do not follow you.”

  “They will follow me when you’re dead,” said Maydox.

  “Reluctantly,” said Khalid. “They may follow you today. But they will hate you for showing cowardice and defying my call for combat. They will not call your name. They will not honor you. They will talk in whispers and plot against you and cut your throat in your sleep. Look at the faces of the men beside you now. Even they know how foolish it would be to deny my request for combat.”

  Maydox glanced at the men beside him, and that was when Khalid raised his slaser and shot Maydox through the chest. The beam passed right through him as if Maydox were nothing but paper and hit the men behind him, killing them as well. Khalid moved the beam to the left and right, using it like a knife to slice through the assembled mob. The men screamed and scattered and fled. They hadn’t even bothered to return fire.

  Khalid grabbed the microphone on the wall connected to the public address system, and his voice came through the speakers throughout the facility. “Brothers, this is Khalid. I have killed Maydox for treason. He was not alone. He and his mutineers killed Ibrahim and others. Find them and kill them. If they surrender, bring them to the yard.”

  The yard was the central shipbuilding site inside the space station, a massive cube where large segments of ships were assembled. Upon completion, each segment was released out the big bay doors and into space, where it could be added to other completed segments. All of Khalid’s village from Somalia could fit inside the yard, including the small fields where the crops had grown. That’s how wide and immense the space was. Khalid had learned from the ansible about a Battle Room the Fleet had built outside a few of their ships using scaffolding to construct a giant caged cube. Platoons would fly about inside this cage and conduct mock battles. Khalid liked the idea of a Battle Room, but the yard here on the station was far better for such a game. Here there were obstacles, as in real battles: massive beams and hooks and welding arms and bots and tools, sharp corners, hiding places, and there in the middle, the biggest obstacle of all, a segment of a ship in its early phase of construction: a large steel skeletal structure like the carcass of some long-dead whale.

  Khalid moved alone through the corridors until he found Ibrahim drifting outside the kitchen, his body limp, a mist of blood hovering around him. There were scorch marks all over the walls here from the cuts of the slasers, but it was a sword that had taken his brother’s life.

  Khalid closed his brother’s eyes and pulled him to the nearest airlock. After he placed Ibrahim inside, Khalid thought perhaps he should offer a prayer. But no words came. He did not know how to pray. He jettisoned the corpse into space and wiped at his eyes and cursed himself. Maydox was right. Khalid was a fool to think he could make a country here with such men.

  The fighting was over in an hour. Someone came to Khalid with news that only five had surrendered in the end and that they were tied up in the shipyard awaiting him. The rest of the mutineers were dead.

  Khalid went to the yard to finish the business.

  The five mutineers were bound and anchored to the floor on one of the tool decks, which was a narrow extension of flooring on the side of the shipyard’s far wall. There were ten tool decks total, stacked
on top of one other, like a giant fire escape on the side of a building. Khalid’s heart sank when he saw the five mutineers. One of them was Maja. She would not look at him.

  He anchored his feet to the floor in front of her and knelt down to face her.

  “Why, Maja? Why would you have a hand in this?”

  Her eyes met his then. “I did not think they would kill you. They said they would take the ship and go with the four miner women. They would leave us here to have our country. I did not want death, Khalid.”

  “Maydox was not a man to be trusted,” said Khalid. “You have wounded me, Maja. Betrayed me.”

  “I wanted them to take the women away. You do not need other wives.”

  “Other?”

  “Am I not your wife?”

  “I suppose,” said Khalid. “There was no ceremony, but in our country we make the rules. No ceremony is needed. You are my wife.”

  “And now you will kill your wife?” said Maja.

  Khalid didn’t answer.

  “I did not resist these men who took me. I could have killed them. You know that. I stayed my hand and surrendered so that I might speak to you, to tell you the truth of it.”

  “What did you tell Maydox?”

  “That if he wanted the women so badly he should take them. I did not know he would come for you as well.”

  “You told him to disobey me,” said Khalid. “You put the fire of mutiny inside him.”

  “The fire was already there,” said Maja. “We should have killed him a long time ago.”

  “Yes,” said Khalid. “I should have killed him when I first met him. It seems we both have made mistakes.”