The chromatograms, taken both in the open air and in the queens’ quarters that were visited, with and without the occupants, compared with those taken by Prime Thian on the planet Arcadia, kept the lights burning in laboratories and offices all night long. A preliminary report—with many protestations of being a hurried summation and some speculations—was on Jeff Raven’s desk by the time he arrived at his office in Blundell Building from Callisto. Copies had been sent to both High Councillors and Prime Elizara. Jeff glanced through the first few pages and ’pathed a call to Thian on the Washington.

Sure, Grandfather, Thian said, dragging himself from sleep and the comfort of Gravy’s warm body. Right away.

WHAT? That news brought Thian wide awake and he increased his efforts to get into his shipsuit.

No need, sir. I can do it easily enough in gestalt with the Washington’s generators.

Thian was at his com unit, tapping in Lieutenant Weiman’s quarters.

“A war?” Such news had as electric a shock on Sam as it had had on Thian.

“Grm is also needed and you’re to bring everything you have on Arcadia’s queens and any other research you two might have on the Hivers. Please go immediately to the boat bay and get into the personnel capsule. I’ll alert the watch officer as soon as I’ve roused Grm.”

“It’s here,” Sam said apologetically. “We were correlating some data and ...” His voice trailed off.

“Great. How long do you need?”

Thian could hear Sam’s gulp. “Ten minutes, sir?”

“You’re a star,” Thian said with sincere appreciation.

“Do you have any details about the war, sir?” Sam asked, stumbling along the corridors as the Prime’s top assistant escorted them past security and to the high-speed elevator.

“Visual and data files,” Gren said, “are awaiting you. I’d prefer you to see them first before I comment. Prime Raven has called for a meeting with the two High Councillors and other experts at two o’clock.”

“But ... but ... but ...” Sam began, and followed him into the elevator, absently keeping Grm’s material from slipping out of the Mrdini’s arms.

Gollee turned and grinned at him. “Assimilate what you can in the time you have ... and if a correlation is obvious, make notes of it. We’re all trying to absorb what happened yesterday.”

When the doors opened, he waved to the security guards who had come to attention.

“Lieutenant Weiman and the Mrdini Grm,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “From the Washington, at the request of Prime Raven. I am their escort.”

The guards relaxed. Another came forward with two scintillating disks, which she planted first on Sam’s chest and then on Grm’s upper arm. As Sam looked down at it, the surface dulled.

“That admits you to this floor only, Lieutenant, Grm. If you need anything, use the com unit in the room,” she said, saluting as she stepped back and gestured down the short hall. “It’s set up with what we thought they might need,” she added to Gollee Gren.

“Grand, thanks, Monnie. This way, gentlemen.”

The room had the dead feeling of a high-security facility.

“Yes,” Gollee said with another grin, noticing Sam’s happy reaction.

“It’s a grand room,” the lieutenant said, glancing around a space that was quadruple the size of his office on the Washington. A full com unit with viewing screens above it occupied one wall, a wide sturdy round table with eight chairs were in the center and comformable chairs and a long couch stretched along the other wall. A serving unit was to the left of the entrance.

“You haven’t had a chance to eat yet, have you?”

“We should get to work immediately,” Sam said, starting to arrange the files he had brought.

“I suggest you eat first, Lieutenant, Grm,” Gollee said with a grave bow. “This will be a very busy day and you’ll need to sustain yourself. Especially before you see the recording of the ... queens’ war on Xh-33.”

“That bad?” Sam asked softly.

Gollee nodded slowly.

“Coffee,” said Grm firmly, “black, and porridge.”

“Good choice,” Gollee said, and dialed it up.

“I’ll have the same,” Sam said, his tone wary.

When they were served, Gollee left them to eat. “There are other preparations to make for this afternoon’s conference. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course,” Sam replied, and turned to his meal.

“It’s nearly time, Lieutenant, Grm.”

“Yes, yes,” Sam said, hastily bundling up the scattered sheets of the hard copy, his files and notebook. Grm kept dropping files until Gollee gave it a helping hand.

“This way, please,” Gollee said, and to Sam’s surprise, indicated the end of the corridor. “Prime Raven will ’port you himself from this point.”

He nodded to them both and strode back to the elevators.

The next thing Sam knew, he was in a huge office, facing a conference table that had individual units built into its surface. There were twelve conformable chairs, four of which were already occupied. He noticed the Chief Xenbee in charge of the Heinlein Base’s queen installation and bowed to her, but he didn’t recognize the others except that they were all Fleet officers. For a scared moment, Sam wondered if this was where the assassins had made their attempt on the lives of the Primes and the High Councillors.

“Actually, no.” The quiet, slightly amused voice turned Weiman’s attention to Prime Jeff Raven, whom he recognized from newsvids. He was talking to the equally recognizable High Councillors, Admiral Mekturian Tohl and Gktmglnt. “Lieutenant Sam Weiman and Grm are from the Washington,” Jeff said to the others. “Mr. Weiman, perhaps you already know Lieutenant Commander Whila Gallahue from the Heinlein Base.” When Weiman nodded, he continued, “So I will make you known to Lieutenant Commander Jan Voorhees of the Asimov, to the HGHL xenbee, Stg, and to Lieutenant Verla Mitab from the Xh-33 Moon Base.”

As they were acknowledging the introductions, a slender elegant woman seemed to glide into the room from nowhere, causing Sam some consternation, as he was facing her point of entry.

Jeff smiled, holding out his hand. “I’m sure you all must know my wife, Angharad, Callisto’s Prime. No cause for alarm, Mr. Weiman, the Rowan is the only other person who can enter my sanctum sanctorum without invitation.” He guided her, with an air of conscious pride, to the nearest seat. “Please, ladies and gentlemen, take your places. We have much to discuss.”

When they all had taken seats, the two minor ’Dinis slipped reverently into the Mrdini-suitable chairs on either side of the High Councillor, tilting their poll eyes deferentially away from such an august neighbor. Jeff Raven remained standing.

“This meeting was convened at the behest of the High Councillors and in this room for security’s sake. I turn it over to Admiral Tohl.” With a courteous bow to the Admiral, Raven sat down beside the Rowan.

“I trust you all”—the Admiral glanced round the table needlessly, for every eye was on him—“have had time to assimilate the details of ... the war.” He grimaced. “Most unfortunate, especially as that sort of madness could spread to the other four continents of Xh-33.”

He noted that Verla Mitab of the Xh-33 Moon Base winced. “My sentiments precisely, Mitab,” he remarked. “And we must endeavor to formulate some solution. For in the solution for Xh-33, we may find the germ of a way to end the cyclic behavior of the Hiver queens.

“I am given to understand”—and now he nodded to Commander Whila Gallahue—“that the Hiver society exists in an oscillating equilibrium. This theory is borne out by the fact that, once the war was over and some of the surviving queens had returned to their hives, they immediately began to fertilize eggs to replace their losses. That is typical of such a society. It builds up population, overburdens resources and then forces the queens to set out aggressively to acquire enough land to support increased numbers. Since we confined the queens to their planet, destroying their spheres and preventing them from their usual modus operandi ...”

“What else were we to do?” the Rowan interjected.

“Quite so ... the need to expand could only result in more than mere border skirmishes.”

“You’re not suggesting that we’re responsible for their war?” asked the Rowan. ’

“Of course not. But we are certainly responsible for preventing them from leaving Xh-33 in a more orderly solution than war.”

“With respect, Admiral,” the Rowan went on, “what’s the difference? Their war solved their immediate problem. There’s now plenty of unoccupied space available on Xh-33.”

“Not if the other continents erupt.”

“With so many queen Hives vacant,” said Commander Gallahue in an unusually deep voice for a woman, “couldn’t we spread the queens and their followers about the planet, and relieve the crowding that led to the war on the Main Continent?”

“That possibility is currently being examined,” said Gktmglnt, turning its poll eye toward her. “That is only a stop-gap. We who have suffered much from the Hivers look to find a permanent solution to the problem of queen migration.” It turned its eye on Lieutenant Weiman. “Arcadia is much different, is it not, Lieutenant?”

“Ah? Oh yes, indeed, honorable Gktmglnt,” Sam said. “It is pacific, totally nonaggressive, and from what evidence we have, it has been so for centuries.”

Gallahue leaned slightly across the table in his direction. “I have read your report on that Hiver colony with great interest,” she said sincerely. “I must comment that even though the Heinlein queen is quiescent, the pheromones she occasionally releases are unlike those you reported ...” She held up her hand when Sam opened his mouth to defend his findings. “I do not doubt the accuracy of your report. But if you compare Arcadia’s ambience to the concentration of pheromones on Xh-33 ...” She shook her head, leaving her sentence unfinished.

“That’s it,” Sam said excitedly. “There is no comparison, but Arcadia has remained a pastoral, nonaggressive, almost underpopulated planet. So what happened to produce the warlike queens of Xh-33?” He spread his hands in puzzlement. “And those who have plagued our Mrdini allies for two centuries?”

“If we could discover that, we could solve the problem,” said Admiral Tohl, also spreading his hands.

“It is on record,” Gallahue began, “that the Heinlein queen did, on one occasion, emit pheromones similar to, though not as intense or as concentrated as, those reported on Xh-33.”

“She did?” Jeff Raven asked. “When?”

Only his wife knew him well enough to be wary of that tone in his voice: almost teasing and very knowing.

“I remember exactly,” Gallahue replied briskly. “For it was the day when the Phobos Moon Base managed to activate the refugee sphere they were examining.” She gave a shrug. “There could not possibly have been a connection, but she went into a state of frenzy, charging about her quarters. It was the most active she had ever been. She also started emitting what must be her mating pheromones, for the two males, generally as languid as she, got quite excited—for them—and vied to stuff food into her maw and then to fertilize her by agitated stroking of her egg-bulb.”

“Yes, I vividly remember that report, Commander Gallahue,” Sam said. “I’ve studied all you’ve had to say about the queen.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. That was the only occasion when she was fed from vat six,” Whila Gallahue added thoughtfully. “We were given supplies for her from the stored vats of that captured sphere, you know. She usually accepted food from vats three and four.”

“We took samples from the foodstuffs stored on Arcadia, but nothing there resembles the compound from vat six. Yet another anomaly.” Sam shook his head.

“Perhaps not,” Stg said, entering the conversation. “Both Human and Mrdini require different food when engaged in martial activities. That has been noted. Why not Hiver queens?”

“If I may?” Verla Mitab from the Xh-33 Moon Base raised a tentative finger.

“Go on,” Jeff said encouragingly.

“Well, sirs, ma’am, I think part of it is what they eat,” she said, “because I’ve done two tours on the Xh-33 Moon Base, and by the time the base was ready, they were growing a different main crop in their fields. I noticed that when I played ’ back the probe recordings the young Prime Rojer Lyon took.” She nodded half apologetically at Rowan and Jeff. “And they also harvested more often. Another thing I noticed on my second tour”—she was talking as fast as she could to prevent an interruption—“was the way the workers started acting.”

“What way?” Admiral Tohl asked kindly, bouncing his fingertips together.

“Well, you know how the field workers march out in pairs?”

Sam was not the only one who nodded.

“Well, they stopped doing that. They started coming out one by one. They’d form pairs when they got enough space to do so. And it got worse.”

“How?” Jeff smiled encouragingly and she suddenly relaxed.

“It was like they had to push past... obstacles. Commander Makako sent a probe down, but all we saw was more bodies. Only...” She paused again, and cocked her head in a puzzled fashion. “What we saw was not too many workers trying to get out. It was many bodies moving around so the workers could actually exit. Then”—she blinked—“when the workers came back in, it looked as if the others, who never came out of the Hive, were taking the food from their backs before they could get it to the ramps or storage like they should have done.”

“Did you send another probe in to investigate the anomaly?” Admiral Tohl inquired.

She shrugged. “Several more and in different Hives, but none had enough light to give us details beyond a sort of seething mass of bodies. And Commander Makako didn’t want to send in a lighted probe.”

“Probably just as wise that she didn’t,” Tohl said, “though in hindsight I could wish that she had.”

“As I recall it,” the Rowan said quickly, “remotes were installed in quite a few Hives, weren’t they?”

“Yes ma’am,” Verla Mitab replied. “Once the base was established, we were told to put remotes in fifty Hives on each continent. But just in the queens’ quarters. Those green boards of theirs gave us enough light to see what the queens were doing. And all they were doing was being fed and stroked to fertilize more eggs.”

“How many males did each queen have?” Stg asked, leaning forward. “Where did the eggs go?”

“Oh, eight or nine. We could see that they were sort of... courting her like. You know, trying to be the only one she’d take food from. We never did see what hatched from the eggs. The scurriers would take them out once they’d been ... done.”

“That was standard behavior in all the Hives you could observe?” asked Gallahue.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Undoubtedly the queens were building up their forces in secret,” Tohl suggested. “I would hazard the guess that the ... press of creatures that slowed the workers on their dutiful way to the fields... were the warrior mutations that followed the queen to war, having somehow been fitted with maces instead of shovels.”

“How did the queens mutate?” Gallahue asked. There was no immediate answer. Then she added, “Diet? Only on that one occasion did the Heinlein queen eat from vat six.”

“How long did that last?” Tohl asked.

“Six days only, though the two males kept forcing food into her mouth. She’d let it dribble away from her maw,” Gallahue said.

“The males kept forcing her to eat?” Jeff asked, sitting upright. “Maybe the queen isn’t the guiding force in her Hive that we thought she was. Could the males pressure her by feeding her a special diet... to produce the mutated warrior types?”

Glances were exchanged by the xenbees.

“Anything could happen with Hive queens,” Gktmglnt said in a voice nearly as deep and dark as Gallahue’s.

“Wait a minute,” Jeff said, putting his elbows on the conference table. “How many males did you say the Xh-33 queens had?” he asked Verla Mitab.

“At least eight, sometimes nine.”

“Big ones?”

“Yes sir, bigger certainly than any from Lieutenant Weiman’s Arcadia reports.” Verla gave him a little smile.

“Big enough then to coerce an Xh-33 queen, big as they are,” Jeff said.

“But it was the queens that led the battles,” Verla said in protest. “The males formed up like a sort of honor guard, to protect her. It was the mace holders who did the actual fighting.”

“Until the queen was dead, or issued the ‘flee’ pheromones,” Stg said.

“Flee pheromones?” Jeff asked.

“Yes sir,” said Lieutenant Commander Jan Voorhees, speaking for the first time. “That suggests”—he turned his gaze from Jeff to the other xenbees at the table—“that the Hivers once did have natural enemies, since ‘flee’ pheromones imply an automatic stimulus-response behavior.”

“Too bad we don’t know what scares ’em,” said Admiral Tohl with a wicked grin.

Gktmglnt nodded agreement.

“A flee pheromone?” Gallahue repeated, pointing at Voorhees. “I hadn’t thought of that possibility in Hivers.”

“How could you, ma’am, with just a quiescent queen that has been separated from its normal society?” Voorhees said in a courteous tone.

“True,” she admitted, “but a flee pheromone is apparent in many Earth-type creatures like termites, ants and bees. That’s not to suggest that Hive queens are hymenopterous, of course, merely that they also can produce flee pheromones.”

“Accepted,” Jan Voorhees said. “However, Stg and I noticed distinctive variations in every site where a queen was killed. We also noticed that a dead queen’s remaining warrior types, as well as her males, ran away. Of course, some of them just ran into the forces from another Hive.”

“How did they tell who was friend or foe?” the Rowan asked.

“Each queen also generates her own specialized pheromone so her minions can identify her.” Voorhees rolled his eyes. “It was murder trying to differentiate, but we did manage to identify quite a few of the Hives of dead queens by the residuals.”

“Remarkable,” Sam said, remembering how many pheromones he’d had to log from the Arcadian queens. “Arcadian queens are not quite as ... intense, shall we say, as the readings you report on Xh-33.”

Jan Voorhees stared at Sam, pushing out his chin. “What did you say?”

“I said the Arcadian queens do not emanate the same powerful pheromones that the Xh-33 queens do or did.”

He locked eyes with Voorhees as both, evidently simultaneously, made the shift to a conclusion.

“Can we substitute the pacific Arcadian pheromones for the aggressive ones of Xh-33?” Jan cried, almost hopping out of his seat.

“I would have thought that was an obvious solution,” the Rowan said, her chin propped in her left hand.

“Obvious perhaps,” Sam said, shaking his head, “but very difficult to implement. We would have to eliminate the identifying pheromones of an Xh-33 queen and substitute the Arcadian queen’s. If that would even work.”

“Difficult to do,” Voorhees said, staring thoughtfully at Sam Weiman.

“But not impossible,” said Stg.

“This one agrees with Stg.” Grm spoke formally, its poll eye glistening. It turned almost apologetically to Sam sitting beside it.

“You would have to duplicate the pheromones exactly to get the required effect,” Gallahue said, shaking her head over that difficulty.

“Ma’am, with the practice Stg and I have just had, it’s a case of accurately reading the GCs,” Voorhees said, almost boasting of his prowess.

“That is not simple,” Stg said, heaving a big sigh.

“Look, do I understand you correctly?” Jeff began. “You are suggesting that if we can accurately duplicate the Arcadian queen pheromones, we might pacify the Xh-33 queens? What’s left of them?”

“The pacific pheromones could be sprayed on the surface and renewed frequently,” Voorhees was saying, more to the other xenbees than in answer to Jeff. “It might just work. We could give it a try. What have we to lose?” He looked from Gallahue to Sam; he blinked at Gktmglnt and held Admiral Tohl’s gaze.

The Admiral swung his glance to Commander Gallahue.

“It is a possibility,” she said, though she obviously still had reservations.

“In the meantime,” Jeff said, “I have had an urgent message from Perry on the Asimov. The weather pattern is shifting. Captain Osullivan has asked for permission to seed the clouds for rain. I will need your permission, Admiral Tohl, honorable Gktmglnt. The aggressive pheromones must be diluted before reaching the other continents on Xh-33.”

The two High Councillors made eye contact. Gktmglnt inclined its poll permissively and the Admiral gave a sharp nod of his head.

“By all means, seed the clouds and prevent more battles.”

“Then we have bought time to investigate the Arcadian possibility,” Jeff said.

“But not yet an answer to the main problem,” said Gktmglnt in a lugubrious tone. “There are so many occupied Hiver worlds.”

“There is an Arcadia,” Sam ventured to say. “Maybe there are more.”

“We can but hope,” the Rowan said pessimistically.

“Shall we then go a step farther,” Admiral Tohl said, gesturing toward Commander Gallahue, who had made the suggestion, before he turned to Gktmglnt, “and ask the Asimov to implement a clean sweep of the Main Continent’s vacated premises?”

“To resettle the queens is a good idea,” the Mrdini agreed, nodding its head with great dignity. “It will be interesting to note how long that expedient keeps Xh-33 peaceful.”

Jeff cocked his head, an attitude that suggested he was listening to a telepathed message. The others remained respectfully silent.

“The Columbia is just now entering the Ciudad Rodrigo system. Perhaps their examination of that Hiver-occupied planet will give us fresh insights, or confirm what we already know. Do we by any chance know whether or not one of the xenbees ever took GC readings on the big sphere? Three of the escape pods were activated and those queens fled, so the Hivers must have known they weren’t going to outrun the nova wave.”

Commander Gallahue smiled. “I do believe the Vadim xenbee records show that GC readings were taken, along with every conceivable analytic material the Alliance specialists have.” She tapped rapidly on her notepad. “I thought so. Yes, the readings, though faint, are available. Mostly of corrosion. Perhaps not enough to use for an additional point of reference.”

Jeff rose to his feet. “Perhaps you would all care to continue discussing plans in a secure conference area?”

The xenbees certainly did.

“We have begun to control our destinies,” Gktmglnt said, lifting its large self to its feet, causing Grm to cower away from the mass. “That is good. Our good fight continues.” It bowed to Jeff and those assembled, the approving gaze of its poll eye lingering slightly longer on the two Mrdini participants. IF YOU WOULD BE SO GOOD, PRIME RAVEN, TO RETURN THIS PERSON TO ITS OFFICE, THERE IS MUCH TO BE DONE.

IT IS MY PLEASURE TO ASSIST YOU, HONORABLE GKTMGLNT. Jeff bowed formally. The Mrdini High Councillor disappeared. “Anyone else? Admiral? To your office?” When the Admiral nodded, he disappeared and Jeff turned to the others. “I believe that Gollee has secured a conference room for you, one with laboratory facilities attached.” He smiled at the xenbees. “You’ve been exceedingly helpful. My warm thanks and good day.”

“Very good of—” was all Commander Gallahue could say before she disappeared, along with the other six.