The Tower and the Hive by Anne McCaffrey Page B

Even the familiar sting-pzzt that was now noticeable couldn’t dampen his mood. Anyway, the body armor somewhat deadened the sensation. He hoped that it would continue to do so when they were in closer proximity to the Hivers.
    Semirame had sent men trotting on ahead of the adventurous Grm, whose short legs could not match the jog trot of the marines. She gave a brisk nod of her head and then tilted it to mentally inform Thian that her advance scouts had seen nothing inside to alarm them. Thian stepped onto the approach ramp, excitement rising inside him. With his special senses, he couldn’t hear, see or feel anything. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was something ... a presence ... not something truly sentient, but something alive. Some things, he corrected himself.
    The ground beneath his feet had been trampled down for so long that it was now below its original level by several centimeters. In fact, if he looked closely he could see the slight ruts worn by workers that had tramped up and down it for centuries. In the depths beyond the overhang, he could see light—Semirame’s scouts checking it out.
    â€œScouts say it’s all clear. Stinks a lot, like rotted vegetation,” she said with a snort.
    She raised her arm to call the rest of her team forward. Sam Weiman had knelt down to scoop up more soil samples, grunting as he forced his tool to loosen the closely packed dirt. Semirame pulled down the dark-vision visor from her helmet and Thian followed her example as they moved into the facility.
    The prevalent smell was indeed of slightly rotting vegetation. The odor deepened as they penetrated farther in. The flooring was clean and their boots scraped on a different surface. Thian leaned down to touch it.
    â€œSome sort of plascrete,” he said.
    Another of Semirame’s noncommittal grunts.
    â€œLots of low tunnels now, sir, leading deeper in and down to other levels,” said the tinny voice issuing from Semirame’s wrist com. She looked at Thian for orders.
    â€œCan you navigate them?” he asked into his own wrist unit.
    â€œCan do,” was the answer after a slight pause.
    â€œHands-and-knees job?” Thian asked.
    â€œCan do,” was repeated.
    â€œFound where the stuff must get dumped, sir,” another voice reported. “Straight ahead of you. ’Bout ten meters.”
    Semirame and Thian rapidly covered the distance, their quick steps echoing in the underground space since stealth did not seem to be required.
    The smell was heavier as they reached the dumping point. Peering down the slide that was at a forty-five degree angle, they could see a parallel chute and conveyor belt. Despite the smell, their handlights showed no refuse at all, the plascrete clean.
    â€œDown and down they go,” Semirame remarked at her driest. “Hemmer, Vale, Singh, take a look below.” To Thian she added, Mark ’em as they pass you, Thian, so’s you know ’em to bring ’em back up, like you did the crews in the Phobos Sphere.
    He could see her wide grin, her teeth showing brightly in his visor. He nodded, getting a touch of each of them as the troopers imperturbably slid down the ramp and started examining the direction of the belt.
    â€œFound a whole bay or holding level full of... workers? Sir? Sir?” another trooper reported. “Smells bad but no garbage.”
    â€œGot enough light to send me back a scan, Wixell?”
    â€œDo my best. Place’s as dark as...” Wixell paused, cleared her throat and went on. “Dark, sir.”
    Thian watched his wrist unit and the scan came up, lumps of darkness then illuminated by a slowly moving beam of light.
    â€œThe workers,” Thian said when he saw the tool extension crossed lifelessly on the front of the creature. “Standing by for orders from the queen?”
    â€œCan’t move any farther in, sir,” Wixell went on. “Place is stuffed with them,