Page 31 of Dark Chains: First Link
"Your interest in Sullha might endanger our mission," Number Four said. "It is not wise to visit the enclosure too often."
"You all felt what I felt when I saw her," Number One said. "I need to explore it."
The collective held the statement the way it held all of Number One's increasingly personal thoughts about Sullha, with care and curiosity and a faint undercurrent of hope.
"You should go alone," Number Two said.
Number One had already reached the same conclusion. "Sullha will be less scared of me if I come by myself. The Eight of us together are intimidating."
"She doesn't need to know that we are connected," Number Four voiced what the collective was thinking. "We will share what you experience, whether we are standing beside you or waiting in the Humvee."
"The guards still need to be thralled," Number Five pointed out. "All of us should wait by the gate while Number One is inside."
They drove through the tunnel that cut through the island's central ridge, emerging on the military side where the landscape changed from manicured resort to flat, rugged terrain. The Humvee rattled over the service roads, past the training grounds where units were drilling and past the barracks entrances where warriors gathered in clusters. Everyone moved aside as the vehicle approached because everyone recognized the Humvee that Dave used, and no one wanted to be in its path.
Number One reviewed the list of names Losham had given him. They would conduct the inspections on the way back, hitting two or three of the locations where Kolhood's associates were stationed.
The timing worked.
Inspections first, intelligence gathered, then the report to Losham this evening. It would be a productive day by anyone's measure, and the stop at the enclosure would add less than an hour to the circuit.
The perimeter wall came into view as Number Seven crested the ridge. Three meters of reinforced concrete with a single gate and two guards who straightened when they saw the vehicle approach.
Number Seven pulled to a stop in front of them.
The thralling was applied before Number One stepped out of the vehicle. Eight minds focused on two targets, adjusting their memories, smoothing the encounter into something routine and forgettable.
An inspection. Authorized by Losham. Only one soldier is entering today. Just a follow-up visit.
One of the guards opened the gate. "Please proceed."
As Number One walked inside and the gate closed behind him, the connection to the collective didn't fade. It could perceive everything Number One perceived, the warm air, the smell of cooking from the central kitchen, and the distant sound of children's voices from the recreation yard. The coherence was getting less sharp as the distance between them grew, but the hive mind still functioned.
Number One expanded his awareness as he walked deeper into the compound, the collective's background hum receding, not disconnecting but getting quieter, the way music faded with distance. His individual senses sharpened, compensating for the reduced collective input, and by the time he reached the central courtyard, he was acutely aware of his own heartbeat.
It was somewhat uncomfortable.
It was also surprisingly clarifying.
Collecting surface thoughts as he walked, he headed toward the vegetable garden along the eastern wall, where Sullha worked.
13
SULLHA
The okra was ready to pick, which was a small, reliable pleasure that Sullha had learned to value, because the big ones were in short supply.
She worked her way down the row, bending each pod gently to test its length before snapping it from the stem. The trick was timing. Too young, and there wasn't enough to eat. Too old, and the flesh turned woody and bitter, good for nothing except adding to the compost pile. The window of perfection was narrow, a day or two at most, and Sullha had gotten good at reading the subtle differences because Burda had taught her well.
Burda was not in the garden this morning because it was her turn in the kitchen. All the women participated in the kitchen rotation, even those with small children. Others took care of the little ones while their mothers worked elsewhere, but Sullha didn't trust anyone with Tomek, and when it was her turn in the kitchen, she took him with her. The other women weren't happy about it, but they let him be. He was a good boy who knew when to be quiet and stay out of the way of adults working around him.
This morning, Tomek was in Saphira's class, learning his letters and numbers with the other small children in the covered area beside the dining hall. Saphira was one of the few women whom Sullha trusted her son with. She was kind, patient, and had a gift for making learning feel like play.
Feyla and Mahra were working in another section of the garden, pulling weeds along the bean rows. Feyla didn't have much to say, which suited Sullha just fine. She liked working beside the woman because a whole day could pass without her saying a word. Mahra, who was at least a decade younger than Feyla, had the kind of nervous energy that expressed itself in constant motion. Her hands never stopped, whether she was weeding or braiding her hair or picking at the hem of her shirt. She was much more talkative than Feyla, but Sullha wasn't in the mood for conversation.
She was content to do her work, going through the motions of bending and snapping and placing the pods in the basket while her mind wandered.
With Tomek occupied, the morning should have been peaceful, just her and the okra and the warm air and the smell of volcanic soil baking in the sun, but her thoughts kept circling.
