Not as quickly as the first time, because the collective had anticipated their fear and sent only two of the Eight ahead, while the other six waited at the gate. Number One and Number Four walked slowly, their hands visible and empty, their posture deliberately unthreatening, which was difficult to achieve for enhanced soldiers built and trained for killing, but not impossible.
With enough effort and deliberation, there was little that the hive mind was incapable of.
Their unthreatening demeanor didn't help much, though. The older woman who had served as intermediary during their first visit emerged from the same dormitory building, her jaw set, her gray-streaked hair pulled back tight. She positioned herself between the two soldiers and the cluster of women retreating toward the nearest building, and her eyes held the same wary defiance as before.
"You again," she said.
"Yes," Number One said. "We mean no harm. We're only here to check on the welfare of the residents."
The lie came easily. The collective had debated the ethics of deception during the ride from the last military post they had visited, and the consensus had been pragmatic rather than moral. They couldn't tell the woman the truth. Not yet. Not until the plan was much further along. So they lied because it was necessary.
"The welfare of the residents is unchanged," the woman said. "We breathe. We eat. We do what we're told. Is there anything else you'd like to inspect?"
Number Four stepped forward. "I'm looking for a woman named Asira. She would be about twenty."
The intermediary's expression didn't change. "I told you last time. I don't know names."
She was lying too, and the collective could feel it in her surface thoughts. It was a deliberate wall of refusal, practiced and solid. She knew exactly who Asira was and where to find her, and she would sooner chew off her own tongue than reveal that information to a couple of armed males.
Number Four understood. He respected her for it. But the ache beneath his ribs, which was his ache even though it resonated through all eight bodies, made respecting her difficult when all he wanted was to see his sister's face and know she was okay, or as okay as any of the women here could be.
Number Eight wanted to find Vinnah. His mother. The woman whose voice had been the last gentle thing in his life before the training camp had stripped everything gentle away.
But they couldn't push. Not today. The intermediary was their only bridge to the women inside, and burning that bridge for the sake of immediate gratification would be unwise.
"We understand," Number One said. "We'll come back another time."
The intermediary said nothing. She stood her ground until they turned and walked back toward the gate, and the collective felt her eyes on their backs the entire way, watchful and unforgiving.
At the gate, they joined the other six and got into the Humvee. The guards had been thralled to remember nothing of the visit, but the women inside would remember. The intermediary would remember, and so would anyone who had seen them from behind the dormitory windows.
That was a risk, but it was a small one, given that the women had no communication with the outside and no one to report to. Even the humans who were normally brought in for breeding purposes were absent now while the island renovations were still going on. The building that was used for that purpose was inside the enclosure, which hadn't been damaged in the rebellion, but visitors were housed in the hotel, where construction work was still going on.
"Until the clan agrees to help, we can't come back again," Number Four said, voicing what the collective had already concluded.
Yes, they all thought,that would be prudent, but we didn't get to see the ones we came for.
"I would like to see Sullha again," Number One said aloud. "Perhaps next time I will deliver the news of liberation to her in person."
The collective had noted that he'd said I, not we.
Interesting. Apparently, their hive mind could, on rare occasions, separate into its individual components. Was that the effect females had on the collective consciousness? It shouldn't have surprised them. After all, the part responsible for the draw males and females felt toward each other was primitive, hormonal, instinctual, while the hive mind united over higher reasoning functions.
Perhaps that was the reason for their first and second visit to the enclosure, neither of which had been necessary, and the second one was particularly careless. They shouldn't have visited on the day they were planning the phone call to the clan. The unauthorized visit was one more thread that could unravel the whole if pulled at the wrong moment.
If the clan agreed to help, though, visits would be necessary, and not just so Number One could see Sullha again, Number Four his sister, and Number Eight his mother. Two thousand women and children couldn't be evacuated without preparation. The women needed to know what was coming. They needed to organize and be prepared for mobilization on short notice.
Thralling the guards would be the easy part. Humans were much simpler to thrall than immortals, their minds offering almost no resistance, and the suggestions held longer. The real challenge would be maintaining secrecy among the women themselves. He had no doubt that there were snitches among them, and they needed to be identified and kept in the dark about the operation.
That was why they needed to communicate first with people they trusted. Sullha, Vinnah, Asira.
Could they be trusted, though?
What did they know about these women?
"I know Sullha," Number One said. "She could never be a snitch. It's not in her nature. She's a rebel at heart."
"My mother is too timid to be one," Number Eight said. "She would never take the risk."
