A sweating Morgan swaggered up in a leather cuirass and tigerskin pants. Ragshok's people often wore animal-derived clothing; it was a way of expressing one's ferocity. In this case Ragshok had ordered them to do so, knowing how much it would dismay and outrage the animals who far outnumbered the humans on the fleet. A good many of their hides would be hung out for curing by the end of the day.
"It's a walkover," Morgan said.
"It sure is so far," Ragshok agreed.
To Ikematsu, the change in the mental ambience was instantly obvious. Withdrawing his concentration from the room where Pout and Gruwert conversed, he diffused it, taking in the whole surrounding atmosphere of thought.
The whole ship was in a state of blood-curdling fright, which in the direction of the ballroom was like a thick, clotted mass.
Quickly he spoke to the two boys, pointing down the corridor. "Something bad is happening. Go, and hide yourselves."
Trixa looked bewildered. Sinbiane, attuned to his uncle's perceptions, and used to obeying him instantly, tugged at his friend, urging him to run.
A kosho facing danger without his weapons ... he truly had let himself be put at a disadvantage, Ikematsu thought wryly; and for a second time, and for the same cause.
Stealth would be called for, until he could obtain new weapons . . . Gruwert, he thought then, might know where his own armoury was stored. The pig might be prevailed upon to divulge . . .
As he turned towards the door, it opened and Pout emerged, blinking. Ikematsu's gaze lit upon him, then upon the two boys running down the corridor, then to the end of the corridor.
Not long previously he had fleetingly observed threadlike lines in the air, barely visible. He had taken them for hallucination, a by-product of his mental concentration on radiated thought. But now, approaching from the far end of the corridor, came what looked like a horizontal grid of glistening metal rods. They seemed to move slowly at first, their tips lurching forward, now some in advance, now others, but suddenly they accelerated. The two running boys were momentarily transfixed, and in the same instant they vanished. Then Pout was touched, and vanished.
The rods speared through Ikematsu. He felt nothing, but from the blackness that enveloped him he knew that he, too, had vanished.
CHAPTER TEN
Electric force differs from other forces in having two forms, which conventionally are called positive and negative. Particles bearing the same form of electric charge repel one another, but those bearing opposite charges attract one another.
Actually there is only one fundamental symmetry in nature, and this is the symmetry of left- and right-handedness. 'Charge symmetry' is related to this; it arises because there may be two directions of spin about any axis.
Electric charge originates to begin with when particles within the Hubble sphere are prevented from receding from one another at their natural rate. This puts strain on the recession lines acting between them. The 'thwarted recession' finds its outlet by adopting an angular component. The angular action of all 'strain' lines taken together is called 'pseudo-spin.' In some ways these 'strain lines' act like lines of force with quasi-material properties. They can even be thought of as 'wrapping around' the particles, though this is not what happens.
To begin with the charge that is thus created is attached to pre-existing particles, but the 'strain space' so created is also capable of generating its own entities consisting purely of electric charge. These are positrons and electrons.
Pseudospin is not like the spin that could be possessed by a material body. To the charged particle itself it would seem that the whole Hubble sphere is rotating around it, not on one axis but on all axes simultaneously. Another strange difference between pseudospin and the spin of a material body is that its sense is absolute, not relative to the observer. If a material disk is set rotating it will appear to be spinning clockwise if looked at from one side but anticlockwise if looked at from the other. Pseudospin, however, will appear to have the same sense of rotation no matter from which side it is looked at. Negative charge will always appear to be clockwise, and positive charge will always appear to be anticlockwise.
Think for a moment what this means. In effect whenever two charged particles interact each selects a direction of spin for the other. Take two electrons. Each electron will look at the other and see clockwise pseudospin. However, seen objectively, i.e. from the standpoint of a third party, the spins that each has selected for the other will be contrary. Likewise an electron will select anticlockwise pseudo-spin for a proton but the proton will select clockwise pseudospin for the electron. Seen objectively, these spins, though subjectively contrary, have the same sense. Hence it transpires that the rule for electric force is that like attracts like and unlikes repel one another—the opposite of how it appears superficially.
Once the principle of pseudospin is understood it is easy to see how magnetism arises. You have already seen how tilting a spinning gyroscope produces 'gyroscopic action' in which an applied force is turned through a right angle. Every charged particle has attached to it a pseudospin 'gyroscope' the size of the Hubble sphere. Moving the particle is equivalent to tilting that gyroscope . . .
(From How the World Works, a physics primer for young people)
Under the vast spans of Archway City all apparently was at peace. The sky boulevards, beneath which gentle clouds floated, sparkled brilliant as ever. The levitating balconies which were the city's public transport system rose and descended with the same air of leisure. And the air fizzed as ever, laden as it was with billions of tiny popping bubbles containing a mix of psychotropics and pure oxygen.
But within that tranquil architectural grandiosity was an atmosphere of uncertainty and dismay. Imperial Council Member Koutroubis sat in his study, his head in his hands. The study, occupying a location a mile high in one of the shining arches, was open to the air; through its broad windows drifted the cheering bubble fizz, carried on a warm breeze. But it failed to lift the spirits of Koutroubis.
What was he going to tell the Methorians?
They were impatient to depart, waiting only for the data he had promised. But he had been unable to contact the science team that was supposed to be working on the problem of the space rent, or even to ascertain whether it existed!
He felt so helpless!
There was news of disorder in many parts of Diadem, of fighting, even, between Biotists and those loyal to the Council, though he didn't really believe there could have been serious violence. Still, it was lucky they had not brought in the two Star Force fleets, as had been planned. With one on the side of the Council and one on the side of the Biotists, well . . .
He lifted his head in surprise at a banging noise from the direction of the outer door. He heard footsteps in the corridor. Then there barged into the study a lean, agile-looking boar who stopped and darted his gaze ferociously from side to side. Behind him came several more animals and one human, a tall, pale young man in a red cloak.
The boar was Zheikass, Under-Secretary of the Home Star Department and effectively the administrator of affairs in Diadem. The young man was Heskios, a Council Member of junior rank but with no role, as far as Koutroubis could recall, in the Home Star Department. Koutroubis was puzzled. He also recognised two animals beside Zheikass: they were high-ranking civil servants too.
Blankly he addressed his fellow Council member. "Why, Heskios! What are you doing here?"
The other coloured slightly. But his gaze remained stony.
Zheikass spoke, in a stormy squeal. "Councillor, you are under arrest!"
Stunned, Koutroubis rose to his feet. Stuttering, he spoke again to Heskios.
"Are you really a party to this?"
"I happen to believe they are right, sir," Heskios replied stiffly.
"And you, Zheikass." Koutroubis turned his gaze to the pig. "I never realized you were a Whole-Earth-Biotist."
The boar, already a large animal, seemed to swell even larger. He glared in outrage.
/> "Don't you dare call me a Biotist!" he rasped.
In his grief Archier stumbled as he made his way through achingly empty concourses, ruined salons, wide echoing corridors from which bodies had been lately cleared. The air -of dereliction was complete. It was as if the flagship, indeed the whole fleet, drifted unmanned.
In fact most of the crew were huddled in their quarters. The orgy of destruction was over, curbed by Ragshok when the two factions among the raiders—formerly defeated rebels, who felt some moral compunction, and outright pirates, who felt none—had begun fighting one another. Much life had been saved thereby, though the wanton killing of animals, which none of the Escorians seemed to recognise as fellow beings, had continued apace.
The helplessness of the ship's crew, once the raiders got aboard, had been nightmarish. No one was armed; even the commandos had been unable to reach their armouries. Still, they had managed to put up a resistance. Many an enemy had fallen to tooth and claw, though in the end this had resulted in savage reprisals.
He swayed, at the top of a gentle slope that led down to what had been, to all intents and purposes, an open-air cafe, bathed in sunlight, a blue sky above. The sunlamp, the hologrammed sky, were smashed. Tables were overturned and bore the dark stains of dried blood.
Suddenly two figures emerged from the interior of the cafe and began to mount the slope. They were Ragshok's men. On their heads were the stolen hats of staff officers. Swarthy muscled bodies showed through skimpy wraps made of animal pelts. Both wore tawny close-fitting pants—lionskin, probably—and carried their scanguns insolently over their loins, like codpieces.
Clearly they had been sampling what the cafe had to offer, for they walked unsteadily as they came up to Archier.
"Eh, it's the Admiral," slurred one. "Howdy, A'm'ral."
The other grabbed Archier by the arm, swung him round and raised a fist to hit him in the face. "Whatcha doin' still alive, Admiral?"
"Leave him alonef"
The peremptory female voice rang out, causing the pirate to jerk round in surprise. Hesper Positana came striding from the other end of the cafe area. Boldly she climbed the slope and waved the two men back.
"Clear out, or Ragshok will hear of it."
The sight of her black and silver uniform seemed to have an effect on them. One grinned sheepishly.
"All right, sister, keep your vest on."
The phrase was opaque to Archier. He allowed the girl to lead him down the ramp. Behind him, his assailants passed on.
"You'd be safer in your quarters," Hesper told him. "Those two might have killed you if I hadn't happened along."
"This is my fleet," Archier said stubbornly. "My ship." He sighed. "They killed my adjutant," he said blankly. "He was such a nice little chap."
"I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry for?" Archier said dolefully. "You've won. This is what you wanted."
"You'll have to believe me when I say that I never wanted what I've seen happen here. We fought to get you Imperials off our necks, that's all. So as not to have to let our best men and women be carried off to Diadem. Not to have your fleets hovering over our heads threatening to blast us all."
"It looks like you'll have that. But in the process Diadem is going to be ripped apart by these people. It's going to be ghastly."
She looked at him sharply. "You mean you can't defend. yourselves?"
He shook his head. "Diadem is wide open. It's completely defenceless."
"But what about the other fleets?"
"They are out in the Empire. They've been ordered to stay out of Diadem, as a matter of fact. There's ... a political crisis there."
She was silent for a while. "Look," she said at length, "for what it's worth to you, I haven't got any time for these characters. Ragshok's people are just scum. Shipwreckers ... the ironic thing is, it's the fleets that have prevented us from clearing the spacelanes of these pirates, by not letting us have proper policing forces of out own . . . And though the others wear the same uniform as myself, I don't feel a part of them. They're the dregs of the rebel forces, the garbage."
She stopped in her tracks. "Why, I've seen them rape children."
Despite himself, Archier smiled. "I doubt if what you saw was rape," he said.
The mainly male invaders had, it was clear, come aboard with the intention of making free with the flagship's women. Initially they had been disappointed. All but a handful of the nubile human females followed the fad of facial senility, which the Escorians were unsophisticated enough to find repulsive. When things settled down a little, however, the Priapus' People troupe, including the young girl trainees, had been more than willing to accommodate them.
"I know what I saw," Hesper insisted. "You probably don't understand these things. You people from Diadem are so innocent in some ways. Sex isn't really a part of your lives at all, is it?"
"Well, I wouldn't say . . ."
She was thoughtful, not hearing him. "Isn't there any way to regain control? I mean, I don't want to see the fleet handed back to you, to the Imperials. But I would like to see it in responsible Escorian hands. If we had Ten-Fleet we could defend Escoria as a sovereign state, without doing crazy criminal things like rampaging around Diadem." She reflected. "What happened to all the prisoners you took?"
"They're still on the prison ship. Ragshok didn't release them . . . he's ahead of you."
"So? How would we go about releasing them?"
Archier found he liked the Escorian girl. He admired her guts. But he shook his head. "There's no way to get to them. The intermats are under guard. The only other way would be to steal a gig, but what with the way Ragshok lets people like me wander around he must be pretty confident that's not possible either."
In fact Archier had been in the Command Centre since the take-over. Ragshok had wanted him to explain how to mesh feetol bubbles and fly the fleet in formation. Although in fear of his life, Archier had refused; but it had made no difference. Handling the fleet was fairly easy, and Ragshok's men had soon got the hang of it. Ten-Fleet was now heading for Diadem at top speed.
He ushered Hesper down a narrow passage that ran just behind the cafe. "Apparently you've been taught certain ideas regarding our attitude to sexuality," he said. "I'd like to show you that those ideas are a misconception. Actually many people in Diadem think provincials can't separate sex from reproduction. You are described as erotically uneducated. But perhaps that's not true either."
The corridor contained several arched doors. One opened as Archier placed his palm on it. Inside there was only a vague diffused light, until Archier slid the door shut behind them and touched a contact.
At once the room had defined limits. They were surrounded by—themselves; their own images thrown back at them in multiple, from every possible angle, at every stage of enlargement.
He smiled at her as he hit a second contact, flooding the room with aphrodisiac. "In here is our own universe, consisting only of ourselves."
Quickly he stripped off, throwing his garments in a corner and moving towards the shell-shaped couch that, reflecting imagery as completely as the walls, floor and ceiling, was almost invisible. His images moved as he moved, piling flesh tone on flesh tone, totally submerging Hesper's vision.
"Why, this is perverted," she said delightedly. She was grinning, and the gas was getting to her. Trying to keep her eye on the real Archier amid the image flood, she unpeeled her uniform and stepped from it.
' 7 wanted to thank you for saving my life,'' Archier said.
The endless mural of writhing limbs and organs engulfed them as they came together.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The natural colour of this planet's sky was a blue so pale as to be almost white. The sun was large and alum-pale, glaring behind that sky like a ghost of a sun, shimmering, casting a moderate heat.
Hako Ikematsu was interested in neither sky nor sun, but he frequently peered overhead nevertheless. The processes that took place in the sky, in the air, so
metimes reaching down to the ground, were interesting indeed.
They were, of course, the same as had appeared on board ICS Standard Bearer, but here the range of their operations was easier to view. It was rather as if the space near the planet had been engulfed in a sort of linear cobweb which entered the atmosphere occasionally, blown by a cosmic wind. Long glistening threads, always dead straight, always parallel. He had, of course, guessed the nature of those threads, ever since being transposed, in the twinkling of an eye, from the corridor in the flagship to the surface of this world.
It was surprising he was still in one piece. He suspected he would not be so for long if those threads should touch him again. In the days that the weaponless kosho had been searching for his nephew he had come upon the remains of numbers of people, beasts, buildings and artifacts. In every case they had been dismantled; not clumsily, as a butcher or a demolitioner would do it, but with extraordinary finesse. In the case of the organic remnants there was often remarkably little blood. Separations were apt to be along natural lines of division: membranes, sinews, systemic functions. Nerves were left dangling, sometimes pulled out of their ensheathing flesh to a length of several feet, or with receptor organs still attached. How such careful dissection had been accomplished, by beings who did not even seem to be beings, and who lacked any apparent means of manipulation, was a mystery.
Neither did the disassemblers seem to be able to differentiate between what was organic and what was not. Besides separated limbs and organs, Ikematsu had seen bits of machinery carefully laid out as if ready for assembly, and whole buildings unfolded like packing cases and laid flat. Even stretches of landscape had been pulled apart and rearranged, leaving weird patterns in soil, vegetation and concrete.
Bayley, Barrington J - Novel 10 Page 14