"Stand well clear of that desk," Skot said. "Llume, roll to the desk and touch the door release. But first use the desk monitor to check the location of the hostages aboard this ship; they may already be waiting in ambush for us. We're going to eliminate every one of them—quickly."
There, Melody realized, was a leader speaking. While she stood frozen in indecision and fear, Skot was acting with force and effect.
"Your effort is futile," Dash said. "Even if you killed every one of us, you could not affect the hostages in power on the other ships of the fleet. If you messaged Imperial Outworld, you would accomplish nothing; the very resistance movement that sent Melody here has been routed out. No nucleus of loyalists remains on the planet. We have nullified them and the Society of Hosts."
Oh, no! Melody thought. The Colonel of Ice Cream and Flotsam of Polaris, betrayed by what they had tried to do for her, for their galaxy.
Llume moved toward the desk. "Around the other side!" Skot cried, too late.
For as she passed between Skot and the Captain, Dash cried: "Slammer—revert!"
Skot fired, but Dash was already diving for his desk. He collided with Llume, bouncing off her resilient Polarian torso. She remained between him and Skot, balking the shot. Slammer shoved forward, hesitating, since Llume had not actually attacked the Captain.
The magnet was back under the direct command of the Captain. Slammer had never comprehended the intricacies of transfer and hostaging; he took his orders from the apparent master. Melody's efforts to tame him had been well conceived, but vain.
"Yael of Dragon!" Dash screamed. "Slammer k—"
Skot's beam lanced into his mouth. A front tooth exploded with the heat, ruining the handsome face, and the Captain fell.
Slammer flew across the room, too fast to avoid. During the episode of romance and fatherhood the magnet had seemed friendly, and Melody had lost her initial fear of him. Now, abruptly, she remembered exactly how dangerous he was. The magnet was no pet!
Dash had done it! He had tried to kill her!
Slammer passed between Skot and Melody and smashed into the wall. The metal bulged under the impact, and one side tore partially free of the door.
Melody stood paralyzed. Now she understood references in the Tarot about "slow motion" effects in some species during the severe stress. Mintakans did not experience this, but the human host certainly did. To see, to comprehend, to be unable to react....
Skot fired at the desk controls. Sparks splayed up as the beam cut through the delicate mechanism. Slammer hesitated again. Was it obliged to defend a desk?
"The magnet's confused!" Skot called. "There are magnetic effects of the short circuit on the desk, and it doesn't know what represents the most immediate threat. You girls get out while you can; I'll try to cover for you."
Melody realized that they had already been saved by the magnet's confusion: Dash had been under attack by Skot, but had ordered Slammer to go after Melody. Slammer had thus split the difference between them, the compromise of imperatives, and so had hit neither and smashed instead into the wall. What awful power the thing possessed!
But the confusion would not last long. Had Dash been able to complete his order, naming the precise action, Slammer would have carried it through. Melody had been lucky—once. They had to flee. What that could gain she could not see, but so long as she were alive and free, there was a chance. Maybe she could hide in the crew section of the ship, smuggle out a warning to Etamin— no, that was no good—well, something....
Melody scrambled for the wall. Slammer jerked toward her, but Skot fired at the magnet, distracting it. A spot glowed white on the surface of the globe. Those lasers were only light, but what a lot of heat that thin beam packed! Then Dash groaned; he was not dead, but he was badly injured. Melody felt a kind of relief. Slammer moved over to his master.
Too bad the magnet had not been equipped to comprehend the truth! His real master had already been eliminated, supplanted by an inimical alien aura, possessed by a demon intellect. On the other hand, at least now Dash could not give Slammer a direct verbal order.
Melody put her fingers into the crack between the wall and door. She shook the door back and forth. Suddenly a catch gave way, and it swung open. She and Llume moved out.
There was no one in the hall. "Come on, Skot!" Melody cried.
"I have to cover your retreat!" he called back. "Move!"
Bold, suicidal, determined spacer! They moved. Melody feared that she would never see Skot of Kade again, but she had no choice.
9
God of Hosts
—so quadpoint tried to assume power!—
*he received no concurrence*
—I would have been satisfied if he had then it would have been off my wings—
*why did you miss the council meeting?*
— ast, I was in pain of aura I went to the shrine of our god aposiopesis and prayed for insight—
*do you refer to an ancients' site?*
—do you call them that? aposiopesis means that ellipsis of communication that one is unable to present so it is with the ancients they have so much to inform us, yet they never quite convey it that entity who comprehends the content of aposiopesis shall be exalted—
*did you comprehend it?*
—I? you blaspheme! I comprehended nothing—
*then do you propose to yield power to quadpoint?*
—there may come a time when power shifts from sphere dash to sphere quadpoint, but that occasion is not yet—
*not as long as you control the major ancient sites, so that you are best able to worship aposiopesis*
—you are perceptive, ast!—
*yet we cannot withhold action hour much longer*
—no, not much longer but the dash command in segment etamin is about to secure for our use an aura capable of unlocking the key to aposiopesis then shall true victory be ours! surely that is worth a small delay of schedule—
Melody ran and Llume rolled down the hall. "Where do we go?" Melody gasped. This human host was good for short bursts of power, but tired rapidly under sustained output.
"Where they least suspect," Llume answered. "Let me carry you; this host has greater velocity."
Llume circled her tail about Melody's waist and lifted. The tail was amazingly supple and strong. They rolled down the hall at a horrifying rate. But this was good: They would soon be farther from the scene of action than the hostages would suspect. It was also painful: Melody's feet kept banging against the handholds set into the wall.
They were going toward the innership storage area, where the wooden barriers were. That would help—except that there was another magnet there. If all the magnets were put on the trail....
But Llume drew into a separate room on the near side of the barrier. She set Melody down. "This is where metal for the magnets is kept," Llume explained. "They do not require it, except when injured or growing, so this area is safe. There is a chute to the main feeding area and from there are many channels to the outer ship. We can swim through—" She broke off as her ball lifted from the deck.
Melody heard it too: the keening of a magnet traveling at high speed. The labyrinth of narrow passages made it hard to tell how close it was, but it was coming nearer. The sound sent a chill into her.
"Slammer is looking for us," Melody whispered. "How I wish I had gotten him tamed!"
"I will divert him," Llume said. "You are the most important; there is no other aura like yours. Go to the crew section, seek a communications unit. Somewhere there must be loyalists who have not been caught, or they would not need this fleet to threaten the planet."
"Yes," Melody agreed. She could think of no better course.
"Swim well!" Llume whispered against Melody's hand. Then she was off down the hall, her ball touching the wall above the handholds to make a noise to attract the attention of the pursuit.
"Swim well!" Melody echoed, tears in her human eyes. There was something especially touching about the wor
ds, suggestive as they were of Llume's origin in the deep waters of her home planet of Sphere Spica. That powerful aura, such a perfect match for Melody's own—why did this savagery have to be? They both knew the sacrifice Llume had made; her chances of survival were slender.
But if somehow they both survived, there would be a debt between them. When one entity saved the life of another....
Melody could not dawdle, however poignant her thoughts. To delay was to die. She went to the chute, then hesitated. This course was too simple, too obvious, and she had just thought of a better alternative. Across the wooden barrier, not far away, was the transfer unit. If she could get to it, she might transfer herself to an Outworld host without the hostages knowing, locate some powerful loyalist via a Tarot reading, and give warning directly.
But that could be a very dangerous alternative. In a room like this she could hide, at least for a while, and dodge. The magnet might be fast, but its mass prevented instant maneuvering, however it might appear at close range. Too many turns at speed, and it would tire; she had observed that in Beanball. All things, from civilizations down to amoebas, were subject to the limitations of energy. But in the halls, straightaways, she would be visible and vulnerable.
Unless there were a way to confuse the magnet. To make it look for her in the wrong place. Not by sacrificing more friends—apart from the fact she was out of friends, having permitted two to throw away their lives for her!—but by some mechanical means....
She looked at the cartons of metal. For the magnets, to build their bones. It had to be highly magnetizable stuff. The magnets perceived people by their auras; a low-aura person was little more than furniture. And they obviously could not discern aural families, for then Slammer would have known the significance of the change in the Captain. (And why hadn't Melody herself realized what an actual strength of 175 meant, in a person listed at 150? The magnets were no stupider than she!) There must be a magnetic component to an aura, a trace overlap that the creatures could detect, that remained stable even when an alien aura of greater intensity took over.
Sometimes magnetism could be transferred by proximity, a little like sympathetic vibrations in music, or companion analogies in Tarot. This metal....
She tore into the nearest carton with her inadequate human hands. It was filled with slender metal rods. She drew one out. It was unprintable material, all right; she could feel the partial channelization of her aura in its vicinity. Ideal for her purpose!
She held the rod by its ends and concentrated. More of her aura passed through it, aligning the molecular structure. It was not much, for an aura was a very diffuse thing, even one as intense as hers. But even the barest smell of her aura might deceive the magnet. It was certainly worth the try.
She set the rod down and took out another. As she held it and concentrated, she explored other facets of the problem. Because the magnets oriented on an aspect of aura, and aura did not extend far from the host, the creatures would not be able to perceive her from very far away. In fact, beyond a certain distance, she should be able to see the magnets far better than they could perceive her.
The trouble was, the halls were metal—and narrow. A magnet could shoot the full length, and if Melody were anywhere in that hall, there was no way she could escape detection and destruction. Perhaps they had been designed with just this sort of thing in mind. The magnets could cruise up and down with such velocity that she was bound to be caught. So her long-distance vision would not help her much, unless she happened to be at an intersection and could get far enough out of the magnet's path before it passed. Even then, it was a deadly gamble, for the thing might turn into the new passage. Or two magnets might approach, one in each passage.
But her charged rods might give her the chance she needed. The magnet could be confused.
Her life depended on it. "Lord God of Hosts," she breathed, "be with us yet."
"Is it safe to come out now?" Yael inquired.
Melody jumped. "I forgot all about you, child! Did you enjoy the action?"
"No," Yael admitted. "When the shooting started, and I saw that it was all-the-way real, I was so scared I just... hid. I never thought adventure would be like this."
"I was afraid it would be like this," Melody said. "I really didn't have much time to get scared—but I'm terrified now."
"That's my terror you feel!"
Oh? That was possible, Melody realized. "Unfortunately, there is more coming. We may not survive."
"I thought I liked adventure," Yael said. "But when I saw what a heel that captain really was, and that magnet—"
Heel: a Solarian portion of anatomy, back of the foot or of the shoe covering that foot. That portion whose weight would fall on whatever was below. Implication: The man's whole personality resembled the crushing force of such stepping-on, and an attitude heedless of the sensitivities of others. One who used and deceived others without regret.
"The Captain's not a heel," Melody said. "He is fascinated by your body and my aura, but he is the dedicated agent of a hostile power. His personal interest conflicts with his duty. He tried to bring them into alignment, and failed, so now the stronger loyalty governs."
"Heel," Yael repeated firmly, though her mood had changed.
"To do otherwise would make him a traitor to his galaxy."
"Heel," Yael said again. "Not him, now. You."
Melody almost dropped the rod. "Me?"
"You don't love him. You analyze him without caring. You made him make love to me thinking it was you. You took his gift of the Tarot cube, but you didn't give anything back. You wouldn't go with him when he asked you. You let Skot and Llume sacrifice themselves. You wouldn't even save our segment—"
Yael halted. She was crying, and the tears coursed down Melody's cheeks. Where was the truth?
Melody had been sorely tempted by Dash's offer; but a combination of factors had balked her acceptance. Not least among them was the horror of accepting reprieve for her segment at the price of the rest of her galaxy. She thought she had done right, but she wasn't sure. And how could she expect Yael to comprehend the complex weighing of values that was involved? Sometimes a principle, such as the greatest good for the greatest number, required the painful sacrifice of purely personal considerations.
She took a new rod. It resembled a wand, as in the Tarot Suit of Energy. That suit suggested life and work, while the Ten of Wands signified oppression. But this was not the tenth rod; she was dissembling. This was the fifth rod, and it signified competition and strife. How fitting!
"Oh, damn your Tarot!" Yael cried. "Don't you have any feelings for yourself?"
And suddenly, surprising herself, Melody told her: "My personal feelings died in Sphere Mintaka when I was your age. Now I am an old neuter. I cannot love an alien male; it would destroy me."
Yael was silent.
"We don't have sexes in Mintaka. We reproduce by budding; any two entities joining to form the new shoot. Our sexual identity is only a convention, a convenience in dealing with other Spheres whose creatures don't comprehend our changeability. As young entities we are neuter; as mature ones we are female until we first bud. Thereafter we are male, to one degree or another. I—lost my prospective mate, and chose never to give up my status for a lesser entity. So I am, in your terms, an old maid. Or as we put it in my culture, I have nine feet."
"I don't see how—"
"Don't you understand, girl? Your female nature is protected for the duration of your life; you will always be as you are now, only older. If I mated now, not only would I be false to my lost love—I would become a male."
"God of Hosts!" Yael cried, appalled. "I can't believe that... but I feel its truth in your mind. You can't—"
"I can't love," Melody finished simply. Temporarily numbed by her confession, she took up the sixth rod.
Now Yael was contrite. "I'm sorry. I—"
"You didn't know. I should not have told you. I know the concept disgusts you."
"I mean about
the—the heel business. I'm frightened and mixed up and I didn't really mean it. I really like March better than the Captain, even if he weren't Andromedan, and—"
March—the crewman they had met on the shuttle coming in. Low Kirlian, low rank, an exile of some sort new to space, pretty much an average Solarian. Of such stuff was a girl like Yael's ambition fashioned. Where was he now?
Yet Yael had not responded to the sex-change matter. That was answer enough. The concept did disgust her.
Armed with the six rods, Melody moved out. She headed directly for the nearest barrier. Since chance would probably determine her interception by the magnet, her best strategy was to minimize her exposure.
But just in case: She set the first rod at the entrance to the storeroom. "Ace of Wands... the beginning," she murmured to Yael. "If Slammer passes this way, it may think I'm in this room."
She walked rapidly down the hall, trying to keep her progress silent. Her shoes insisted on clattering. She stopped, drew them off, and tucked them into the crook of her left arm along with the five remaining rods. Now she could move quietly.
She turned a corner—and almost ran into Hath of Conquest, the first Solarian officer she had interviewed via Tarot, and found to be Hath of *.
Melody tried to bluff, hoping the man had yet learned about the events in the Captain's office. She was still wearing her provocative clothing, fortunately. She made a little forward bow, exposing her cleavage. "Good day, sir."
Hath hesitated. Then his hand shot out to grasp her arm. "Yael of Aura, come with me."
He knew! Melody had one arm taken with the rods and shoes, the other captive to his strong hand. She felt helpless. She tilted back her head to look at his face....
And remembered the weapon the Imperial Outworld authorities had given her. Two tubes set within her nostrils, positioned so as not to interfere with normal breathing. She had forgotten them entirely during the fracas at the Captain's office. Some presence of mind she had under pressure! All she had to do was wrinkle her nose and snort a gust of air, activating the mechanism....
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