Key to Chroma

by Piers Anthony

  "The rest of us will. You'll be distracting Patches."

  She sighed. “Expletive. He's an okay man; it's that I wanted the adventure."

  Throe understood. Hazardous as this might be, it was also fascinating. They were involved in things he had never before known existed, working directly with a Glamor. But the dull aspects had to be handled also. “They also serve who only spread their legs."

  "Astounded appreciation for that insight,” she said sourly. But she was smiling.

  They arrived at the site. There was no missing it; the hull was staved in, with a sizable hole to the interior. “Your turn,” he said, smiling.

  She flashed him a return smile as she undid her harness. She landed on the cockpit ceiling, then wriggled out of her suit and netting. Nude except for a small metal hammer in one hand, she reached down to slide open the cover on the pot-like inward projection of the canopy. This was actually another type of airlock; below it was level water. The pressure of the air stopped the water from entering, and the water prevented the air from escaping, because the air would have to bubble downward to do that. It was a neat system.

  Bijou took a breath, and plunged headfirst through the lock into the water. She swam around the crawler to the city hull, her hair trailing. She was prettier than ever, this way, a veritable nymph of the water.

  Thanks! her thought came.

  Caught me looking, he thought back.

  She put one hand on the crawler for stability, and pressed her ear to the hull as she used her hammer to tap on it. In a moment she slid along the hull and planted her ear again, tapping. Satisfied, she reversed the hammer and used its other end to mark the spot with a visible X.

  She swam back to the bottom of the crawler, trailing exhaled bubbles. She poked her head up through the lock and gasped, recovering her breath. “You heard the mallet?” Throe asked.

  "Yes. And got a little bit of mind with it, so I'm sure. One down."

  "Put on a tail and you'd be a mermaid."

  "And sucker men into hour-long sex? Forget it.” She took another breath and ducked down and out.

  Watching her, he realized that part of the effect was the air in her lungs, that inflated her chest profile. But more of it was the seeming freedom as she swam, moving through three dimensions rather than being confined to two.

  She went to another angle of the triangle, tapped, listened, and duly marked the spot. Ennui was inside, of course, with her own ear to the floor, listening and tapping so that they could orient on each other. They had to locate the sturdy beams, and the sound did that. Ennui could see where they were, but Bijou could not—and her markings were the ones that counted.

  She returned for another breath. “Two down!” she gasped.

  "One to go,” Throe agreed.

  "This is a piece of confection."

  "Don't get cocky. We're not back inside yet."

  "Women don't get cocky,” she retorted, looking at his crotch. “It's a matter of anatomy.” Then she took a breath and dived.

  And the storm struck. It might have been a gust of wind, so strong it pushed the whole city around. The hull tilted, rattling the crawler. Get back in here! Throe thought.

  She obeyed; it was clearly dangerous there, with the water swirling. She handed herself across the crawler and into it. “What was that?"

  "Stray buffet of air, I think."

  She nodded. “Must be. I thought the city was turning over."

  "It's some storm."

  "How much time remains?"

  Throe had a good time sense. “We'd better start back. it took us five minutes to get here, and we have five left."

  "Let me try again.” She straddled the lock.

  "But it's not safe.” He felt protective; she was only sixteen.

  "I'll be quick, I promise.” She dived through the hole.

  Throe shook his head. She was a foolishly brave girl.

  Thank you.

  He smiled ruefully. And quite a sight from the rear, he thought, projecting a mental view of her flexing bare legs and buttocks as she swam.

  I've been a king's mistress, she reminded him. And of course she had. And perhaps would be again, once Havoc got settled.

  I hope so.

  The city was still shaking, and strong currents were coursing around the crawler, pushing her to the side. But she made it to the third angle of the triangle and put her ear to the hull as she tapped with the hammer.

  And got swept clear by another strong current.

  Throe was diving through the lock before he knew it. He caught the outer canopy with one hand and swung himself around. There was the girl, swimming gamely back. He caught her arm and hauled her in, guided as much by his awareness of her mind as by sight of her body.

  She pointed to the hull. Must do it!

  The crawler was close to the site. He pushed her toward it without letting go of the crawler. That prevented the current from carrying her away. He had to let go and grab her thigh to enable her to reach the site with her head, and even so, it was hard to hold her in place. The flow was strong, and there was turbulence in it, tugging one way and another. He got a better grip, and she clamped her thighs on his hand, making the most of him as an anchor. She put her head to the hull, hammered, heard a response, and quickly marked the site. She had done it!

  Then bubbles poured from her mouth. Throe felt her mind shut down. She had run out of breath and lost consciousness. She was drowning.

  He hauled her in by her crotch, got his arm around her waist, and lugged himself around the tractor one-handed. He reached the lock and brought them both up into it. Their heads broke the surface, but Bijou did not resume breathing.

  He scrambled up, then hauled her in after him. He spread her limp body across the inverted canopy and squeezed her chest. Some water flowed out, clearing the passage. Then he brought her head in to his, put his mouth to hers, and breathed into her. One, two, three—and she choked and returned to life. In a moment she was gasping.

  He climbed into his harness, upside down, got his seat and began pedaling backwards, making the crawler reverse course. They had only a couple of minutes left.

  "Thanks!” she panted in a moment. “I thought I drowned."

  "You did, for a while.” He kept pedaling. He was breathing faster, and knew it was because the air was fading.

  Bijou gradually relaxed. She was on the canopy, her body below his head, but her head was close to his. “Did you have a good time?"

  "Question?"

  "You goosed me, you laid me out, you squeezed my breasts, you kissed me when I couldn't resist. How was it?"

  He glanced at her, perplexed. “You were conscious?"

  "I read it in your mind just now."

  "Then you know I was trying to revive you."

  She laughed weakly. “I was teasing."

  "Remind me to go through the motions again when you're not dying, and I'm sure it will be thrilling.” Now that he thought of it, he had been pretty familiar with her body, and it was a fine body.

  "Thanks.” She climbed into her harness, getting suitably inverted, and positioned herself on her seat. “I'd better help.” She started peddling backwards.

  But it soon became apparent that they were not going to make it. They had played it too close, and the air was exhausted. Throe kept pedaling, but knew he would not be able to continue much longer.

  "Oh, Throe, I'm sorry,” Bijou gasped. “I should have waited on that third one. I was just so—I thought I could—I'm sorry.” She slumped, fading out again.

  He was sorry too, but understood her desire to get the job done efficiently. If it hadn't been for that storm surge, she would have succeeded. How could he blame her for trying?

  After an indefinite time, he realized that he was recovering. He took in more air, and it was fresh and good. But they were still in the crawler. Where had the new air come from?

  Then he saw the tube sticking out of the open lock. Air was wafting from half its double section, and b
eing drawn into the other half. Someone had brought in an air tube, saving them. But who? There was no one.

  Jamais Vu, the thought came. Catch your breath, then resume motion. You have two minutes. The tube disappeared.

  The invisible Air Chroma man! Yet how had he done it without a suit of his own?

  Bijou revived. “We're there?” she asked faintly.

  "Jamais brought an air tube. We have two more minutes.” He resumed peddling.

  "Oh.” She made her bare legs move too.

  But Throe doubted that an ordinary man could have done it. Jamais must have taken the tube and swum with it to the crawler, poking it into the lock. And never taken a breath himself. That had to be the power of the Black Glamor.

  And of course the Glamor didn't want his identity known. They would have to cover for him. Bijou—

  I know. We were unconscious. We know nothing.

  Except that we got the air, he agreed.

  They reached the hull lock, and backed around the loop and into it, turning upright. The portal closed and the water was pressed out by incoming air.

  While they waited for the descending air to prevail, Bijou turned to him. “I was disastrously foolish, and nearly got us both killed. Forgive me?"

  "Of course. You were just trying to do the job."

  She undid her harness and leaned into him. “If you ever do need young flesh, you won't even have to ask. I'll be there.” She kissed him, and her mind made it clear that she was speaking literally.

  He did not insult her by declining. “Appreciation."

  When the lock was clear, the inner portal opened, and they backpedaled the crawler into the main city. They opened the canopy. “Spots marked,” Bijou called out.

  "Routine,” Throe agreed.

  "Routine, my obscenity wedged posterior!” Patches swore. “Didn't you jokers remember anything I told you about the air limit?"

  "Apology,” Throe said meekly. “Amateur mistake."

  "My fault,” Bijou said. “I went out for the third mark, and got washed away.” She smiled apologetically at the foreman. It was a most winsome smile, buttressed by her bare breasts.

  Patches’ righteous ire diffused, as it had to. He nodded. “Storm surge. Ill luck. Don't do it again."

  "Never again,” she agreed.

  "Good thing your Air Chroma friend was good with air. I thought he couldn't make it in time."

  "We were unconscious,” Throe said. “But saw the tube when we recovered. Lucky he didn't have to take it far.” And even luckier that the power of a Glamor had been behind that effort, for it seemed it had been too far for a mortal person.

  Then Jamais and Ennui were there. Ennui threw herself on Throe, and Jamais helped Bijou out of the crawler.

  Oh, Throe! Ennui thought. I felt you dying!

  Just a little uncomfortable, he thought back. But they both knew it had been a close call.

  "You folk fit for the next stage?” Patches asked.

  "We'd better be,” Throe said.

  "I've got the patch ready.” For of course the man had not been idle while they worked.

  The patch was a simple looking metallic hemisphere with three moveable anchor tags at the rim. It was light but strong. Patches put cords through the tags and tied them to the rear of one crawler and the front of another. “This time everybody goes out,” he said. “Can you handle it?” As he spoke, he was loading big tubes of sealant into the crawlers, and hammers and bolts. “We'll have eleven minutes."

  "Oh, yes,” Ennui said, clinging to Throe.

  "Eleven?” Throe asked, dismayed.

  "Each crawler holds enough air for two people for fifteen minutes. But I'll be along too, taking my seven and a half. I'll ride out in one, and back in the other, taking three and three quarters from each. This will be tight, because we can't quit in the middle. You'll have to read my mind to get it exactly right, or we're all in trouble."

  "Understood,” Throe said. “We'll be linked.” Even so, this was nervous business. They did need the foreman's expertise.

  The two of them got into the lead crawler, while Bijou and Jamais got in the other. Patches joined the second crew.

  "I am not an apt swimmer,” Ennui said as they pedaled out.

  "I'll tie a cord to you. When you have to come back in, hand yourself along the cord. If you get lost, I'll haul you in."

  "Please do,” she said tremulously. “Oh!” For it seemed she hadn't realized they would be upside down, until the crawler made its loop.

  Throe put a reassuring hand on her knee. “I hauled Bijou in; its the least I can do for you."

  "She said you handled her all over."

  "I did. In another circumstance I might have—"

  "Never mind.” But she was smiling. Mind reading made the male interest in sexual experience so obvious that the women understood it quite well.

  Soon they were at the site. The track went by it. They pedaled until the patch was beside the hole, and halted. The two of them got out of the harnesses and squatted on the canopy. He made a loop in the end of an anchored cord and fitted it to her left ankle: her safety line.

  "First we three men will shove it into place,” Throe said as he opened the lock. “Don't come out with the bolts until it's there."

  "Acquiescence.” She kissed him.

  He took a breath and dived out the lock. He saw that Patches and Jamais (now wearing white bands on wrists, ankles, and neck to show his location) were already out and untying the patch. He joined them and helped them push it to the hull. His tag came down near a marked spot; several small additional shoves got it aligned.

  He signaled to Ennui. In a moment she came out with a hammer and two bolts. She had not been fooling about being clumsy in water, and he felt the fear in her, but she was struggling bravely along, doing her part. He sent her mental impulses of swimming, and she responded, improving. She brought him the hammer, then got near the hull to hold a pointed bolt in place. Because they tended to float in the water, and the hull was directly above them, she was able to hold her position.

  He hammered, and the bolt bit into the wood, turning as it screwed itself in. He felt the shock as the other two bolts were similarly pounded. Patches had his hammer and bolts with him; his experience enabled him to do it alone. But Throe struggled to get his done.

  Indeed, as Ennui drew her hand away, he tried to strike harder, and made a glancing blow. The bolt dislodged and dropped down past him into the depths of the water, lost. That was why each party had two.

  They tried again with the second, and with the advantage of the hole started by the first, managed to get it pounded in satisfactorily. Then they lurched for the crawler, their lungs hungry.

  "Oh!” Ennui gasped as their heads broke water in the lock. “What adventure! It's wonderful!"

  Throe refrained from comment. This seemed more like a dangerous chore to him, but of course he was more accustomed to physical things outside the city. “Now the caulk,” he said.

  They got the big tubes and plunged back out. Again, they were the last to arrive, but they went to work, putting the tube nozzles to the rim of the patch and squeezing out the whitish sealant. They went carefully, making sure the bead of the jelly-like stuff was continuous so that there would be no break in the seal. Throe encountered Patches, coming from the other direction, and their two beads overlapped. They were done. Just as well, because his lungs were hurting.

  He swam back and found Ennui finishing with Jamais. He caught her around the waist and launched for the crawler. They popped inside and gasped for air.

  "Good job,” Patches said from inside. He had gotten there before them. Now he would ride back with them.

  Throe and Patches took the seats and pedaled, letting Ennui rest. They made good progress backwards, following the other crawler. They were in good time; they had arrived in three and a half minutes, getting the bolting and sealing done in four, and would get back just within eleven minutes total time.

  There was a bri
ef jam as they entered the lock; the other crawler wasn't quite far enough in, so that they bumped before the outer panel could close. But some jostling got them inside, and then the air started coming in, and they knew they were safe.

  But the work was hardly done. Now they had to pump out the storage chamber. It was not designed for the displacement of water; it would have to be cleared by hand.

  They got to work. Each had a hand pump that drew water from the chamber and fed it into a cistern that in turn conveyed it to the air lock for disposal. The work was complicated by the floating items in storage: supplies of vegetables and fruits. They were in waterproof bags, but tended to bob into the way.

  A single stroke of the pump was not arduous, but the job required hours, and that before long became wearing. Ennui soon had to rest, apologetically; her arms were dead. Bijou followed; she was young, but not geared for this. Throe continued, and so did the other two men, and the water level steadily dropped. But eventually they had to rest also.

  Ennui came to rub Throe down, massaging some of the tiredness out. Bijou did the same for Patches, and she was expert at this; the man truly appreciated her touch. Jamais did without, but after a while Throe sent Ennui over to him for token massage, so that the indefatigable power of the Glamor would not become obvious.

  So it continued, on and off, for the rest of the day and into the night. “Plenty of rest after this,” Patches said. “Have to let it dry three days before the hull can be repaired. Otherwise it'll leak."

  "Delight!” Ennui exclaimed.

  At last it was done, the supplies tumbled on the shattered floor of the chamber. They could see the inside of the patch below; that was what held the water out. It would not last forever, but did not need to; the hull would be repaired and the patch would become redundant. Then the crew would remove it.

  "Take your break,” Patches said. “You've earned it. But stay within range, in case of a problem."

  Now it was Bijou's turn for the heavy work. She approached Patches. “My friends need to be elsewhere, anonymously."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You and I can hold the station,” she said. “I will be most appreciative."

  "Confusion."

  "I will be with you throughout.” She kissed him, and set his hands on her body. “As I promised."