"Aliens!" Rondl flashed, finding further humor in this notion.
"To Monsters, we are the aliens!" She, too, found this funny.
"But this is our nightmare, not theirs. Maybe we can change their disesteem to respect." Rondl concentrated, as the Monster's hand-appendage reached for the machine that caused explosions. Rondl willed the hand to draw back, extending his presence into the tubes and strings and fat deposits of it, causing the muscle tissue to convulse, and the thing did indeed go astray.
"Hey, my hand's not obeying me!" the Monster exclaimed with his huge exhalation of atmosphere.
"Let me see," the female exhaled. She convulsed her own fat-encased leg appendages, balancing on the bones and joints, and moved across the room. She was grotesque, with ponderous masses of meat-flesh padding her limb-bones in places that distorted their outer configurations without enhancing their locomotive efficiency, and additional fat-stifled gland masses dangling from her torso, so that they had to be tied in place externally by a special band of material. Her glistening eyeball orbs slid about in their malformed sockets, showing white around the fringes, and an extraordinarily thick mass of fibers, completely dysfunctional, hung from her head. Incongruously, these superfluous fibers were yellow—the same color as Cirl's own substance.
Rondl was amazed. He saw the female Monster as she was in all her horror—but the sodden tissue-brain of the male Monster perceived her entirely differently. The Monster perceived her as a lithe, slender, well-formed woman with excellent legs, an outstanding bosom, lovely green eyes, and beautiful golden tresses. The convolutions of her torso as she walked directed his mind immediately to reproductive matters. But he could only look, not act, because she had committed her reproductive capacity to the attentions of another male. Whatever faults they might have, Monsters had some brute sensitivities about interbreeding.
Cirl, too, was surprised. "This female believes herself to be attractive to another of her species," she commented. "She thinks the orbs of your male are liquefying from their perusal of her meaty anatomy. Such illusion!"
"No illusion," Rondl responded. "The male Monster wants to—" But he broke off his explanation, as he assimilated a more direct notion of the actual mechanics of what the male would like to do to facilitate reproduction, had he the opportunity. The actions were barely comprehensible, and completely disgusting.
As the female tried to touch the kill-machine, Cirl exerted her will and prevented her. "Something's stopping me!" the female Monster exclaimed, alarmed.
The male's attention departed from the female's posterior and returned to the machine. He tried to reach it again, but Rondl made the muscles convulse all wrong. The female's liquid eyeballs seemed about to burst as she glared about in panic, her torso jerking in ways that were no longer quite so appealing to the male.
The Band nightmare was becoming the Monster nightmare. "We can control them!" Rondl flashed. "We can make them do our will!"
Then he woke. Cirl remained with him, ring fastened to ring. He could no longer communicate with her objectively—strange how subjective expression turned objective in the dream state—but he could do so emotionally.
Exhilarated at their success in controlling the nightmare Monsters, Rondl proceeded to the other thing this position was good for. He did not choose to admit that the thoughts of the male nightmare Monster had given him the notion, but he did like the notion. "Love! Love!" he flashed.
Cirl returned his signals. Soon they were deep in unmentionable bliss. Yet Rondl remained buoyed independently: together they had conquered the nightmares! They had prevented the Bands from being annihilated, this one time. He need no longer fear the Monsters of his dreams, thanks to Cirl's timely help.
Chapter 8
Campaign
Rondl and Cirl reorganized their group, which despite prior losses was now swelling enormously as increasing numbers of Bands became alarmed about the alien intrusion. Rondl set up a hierarchy of the trainers and staffers, so that each newcomer's skill could be integrated into the effort. He appointed a special corps of record-keepers who kept track of the others, since Bands had no written or computer records. When he needed a good geographer to chart the pattern of magnetic lines in a given region of space, the record-Bands identified one; when he needed a good circle-organizer for a conference, they located one.
The Bands were intrigued by what Rondl was doing. This was their first experience with government; they regarded it as a game or an emotional discipline, and once they mastered the fundamental principles, they cooperated well. A virtual nation of Bands was evolving and gaining in competence. Not again, Rondl hoped, would he lose half his party to disbanding without accomplishing anything.
Tembl, the blue philosopher, became more valuable. She was always near by, and willing to perform any minor task. It occurred to Rondl that she might be angling for—but no, he interrupted himself, that was his alien information putting unfortunate notions into his consciousness. Cirl was his love.
Now, how did things rest? He had, with Cirl's marvelous help, conquered his nightmares, but he had yet to conquer the actual Monsters. The liability of his effort was in the nature of the Bands: they disbanded too readily at the mere suggestion of violence, then lost discipline when finally worked up to some semblance of combat fervor. Clearly it was an unsane state for them, leading to awkward instability.
He needed to give them direct combat experience against a lesser foe than the Monsters, to sift out and toughen his most effective troops. He had to do this soon, because the Monsters would not sit back politely and wait for him to get ready.
What offered? He needed a real enemy, not another mock-up. A real challenge, but not too great to be overcome. Something like the water monster, or—
The Kratch! There was a suitable challenge! The Bands saw evil in very few things, but the evil of the Kratch they conceded. The spaceways would be well rid of such a monster.
Rondl put it to them fairly. "We aren't ready to tackle the interstellar Monsters yet. But I will form my complement from those who prove they can handle the necessary rigors by performing satisfactorily in an interim mission. This will not be easy, but I think it is easier than dealing with the Solarians."
"But what is it?" Tembl inquired eagerly.
"We are going to eliminate the Kratch from the zone of debris nearest the home planet, to make this region safe for Bands."
Suddenly there was nervousness. This was real! Bands wavered and dimmed and spun erratically.
"This is volunteer," Rondl clarified. "I want only those who choose to join me, knowing the danger. Because I deem the Kratch to be a lesser threat than the Solarians, and anyone who is unable to face the Kratch will not be able to oppose the real Monsters. This is a selective process; I want no more Bands getting into situations beyond their endurance and disbanding at critical moments. Those who do not wish to tackle the Kratch do not have to give up the overall effort; there will be other tasks, such as marking the progress of the Monsters and conveying messages—tasks that are less stressful, but just as important. So consider carefully what type of participation you prefer. This particular mission is for the most aggressive of you."
They considered carefully. The Kratch was not theoretical; the Kratch was dire and direct. No Band could approach a Kratch and be ignored. The Kratch was involuntary disbanding incarnate.
In the end about thirty Bands volunteered for the Kratch mission. Rondl had hoped for more, but was not about to force the issue; that would be counterproductive.
"I was pursued by a Kratch," Rondl flashed to this more select group. "It caught me, but I managed to collect a load of dust, and jettisoned the dust into the monster, giving it indigestion. I feel that way is too dangerous; we need safer alternatives. But it does indicate that the Kratch is not extremely intelligent, and can be balked by fairly obvious means. Do any of you have suggestions?"
Tentatively, they closed with the problem. "We could lead it into a dangerous place," a yel
low Band suggested. "One with many rocks."
"I tried that before," Rondl said. "It gained on me, and caught me before I found a suitable place. Who would like to lead the Kratch that way?"
The Bands were daunted. None of them were eager to assume this type of chore.
"Actually, if we had a region of sure peril to the Kratch, and knew precisely where it was, we could safely lead the monster there, provided we had a sufficient lead," Rondl said. "It is a matter of margin. If it thinks it can catch one of us, and we know it cannot, the task becomes feasible. Preparation is the key." Now more of the Bands became positive, but still no one had a suggestion.
After a pause, Rondl continued. "I do have two notions relating to this problem, which you can consider and judge. First, we must thoroughly scout the region so we know exactly where to find the proper formation, so there need be no dangerous guesswork when the Kratch is roused. I repeat: planning is fundamental."
"But suppose the Kratch comes upon us while we search?" a dark blue Band inquired.
"Now you're thinking ahead," Rondl said approvingly. "This is where my second notion comes in. I'm going to teach you the art of cross-tag."
They spun uncertainly, not knowing what he meant. Small wonder; it was another alien notion. "It is a game in which one person pursues another," Rondl explained. "Then a third party cuts in between them, and the pursuer must follow the new one until a fourth cuts between, and so on."
"But wouldn't the pursuer grow tired?" a red Band asked. Bands did get tired when exerting themselves; it was difficult to process energy at maximum rate for very long. Some Bands worked hard to build up sustained high-energy processing so that they could travel between stars, but most were not in that condition.
"That should be the case," Rondl agreed.
"Then the game could not go on," the Band protested. "The pursuer would not be able to compete."
"It could not go on longer than the players wanted it to," Rondl agreed.
"Then what is the reason?"
"The Kratch will in due course be the pursuer, in the game I contemplate."
"But the Kratch will grow tired, and decline to play anymore!"
Rondl let them ponder that. In a moment the Bands began catching on. "To the Kratch, it's no game!" one exclaimed. "The Kratch could not catch—" another began. Then all began shimmering with relieved mirth.
"If we are proficient in this game, we should not have to fear the Kratch," Rondl concluded. "We could escape it at will. If we have not yet located a suitable place to dispose of it, we can simply flee it when it becomes too tired to follow."
"Then it will be easy!" a green Band flashed.
Overconfidence was dangerous! "Not necessarily," Rondl cautioned. "There is always the unexpected."
"Unexpected?" the green Band flashed blankly. "What would happen?"
This was the naïveté of inexperience! "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong," Rondl informed them. And wondered how he knew. Rondl himself had very little experience he could remember.
"How can we prepare for what is to go wrong when we don't know what to expect?" a white Band asked.
"That's difficult," Rondl admitted. "I think we should organize a plan of escape and develop an alternate way to destroy the Kratch. So we need a new set of notions."
The Bands, being sociable and helpful, humored him. They formed two circles and sought for new answers. Soon they had some good ones. One group worked out a way that a number of Bands could line up and so finely concentrate a ray of sun that a great deal of heat would be generated at its focus. If another line of Bands concentrated a beam similarly from the other sun and focused that beam on the same point, the combination might be strong enough to begin to vaporize the material of the Kratch.
"Let's try it!" Rondl flashed, pleased. They did, aligning and focusing on a fragment of rock. In moments it heated and cracked apart. Rondl encouraged them to practice this maneuver. One problem was that the magnetic lines on which the Bands had to congregate were not necessarily aligned with the light of the suns, so that the formations had to be carefully located. It could be difficult to focus on a moving target. So they needed to scout the positioning of magnetic lines as well as of rocks.
The other group wanted to locate metallic fragments that they could use to bombard the Kratch. The problem was that they needed time to locate and collect the stones and would be in danger from the Kratch while doing so. In addition, they were uncertain that the small chunks they could handle with individual magnetism would have mass enough to do the monster harm. Perhaps they could group in twos and threes to handle larger pieces. But they would be in danger from the Kratch while locating such items and maneuvering them into place. The beam-focusers could practice out in clear space, but the fragment-hurlers would have to go into the zone of debris, where the Kratch lurked.
They agreed to rehearse the safer techniques first, then go for the stones. If at that point the Kratch should appear, the engagement would be on. If it did not appear, they would collect a huge arsenal of stones and locate several suitable trap sites, preparing for the time when the enemy did appear.
It occurred to Rondl that they might be able to employ magnetic circuitry to make a bomb: a rock that would fly violently apart when magnetically stimulated. But that would be complex, perhaps requiring a prolonged period of research; he would have to follow it up later.
They got to work. The Bands were naturally cautious in this vicinity, nervous about the cover the planetoid belt provided for the monster. They were not at all sure, despite their expressed confidence, that this exploration was feasible.
Promising locations showed up. Rondl checked each as the news was flashed to him of its discovery. One was a large irregular fragment of rock, partly split along a fault so that there was a notch that a Band might slide through, too small for the Kratch. But it was too shallow and slanting to be properly effective; the pursuing Kratch would probably glance off and be cautious thereafter. Another prospect consisted of two boulders joined by an isthmus, the whole slowly rotating. At the proper angle, there was a tight passage between the two masses. This might do. A brown Band was designated to be the final member of the tag team; he would lead the monster through the center.
The brown Band began practicing immediately, timing his approach so that he seemed to be heading for a flat face of rock, arriving as the rotation brought the cleft into place. Since the gap was too narrow to pass the mass of the Kratch, this could be devastating. But if the monster saw it coming—
But where was the Kratch? Rondl had expected it to show up by this time. Was the monster chasing around the other side of the ring of rock, so that all their preparations would be wasted?
"Now let's collect metallic rocks," Rondl flashed, concealing his misgiving. This exercise would not be much good unless they flushed the Kratch.
The cross-tag Bands had been practicing their game with much glee, augmented by a number of those who at first had been too timid to volunteer. It seemed that this positive approach had spread confidence, and now more of the Bands were ready to tackle the task. That was fine; Rondl was sure the ones who joined after due consideration would be at least as sturdy as those who joined without thinking. All these Bands were becoming skillful in the interception maneuver; they enjoyed precision flying, and Rondl thought they were good enough to accomplish the mission. He made quite sure they knew where the terminus was, though they did not approach it; no point in giving their scheme away to the Kratch, who just might be lurking and watching. It was not that Rondl feared the monster might be more intelligent than estimated, but that the number of Bands in the area might make it cautious; that might indeed be the reason it had not appeared. The safety of numbers could be interfering with the project.
"Those who are not actively prospecting, withdraw some distance," he directed. "We want the group to seem small enough to be vulnerable."
Now the stone-group discovered a rich lode of stones, and began moving the
m to a convenient deposit area, forming a small artificial meteor. The ring of debris was layered, with bands of larger rocks, fine sand, and metallic fragments. Rondl wondered how it had been formed, and an odd concept came to him: "Roche's Limit." A moon was unable to orbit a planet within a certain radius, because the tidal forces broke it up. But he was sure this was not generally known among Bands; why did he know it? That was the kind of question that had bothered him from the outset.
"You're internalizing again," Cirl reproved him.
"A creature must be permitted some faults," he grumbled, privately satisfied by her attention. He liked having her here with him, despite the danger to her. For one thing, Tembl tended to keep slightly more distance.
"Next time, internalize externally, so I can share," she flashed.
It was of course a humor concept. But what might have developed into a pleasant interchange was cut off by an alarm flash: "Monster! Monster!"
Suddenly everything was serious. "Tag team, you know what to do!" Rondl flashed, flying toward the action. "Engage the monster, keep it moving, tire it!"
They had already engaged the Kratch, and it was moving. It was a great gray-metal hulk, gleaming in the light of the suns, and it was horribly fast. The Bands were cutting across, and the system was working; the Kratch swerved to pursue each new Band, because the new one seemed closer.
But Rondl worried. He knew, from the anonymous depths of experience, that things seldom worked out perfectly—and if anything went wrong, they would lose a Band. They could lose several to disbanding, even if successful. If unsuccessful, it could be horrible. Already some Bands were leaving the game, apprehension having conquered their prior enthusiasm. Some of these were the newest enlistees—but some were the original ones. So the stress of action turned out to be a different type of selection process than anticipation. Fortunately most of the group remained, so the Bands remained rested and fresh.
Viscous Circle Page 11