Chaining the Lady (23 page)

Skot looked down. “Oh, yes. Of course.” Then he looked into her eyes, and she knew she had a conquest if she wanted it. “Just how dangerous
is
this mission?”

“No worse that my mission on
this
ship.”

“Thanks for the reassurance,” he said wryly. “You're limping, bruised, bloodshot, lucky to be alive. You look like a worn-out witch. And you say–”

Melody reached up to kiss him. “The physical violence has not affected my aura. This is the only transfer unit in the Fleet, so I will have to return in another host. Will you recognize me as a lovely Polarian?”

He had to smile. “No problem,” he said, letting her go after a slight hesitation. “I'll know your aura. But we'll need a code word when you come in by shuttle. I can handle that part of it; ship-to-shuttle is on a different beam, not part of the fleet net, and Llume won't even know about it.”

“Lot of *,” Melody said, smiling.

He nodded. “Lot of * it is. If I don't get that word, I'll treat anything that comes in as a hostile craft. So you make sure you–”

“Don't worry! I've seen how you shoot!”

Melody reviewed the transfer procedure with him, and they oriented on the nearest ship: another giant disk of Polaris. Then she entered the unit.

“Oh, one thing,” Skot said before he activated the mechanism. “Is your host a nice person?”

“You'll find out!” Melody said, laughing merrily.

Chapter 11:

Mating the Impact

*the other members of the council are becoming restive*

–I am aware of it they lack the patience or perspective–

*their position is comprehensible, dash we have a thoroughly worked-out plan of action, well implemented it requires only overt action at the stage, before too many individuals of the subject galaxy become aware of the hostages among them already our delay seems to be causing regression in segment etamin*

–you are very practical, * I suppose an explanation is in order–

*it would be appreciated*

–when I prayed to aposiopesis, I was granted a revelation, a small share of the nature of ultimate reality it is this: we are very like our sister galaxy–

*that hardly seems relevant*

–it is relevant, ast our leading spheres are very like theirs our / resembles their sword cultures, that the temple of tarot calls the suit of gas, of transformation both cultures employ laser weapons and have the thrust mentality–

*but our slashes roll, while their sword cultures such as the solarians employ frictive propulsion*

–rolling is frictive too but physique is of little significance it is the basic nature that matters our slashes cut enemies to pieces with their knife edges and lasers, and their solarian swords do the same it was that similarity of nature that caused the archcriminal flint of etamin to pervert our highest-kirlian agent, thereby blunting our first effort he was of sol, she of slash had we anticipated that affinity of types we should have modified our policy and prevailed then–

*perhaps so yet the other cultures do not*

–but they
do
, ast! Our dash resembles their wands, ever to the physical aspects of deriving from flying creatures, even to the social aspect of utilizing a companion-species beneficially, though I deem our £ superior to their humanoids our ast resembles their disks, quadpoint is like their cups with only the medium of rock exchanged for that of water our percens are like their auras being magnetically based–

*naturally all species fall into certain broad functional classifications this has long been known*

–the resemblances are too strong, too fundamental to be coincidence! They are in fact our brother species if we destroy them, how may we answer to aposiopesis? Shall me not ourselves be destroyed?–

*yet our advancing civilization depends on this*

–that depends on how we define civilization progress based on the destruction of a kindred culture–

*I think it necessary for you to vacate your leadership the council will not accept your views*

–we must cease this attack against our neighbor we must seek accommodation instead together the galaxies can comprehend aposiopesis is this not clear?–

*I regret it is not*

* * *

Melody stepped guardedly out of the unit. If the hostages were alert, she could find herself in immediate difficulties.

Surprisingly, she was in a human body. The ship seemed to be identical to the one she had just left.

“Melody!” a voice cried. “Or is it—Yael?”

Melody did a doubletake. “Oh, no! It didn't work!”

“You didn't go?” Skot asked, looking relieved.

“Let me see. It doesn't have to mean a malfunction. There has to be a suitable host at the other end. In this case, a female. If there were none aboard the ship, I should—bounce.”

“Yes, of course. That tells us something.”

“It does. If you have any communication with the
Polaris,
insist on talking with a female. You will know whether she's a hostage.”

“Maybe we can check them all out that way.”

“No use. With almost four hundred hostages remaining in the fleet we know a good many ships are suspect, and we don't want to alert them by checking. It occurs to be that there could be a number of female hostages whose auras are one quarter the intensity of mine, so I would not overwhelm them anyway. I have to get to those ships and eliminate the hostages directly. Otherwise the hostage ships won't hesitate to blast the loyal ships out of space. That may have happened in one case already.”

He nodded gravely.

They reoriented on a Cup of Spica, the
Four of Cups
. She activated the unit again. And Melody–

Found herself in a battle for her life.

It had not occurred to her that her potential host might resist. The transfer to Yael of Dragon had been so simple, but there was a deadly difference between a voluntary and an involuntary host. That helped explain why the Andromedans destroyed the minds of their hosts: They
had
to, because the hosts resisted as long as they were able.

She was in the body of a Spican Impact, a fin-propelled creature of the deep sea. Spicans were neuter or triple-gendered, depending on one's viewpoint. There were three fixed physical types, but the sexual role of each was determined by the manner in which a trio came together. Any two could interact without sexual excitation, but the arrival of the third gender acted as a catalyst, and there was immediate and explosive mergence. More correctly, implosive mergence.

Melody, a basically neuter Mintakan, could occupy an Spican host. But the hostage she happened to orient on possessed a female Andromedan aura. So this had to be considered a female form.

But it was a spitfire! It tried to push her out, but of course there was nowhere to go, and its aural intensity was less that an quarter her own. It had prior possession of the host, however, which gave it considerable initial leverage. The battle seemed to be about even.

::Who?:: the alien female demanded, ramming again.

No concealment necessary or possible, here! “Melody of Mintaka, Galaxy Milky Way.” She let her aura flow around the thrusts, seeking the living heart of the host. This was aura against aura, but in certain respects it resembled a physical battle.

::Chisel of Quadpoint:: the alien said. ::Galaxy Andromeda. Now get
out
of my
host
! The emphasis was contributed by two more ferocious shocks.

The alien mode of communication was intriguing, distinct from all Milky Way modes Melody knew of. But she had no chance to cogitate on that at the moment. “Sorry, Chisel. You took a host against her will. You must now suffer the same conquest.” Melody flowed again, enveloping and nullifying the thrusts.

The impact body spun erratically in the water as now one mind, now the other activated its mechanisms.

Gradually Melody's superior aura asserted itself. In a pure Kirlian contest, no entity of this galaxy could match her, and probably none of Andromeda either. She was
the
Kirlian entity, and now she appreciated the translation of her aura into raw power. She infiltrated, permeating Chisel's lesser aura, nullifying it, reaching ever deeper into the essence of the Spican host.

Breakthrough! Melody found herself within the memory of the Andromedan. For a moment she experienced the state of :: consciousness. She was a quadpoint, moving through the warm deep layers of lithospheric rock. This was the habitable zone of the planet. Far above were layers of frozen ammonia, surmounted by turbulent frigid gases. Sometimes a quake opened a fissure and let in some of that awful gas, a reminder of the hell that was the surface. At other times boiling lava welled up from the nether depths, the opposite hell. It took an alert, resourceful entity to avoid both hazards long enough to reproduce itself. Yet it was these intrusions of gas that provided the pockets necessary for breath, and the hardened lava was the food of subsequent generations. Without both hazards, life within this planet would soon die out. Ironic.

Melody didn't like this. She was invading another entity's intimate privacy, committing a kind of rape. Against an unknown enemy, she could do it, but this was becoming a known, understood entity—one who had feelings and comprehensible motives. It hurt to hurt her.

Through the rock, searching for sustenance. It was a pleasure to strike forward with the tongs, spearing into the hard vein, dislodging it, sifting out the nutrient element, imbibing it through the tong-orifice, heaving the refuse sand back to block the passage. To fail to plug the tunnel behind would be a severer broach of manner and a potential hazard: open passages were apt conduits for descending surface gas.

Another block of rock came loose, leaving the :: imprint of her chisels: a neat extraction. This was a good vein. But it a way it was also bad, because she would fill herself faster, and have to report to the Imperial Annex for her next tour of duty. There were rumblings of excitement shaking the Galaxy of Andromeda (the name-concept differed from Melody's, of course, but the identity was clear), but that meant difficult duty, probably transfer duty, for one of her aura. Transfer meant danger, and the occupation of strange, unpleasant bodies. But she really had no choice. Duty to one's galaxy...

Melody clamped down. The victory was hers. Yet it was too bad, this suppression of sapient, feeling sentience. A rock-boring entity, with pronged multiple-function extensions that speared into solid stone, powdered it, tossed it, and also were walking feet. An intriguing lifestyle, comprehensible. There were probably similar species in the Milky Way galaxy.

Then Melody made contact with the host entity, the Spican Impact, who was in a sorry state. The aural overwhelming involved in hostaging had severely damaged her psyche, and the Andromedan had driven her mercilessly. The suppression had been severe, much harsher than it needed to be. Chisel of quadpoint had taken care to preserve only the technical life of the host aura, so that the advantage of a living host would not be lost. Health had been superfluous. When the alien departed, only the shell of the Impact would remain.

This was what had happened to the hostages aboard the flagship. It was not merely that the hosts had fought; they had been deliberately brutalized into schizophrenia, for the convenience of the invaders. The Lady Andromeda was a harsh mistress. Without question she needed to be chained.

Melody swam about, getting the feel of her new body as she explored the host and hostage minds for information. Apparently there were five hostages aboard this ship; the other four were male. Three Sibilants, one Undulant. They had not yet taken over the ship, but at the signal from the command ship they would kill the Spican captain and his loyal officers, and assume control.

This was, as Yael would have put it, a gold mine! The Andromedan code signal for action was “Six of Scepters.” A Tarot code. Scepter was another term for Wand, a more royal-sounding variant. The Suit of Energy was associated with Galaxy Andromeda, the greatest energy thieves in the universe. And the Six of Energy signified victory, victory for Andromeda, in a simple code few if any Milky Wayan space officers would comprehend.

She now had the information she would have gotten from Tiala. Or
did
she? There was no hint here of the thing she suspected. But of course Chisel of :: had no need to know the details of the larger plan; she was concerned only with her ship. So Melody's suspicion could still be valid. She hoped not.

Now she had a job. She had to eliminate four more hostages, advise the Spican captain of the situation, and return to the
Ace of Swords
. Then go out again, and again. She had no hope of neutralizing every hostage in the fleet, but she had to build a nucleus of secure ships for the moment the “Six of Scepters” was invoked. With luck they would be able to postpone that order indefinitely, since it probably was supposed to come through Dash. But it might be a generalized signal from Andromeda itself, unstoppable. Then it would be–

She tried to shake her human head, and of course it didn't work, as she was not human any more. So she played a complex chord of mixed emotions. That didn't work either. Her change of host and the battle with an alien aura had unsettled her, evoking responses. Her Impact body merely expanded momentarily, causing her to jerk toward the surface of the sea. Only there was no surface.

The ship was a huge cup, the hollow of it oriented on the near star, Etamin, reflecting its rays of light into a focal point for the collection and conversion to ship's power. Power, as always, was crucial. Every ship of space had two prime requirements, and the first was power. The Swords intercepted it, the Cups of Spica dipped it. Small ships could operate on stored power, but they reported often to their host ships for recharging. The big vessels had to have a continuing influx of energy, and only the stars could provide that. Thus the big fleets were always parked near stars, their orbits eliminating the need for drive power and their shapes serving as solar collectors. They might resemble the five suits of the Tarot, but this was no mere fancy; these were efficient shapes for prolonged action in space. Any interstellar ship that did not possess substantial light-collection apparatus was suspect; it could not support living entities directly.