Chaining the Lady (34 page)

Llume rolled near again. “You can help them only by distraction,” she said. “They will be subject to the fire of the enemy for some time.”

“No, we can surround our six ships and protect them,” Melody said. “The hostages won't be able to–” But then she realized what the problem was. It took a lot of energy to accelerate, and a lot to decelerate a huge spaceship. The six fleeing ships had a head start, but the pursuing hostage fleet would be in phase with them. The loyalist fleet, approaching from the opposite direction, could pass right through both the six and the forty-five, without having any protective effect.

The
Ace of Swords
began to move, the chemical acceleration pressing Melody sidewise. She suffered vertigo; now she could not decide which way was down. Her command seat held her in place, however.

Llume had no problem; she merely tilted on her wheel to match the new vector and stayed in place.

“Well, at least we have six more ships,” Melody said. “Counting those recoveries, we shall have thirty seven to their forty-five. That's not such a bad ratio.”

“Not such a good ration either,” Llume warned her. “By this time Admiral Hammer will have rounded up some captive transferees and will know everything they know. He will rout out any other remaining in his fleet and try to use them against you. If he retains a transfer unit–”

“Sour grapes,” Yael said. “You thought of a good tactic, so everyone says it doesn't count.”

Sour grapes: another Solarianism. Melody traced down the imagery. Grapes were succulent fruits of Sphere Sol that developed on vines. When ripe, they were sweet, suitable for consumption. A carnivore was said to have desired some grapes, but found them to be out of reach. So he decidedthey were sour.

A
carnivore
? Such a creature consumed flesh, not fruit. There must be a confusion.

The other Polarian host appeared. It was Captain Mnuhl. “There will soon be battle,” he said. “Ships will be lost, and we may become unable to remain in contact. I think it wise to employ the Knyfh cluster-charge. This is a generalized magnetic field similar to the net that poses no threat to individual ships, but will tend to draw derelicts to a common center. This will facilitate rescue of personnel in the absence of Intergalactic Convention.”

“By all means,” Melody said. “We shall want to save any entities we can, from any ships, ours
or
theirs. The great majority of entities are ours, and there is information we'll want from any hostages we might capture.”

He made a glow of agreement and departed.

The two fleets accelerated toward each other, the six repossessed ships between. Melody was pleased to note that one of the six was Mintakan. Had they recovered the missing transfer unit, or had it been destroyed? She wished she could be sure it was not operating in the remaining enemy Atom. Llume had made a good point there.

In the globe it seemed as if the six ships would be crushed between the converging masses of the two main fleets, but she knew that they were mere dust motes in the hugeness of space. With an average separation between ships of five thousand miles, there would be no collisions. What seemed like masses in the globe were actually diffuse clouds in space.

What she could see in her globe, the Andromedans could see in theirs. When the
Ace of Swords
got close enough to fire on the enemy, the enemy Swords would be close enough to fire on the
Ace
. Suddenly she had a queasy feeling; she felt incompetent to handle it. She wanted to turn command of the ship over to Skot for the action, and of course could not, and not merely because he was gone. The hero-fool! She envied him.

“Coming into range of enemy vessels, sir,” a Knyfh officer said. “
Seven of Cups
, followed by
Ten of Disks
.”

What should she
do
? She had no experience at this sort of thing! Was that why Captain Mnuhl had made his last personal check, to see how she was taking the prospect of coming under fire herself? He should have stayed a little longer, and he would have seen her dissolve.

“Fire as appropriate,” Llume murmured against Melody's arm. “No need to give specifics to an experienced space officer.”

Bless her! “Fire as appropriate!” Melody said loudly. A weight lifted from her, and she felt better. Part of it was physical, because of decreased acceleration, but the rest was internal. She had not shown her indecision, except to Llume, who had not given her away.

“Something about those ships,” Yael said. “The
Ten of Disks
...”

Ships were firing all about them. In the globe a Sword exploded; was it friend or enemy? A Cup sprang a leak. A Wand went dead—maybe. A terrible carnage, and how was it possible to know who was benefiting?

The
Seven of Cups
loomed close. Melody saw the Knyfh laser cannoneer oriented in it, centering it on his crosshairs screen She knew he would not miss.

“The
Ten of Disks!”
she exclaimed.
“That's Admiral Hammer's ship!”

Llume straightened up. “So it is! I should have realized. That is a preemptive target.”

“Don't I know it!” Melody said. Then, to the Knyfhs: “Orient on the
Ten of Disks.
Blast it out of space. Ignore the Cup.”

The excellent Knyfh officers responded immediately, making no argument. The
Seven of Cups
drifted away from the cross-hair focus as the ship reoriented, and the
Ten of Disks
drifted in.

The view in the globe faded out. “Hey!” Melody exclaimed in annoyance. “This instrument's malfunctioning!”

“We have been enveloped by a cloud from the
Seven of Cups”
a Knyfh reported. “Visual interference, corrosion of lenses proceeding.”

She had made them ignore the Cup, just when they had been about to blast it. Why had she interfered?

The view resumed. “Only caught the fringe of it,” Melody said, relieved.

“The corrosion proceeds,” the Knyfh said tersely. “Repair crew: replace external lenses. Verify other damage.”

Now the blips in the globe were fogging. The cloud projected by the Cups was large and diffuse, able to envelop a ship traveling rapidly, and its initial effect was momentary. But once the corrosive agent coated the external appurtenances, it kept acting after the ship had shot clear of the cloud. A Sword whose lenses were fogged lost its offensive punch, and one whose communications and perceptions were fouled would have trouble avoiding other attacks.

“Solar vanes coated, bearing fouled,” the Knyfh reported, reading his indications. “Reduce power draw.”

Immediately the internal illumination dimmed, as the systems cut power. It was not wise to draw on the reserves unnecessarily.

There was a wrench that would have knocked Melody from her chair had she not been hanging on. Her stomach writhed within the cavity of her torso.

“We have been secured by a counter-rotation anchor, the Knyfh reported. “Repair crews: preemptive mission. Disengage anchor.”

Melody knew the ship was in trouble. Blinded and muzzled by the Cup cloud (result of her folly!), and now hooked by an anchor from the enemy flagship, this Sword was helpless unless the repair crews could free it quickly. Already she felt the vertigo of a shift in gravity.

There was another wrench. “Second anchor attached,” the Knyfh announced, showing no emotion.

“Can the same crew take off both anchors?” Melody asked.

The officer was silent.

Llume had wrapped her tail around Melody's bolted-down chair. Now she unwound so that she could speak. “The repair crew is gone,” she explained gently. “They were on the hull when the second anchor struck.”

“Oh, no!” Melody cried. “Knocked into space by the impact!”

“It will not be possible to free the ship of the anchors now,” Llume continued. “I wish to have your release.”

“Release?” Melody was having trouble thinking clearly.

“Your forgiveness. Expiation. For the wrong I have done you. Before we die.”

“We aren't going to die!” Melody snapped. “If you really want to help, come with me.” She pushed herself from the chair.

“Admiral, what is your intent?” an impassive Knyfh officer inquired.

“I intend to round up a crew and free this ship of anchors!”

“That is not feasible,” the Knyfh said. “It is necessary to abandon ship.”

Melody halted, maintaining her balance precariously in the face of the shifting gravity. “Abandon ship! Ridiculous!” The music of challenge and irritation rang in her mind. There were times when the lack of her Mintakan body severely hindered her expression. A couple of strikes on the ship, no real damage done, and they were all ready to quit! “You had better have most chordant reason.”

“Our ship is disabled, therefore vulnerable to further enemy attack,” the Knyfh said with the same infuriating calm. Melody couldn't even be sure it was the same one she had talked to before; behind the varied faces of the human hosts, they were half a dozen faceless competencies. “A missile or beam can hole the hull momentarily, and our handicapped repair systems may not be able to act in time. The corrosive acid itself may penetrate the hull, causing loss of atmosphere. The probability of loss of life-support prior to successful de-anchoring and necessary repairs is sixty percent, according to established tables of risk.

“Thus ship has lifecraft capable of removing the entire crew promptly, so that another ship can pick them up. The probability of salvaging ninety percent of personnel prior to loss of life-support is eighty percent. Our chances are therefore approximately twice as good if we abandon ship. Therefore, according to the galactic manual, we must signal derelict status and vacate. No enemy will fire on us in this circumstance.”

A completely reasonable lecture, from the military view.

“But then we could still repair–” Melody broke off. The Knyfh's frozen expression showed her that was useless. To signal disablement falsely would violate the military code of honor, and these veteran officers would not do it. Strange (though perhaps only to her nonmilitary view) how very similar the military minds were to each other, despite gross differences in physical format. A magnetic entity shaped like a model atom had treated her to the exact line of reasoning a Solarian or Mintakan officer would have.

Yet she could not blame these officers; in fact she knew that in this instance they were right and she was wrong. Had she only kept her mouth shut and let them blast the Cup first, the
Ace of Swords
might not be in this predicament. “We aren't derelict until we signal?” she inquired instead.

“Not officially. It would be wise to signal promptly, so that we will not be fired upon again.”

“
Don't
signal!” she said. “We'll repair ship instead.”

“Admiral, the manual–”

Melody blew out an obscene note. But again, it didn't work, in this host. “All
right
! Explain the situation to the crew, and evacuate all who want to go. But don't signal. I'm going to stay here and repair the ship alone if I have to, and use it to finish the battle.”

“You're absolutely crazy!” Yael said admiringly.

“This is not feasible,” the Knyfh insisted. “Do you desire a detailed analysis?”

“No! I'm sure reason is all on your side. But we aren't fighting a reasonable battle,
we're defending our galaxy
. If we lose here, we lose our segment, and if we lose that–”

“That may be. But your proposal is likely to accelerate that loss.”

“I'm still Admiral!” she screamed. “You handle your job, transfer back to your segment, and leave me alone!” She proceeded out of the control room, angling to counter the slant of the deck. Hardly a gallant exit.

Llume followed. “I join you, if I may.”

When friends deserted, support by the enemy was welcome. “You may.”

But Llume halted. “It is necessary to bring the discipline box. Once I pass out of its range...”

“That box became inoperative when ship's power was cut,” Melody said. “Didn't you notice?”

“You should not take the risk.”

“If you want your freedom, get on a lifeboat,” Melody snapped. “I can't use you unless you're with me all the way.” She moved on, Slammer following.

“You have the courage of a fool,” Llume said, spinning her wheel in her haste to catch up.

“That is a compliment to a Tarot fanatic.”

They entered one of the long stem-to-stern access halls. Motion was awkward because the anchors were still slowing the ship's rotation. The decline was jerky, as first one strand went taut, then the other, then both together. This threw them against the walls, bashing into the metal handholds. The passage was in the inner section of the ship, positioned to facilitate efficient transport by reducing gravity, and gravity itself was diminishing erratically.

“Like a crazy house!” Yael said, enjoying it in her fashion.

Crazy house. Melody did not need to helve for the underlying concept. Any species capable of enjoying disorientation like this
was
crazy.

Slammer shot off down a side passage. “That's not the route!” Melody called. But he was soon out of sight in the dusk. The reduced power made a twilight zone of the entire ship, giving the passages an eerie quality.

“Slammer probably needs stoking,” Yael said.

Good guess. Melody had snatched bites to eat along the way, hardly consciously; the crew stewards, like the Slaves of Sphere Canopus, were very obliging. But she hadn't thought about the magnets. “We'll wait a few minutes,” she said aloud. “Slammer will return.”

“He can readily locate us,” Llume pointed out. “The loss of the ship's power has no effect on magnets.”

Melody nodded. She was tired and hurting again, but she didn't have to manufacture pretexts to rest. “I'm not thinking straight. Of course you're right. We'll go on.”