Chaining the Lady (41 page)

She reached out with all three tentacles and caught the adjacent lemoncurl trunk. Still acting on a confused amalgamation of instincts, she clung to that trunk, drawing her body into it.

No good! Her weight was too much. The trunk snapped off, and she resumed her tumble through the jell, clutching the aromatic wood.

Meanwhile the lancer turned smoothly and oriented its lance again. It did not care whether she was on the lattice or off it; it had not need for such support. It angled down, accelerating. Tiny thin bubbles streamed about it as the slipstream of thinned jelly parted.

Melody swung the lemoncurl trunk at it.

Another disaster. She was not anchored, but was slowly dropping through the jell. She had little proper leverage to move so massive an object quickly. Her tentacles were meant for reaching, grasping, drawing in, and holding, not for full-scale manipulation. The surrounding jelly made a rapid sidewise strike impossible. She wrenched a tentacle, and twisted body and trunk in a kind of semicircle that succeeded only in shifting the angle of the descent.

But again this surprised the lancer, who missed her narrowly. Melody suspected that that was about as far as her luck was likely to extend.

She was sliding down on a nether branch. She managed no tilt her log so that it formed a kind of plane. She flattened her torso, adjusting the angle of descent so that she landed on the branch instead of missing it. She had a serviceable tool!

The lancer looped about and down, and charged again. It could play this game as long as she could.

Melody caught her balance and braced herself, still clutching the log in two tentacles. This was a tool? No, a
shield
!

As the lancer struck at her with its devastating accuracy, she shoved the log between her body and the spike.

The impact shoved her back along the branch. But she was several times as massive as the predator, and retained her balance. In fact, she had the creature trapped: its lance had pierced the trunk and stuck there.

But she had counted her victory too soon. The predator reversed its propeller fins and jumped back, and the spike drew free.

Afraid and angry, Melody turned the log endwise and rammed it at the retreating body. Now she had fair purchase for her feet again, and was getting the hang of her weapon. One tentacle hurt, but the spin of her body compensated for this. Like a rod attached to a camshaft, the log struck forward.

The lancer, amazed at this aggressive behavior by its prey, retreated further. Melody continued her advance, trying to jam the log on the spike, so as to nullify the point. Then she might be able to take hold of the creature's slippery body with her tentacles and crush it.

But the lancer had had enough. This atypical behavior interfered with its set style of attack; it could not adapt. It curved its long body, revved up its fins, and shot away into the gloom.

“Came back and fight, you coward!” Melody vibrated after it, furious.
She
had not had the option of fleeing! But the creature paid no heed.

Now the vibrations came in from all around. “The alien has vanquished the lancer!”

“Using a load of scentwood!”

“Astonishing!”

“The lancer is fleeing the region!”

“A double victory for the alien.”

“Triple victory.”

Then a more tremulous vibration, as of an immature £: “Is that a riddle? What are these victories?”

Melody wondered herself about that, as she picked her way along the lattice route to her former elevation.

“First, she overcame the lancer,” the parent £ explained carefully. “Next, she concealed her identity from the Dash, who had sent the lancer to identify her. When it fled, it could no longer betray her location; its aural bleeper shows only where it is, alive or dead.”

Melody's feet almost missed their placements.
The Dash had sent the lancer!

“Third, she eliminated her mahout, so she is now free to range by herself,” the parent concluded.

Eliminated her mahout? She had been planning to do that, but the arrival of the lancer had distracted her. Now her store of host-knowledge provided the explanation. The Dash could not sustain as much pressure as the £ could; the mahout's mind had been damaged by her descent to the lower lattice when she fell from her branch. The mahout lived, but was no longer sapient.

More significant than her personal success, however, was the attitude of the £. They had not betrayed her, but neither had they helped her. They had directed the lancer to her because they considered it to be her responsibility, but they had not burdened her with its significance until the issue had been decided. They had in their fashion put her on trial, and now that she had vindicated herself, they let her have the information she needed.

Melody tried to understand the genesis of this philosophy, but it was, naturally, alien to her. She was left with the conclusion that the £ knew much more of the purposes and mechanisms of the Dash than they advertised, and that £ cooperation was not necessarily passive. She moved among them as a lancer did, not precisely an enemy, but certainly no friend. The £ had ways to make her behave.

She decided she had better get her business done. It would be better to deal with the Dash, whom she knew to be her enemies, than with the £, whom she did not really understand.

She shifted the log to make it comfortable, taking the strain off her injured tentacle. She moved on to the channel, and out into the thin air. The mahout remained perched on her back, as his claws clenched when at rest; it looked as if he were directing her. That was exactly the way she wanted it. Mahouts often snoozed while their mounts carried on, so his condition hardly mattered, so long as he was there. No one would challenge her while she seemed to be under the direction of the mahout.

Her ruse could not be sustained long, but that hardly mattered, because she had to help her galaxy quickly or it would be too late anyway. So now she had a program of sorts: first get the hostage secret, then get the information to an entity in authority in Segment Etamin. Then what happened didn't matter. Like Flint of Outworld, she could give her life for her galaxy.

She knew the odds were still against her, but they were better odds than before. Her capture by Hammer of Quadpoint had turned out to be a break for her, because she was now much closer to the secret that controlled two galaxies.

She emerged into atmosphere. No mounted Dash challenged her this time; evidently that particular search had been called off. Perhaps they had spotted her aura in that prior check, but had chosen to deal with her indirectly. But if so, why?

The question brought the answer: because of the covenant between the species of Dash and £. The one could not deliberately harm the other.

She proceeded to the mill, and the Dash in charge there marked off the load, glancing incuriously at the hole in the wood where the lancer had spiked it. Fortunately he did not try to converse with the mahout, who merely sat on her back. Let the loafer snooze.

Melody started dutifully back toward the bog. But when she was out of sight of the mill, she turned off at right angles and cut through the feather trees toward the path Cnom's information said that led to the Dash city. It was no coincidence that the capital was so close, since that was where her intended host was. She had missed her transfer recipient by only a few Solarian miles; pinpoint accuracy, considering that it had been an intergalactic effort. But this partial freedom could not last long. No doubt the Dash were even now zeroing in on her again, setting up a way to nab her without hurting her £ host. She had to act first.

She found a new channel and stepped gratefully down into it. The paws of the £ were not hoofs; they were adapted to maintaining lodging on the curved lattice of the bog rather than for tramping down the hard rocks of the dry land. The channels, though concavely curved, were smooth, and the dirt in them was no harder than wood. In addition, their narrow width and curving routes were familiar.

This was a toward-city channel, fortunately. All channels, like all lattice paths, had to be one-way, as there was no room for £ to pass one another. The channels could have been made wider, but that would have destroyed their compatible contours and decreased their similarity to the bog-lattice. This way, their natural contours led them through the refraction feathers with minimum disruption.

She emerged into a clearing. Ahead was the city, a towering mass of wooden spires, quite pretty in its fashion. Melody was reminded of the houses of cards Solarians built. She had entertained herself with some of these during waits aboard the
Ace of Swords
. Each individual card was flimsy, but the buttressed structure assumed a remarkable stability.

She spun closer, concerned lest she be challenged. But though she passed many mounted mahouts as the channels converged, none bothered her. Obviously it was assumed that her own mahout was taking her somewhere on private business.

The splendor of the city did not diminish as she approached it. Trust a bird species to have uplifting taste in architecture! The wood had been shaped into elegant configurations, with many small passages for Dash to haul themselves through. Though they could no longer actually fly, it was evident that given the proper footing they could propel themselves through the vertical lattice of the buildings with flight-like facility.

Now there was a problem. Obviously the most secret offices of the Dash transfer command would be high up, and it was manifestly impossible for a £ to go there. The merest brush of Cnom's huge body against a lower structure would collapse a section of the city. Ascending a tower was out of the question.

Could she locate the spot, then attack the base of the building and bring it down to her level? No, that would destroy her own pretense of anonymity and be pointless. She had to observe, not strike. It was knowledge she required, not physical victory. For now.

First she had to locate the Kirlian section of town. Her aura and her training had made her super-sensitive to Kirlian emanations. If she got within a reasonable distance of a strong Kirlian source, she would know it. Maybe she would have a chance to transfer to a Dash and continue her investigation.

Of course her own aura would betray her identity similarly, if the Dash were alert. They should be, since she had twice escaped their net. But perhaps the inherent foolishness of their bureaucracy would help her again. The last thing they should anticipate would be her strike into the heart of the city.

It was a major gamble, but she had to take it.

She moved into the city, which now resembled the land forest, with buildings in lieu of trees. Even the refraction of light was similar, though here it was done by glass lenses instead of living feathers. This was, her £ memory told her, to prevent the shaded lower passages from becoming musty.

Stalls for £ opened off to the sides. Healthy £ preferred to sleep in the bog, but ill or injured ones came here. This also made it convenient for the mahouts, who could indulge themselves in the comfort of the upper regions while their steeds were out of service. No Dash would volunteer to remain in the bog longer than necessary, especially not aboard a sick £. For one thing, a hurt £ sought the deeps, an area that the Dash could not enter.

Suddenly she picked up the fringe of a strong aura, and moved toward it. High-Kirlian entities were in the vicinity!

She came into an inner chamber. In its center, protected by a sturdy wooden barricade, was a transfer unit. It was not a type she was familiar with. Therefore it must be–

A drape lifted, revealing the snout of a projectile cannon. –Halt, mahout!– a Dash voice commanded.

A trap! She had half known it, but had taken the risk for the sake of her mission. They had dangled the bait of hostage transfer before her and lured her in, just as they had done back at the
Ace of Swords
so successfully. Yet what else could she have done?

Perhaps she could bluff an ill-informed Dash.

She looked around as if confused, tilting her body to make her addled mahout seem to be directing her.

–Please do not endanger yourself– the Dash said, coming into sight on an upper ledge so that his three eyes focused down on her. –There is no confusion. We have analyzed your aura, and know you for Melody of Mintaka, Etamin, Milky Way.–

Then she knew she was lost.

Chapter 21:

Budding the Mintakan

*report: all fleets secure in milky way galaxy last resistance in segment etamin overcome ready to move on planets*

::initiate motion::

*there will be some delay, as this involves physical propulsion and the distances are*

::do not seek to educate me in elementary physics, ast! What of the local matter?::

*etamin kirlian agent has just been immobilized*

::immobilized?
Kill
her!::

*sphere dash assures us that this is not feasible negotiation is necessary*

::dash shall shortly be charged with treason! if they do not neutralize her quickly, I shall::

*POWER*

::just get the job done!::

* * *

–You have been evasive, alien!– the Dash said, his wings whirring reprovingly. While he talked, a line dropped from a crane to remove the defunct mahout from her back. –All we want is the best for you, now that your galaxy has fallen. It would be a shame to sacrifice an aura like yours. Will you not now be realistic and join us?–

Melody of course did not answer. But suddenly she became aware of the specific aura of the Dash. It was a very strong one, with an intensity of about 175. This was the entity she had known as Captain Dash Boyd, her lover and archenemy!

–I perceive you remember me,– Dash observed. –Yes, what you and I began before can be completed now. Since my failure in Milky Way I have been recalled and restricted to local duty, with demotion. My aura makes me suitable for important Kirlian work. This was perhaps fortunate, for the regular authorities were bungling the job of locating you. In fact, it is no secret that most of our top leaders are idiots who obtained their positions by factors other than competence; a typical Council Meeting resembles an argument among immature birds. Your own Ministers of Etamin are similar. However, in time of stress, competence has a way of manifesting itself, and the Council representative of Sphere :: has been more than adequate in this regard. So we have won the war, and are now merely wrapping up the occupation prior to initiating the energy project. I do not wish to kill you, but capturing you gently was proving difficult, and Leader Quadpoint is becoming obstreperous. But I have given our esteemed leader to understand that once you understand the situation, you will cooperate. You spared my life, and so I attempt to spare yours. Now all you have to do is draw in your aura so that our directional field can encompass it for retransfer to a Dash host. Your present host will not fit within one of our units, so this special arrangement is feasible. All that is necessary is for you to stand astride the unit before you and contract your aura.–