Viscous Circle (14 page)

As it turned out, Cirl bounced off the male head and landed in a female head. This was reasonable; male auras could only occupy male hosts, and female auras female hosts. Did that hold true in the Viscous Circle? How could the auras of both genders be merged therein? He would have to ask Cirl, when they woke.

Though he could no longer exchange flashes with Cirl, somehow Rondl remained in contact with her. In a dream this sort of thing could happen, fortunately.

The Monster Rondl occupied peered at the flat view-screen. Rondl saw the image; even filtered through the unpleasant mechanism of watersac eyeballs, it was clear enough. "Ringers! Blast 'em!" This was as it had been in the last dream; either Monsters or dreams were not bothering with originality.

"Ringers?" Cirl asked, perplexed. Since she could not flash in this form, communication between them did not make sense. But actually they were sleeping together, linked emotionally, and that translated into an intellectual linkage in the dream so that they could converse even when the dream suggested they could not. Dreams did not follow the normal rules of life, which was the wonderful and horrifying thing about them.

"Ringers—that is the Monster name for Bands," Rondl explained. "I believe it evinces contempt."

"Contempt?" This was another new concept for her.

"Low esteem. Dislike. Monsters do not respect Bands."

She had to laugh, her pulsating flashes manifest to him by the magic of reality beneath the dream images. "Nonrespect—from Monsters! Yes, now I perceive this Monster's thought. There are personality currents forging through this jellybrain. She does not care for aliens."

"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 yellow 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.