No! Beneath the alien presence was the real Hath, the involuntary host. She could not bring herself to destroy that captive, and she could not kill the Andromedan without also killing the Solarian. Maybe that was what had blocked off her memory when the Captain exposed his Sphere—identity—though by now he might be dead anyway. Or Skot might be dead. Or both. All the skills and knowledge that had so impressed her. The real Captain might be the entity she could love, if she ever could allow it.
No, that was untrue. It was the Andromedan Dash that fascinated her, forbidden as that was. He knew Tarot and he had a charisma that the mere Solarian entity could never match; she was perversely certain of that. And it was Dash of Andromeda who had professed his love for her. Why should he have done that, had it not been true? Could she be certain that he had intended to order her death? Maybe he had been about to order Slammer to "keep Yael from leaving." She knew now that she never could have hurt him, though her galaxy hang in the balance.
Yael's charge against her had been false. Far better had it been true, for Melody had been on the verge of betraying her galaxy for purely personal reasons. Only her Mintakan nature had prevented it. No credit to her, for her loyalty!
But now she was captive, or virtually so. She had been so preoccupied by the threat of the magnet that she had forgotten the threat of the hostages themselves.
Her thoughts had moved explosively; it had been only a moment. "Yael... do you know how to fight?"
"Are you kidding?" Yael replied tremulously. "All backvine farmers can fight. And their kids too. Or they don't grow up alive."
"Then take over." And Melody let slide control.
"Gee, thanks!" Yael said sarcastically. "You sure called my bluff. But I remember when a man grabbed me like this, once, and I—"
Yael's head dropped down, then rammed forward into Hath's stomach. The air whooshed out of the man, and he fell back, gasping, letting go of the arm. Yael stiffened that hand and sliced it into the side of his throat. He slumped against the wall, trying to grab her around the waist. Her dress began to tear. Yael shifted her weight so as to bring up her knee.
"No!" Melody cried, fathoming the girl's intent and diving in to thwart it. "You'll kill him!" For the knee would have smashed into the man's face and perhaps split his head against the metal wall.
"Near killed that other man," Yael said. "That was one time I didn't get punished, 'cause they were saving me for—"
Melody took over and ran down the hall. She still held her rods and shoes. "You certainly do know how to fight! But we won't catch another hostage by surprise."
"We won't need to. There's the wooden tunnel." They had made it! Slammer could not follow. Her nose-weapon would deactivate the magnet guard (maybe), and she would transfer to Imperial Outworld before the hostages knew she was gone. Then Segment Etamin could act.
She paused. How could they act? Most of the offensive might of the segment was right here in this fleet. Andromeda had evidently concentrated here, knowing that the ships could dominate the worlds of the segment. Probably the same thing was going on in every segment of the galaxy. Control the fleets, and through them the Imperial worlds, and through those the vassal-Spheres— what an efficient way to maximize the effect of comparatively few hostages! Once the fleets were captive, the planets hardly mattered. In fact, they could be virtually ignored. The Andromedan technicians would set up their energy-robbing mechanisms and start draining the galaxy, and the planets would simply disintegrate along with their suns. Or whatever it was that happened. Melody was no energy expert, but did know that life in the galaxy would be wiped out long before significant deterioration of matter occurred.
The real battle was right here. If she gave up this ship, she might as well give up the galaxy.
She turned about. "Hey!" Yael protested.
"I can't transfer out." Melody said. "It would leave you helpless before the hostages."
"I never thought of that! This isn't mattermission; I can't go with you! I'm stuck here on this ship."
"That's right. We have to make our fight right here."
"But we can't! We'll just get killed!"
"You fought pretty well a moment ago."
"That's not the same. When a man grabs me, I know what to do, one way or another. But in a long-range campaign I'd be helpless."
Probably an accurate assessment. But Melody put the best face on it. "Not if we work together. We'll capture the hostages one by one—and transfer them out. Then we'll have the real officers back again. The more we do, the more help we'll have, until we can recapture the ship."
"Yes! Let's go drag Hath to the transfer unit and—"
"I think it would be better to start with the Captain," Melody said. "After we do it once, the other hostages will know what we're up to. If we begin at the top, he can order the others to the unit before they catch on."
"Besides which," Yael said in that wise way of hers, "you're worried about the Captain. You don't want him hurt."
"I will do what is necessary!" Melody snapped.
They turned a corner—and there at the far end of the hall hovered a magnet.
A thrill of terror ran through Melody, and she was sure it wasn't all her host's emotion. She set the second rod in the intersection and hurried on down the right-angle passage.
"All hands!" the ship's wall speakers blared suddenly. "Be on alert for Solarian female Yael of Dragon. She is an aural agent who attacked the Captain. She is dangerous; do not attempt to capture her physically. Merely advise her locations; the magnets will rendezvous."
"Oh-oh," Yael said. "We're in trouble already. I'm terrified."
"So what else is new?" Melody inquired in the girl's own vernacular. What use to continue passing the burden of fear back and forth? They had to keep functioning regardless—or die. "But my fear for my galaxy is greater than my fear for myself, so I'm blocking out as much of the emotion as I can." She moved on... and was surprised to discover that her fear diminished. Did her rationale actually make sense?
And they met another hostage.
Acting on inspiration, she threw one of her shoes at him. The man ducked, thinking it a more formidable weapon, and tumbled to the floor. But as he fell, he bawled: "Subject spotted in inner passage, coordinates—"
Yael got to him before he finished the numerical designation. This time she swung a rod. It cracked into his head, rendering him silent.
"For someone afraid of action," Melody remarked, "you do very well."
"I like action," Yael replied. "I just hate danger. Hand-to-hand I understand, but lasers and things like that are awful. And I'd sure rather fight a man than a magnet."
"Agreed." Confidence was being restored.
Suddenly they heard the high keening of a magnet's swift progress. Apparently the partial coordinates had given it enough of a clue as to where they were.
The thing came around the bend. It wasn't moving with the blinding velocity of which it was capable; it was questing, not attacking. But Melody was trapped in the hall, and could not outspeed it. The moment it came within range....
Melody threw a rod at the magnet: rod against sphere. The metal stick clattered on the deck and spun to a stop.
"What's the third wand stand for?" Yael asked nervously. They both knew that if the ruse failed, they were done for, but the immediate horror of incipient death had been blocked out, leaving the minor distractions.
"Enterprise," Melody said. "Strength. Cooperation."
The magnet came close. It was not Slammer; its painted decorations differed. Melody wondered fleetingly whether the creatures objected to the indignity of such designs, as though they were mere beach balls. Probably they simply didn't take notice.
Suddenly the magnet shot forward, then backward, over the rod. It had evidently expected something larger. Now it hovered above the rod in confusion.
"It works!" Yael cried jubilantly, and there was a sensation associated with this trifling victory wholly out of proportion to the real
ity. For their situation remained desperate.
"For the moment," Melody said, relieved. "But it won't last long. Let's get moving."
They moved. They had escaped a magnet—once. The luck might be short-lived—like them.
Melody started down the last passage to the Captain's office. She had distributed two more rods strategically along the way, and had only one left.
Another magnet appeared.
It was cruising toward her at a fast clip. She started to backtrack, but she was exhausted from running and her bare feet were sore.
She hurled the last rod with all her strength. It clattered far down toward the magnet, but this time the creature paused only momentarily, then continued on. It had figured out the nature of this ruse. No hope of escaping it now.
Melody tilted back her head, squeezed her nose, and snorted. Would her secret weapon work?
Two beams speared out. One was pale yellow, the other pale blue. They converged about two body-lengths ahead of her.
She pushed at her nose with her fingers. The beams veered. Their point of convergence shot forward.
The oncoming magnet intercepted that point. The beam-light flashed purple, not green, on its surface. There was a strange crackle and sizzle.
The magnet exploded. Its fragments ricocheted off the walls.
Melody hunched down as shrapnel flew past her. One jagged piece of metal struck her leg. She fell forward, clutching her torn flesh as blood welled out. It hurt terribly.
Suddenly she had become much more clearly aware of the specific meaning of danger. Her host's red blood dripping on the deck spoke with a force that matched all the rest of this adventure. This was the beginning of dying!
She had slain the magnet. But most of its remains lay jagged and smoking in the hall ahead. Her bare feet and injury made approach to the Captain's office hazardous at the moment. And what could she do, even if she did get there? She had to crawl back toward her own cabin where she might be able to bandage herself.
Yet what a weapon she had been given! Skot's laser had heated only one part of the surface of a magnet; this twin-beam had blasted it apart!
"Lord God of Hosts," she moaned. "Be with us yet...."
She reached up to grasp the handholds of the wall, drawing herself erect. Hitherto these holds had been a nuisance; now they were essential! She was able to move along with fair dispatch by holding and hopping, but her wounded leg hurt with every motion and dripped more bright red blood on the floor. She was leaving a trail... of her own life-stuff.
"I'm not doing well by your body," she told Yael apologetically. "Or by my mission. I don't know how we're going to save the galaxy now."
"I don't know either," Yael admitted. "Oh, it hurts!" She was referring more to the leg than the galactic defeat, but Melody didn't choose to quarrel. "Do you think we might find some way to blow up the ship? That might alert the authorities."
"We don't have the strength to even figure out how," Yael said. "We're losing blood, getting faint...."
It was true. Only an iron will kept Melody moving; iron that was already melting. She knew that her intense aura had a kind of healing property that enabled this body to continue functioning; Yael alone would have collapsed already. "Just a little time," Melody said. "Get to cabin, bandage, rest... then we can think, plan—" She collapsed.
Melody was unconscious only a moment. The human body adapted to strife. When its systems malfunctioned, it became horizontal. Then more of the depleted blood supply reached the brain, improving its performance. A fail-safe mechanism. Intriguing; Mintakans lacked this faculty, as they did not possess blood.
"God of Hosts," Yael said. She was praying. Melody lay and listened, suffering a private revelation. The girl believed. She really did honor the God of Hosts, and believed in its beneficence, contrary to all reason. Yael thought the god would intervene to save her. No—that the god would safeguard her interests, intervening if that were required, letting her perish if that were best. And if she died, that god would take her into its bosom of hosts and recompense her for all her pain and doubt. It was an altogether naive and charming belief.
"And save Melody too," Yael concluded.
That simple, sincere addendum struck Melody like the impact of a magnet. Despite everything, Yael had blessed Melody with her good will. Yael cared. Even as she lay dying.
"I wish I had your faith," Melody said.
"You have it. You call it Tarot."
A second impact, as hard as the first. Melody's god was Tarot! Why had she never realized that? She prayed to her Tarot every day, calling it meditation.
"Yes, I worship the God of Tarot," Melody said. "Do you resent that?"
"Why should I? It's the same God."
The same God. Melody could not deny it.
She gathered her strength and drew them up. "God is with us," Melody said. "I have to believe that."
After that the journey to the cabin was easier. The bleeding had slowed, and Melody's consciousness remained clear. The door opened at her touch and slid into its frame. Now she realized that it was merely a convenience door and not airtight. When the atmospheric composition of the ship was changed, the air of the regular cabins changed with it, but the Captain's office could be isolated. The moment the hostages gave up their present strategy of pursuit with the magnets, they could trap her with certainty by putting knockout vapor into the air system. They could protect themselves by donning masks. The odds were more against her than she had thought! But if she could mend herself and get to the Captain's office and get Dash to the transfer unit....
There was the keening of another magnet traveling toward them at high speed.
Melody leaped into the cabin, hoping to seal it behind her before the magnet arrived. The metal would not hold the thing back long, but maybe she could catch it with her nose-beams as it burst through.
But her bad leg gave way, and she suffered a stab of pain that brought her to the floor halfway through the portal. She rolled and drew her legs up, her dress falling up in a fashion that would have invited impregnation in the presence of a male. She tried to get one hand on the panel as her feet cleared it, but could not.
The magnet shot into the room. It passed directly over her, stopped, and hovered in the center of the room. It was Slammer, and she knew why he hesitated: He had been deceived too many times by the rods she had scattered about. This time he wanted to be sure of his quarry before crushing it.
Slammer moved. But not as fast as before. Melody shoved her legs, propelling her body across the floor— and the magnet missed her. He was tired, after all his searching; he was running low on fuel and had to conserve!
Melody tried to orient her nose, but could not do it while lying on the floor, half on her side. Slammer was coming over her, ready to crush her between his body and the floor, where his magnetism was strongest. She reached up and flung her arms about him, dragging him down with her weight so that he could not get momentum for a strike. She weighed twice as much as the magnet and he was heated from his own exertions. Maybe she had a chance—
Slammer jerked back, but she clung, her fingernails scratching across his surface. Parts of the creature were rough, where his eating and breathing vents were; that gave her purchase. Her feet dragged along the deck, but she retained her hold.
Now the magnet was desperate. He shook back and forth violently, and puffs of burning hot air escaped from his vents. But still she hung on, knowing it was her only chance. Her face was against his metal, assisting her grip. But she could not get her nose focused on him.
Slammer dragged her to the wall and started banging her hands. Sudden pain shot up her arms; her fingers were being crushed! Then they turned, and it was her shoulder and head getting smashed. Little white sparks flew up inside her eyes; she was getting knocked out. But her albatross-weight was wearing the magnet down; his motions were slowing, and it was descending to the floor. Soon she would have him....
Slammer made a final effort. He jammed
toward the wall, crushing her arm, then spun and pulled violently away. Melody threw her legs up to enclose him, but the blood from her reopened wound leaked out over his surface, and her hand slipped. Suddenly the magnet squirted free, leaving her to collapse.
She had almost beaten him. Almost. Now, her hands, arms, leg, and head hurting, she could only lie where she was. She lacked the strength to go after the creature.
Slammer paused across the room, recharging his power. The struggle had weakened him, but not quite enough. Blood was smeared on his surface, the four scrape-marks of her last despairing handhold forming a fingerpainting. One other scrape-mark curved below, like the scythe-blade of the Grim Reaper in the Death-card of the Tarot.
There was a stirring in the corner. The lid to the nest lifted, and little Beanball emerged. He started toward her.
Oh, no! "Beanball, stay out of this!" Melody screamed, trying to pull herself to her feet, but failing. The little magnet did not comprehend many human words yet, but should get the gist. If he came to her now, he could be crushed accidentally as she was struck. Or at least he would perceive her demise: a horrible thing for any youngling. Melody loved Beanball in her fashion, and knew that love was returned. "Get back in your nest! Close the lid!"
But Beanball continued, arriving just as Slammer stabilized. Melody had learned to read the reactions of magnets to some extent; Slammer was about to strike again. He would launch himself from across the room, so that she had no chance to stop him, and this time he would not miss the mark. "God of Hosts!" she repeated, staring at the friend who had become Death.
Slammer moved—and so did Beanball, leaping forward in an amazing burst of vitality. The two met, the massive and the tiny—and it was the massive that bounced away.
Melody, resigned to death, stared. What had happened?
Yael comprehended first. "Beanball's defending us!"