Chaining the Lady

  "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 orienting on it, centering it on his crosshairs screen. She knew he would not miss.

  "The Ten of Disks!" she exclaimed, Yael's comment registering at last. "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 envelope 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 contra-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." And 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.

  "This 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 started. 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 difference 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 this 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!" And 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." And 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.

  Crazy house; but Melody did not need to delve 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 it 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."

  "Permit me," Llume said, twining her tail around Melody's torso. For a moment Melody resisted; if Llume were going to do her harm, the absence of the magnet would make this the ideal time. But then she felt the aura, so very like her own. The most compatible sister-aura she had ever encountered. How could she distrust an aura like that?

  She yielded. The Polarian form, adapted to balance, was much better suited to this mode of travel than the Solarian form. Llume picked Melody up and accelerated down the hall. The added weight restored the wheel's traction against the deck.

  Then Melody heard the whine of a rapidly traveling magnet. She looked back, and there was Slammer, gaining on them. He had a satellite: Beanball. "Of course!" Melody exclaimed, relieved. "We couldn't leave the baby alone in that cabin!"

  The group continued on down the length of the ship— and almost collided with a group of crewmen who emerged suddenly from a side passage.

  "Sirs, the evacuation route is this way," one said, saluting.

  "We know," Melody said. "We are going to remove the anchors."

  The crewmen did a doubletake. "Sir... weren't you... ah, informally... hullside with Gary's team?"

  "You were on that job?" Melody asked as Llume set her down.

  "No, sir. It's just that word gets around. But we have met."

  "March!" Yael exclaimed joyfully. "The man we traveled with in the shuttle!"

  So it was! "Of course, March," Melody said, as if she had never been in doubt. "We can use you now, if you care to volunteer. But if you do, you will miss the life-craft out, so don't do it unless—"

  "Sir, I understand," the man said. "I shall remain with this ship." He turned to his companions. "Get the hell on to the boats!"

  The others moved on wordlessly. "Sir," March said. "I don't know much about hullside work, but you'll need three more."

  "We'll make do with whatever we have," Melody said.

  "I mean, to carry the laser torch. It weighs two hundred pounds. The foot-magnets won't hold."

  Melody visualized a two-hundred-pound weight hanging from the hull, and remembered her jaunt into space. She shivered. The man was right; it would take a proper crew. "We'll just have to see," she said.

  The lights failed. The hall became absolutely dark, for this was no planetary surface with diffused light. But in a moment Llume glowed, illuminating her own way. She depended more on sound than sight anyway.

  They took the chute down to the hull, but now it was a giddy ride through the impenetrable dark. Melody felt as if she were floating upward. She had increasing doubts that what she was doing was wise. If they turned about right now, they could still catch a lifeboat...

  And maybe give the segment to the Andromedans.

  "Of course you're right," Yael said. "We can't do that."

  "You mean that was your thought, about turning back?" Melody asked.

  "I guess so. It's funny. I always liked adventure, and you didn't. But when it comes to the crunch, you plunge in while I waver."

  "I have a more galactic view."

  "You have more damn courage!"

  "Me? I'm just an old—"

  "An old Mintakan neuter liar!"

  "No, really; I'm terrified. But my life is mainly behind me, so I don't have much to lose, and when something has to be done—"

  "That's what I mean," Yael said. "Being scared simply doesn't stop you. You keep saying how old you are, but I'll bet you were the same when you were young."

  When she was young.... She had been a conceited fool, a real one, not a symbolic Tarot fool. The Tarot fool had substantial redeeming qualities, while young Melody, in contrast, had thrown away her life. She had paid with eight subsequent Mintakan years of isolation. Only here in the human host had she really come alive. But how could she explain that?

  "You don't need to," Yael said.

  "I have no choice," Melody said, reverting to the first subject. "If I had a way to save the galaxy without risk to myself, I'd take it."

  "Big concession!"

  Melody realized she was no longer moving. She extended her feet and found the floor beneath the chute exit. They had reached the suiting room.

  In a moment a brightening glow announced the arrival of Llume. Dim as this illumination was, Melody found it enough; her human eyes had adjusted, and she could now see most of the room.

  Two more men arrived down another chute. "Didn't you get the word?" March demanded. "Evacuation. Now."

  "We got the word," one said. "We're staying with the Ace."

  There was no further conversation, but Melody felt an overflowing of pride. This quiet patriotism in the face of threat—these men knew they were likely to die, but they weren't fazed. "There is true courage," Melody told Yael. "You and I are ignorant—"

  "Babes in the woods."

  "Yes. We don't know the risks. But March and his companions understand completely—and they are taking this risk. What finer recommendation of character can there be than that?"

  The group suited. Llume's spacesuit was a special one with a flexible tail assembly and a magnetic wheel; it must have been manufactured in Sphere Polaris. They all trundled out the laser torch. This was a barrel on a tripod, ungainly, evidently intended for interior work. It looked heavy, but the reduced gravity had cut its weight in half.

  "How do we know where the anchors are?" Melody asked.

  "Doesn't matter," March said. "If we can see them, we can cut them, with this. If the corrosion doesn't get our suits first."

  Corrosion... suits. Ouch! But if they were careful to touch the hull with nothing but their armored feet....

  They advanced to the nearest lock. It had to be operated manually, because of the power failure—and it was stuck. "The corrosion," March said. "It has sealed the outer lock. We'll have to knock it loose."

  Melody and Llume stood back as far as they could in the compartment while the three human males put their shoulders to the lock door.

  The door would not budge. The human form was not well adapted to this sort of action in low gravity, and was as likely to damage itself as to break open the metal.

  "Try repressuring,
" March said. "Fifteen pounds per square inch should force it open."

  The pressure system could be operated manually. Like most hull equipment, it was fail-safe. Their suits lightened as the air built up, but even at twenty PSI the door did not budge. The corrosion was really effective—as the Knyfh officer probably could have explained, had she given him the chance.

  "The magnet," Yael said.

  Yes! "Slammer can do it," Melody said aloud. "Just give it room."

  They moved aside, and with one joyful bash Slammer hurled open the lock.

  The release of pressure was explosive. Melody, Llume, and the men hung on to the rails, and the big and little magnets used their strong attraction to resist the outward thrust.

  Suddenly, the bulky laser torch, forgotten, was caught by the wind and thrust out into space. And not one of them had thought to bring along a jet-pack or safety line, for none of them were experienced in this line of work.

  17

  Service of Termination

  *progress report three more segments have fallen: freng, weew, thousandstar*

  :: excellent! that leaves three ::

  *qaval is near collapse knyfh and etamin are continuing stout resistance*

  :: I have knocked into this situation the essence of enemy action lies with knyfh a knyfh contingent in etamin is responsible for the extraordinary opposition there eliminate knyfh, and etamin will fall immediately send the reserve force to knyfh ::

  *but if that fails, we shall be without*

  :: it shall not fail the bold strike is what prevails that is what dash did not understand ::

  *POWER*

  :: CIVILIZATION ::

  Chagrined, they stared after the laser torch. "We had only two in service," March said. "The other was lost when the primary repair crew went out."

  There was something a bit noble about his despair, and Melody wished she could kiss him. Or maybe that was Yael's urge; it was getting harder to tell them apart. There was a lot to recommend these sturdy, thrust-culture Solarians, yet Melody was not moved to any more serious attachment. None of them had that power of aura that Dash had, or the affinity of aura that Llume had. Too bad Dash had been an enemy, and Llume another female incarnation.