Chaining the Lady

  Yael turned up the flame, slowly—"so as not to crack the glass," she explained—and abruptly the suspended mantle—an inverted cup of webbing—glowed with a pure white light. The transformation was miraculous; from a flickering yellowish flame had issued a steady, strong, beautiful illumination.

  "That's lovely!" Melody said appreciatively. "This is a Tarot analogy. Solid circular shape like a Disk, liquid fuel, using air to make flame, and from it emanates a brilliant aura. The light seems a thing entirely apart, yet it is dependent on the crude material body."

  But she would have to meditate on the significance of these things another time. Gravity was still declining, and she wanted to get to the control room while she still had weight enough to walk. If she had to, she could use the net to summon help. Now that the ship really was a derelict, why not say so?

  But if a rescue craft came, and lifted off the flesh-entities, what of the magnets? Could Melody accept her rescue, knowing she was leaving these loyal allies to slow death?

  The men fashioned packs and bags, and the group started the trek toward the officers' section.

  Motion was easy, too easy. They took increasingly long strides despite their loads. When they ascended the ramp to the next inside level, their weight diminished further.

  In the heart of the darkest interior, the lamp flickered and puffed out, its flame expiring in a desperate lunge. "Out of fuel?" Melody asked, chagrined.

  "Out of air," March said in the dark beside her.

  "But we have air!"

  "Gravity's gotten too low. Fire needs circulation, to bring in new oxygen. The hot air expands and rises out of the way. But without gravity, there's nowhere to rise, so it just stays there—and stifles the flame."

  "Yes, of course," Melody said. Elementary physics! "We shall have trouble breathing, too."

  "Not if we keep moving. The force of our exhalations circulates the air; convection doesn't have much to do with it. If we can rig a forced-draft for the lamp, it'll burn."

  "Better just to use the battery-flash," one of the others said. "We have three, and they're good for several hours. By then we'll be at the control room, and can turn on what lights we need."

  Melody took one flash and March another, and they continued. They had stepped forward several thousand years in basic technology, perhaps, but were no better off. The gravity was so slight it was difficult to get friction with the deck; now they had to use the handholds to hurl themselves forward.

  When they were about halfway to the control room, the ship shuddered violently, as though suffering its final death agony. Gravity ceased altogether. The anchors had completed their grisly work.

  Suddenly the passage was filled with floating junk, jostled loose by the terminal convulsion. Theoretically, everything in the ship was secured, but in practice the steady gravity had permitted considerable laxity. Tools, articles of clothing, books, fixtures—all were drifting in the wan beam of Melody's flashlight.

  "We're in trouble," March said.

  "We can shove this stuff aside; it won't hurt us." Melody said, though the eerie drifting alarmed her.

  "The solids, yes. The liquids, no." And he pointed with his beam.

  Now she saw it: a spreading python of liquid emerging from an open cabin. It was sanitary refuse that had not reached the recycling unit because of the power cutoff. Now it was diffusing into the air, closing off the passage. "I'm not unduly finicky," Melody said, "but let's see if we can find an alternate route."

  They took a side passage, but that, too, was clouding up. "Soon we'll be breathing vaporized urine," Melody muttered to Yael. "Unhealthy prospect"

  "Ugh," Yael agreed.

  "I think we'd better get back into our suits and plow through," March said.

  Quickly they unboxed the suits and donned them. The magnetic shoes helped now, making the footing secure. Then they tramped through the sordid mists to the control room.

  The ship was in a shambles. The loss of gravity had caused the fail-safe mechanisms to lock and the controls did not respond. The magnets were willing to help, but had to be given precise directives to enable them to override the fail-safes and establish workable partial systems.

  Melody, Llume, and the men hardly knew what to do themselves. Poring over the instruction manuals, they gradually got portions of the ship functioning again, including the main computer. Then it became easier.

  The laser cannon were partially operative, but the drive mechanism was beyond repair. The Ace of Swords might be able to fire, but it could neither pursue nor avoid an enemy ship. They had only confirmed what the Knyfh officers had known all along: the ship was a derelict.

  18

  Fleet of Ghosts

  *report: segment qaval has fallen segment knyfh is in final stage*

  :: then conquest is complete! ::

  *not yet resistance continues in segment etamin*

  :: oh, yes but that will fall when knyfh support is lost ::

  *this is uncertain resistance seems to be native*

  :: etamin! why so much trouble with that insignificant region? we did not anticipate trouble there! ::

  *dash did*

  :: dash was a supercautious coward! why did he fear etamin? ::

  *because it was the segment of flint of outworld, who foiled us before*

  :: flint of outworld is long dead! no such fluke can occur again all the rest of the milky way galaxy has fallen! ::

  *the dash command of etamin has been recalled he feels otherwise*

  :: the one who was discovered and nullified? who yielded his command to slash and finally to quadpoint, who is about to complete this conquest? the opinion of this creature is irrelevant he shall be assigned to degrading duty why does he feel otherwise? ::

  *he says there is another like flint of outworld who coordinates the resistance*

  :: another super-kirlian? then capture that aura and bring it here [pause] no, send it to sphere dash let them handle their nemesis and know it for illusion ::

  *POWER*

  :: CIVILIZATION ::

  The ship was a derelict, but it lived. It had no spin, no gravity, refuse littered its passages, and it drifted without external drive—but deep inside it functioned.

  "No one blasted us," Melody said. "They think we're dead; no sense wasting valuable energy on a finished hulk."

  She looked into the reactivated globe. The Knyfh cluster charge had brought the ship into the center of the battle area. It was a graveyard; ships and pieces of ships littered space much as the smaller refuse littered the halls.

  It had evidently been an internecine struggle. More than half the ships of the original fleets seemed to be here, inert. Yet the battle continued: One group of fifteen ships was looping about for another pass, and on the opposite side another group of eight was maneuvering similarly. The hostages had lost thirty of their forty-five, the home forces twenty-three of their thirty-one. So the loyalists were gaining, yet losing too, for though the difference had closed to seven ships, the ratio had risen to about two to one again. Very soon Andromeda would win, and Segment Etamin would fall.

  "We have to do something!" Melody exclaimed. "We're not dead—and we never signaled disablement. We can still fight!"

  "We can't orient," Llume pointed out. "The lasers may not be sufficiently charged, and the lenses may be too fogged."

  "I'll go out there and change a lens myself if I have to," Melody said. "We can shoot from ambush. The enemy will never know what hit it. We might get several—enough to change the balance."

  "We have to give fair warning," March said.

  Melody didn't argue; she was not sure where the ethics were now. "All right, I'll advertise on the net. They'll know one of the derelicts has come to life, but maybe not which one. If our lasers don't work, they'll never know which one. And if the lasers do work...."

  March smiled. "That seems fair enough."

  Melody activated the net, hoping it still worked, hoping Captain Mnuhl of Knyfh was still avail
able. "Lan of Yap calling Mnuhl of Knyfh."

  To her surprise, he answered right away. "Mnuhl of Knyfh. Provide your location and we shall send a rescue shuttle."

  "Captain, we don't want rescue. We were disabled, but have recovered enough to—"

  "Desist," the Knyfh said curtly.

  "Captain, I'm trying to tell you—"

  "Our relation is severed if you retain combat status. I am detaching my contingent from the fleet."

  Dismayed, Melody could only ask: "Why, Captain?"

  Even through the mechanical translation the terrible regret was evident. "I am no longer free to wage war. Segment Knyfh has fallen to Andromeda." The connection severed.

  Melody sat stunned. Segment Knyfh—fallen! It was one of the strongest segments of the galactic coalition, a leader. She had experienced Knyfh competence and toughness herself. If that segment had been defeated, how many other Milky Way segments survived?

  Now another voice cut in. "Hammer of ::. Melody of Mintaka, we recognize your identity. As admiral of your remaining force, you are entitled to diplomatic courtesy. Surrender your fleet, signal your own position, and we shall harbor you as a prisoner of war. You will be sent to Andromeda and treated with the respect due your aura."

  Melody did not respond. She had no intention of yielding now. Her aura would not serve Andromeda!

  "All other segments of Galaxy Milky Way have yielded," Hammer continued. "No hope remains for you."

  Melody cut off the net. She did not question Hammer's word. All the rest of the galaxy—fallen! The Service of Termination really had been for the Milky Way!

  "Why did Captain Mnuhl offer to pick us up if he's out of the fleet?" March asked.

  "Noncombative assistance; probably part of the military code," Melody said. "The moment he found out we weren't quitting, be shut up, so as not to let us give ourselves away. He's an honorable entity. He doesn't want to quit. But he takes orders from his own segment."

  "Now that Admiral Hammer knows of your survival," Llume said, "he will be alert. You have a most valuable aura, one that Andromeda can use in special ways. He will try to capture you, as Dash did."

  "I have always been desired for my aura," Melody muttered, remembering again the bitterness of her youth. The viewglobe showed the Andromedan ships reforming, approaching the derelict area slowly. And it also showed two Atoms detaching from the Milky Wayan group: Captain Mnuhl and the other surviving ship of Knyfh. They could not actually return to their segment; that would take several thousand years. They were simply removing themselves from the battle.

  "Can Admiral Hammer give orders to the Atoms now?" March asked.

  "No," Llume answered. "The Atoms were neither defeated nor taken hostage. They merely become noncombatant."

  "Hammer doesn't need them anyway," March said. "He has a fair idea where we are now, and we can't maneuver."

  "Maybe we can take out one or two hostage ships before we go," Melody said. But she knew it was hopeless. Andromeda had a decisive edge, and Hammer was competent.

  "If Knyfh has fallen," Yael asked, "why is Mnuhl obeying them? Isn't he a creature of the Milky Way?" A seemingly naive question—but it struck a chord. Melody reactivated the net. "Captain Mnuhl," she said. "Your segment is fallen; your loyalty to your galaxy now preempts your obligation to your segment. You are part of the fleet of Galaxy Milky Way. As admiral of that fleet—the only such fleet remaining—I order you to resume hostilities against Andromeda."

  There was a pause. Would this work? How did the military mind adapt to such a situation?

  Then Mnuhl responded. "Accepted," he said.

  Hammer's voice cut in. "You are a fool, Mnuhl. We have already granted you disengagement status."

  "I renounce it," Mnuhl replied. "So long as leadership exists within the forces of my galaxy, my ultimate loyalty is to it."

  "That leadership shall shortly disappear," Hammer said grimly. And the globe showed plainly that the Andromedan fleet was orienting on the Ace of Swords, ignoring the other derelicts. Melody's notion of finding concealment within the mass of wrecks was illusory—like most of her other bright ideas.

  But desperation gave her another inspiration. If she could recover two disengaged ships, what about the disabled ships?

  "Slammer, will the magnets fight for the Milky Way galaxy?"

  Slammer bobbed affirmatively.

  "Could magnets reactivate the derelict ships, using the techniques we have worked out here, provided anything remains to reactivate?"

  Slammer made a complex hum. "Yes," Llume translated. "There are magnets aboard many ships of the fleet, surviving though the flesh entities perished. Those magnets will die in time if the ships are not reactivated. But they cannot act without specific direction."

  It might be enough. "Llume, you and I are going to transfer to as many of those ships as we can reach," Melody said. "We'll check out their condition and tell the magnets there what to do. We'll ambush the enemy from derelicts."

  "But there are no hosts!" Llume protested.

  "There are magnet hosts." Melody turned to Slammer. "I'm going to activate the net. You speak to your kind. Tell them to make themselves receptive as voluntary hosts. Inform them that two female high-Kirlian entities will occupy them and provide directions before shuttling back to this ship—if any shuttles remain operative. The Andromedans will not understand your language soon enough to do them any good; like us, they underestimate the sapience of the magnets. Tell your kind that in this manner we may save them and us all—but that if we fail, they will not suffer any more of a death than had we not tried at all." She activated the net and left it on BROADCAST for Slammer.

  While the magnet hummed, Melody took March aside. "This is not a good chance, but it is some chance. Once we transfer out, you men seal yourselves tight in the control room and watch the globe. When you see a shuttle or lifeboat coming, take it inside if you can, because it will be one of us returning in magnet host for retransfer. Can you handle that?"

  "That much," March agreed, tight-lipped.

  "We're safe anyway," another man said. "We already had the Service of Termination."

  "The derelicts are pretty close together now," Melody said. "We might shuttle directly from one hulk to another, in magnet form, organizing our fleet of ghosts." Then she thought of something else. "Did the Knyfh officers evacuate the former hostages—Dash and Tiala and all?"

  Llume checked with the computer. "No. They remain in a sealed hospital room with an individual life-support system."

  "Leave them that way. If one of us reaches a ship with a transfer unit, we might transfer back into those bodies."

  Slammer had finished. Several hums came in on the net, providing the identities of possibly salvageable ships. Melody checked their positions in the globe. "I think we're in business," she said with satisfaction.

  "We have very little time," Llume said. "The Andromedans are drawing near."

  "We may have to distract them with the first couple of ghosts, then skip ahead to set up more," Melody said. She and Llume and Slammer and Beanball went to the transfer unit in the hold. Again Melody had to help Slammer across the barrier, but now that the magnet had no weight, it was easy. "Yael will see that you get across next time," she said to it. "Maybe we can find a way to break it down so you have free access. You may be best off staying with the transfer unit anyway."

  She showed the magnets how to nudge the transfer control, once she had set it. Little Beanball was just the right size to hit the switch without touching anything else. While they were rehearsing it, another magnet showed up. "Slimmer!" Melody said. "You couldn't get across the barrier to join the others! It must have been a terrible experience for you." But at least the little magnet family had been reunited.

  Melody oriented the unit on a Solarian derelict in the path of the oncoming ships, and set it on Llume's aura. Llume entered, and Beanball nudged the switch. Then Melody helped the Polarian host out. She was not a zombie. True to her philosophy
, Llume had not damaged her low-aura host "You and Yael and the magnets have a nice chat while Llume and I are gone," Melody suggested.

  She reset the unit, orienting on the available Mintakan ship, and entered it herself. "Okay, Beanball," she said. And privately to her host: "Take care of yourself, child."

  "I love you, Melody," Yael replied. "Come back."

  Then Melody was in darkness. She hovered near a metal wall, waiting.

  "Hello," Melody said to her magnet host. "I am Melody of Mintaka, here to show you what to do. Go to the ship control room."

  The host obeyed immediately. This was a fine body, with a lovely internal heat from burning coal dust and extreme responsiveness in the vicinity of anchored metal. Melody surveyed the situation, getting her bearings. This was a Mintakan ship, but it was every bit as alien to her as the other ships were. She knew the controls would be sonically organized, but in this host it hardly mattered. The question was, could this ship be made to fight?

  It was an Atom type, in the same class as the Knyfh ships, with a solid nucleus and a magnetically fixed satellite shell. It had been taken hostage, but now the hostages were dead, for a missile had holed it suddenly. It was without air, but it was otherwise serviceable. In fact, since it was loss of personnel rather than destruction of equipment that had derelicted it, this was an excellent prospect for reclamation.

  Did it have the missing transfer unit aboard? No. That was a disappointment, but Melody could not complain. Her success so far was fortune enough.

  She floated past a dead Mintakan, a confused jumble of pipes and wires and castenets drifting in the hall. Its drum-membranes had burst, its tubes ruptured. Mintakans did not breathe in the sense that Solarians did, but they needed air for their various sonic devices, and decompression was a thorough and awful demise. The sight would have horrified her in her natural body, but sight was not possible in this host; she had instead a magnetic awareness that removed much of her emotional involvement.