Chaining the Lady (35 page)

“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.”

They 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 multiple 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 lifecraft 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 wen 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 our galaxy without risk to myself, I'd take it.”

“Big concession!” This was human sarcasm.

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 ever 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 him 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. Not one of them had thought to bring along a a jet pack or safety line, for none of them were experienced in this line of work.

Chapter 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 resources*

::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 or aura that Llume had. Too bad Dash had been an enemy, and Llume another female incarnation.

“Well, I liked March from the start,” Yael said “He's from backwoods Outworld, like me, an he's the first spaceman we met.”

As though those were sufficient recommendations. Melody gave a mental shrug; to each her own values.

But now they had a problem. They had lost their torch, and apparently there was no other way to remove the monstrous anchors from the hull. Magnetic, so they could not be pried off, the anchors were designed to hold the weight of an entire ship. The huge cables were impervious steel, uncuttable by normal means.

The group stood on the hull, hanging by their foot-magnets from the planetlike mass of the ship. A film of corrosion covered the metal, like moss, weakening the strength of the footholds. The ship was, indeed, a moldering corpse.

Melody looked along the length of the great vessel, down the handle to the flaring blade of the sword. The light-collecting troughs were still in place, but she knew that soon they would collapse as the decreased rotation became insufficient to keep the guy-wires taut. Then there would be no further energy input, even if it were possible to fix the corroded mechanism and wash off the fogged surfaces. One little brush with a Spican cloud, and doom. It seemed very final, out here.

She looked into space and saw the lights of the lifecraft, already in space, moving across the mighty starry field of the Milky Way galaxy. They were signaling to other ships for a pickup.

Marooned on a derelict. No doubt the battle still raged, but with the naked eye nothing was visible; they might have been alone in the universe. Was this the ultimate reality of the supposedly exciting engagement of fleets, the War of Two Galaxies?

At last her gaze fell on the two magnets. They were touching the surface, despite the corrosion. Of course! Their normal mode of repulsion would send them shooting into space, here; Slammer had surely learned that. Had he rolled across the hull when he was out here before? He must have, and she had not been paying attention. The magnet species was remarkably well adapted to space. She would have to clean off the corrosion once they were back inside, though. No sense having it eating into the magnets.

They walked to the nearest anchor, scarcely a quarter mile around the hull. It was a block of metal, three feet thick and twenty across, with its chain rising an an angle. Its field was so powerful that Slammer had Beanball could not approach it; the current would have overcome them.

Too bad! But for the overwhelming field, Slammer might have attacked the anchor-cable and perhaps frayed and severed it. No chance of that now.

They tramped silently back into the airlock and climbed carefully in. No one except the magnets had touched the corroded surfaces with anything but footwear (or Llume's wheelwear). But what did it matter? Death was only a matter of time.

“You and Llume can still transfer out,” Yael said.

“Where would that leave
you
?” Melody retorted. “And the men?”

“There are worse ways to die than alone with three men,” Yael said. “I guess if I'd been able to choose, this is the way I'd go.”

Melody considered that, and decided she couldn't find much fault with it. But she did not feel free to admit that. “The others know we're here. When they see the ship remains derelict, they'll send a boat back.”

“First they have to get picked up themselves,” Yael pointed out. “And we might get blasted or holed before they get here.”

All this time, rotation had been slowing. Now gravity was hardly an eighth normal, and fading rapidly. Melody started to strip out of her suit, but hesitated, realizing she would have no footing without the magnetic shoes. The air, under shipwide pressure, seemed good; each level of the ship was sealed to prevent pressure rising inordinately near the hull. But with the access-chutes open and power off, there was a draft as the air settled. And more than air was required for life support. Still, no sense using up the suit prematurely. She doffed it.

“Men,” Melody said aloud as their helmets came off. “It appears we are going to die, perhaps quite soon.” She was not certain in her mind that this was so, but the odds seemed to favor it. She was playing it safe, ironic as that was. “I am an old Mintakan in transfer to this fine young Solarian host. The host-entity has volunteered to entertain you as you may wish during the final moments. There is a transfer unit in this ship. I shall, if you choose, use it to transfer my identity to some other host in the fleet. Possibly I can arrange for your rescue. But I think you should not gamble on my success to the extent of turning down my host's offer. Are you amenable?”

Privately she thought that if she had had perspective like this in youth, she never would have thrown away her adult life.

The three men exchanged glances in the light of Llume's glow. “Sir,” March said after a moment. “This is generous of you, and your host. You are surely aware that you have the aspect of a remarkably attractive woman, despite your present dishabille. Physically
and
mentally. But I have lived in a civilized manner, with the interests of my world and my species paramount, and I prefer to die that way. I would not touch you or your host unless it were your honest preference, with the prospect of life ahead of you. I doubt that is the case.”

“That's all you know,” Yael muttered. “Who cares about Kirlian aura? There's a
man.
”