“She came to talk with you, and found us with the transfer unit. She asked me questions I couldn’t answer, and felt my aura and knew you were gone. I tried to hide it—” Yael started crying.
“Dear, you could not hide your lack of a two hundred-plus aura from one possessed of a one hundred-plus aura, once she was suspicious. It was just bad luck she checked, not your fault.”
“She went away, but then she came back with the pain-boxes. We didn’t know what they were until—Skot tried to fight the one fixed on him, but—”
“You can’t fight one of those discipline-boxes. The Canopian Masters who make them are expert at handling humanoid slaves. Once the unit is oriented on a specific person, even his thought of trying to get away from the box triggers—” She broke off as the wave of pain swept through her host. “Yes, precisely,” she finished as it subsided. “It is turned to your bodily reactions, tensions, so just don’t think about—” The pain started rising again. “Anything,” she finished hurriedly.
“Skot wouldn’t answer her questions—”
“He wouldn’t.”
“So she turned up the—Melody, I just don’t understand! Why would a close friend do that?”
Melody had forgotten that Yael had not had the same insights she had; in fact, Melody had not really believed it until now. Better to get the painful truth out, though: “Because Llume is another Andromedan agent. A most sophisticated one. That was what Tiala would not tell me in the Lot of *.”
Yael was confused. “I knew there was something funny there, but you didn’t—why didn’t you take over her mind, if you thought that?”
“Because making certain of that fact would have killed me—and maybe you. Tiala knew that I should be told about Llume… but she also knew that Llume would kill me the moment I learned. Tiala must have known about the discipline-boxes, and that Llume would use them. Llume could not act against me directly because of the magnet, but Slammer doesn’t understand the discipline-box. He would not have known what was going on, and I would not have been able to tell him. So Tiala would have violated the Lot of * by answering accurately, because an answer that destroys the querent is not valid, by the definition of that code. Tiala had integrity.”
Yael mulled that over, not fully comprehending it. “But if you had taken over Tiala’s mind…”
“That would have been outside the Lot of *. She would no longer be bound to tell me anything responsively, or to protect me, once the Lot had been invalidated. So she had to submit in silence, lest she betray her honor or her galaxy.”
“Then why didn’t you—”
“Because Llume would have acted against me the moment I overwhelmed Tiala’s aura. Only by remaining ignorant could I save myself—if what I suspected was true. I didn’t want it to be true… but it seems it was.”
“Your mind is so complex! Why didn’t she use the box on you anyway; and why did you let her keep working? You could have told Slammer to bash her! By now she must’ve told the whole fleet how you got rid of the hostages here!”
“Worse than that. She broadcast the ‘Six of Scepters’—the Andromedan signal for the overt takeover. Now, all over the fleet, ships are running up the Andromedan flag, figuratively. The battle is on—and we aren’t ready for it.”
“But—”
Melody realized she hadn’t yet answered Yael’s question. “She had no reason to act against me, as long as I didn’t know what she was. And I—needed a hostage to reassure the other hostages of the fleet that things were under control despite the setback at the Ace of Swords. So we—tacitly—agreed to let each other alone. For a while.”
Yael was amazed. “I don’t understand that at all!”
“Well, I’m not sure I understand it either. It seemed the expedient thing to do at the time, since I wasn’t sure, and couldn’t afford to be sure. Her aura is so much like mine, I just couldn’t believe she was Andromedan, though of course aura is no respecter of galaxies, and one of my own ancestors was a / of Andromeda. I was pretty foolish.”
“And now we’re trapped,” Yael said bitterly. “Just when we thought we were winning. Llume used the box on me, and I—oh, I told her everything I knew. The pain—”
“I understand. I saw to it that you didn’t really know much. It was lucky that I wasn’t here, or she would have had it all.”
“But she’s watching for you now!” Yael said with sudden new alarm. “The moment you come back in a shuttle to retransfer, she’ll—” She stopped. “But you transferred back! She doesn’t know—”
“Precisely. So we may have a certain subtle advantage. I knew something was wrong when that ‘Six of Scepters’ signal was broadcast, so I didn’t take any chances.” Melody sighed. “But I am still helpless; I can’t fight the box either.”
Then Melody lifted her hand casually and set it on Skot’s hand on the table. She could do this without any reaction from the box because she had no intention of attacking Llume or turning off the device. She just wanted to put Skot’s mind somewhat at ease.
Skot looked up, startled at the contact. He felt the intense aura and looked at her, wide-eyed. Melody nodded slowly.
“Why didn’t you catch Llume the first time, with the Tarot cards, the way you did the others?” Yael persisted. “And why did she help you catch the others?”
“Because she is a very special agent,” Melody said. “She doesn’t work with the others. In fact, probably only Dash and Tiala knew she was a hostage. She was their backup. It was her job to protect her secret until the time came for her to act. She was extremely well trained, so that she really thought like the entity she represented—a Spican transferee. Any little slips she might have made would be covered by the confusion between her Spican/Polarian identities. She is an expert in cultural nuances, and knows more about them than I do. She well knew what I was doing with the cards. There was no way I could expose her. All her actions were consistent with her role; where a true Spican would have helped me, Llume helped me—even against other hostages. Of course Dash knew what I was doing all along, and he was expert in Tarot, too. They were just letting me play my game, keeping myself busy, while Dash tried to convert me to his cause.” She sighed again. “It was a beautiful setup, and it came closer to success than I like to admit. Had I not happened to be an old Mintakan neuter…”
She looked at Llume sadly. “It was a most sophisticated operation, ruthless yet effective. All the other hostages of this ship were not worth as much to Andromeda as Llume, which was why Dash accepted defeat and exile without betraying her. He put his duty first.”
“I liked Llume,” Yael said. “Is that wrong?”
“I liked her myself,” Melody said. “Very much. I suppose that was the main reason I didn’t want to believe what I suspected. We are undone by our foolish foibles.”
The ship’s large viewglobe showed a holographic image of the fleet with image enhancement to make the picture clear. Bright motes shone: little swords, cups, wands, disks, and atoms representing the ships of the segment. The flagship was marked in red in the very center, surrounded by the other Sphere command ships. Farther out, but still in the nucleus, were Sphere contingents, grouped like protons. Then, beyond the battleship cluster, the rings of smaller ships began. These were not so readily identifiable by shape; they depended on thrust instead of spin for their internal gravity, and did not collect light. A Polarian scout looked much like a Solarian scout, both being needleships.
“This is Llume of /,” Llume announced to the fleet. “I am in charge of the flagship, Ace of Swords, having assumed command in the absence of the scheduled command, Bird of dash of Andromeda, who was lost in the course of ship takeover. I received the Action Hour notice and issued the ‘Six of Scepters’ alarm; I now coordinate this mission. Hostages have now had time to assume command of their ships as programmed. Vessels will now cluster about me, that we may know our strength. Any ship that approaches without demonstrating its Andromedan nature will be fired on by my lasers. I
repeat: I am of Sphere slash, and Sphere slash now coordinates the entire galactic project.”
“Very bold bluff,” Melody remarked to Yael. “The lasers have the longest range in the fleet. As this ship has the most powerful laser cannon of all the Swords, it can act against any other ship before that ship can bring its own weapons to bear. And she reminded us that she is a slash entity; the slash are natural laser-users, so they really know how to handle such armament. So unfriendly ships will probably keep their distance.”
“Then it’s no bluff,” Yael said.
“But neither the Andromedans nor the Milky Wayans know that Llume is operating the ship alone. She has no drive technician, no laser cannoneer. So she can neither maneuver nor fire—not while she’s operating the communications net. Any ship could come up and blast her out of space. So it’s merely a nice ploy, and she has a lot of nerve.”
“You still like her, don’t you,” Yael observed.
“The Andromedans are entities like us. They do have their redeeming qualities. Llume may be my enemy, but she is still a lot like me.”
“You never betrayed your friends!”
“I fear I have betrayed my entire galaxy by misjudging Llume,” Melody replied sadly. “The hints were there, so obvious in retrospect, but I refused to pay attention because I liked her too much. I did not take proper steps to nullify her. And this is the result.”
Yael was silent.
Llume rolled away from the console and came to the captives. “I will turn the pain to zero intensity,” she said, “if the two of you will give me your pledges as Solarians to cooperate with me. The boxes will remain set to your frequencies but will not affect you unless you attempt to renege.”
She oriented first on Skot, placing her tail before him on the table. “You will operate the laser cannon controls, firing only on my order.”
Skot stared at her with obvious hostility. “No.”
Llume’s ball moved to Melody. “You will handle maneuvers, moving the ship on my order or in emergency defense of this vessel. It is more complex than you can readily handle, Yael of Dragon, but I will give you specific directions.”
Melody watched the Polarian ball. If it came much closer, Llume would pick up the strength of her aura and realize that Melody was back. As long as she thought Melody was somewhere else in the fleet, Llume would be uncertain. So the secret had to be protected; small as it was, it was all Galaxy Milky Way had.
“Yes,” Melody said.
Skot jerked up—then froze as the pain caught him. He couldn’t even call her traitor, but he didn’t need to.
The ball traveled back to Skot. “Yael has agreed. She is not as strong-willed as you, and she doesn’t like pain —but her direction is sensible. Will you now join her? I will not require you to do anything actually harmful to your allied ships; it will be a matter of firing warning shots.”
Skot’s only answer was to stiffen in agony.
“Then I set your box on two, while you consider,” Llume said.
Meanwhile, Melody’s pain had ceased. The boxes stimulated the pain nerves of the body, doing no actual physical harm. They were superlative control devices. “Please,” Melody said. “Set his level down again.”
Llume paused. “Since you cooperate, I honor your request. I return his setting to one.” And Skot relaxed somewhat.
Llume led the way to the maneuvers console, and gave Melody a quick general rundown. Melody paid close attention, while standing as far from Llume as she could without arousing suspicion, so that no chance contact could give away her aura. If she ever got free of the box, she wanted to know how to operate this ship.
A warner sounded at the communications console. Llume returned to it. “A capsule is approaching,” she observed. “It could be Captain Llono of Spica, in which case I would welcome him though I should have to confine him. I have a certain fondness for Spica; my host there was very nice. She was voluntary, having no knowledge of my true mission; the same is true of my Polarian host. I do not believe in damaging hosts, despite Andromedan policy.”
“Perhaps you should join the Society of Hosts,” Melody remarked.
“You have picked up certain mannerisms of your prior transferee,” Llume said. “That remark is typical of her.”
Melody had forgotten that Llume was a specialist in alien cultures. She had nearly given herself away! “I liked her,” Melody said.
“So did I. She was a resourceful, intelligent entity with a fine lovely aura,” Llume said. “It is with extreme regret I find myself opposing her. If she survives this war, I hope to be her friend again.” She studied the viewglobe. “I wish this host had better vision; I cannot be sure of the precise origin of that approaching shuttle. But in any event, I cannot take the chance that it is innocent. It could contain a radiation bomb.” She rolled over to the short-range radio. “Identify yourself, shuttle. Andromedan or Milky Way?” There was no response.
“Identify yourself,” Llume repeated. “Otherwise I must destroy you.”
Captain Llono must have been en route in the shuttle when the “Six of Scepters” announcement was broadcast, so didn’t know of the change in situation. This challenge from Llume probably confused him; it was on the wrong beam. So he was bluffing it out in silence while he tried to contact Skot on the other beam. Only Skot was no longer on duty in that capacity. Possibly Llono had caught on from these hints that something was wrong. Melody didn’t know whether to say something, and decided with regret to stay out of it lest she give herself away. She could not be certain that Llume’s conjecture about the radiation bomb was not correct.
Llume rolled over to the laser control console, oriented one cannon to verbal directive, focused on the shuttle, and fired.
Oh, Llono! Melody cried internally. Why hadn’t she spoken? Better that he be captured than wiped out! A mote flicked out in the viewglobe. “No explosion,” Llume observed. “Then it was not a bomb. Perhaps merely debris from the sundered Polarian craft.” But she did not sound convinced.
The irony was, Llume had acted entirely reasonably, by the standards of war. She had challenged the approaching craft, informed it of the consequence of unrecognized approach, and only then destroyed it. Had she not done so, all the fleet would have known she was bluffing. How could Melody blame her for that?
She glanced across at Skot. He was writhing in agony. Obviously he had tried to do something!
There was a period of silence, as if in mourning for the lost craft that might have been a bomb, and the inadequacies of those who might have allowed a brave entity to die needlessly. Melody rehearsed script after script in her mind that might have saved her friend, knowing it was pointless. She was guilty of the slaughter of a sapient entity, not in self-defense but in stupidity.
The fleet net came alive abruptly. “I am Mnuhl of Segment Knyfh,” a voice announced. It was a human voice, an automatic translation from the magnetic charges that were Knyfh communication. The net was geared to handle the full range of languages and modes of the fleet components. All messages were transmitted in common code, to be translated upon reception to whatever mode was applicable. “In the seeming absence of leadership in Segment Etamin, in the interest of Galaxy Milky Way, I am assuming temporary command of the loyalist forces of this fleet. I base this assumption on information obtained from Melody of Etamin, a special segment agent who helped me free my vessel of hostages. Loyalist ships will close in on my ship, the Ace of Atoms, after identifying themselves to me. It will be necessary for each vessel to acquiesce to search by my personnel to verify absence of hostages.”
Llume glowed. “This is Llume of Andromeda,” she said into the net. “The loss of your vessel is a blow to the cause of Andromeda, but I deal with you as pro tern Admiral of Segment Forces. Will you permit hostage ships to clear your vicinity without harassment, in return for a similar truce on our part?”
Melody could not help being fascinated by the military niceties. To indulge in a random melee would be wasteful an
d pointless, with ships firing on their own allies from confusion and ignorance. Therefore the two commanders negotiated politely to defer hostilities. Could she have saved Captain Llono the same way?
“Mnuhl here,” the Knyfh Captain responded. “I compliment you on your offer, and acquiesce.”
“Truce established,” Llume said. “One private question: Does Melody remain with you?”
“I do not feel free to divulge that information.”
“Was she aboard the shuttle that just approached my ship?”
“I must decline to answer.”
Melody nodded to herself. Captain Mnuhl was giving away nothing; he knew the importance of keeping the hostages in doubt about Melody’s location. Every hostage captain would be afraid that a high-Kirlian counterhostage was aboard his ship. That fear would multiply her effectiveness many times. Too bad she wasn’t able to make that threat genuine!
“Thank you, Captain.” Llume terminated the private exchange and returned to general information: “This is Hostage Command: do not fire on loyalist ships as they maneuver. Truce is in force. Andromedans will orient on the Ace of Swords; loyalists on the Ace of Atoms.”
Llume shut off the net. Then she sank into a glowing heap. It was, Melody realized, the Polarian way of expressing complete grief.
Skot looked up. “Andromedan, are you ill?” he inquired. His tone was not friendly, but the query was relevant. If Llume became incapacitated, Skot and Melody would be left under the control of the discipline-boxes, unable to free themselves—with the Andromedan fleet closing about them. If Llume did not maintain communications, the hostages would become suspicious and blast the Ace of Swords out of space.
Llume drew herself more or less erect. “It is an illness of the soul,” she said. “I fear I have slain my sister.”
“What is she talking about?” Yael asked. “She didn’t kill—”
“Let’s wait and see,” Melody said to her. “If what I suspect is true…”
“You are killing our galaxy,” Skot said coldly. “Why should one Spican matter to you?”
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