“Yes, sir,” Gary said, trying to keep his face straight.
“When you hear that phrase, if you are in control of your ship, identify yourself on the net and fire on any neighbor-ship that has not similarly identified itself. Then try to disengage from that fleet. Do you understand?”
“Yes. We do not want our recovered ships firing on each other.”
“Hit and run,” one of the women said.
Melody smiled. “If you rejoin our fleet, we will have you transferred back to your own bodies.”
She turned back to Skot. “Take them to the transfer unit and send them through in rapid order on my signal. Good luck!”
The volunteers marched out. Melody shook her head. “I am probably sending them to their deaths,” she said. “But we can be sure the crews of the hostage ships are loyal, and if they’ll just believe the truth, they’ll act. An average of four hostage officers on each ship can’t stop a crew of a thousand! If we can take over or nullify even ten hostage ships without Admiral Hammer knowing it, it may tip the scales in our favor.”
“I know,” Yael said. “I sure hope it works. I wish I could go myself.”
There was a delay while she organized the details with Captain Mnuhl and made sure the other ships had their volunteers ready. A contingent of Lan of Yap transferees were to make a special effort to recover the two Mintakan vessels. Shuttles carried volunteers from all the Spheres to the four ships with transfer units, so that there were enough to send at least one agent to each hostage ship.
“Bombardment commenced,” Mnuhl announced on the net. The hostages would overhear this, but it didn’t matter since it was only a distraction. It didn’t even matter if Admiral Hammer fired back, so long as he didn’t know what was going on. Maybe he was laughing over-confidently at this seemingly ludicrous ploy. But his thinly spread hostage officers would hardly be paying much attention to what was going on in the depths of the crew quarters…
The missiles started exploding. But there was no apparent damage, and the enemy did not return fire. Admiral Hammer was biding his time, refusing to be shaken or to waste ammunition.
More time passed. Under Mnuhl’s directions, the loyalist fleet shifted about, getting into battle formation, but not approaching the enemy. Admiral Hammer must really be wondering!
How was Gary doing? The girls? The other Sphere volunteers? Were they getting through to the crews of the hostage ships? How would it show? Captain Mnuhl was giving them ten minutes: not much time to infiltrate and take over a ship.
There was one positive sign: All of the volunteers had been transferred successfully. That meant they had found willing hosts. Surely the crews were aware that something was going on; they should be ready to listen.
“Do you really think it’ll work?” Yael asked worriedly.
“You know I’m afraid it won’t,” Melody told her. “You can feel the courses of doubt washing all through our nervous system.”
“Yes. But Gary is pretty competent, and Skot—”
“Skot! He’s not going out there!”
“Yes, he is,” Yael said. “I got to know him while you were buzzing around the fleet. He’s a man of action.”
Melody spoke into the ship’s circuit. “Skot of Kade report.”
“Admiral, he has transferred,” a voice replied.
“Then who in the orchestra is talking now?”
“Bnalm of Knyfh, sir. It was necessary to have an officer take over in the Solarian’s stead.”
“I told you,” Yael put in.
Melody closed her eyes. “Oh, Skot, you just had to get in on the action!” she muttered, pained. “But I needed you here.”
Llume approached. “Skot knew that a high-Kirlian entity would have a better chance of getting through than a low one, and his officer’s expertise would enable him to operate the ship more effectively. I would like to go also.”
“Llume, you know you’re a prisoner of war! Even if I could trust you aboard an Andromedan ship, it would be unethical—”
“I am a Slash,” Llume said.
“Precisely. An Andromedan—” Melody paused. “Oh. You mean you honor the Lot of *?”
“I could readily disable a hostage ship.”
“No,” Melody said firmly. “You will not turn traitor to your galaxy on my account.”
Llume retreated. Melody tried to analyze the strong emotion she felt, but was interrupted by Captain Mnuhl’s announcement on the net. “Lan of Yap.”
Tensely, Melody watched the viewglobe. Nothing happened. But of course it would take a moment for the agents to react, assuming they had completed their takeovers. To orient on the other ships, to make their announcements…
The net erupted. “Trey of Swords—Milky Way.” “Fourteen of Cups—Milky Way.” Then a jumble of voices.
Suddenly there was firing in the hostage fleet. It seemed to have turned on itself, with ships battling each other at point-blank range.
“Phenomenal success!” Mnuhl’s exultant voice came over the net. Melody had supposed Knyfhs lacked emotions, but of course she was wrong about that too. “Three… four… six ships blasted! Seven!”
“Like a chain of fireworks!” Yael exclaimed. “There’s another—and another!”
“It worked!” Melody said unbelievingly. “It actually worked!”
“I must admit I had reservations,” Mnuhl said. She could barely distinguish his voice amid the melee of communications, but the proximity of his ship gave him an advantage. “I anticipated perhaps two ships inactive. But now we have ten inactive! Hammer was caught completely offguard!”
“He was deceived by the nonmilitary mind,” Melody murmured, still hardly believing it herself. Yet the evidence was before her. Hard-hitting Hammer had never thought of resubversion.
“Analysis,” Mnuhl said. “Initial optimism exaggerated. Ten enemy ships destroyed, but this does not indicate that a similar number have been retaken. Some may have fired upon two or more neighbors. Projected losses to enemy, all factors; sixteen vessels.”
“They lost five before,” Melody said. “That brings them down to forty-five, against our thirty-one. We’re gaining on them.”
“Yes, certainly,” Mnuhl agreed. “It was a tactical masterstroke. But we remain at a disadvantage. We have merely culled their most vulnerable units, and they still outnumber us.”
Now a separation took place in the enemy fleet. “Our retakes are drawing apart, as directed,” Melody said. “Six ships.”
“An apparent loss of ninety percent of our transfer agents,” Mnuhl reminded her. “Considering the success, a favorable ratio.”
A favorable ratio! Was Skot of Kade among the statistics of acceptable loss? Gary? The two young women? The other gallant Knyfhs and Polarians and Canopians and Spicans?
“Recoveries are being pursued,” Mnuhl reported.
“Can we help them?”
“Only by closing upon the enemy fleet.”
“Do it, then. They took a terrible risk for us; we can do the same for them.” Then, conscious that the enemy could overhear this dialogue, she stopped talking on the net.
Llume rolled near again. “You can help them only by distraction,” she said. “They will be subject to the fire of the enemy for some time.”
“No, we can surround our six ships and protect them,” Melody said. “The hostages won’t be able to—” But then she realized what the problem was. It took a lot of energy to accelerate, and a lot to decelerate a huge spaceship. The six fleeing ships had a head start, but the pursuing hostage fleet would be in phase with them. The loyalist fleet, approaching from the opposite direction, could pass right through both the six and the forty-five without having any protective effect.
The Ace of Swords began to move, the chemical acceleration pressing Melody sidewise. She suffered vertigo; now she could not decide which way was down. Her command seat held her in place, however.
Llume had no problem; she merely tilted on her wheel to match the new vector
and stayed in place.
“Well, at least we have six more ships,” Melody said. “Counting those recoveries, we shall have thirty-seven to their forty-five. That’s not such a bad ratio.”
“Not such a good ratio either,” Llume warned her. “By this time Admiral Hammer will have rounded up some captive transferees and will know everything they know. He will rout out any others remaining in his fleet and try to use them against you. If he retains a transfer unit—”
“Sour grapes,” Yael said. “You thought of a good tactic, so everyone says it doesn’t count.”
Sour grapes: another Solarianism. Melody traced down the imagery. Grapes were succulent fruits of Sphere Sol that developed on vines. When ripe, they were sweet, suitable for consumption. A carnivore was said to have desired some grapes, but found them to be out of reach. A carnivore? Such a creature consumed flesh, not fruit. There must be a confusion.
The other Polarian host appeared. It was Captain Mnuhl. “There will soon be battle,” he said. “Ships will be lost, and we may become unable to remain in contact. I think it wise to employ the Knyfh cluster-charge. This is a generalized magnetic field similar to the net that poses no threat to individual ships, but will tend to draw derelicts in to a common center. This will facilitate rescue of personnel in the absence of Intergalactic Convention.”
“By all means,” Melody said. “We shall want to save any entities we can, from any ships—ours or theirs. The great majority of entities are ours, and there is information we’ll want from any hostages we might capture.”
He made a glow of agreement and departed.
The two fleets accelerated toward each other, the six repossessed ships between. Melody was pleased to note that one of the six was Mintakan. Had they recovered the missing transfer unit, or had it been destroyed? She wished she could be sure it was not operating in the remaining enemy Atom. Llume had made a good point there.
In the globe it seemed as if the six ships would be crushed between the converging masses of the two main fleets, but she knew that they were mere dust motes in the hugeness of space. With an average separation between ships of five thousand miles, there would be no collisions. What seemed like masses in the globe were actually diffuse clouds in space.
What she could see in her globe, the Andromedans could see in theirs. When the Ace of Swords got close enough to fire on the enemy, the enemy Swords would be close enough to fire on the Ace. Suddenly she had a queasy feeling; she felt incompetent to handle it. She wanted to turn command of the ship over to Skot for the action, and of course could not, and not merely because he was gone. The hero-fool! She envied him.
“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 ca
n 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.
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