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 available. “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.
The magnets of this ship, the Six of Atoms, assembled in the control room, humming with gladness for her presence. Now that she was one of them, she understood that they possessed the complete range of sapient feelings. Much of their emotion was expressed in magnetic fluxes and was therefore not perceived by other creatures, but they were certainly a full-fledged galactic species, deserving of recognition as such.
There were only five of them—all that had been assigned, since the Solarians had been, even in this crisis, jealous of their command over their metallic servants.
Melody flexed her communicatory magnetic fields. Her host was not as intelligent as the sapient norm, but was smart enough for this.
“The enemy ships are passing this ship,” she hummed, and realized that the sonic manifestation was merely a side effect of the intense fields of communication, used for special occasions only. No wonder the magnets had not seemed talkative! “We shall have to attack them. Your valuable participation shall be rewarded if we are victorious.” She did not go into the matter of hostaging, afraid that would confuse the issue, and did not mention that even if they managed to win this battle and save Segment Etamin, the remainder of the galaxy was already lost. One thing at a time!
The viewscreen was sonic, so she was able to perceive its messages. The enemy ships were almost abreast of the Solarian derelict; had Llume made it there? Would she now actually fight against her own galaxy?
The magnets had better comprehension of the mechanisms of the ship than Melody had hoped. It was functional, and they could make it work. Quickly Melody organized them, positioning magnets at the key stations, making sure they knew how to respond when she gave the orders. They were natural followers, friendly, willing assistants, wholly likeable.
Suddenly the Solarian derelict fired at the enemy—at virtually point-blank range. The Andromedan fleet had ignored the hulks, concentrating on the Ace of Swords, and passed within a thousand miles of the dead Sword. The result was impressive. A Scepter exploded, its missiles detonated by the heat-beam. A Cup sprang a leak.
Quickly the thirteen remaining ships reacted. Admiral Hammer could be caught by surprise, but he was no fool. A missile slammed into the derelict Sword, gouging a great hole in it.
Yet, amazingly, the Sword fired again, scoring on a Disk. The magnets were tough; mere shock or vacuum did not destroy them, and Llume could not be killed easily while in a magnet-host. It was a phenomenal breakthrough in military space tactics; magnet-hosts as ship captains! But then a Cup-cloud enveloped the derelict, fogging its laser lens, and it was through.
However, the enemy fleet, taking evasive action, had now come within range of Melody’s ship. They did not yet realize that this was an actual reoccupation of derelicts. Her Atom-magnetism reached out and caught two of them, a Sword and a Disk. It did not shake them physically, as the Knyfh weapons did, but induced a powerful vibration in the affected substance that made it ring—literally. Sonic vibration could shake apart a ship.
Meanwhile the eight ships of Mnuhl’s command were approaching. The Andromedans, uncertain where the enemy was, were now firing at other derelicts, wasting energy and missiles. They could not have much offensive punch left at this stage. The tide of battle was turning at last!
Then a missile struck Melody’s Atom. The concussion was cataclysmic, even to her magnet-form. The outer shell let go, as its power was Interrupted, and the nucleus split like the atom it was.
Melody was hurled into space. The magnet-body was not damaged by this; there was no more difficulty stoking coal dust in the vacuum of space than in the vacuum of the ship, though of course this could not be maintained indefinitely. Her air-vents were self-sealing, and there was an internal gas reserve. When the available combustibles were exhausted, life would fade. In the immediate situation, however, the need was not for air or heat, but for metal: large, anchored metal, for the magnetic field to grab on to. Her host was helpless. There was no hope of retransfer now!
But at least she had arranged to eliminate five more enemy ships. Ten to eight; now Mnuhl had a reasonable chance to win.
Yet what irony, to prevail by the margin of one or two ships. There would soon be a new contingent of hostage transferees from one of the pacified segments, to overwhelm this one
. Thus Andromeda would fetch victory even from this defeat. Then on to the dissolution of the Milky Way galaxy, its fundamental energies sucked into the maw of Andromedan civilization.
“God of Hosts—” Melody began, speaking in magnetic fluxes. What use, her prayer, now?
A ship loomed close. A magnetic tractor reached out, drawing her in. The impossible had happened—she was being rescued!
It was a Disk. She floated to its center, to the axis of its spin where its null-gravity aperture made docking convenient. How fortunate Captain Mnuhl’s fleet had located her before she became irrevocably lost in the immensity of space! The Knyfh must have watched the action, figured out what she had done, and spread his ships to intercept the debris of the fissioning Six of Atoms. Mnuhl’s species had affinity to the magnets, so he could have been quick to catch on to the magnet broadcast. Even so, to intercept her so neatly amidst a terminal battle—that was either incredible skill or blind luck.
The powerful magnetism brought her inside the lock. This was only the second Disk she had ever boarded; it differed from the other types of ships in subtle and un-subtle ways. With her magnet perception it hardly seemed Polarian.
She entered a long outslanting ramp. Here the surfaces were nonmetallic, so that she could not float under her own power; she rolled ignominiously down the incline at increasing velocity. Disk-creatures liked to roll, of course. The slant leveled, and she halted. There was still no metal near, A powerful generalized magnetic field developed, urging her to a side passage. At last she came to an open chamber, and here she was allowed to come to rest.
“Welcome, Admiral,” a voice said.
Melody extended her perception field, and discovered that what she had heard was a Solarian translation. Beyond the translation machine was a spherical mass with six projecting short axles, a disk-shaped wheel on the end of each. The side wheels were used for locomotion; the bottom one was retracted somewhat, for gyroscopic balance and respiration; and the top one spun rapidly in the air to make the sounds of native speech. This was a high-Kirlian sapient entity.
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