Chaining the Lady

by Piers Anthony

  "It is yours," he said.

  She did not answer. There was no answer she could make, no thanks she could proffer. No possible gift could have meant more to her, and there was no way she could refuse it. Her mental image of the Star-card returned, but this time it was fleeting, faded. Her greatest hope of the past had been weathered down, had lost its luster, become a matter of lesser concern. Now a brighter star was rising to preempt it.

  She shook the cube once more, randomly (she thought), and set it down. One face lighted: the Two of Cups, in the ancient Thoth format. The picture showed a flower about whose stem two Solarian fish twined. From the flower poured twin currents of water that deflected off the heads of the fish to plunge into two great chalices, finally overflowing into a lake. And the written hieroglyphs spelled out the single word: LOVE.

  It was her inner emotion, betrayed by the Tarot. She had been taken by surprise and overwhelmed.

  Dash put out his hand. Unable to demur, she took it. Their auras interacted powerfully, more strongly than before, compellingly. She found it significant that he had not invoked this power before; he had let her wrestle with the cube and lose on her own. Slowly he lifted her to her feet and drew her body into his embrace.

  Slammer shivered momentarily, then drew back to the far side of the room, having decided that no attack was being made on her.

  "Wow!" Yael said. It was her maximum response to the situation, embodying virtually complete desire and abandon. Melody herself had no better comment.

  Dash led her to the couch, sat her down, and gently removed her dress. Her full human mammaries were exposed to his male gaze and touch, but now she had no fear. Then her primary sexual characteristics were similarly exposed. His amazingly evocative hands slid over the contours of her body, amplified by his aura. Then he brought his lips down to kiss the human nipples.

  The sensation became so strong that Melody gave in to a low sigh. Never before had she felt such exquisite physical and emotional stimulation. She reached up to enfold his head and press it to her bosom. Her heart was beating rapidly, and a pleasant warmth expanded in her chest. She wanted to give herself to him utterly, to be consumed by him, to merge, starting with those breasts. She wanted—impregnation.

  "God of Hosts!" Yael whispered. "I never knew it would be like this! I'm bursting!"

  Dash paused momentarily to doff his own clothes. His host-body was a handsome figure of a man, lean and muscular and well proportioned. At its center, just at the bifurcation of the legs, projected a small limb: the copulatory organ of this species.

  And she wanted that organ inside her body. It was pure Solarian-animal lust, whose true meaning she had never before properly understood in the Tarot. "Thoth Eleven," she whispered, visualizing the variant of the card that best symbolized her need. Girl astride lion, wide open: LUST.

  Yet it could not be. For she was not a young Solarian female, but an old Mintakan neuter. She could not allow herself to bud—or in the present circumstance, to be impregnated. True, Yael had taken her contraceptive shot, but the meaning remained. For her, this was reproduction; the acts of love and lust and mergeance and creation could not be separated emotionally. If she did this thing, it would be real. Real in the only manner that mattered to her fundamental self-view.

  She had to desist. Yet she simply lacked the will to deny the Captain's imperative, or her own. She was in this incarnation a young woman, and he was a handsome man. He had given her a gift of incalculable value, and touched her with his aura, and made her live. He had fairly won her.

  The man came down on her, his phenomenal aura penetrating hers again, his flesh following.

  Melody summoned her only remaining defense: her knowledge of what she was. "Take over, Yael!" she cried, and blanked out.

  7

  Taming the Magnet

  :: why has there been no scheduled council? ::

  *dash suffers pangs of doubt*

  :: that birdbrain! we require more forceful leadership summon council ::

  *but*

  :: do you wish to answer to the force of sphere quad-point? ::

  *council shall be summoned*

  Suddenly it opened into realization, that elusive objection she had to Slammer the magnet. He was an excellent bodyguard—but also a most effective jailer.

  Slammer was the Captain's creature, not Melody's. The Captain was a fine man, and Yael was, as she put it, head over heels about him. (Heels over head better described the position actually assumed.) Only extreme discipline and awareness of her own nature prevented Melody from being the same. Sexual attraction was potent stuff, and she wasn't used to it. Perhaps it was already too late. And what would she do when she finally had to leave the ship? She knew Dash could not go with her. Love between the species was an exercise in futility.

  Regardless, the magnet was not hers. Should things sour with Dash—and Melody's old neuter mind had to consider that possibility—she was in trouble. Love could turn suddenly to hate. Lovers had quarrels at times—this was in fact an aspect of their relationship—and sudden flares of anger. If Dash had such a flare, and Slammer took it literally—

  She, Melody of Mintaka, could be abruptly defunct, along with her human host.

  "Yael," she said silently.

  "You're worried about something," Yael said wisely. "It's heating up my nerves."

  "I think we should tame the magnet," Melody said. "Make friends with him, convert him loyalty to us."

  "But it must be loyal! You saved his from drifting into deep space!"

  "He tried to save me, too, remember. In Polarian terms, we exchanged debt. But we have no evidence that magnets operate the same way. Do you have any idea how to proceed?"

  "I tamed a dinosaur once," Yael said. "At least, I tried to. You can't ever really tame anything that big."

  "Slammer is every bit as dangerous as a dinosaur," Melody told her. "Maybe similar methods would work. What exactly did you do?" As usual, it was easier to ask for the information than to delve for it herself.

  "I put out food for it. It was a needle-eater, of course; I wouldn't go near one of the meat-eaters." Now there was a welling of emotion, as she was reminded of what the carnivorous dinosaur had cost her.

  "It ate needles? Those ancient metal sewing slivers?"

  Yael's humor returned. "Vine needles, silly! Tough, green things. But that's what they eat. Only this one was lame, and couldn't get enough because it couldn't jump. So I shinnied up a vine and cut down a lot of high tendrils. He'd come every day for more, but he never would let me get close to him."

  "Feeding," Melody said. "But our magnet is already well fed." She considered. "We don't want to take over feeding; it would make people suspicious. What else would Slammer be interested in?"

  "Girls," Yael said simply.

  "Oh—are magnets sexed, too? I assumed the 'he' was merely the convention."

  "They must be. How do they make little magnets?"

  "Oh, there are lots of possibilities. Fission—" But she realized this concept would be difficult to explain, and might not be relevant. "How do they?"

  "Maybe we should ask Slammer," Yael said.

  "Slammer might not wish to discuss so private a subject," Melody said. "And how would he answer?"

  Yael had no suggestion. Magnets were silent, except when they banged into something. They could hear and understand, but not talk.

  "They're physical creatures," Melody said at last. "They must have needs. If not sexual, something else. Entertainment, perhaps. How do they relax?"

  "They just hover." Yael pointed out.

  "On-duty, they hover. But off-duty?" Aloud, she said: "Slammer, you never seem to rest. I am concerned for your welfare. Would you like some time off?"

  The magnet bobbed agreeably. That meant he understood, but was otherwise noncommittal.

  "I'm sure I'm safe, here in my cabin. Why don't you take a float around the ship for an hour?"

  But the magnet waggled sidewise: no. He remained the
perfect guardian—or guard.

  "Suppose I walk with you, Slammer? Anywhere you want to go."

  The magnet was amenable. Perhaps he thought she was obliquely commanding it to take her somewhere, such as back to the crew quarters for another romp in space. Well, she would keep refining the directive.

  They moved out into the hall. "Where to?" Melody asked, stopping. "This is your walk, remember."

  It took a while for the magnet to really understand or accept, but finally he set off slowly down the hall. Melody followed, and when Slammer saw that the correct proximity was being maintained, he speeded up. Soon she was running, and that brought her a new human phenomenon: breathlessness.

  Abruptly the magnet halted. Melody drew up beside him. They were in a passage that turned at right angles a short distance ahead. It was a handsome section decorated with fiber paneling that showed the grain of its organic state. Unusual, in this ship; elsewhere there was little nonfunctional display. "Where now, friend?"

  Slammer jerked back and forth, then hovered expectantly.

  "You want to go that way? Very well; we'll go." And Melody walked on into the paneled section.

  But the magnet did not follow, though she passed the body-length limit. Melody paused. "Not this way, Slammer? Sorry, I misunderstood." She went back, passing the magnet, and started down the hall they had traversed.

  The magnet still hovered in place. "Not this way either? Slammer, I don't understand, and I really do want to. Is there a—a secret door here? Another route?"

  The sidewise shake: no.

  Melody brightened. "You want to rest right here, where it is so pretty and peaceful!"

  But again it was no. Slammer jerked forward, pointing out the way he wanted to go—but didn't go.

  "Yael, do you understand this?" Melody asked.

  "It's a mystery to me," Yael answered. "Maybe he doesn't like wood."

  Startled, Melody stared at the hall with new understanding. "Wood! Not metal. This must be a solid wood section, not mere paneling."

  "Yes, it's pretty," Yael agreed.

  "Don't you see: the magnet can't go in here!" Melody said. "Wood is nonmagnetic. The force of magnetism is very strong, but it fades rapidly with distance. The wood must extend so deeply that Slammer has no purchase."

  "Hey, like skidding on ice!" Yael exclaimed.

  Melody fathomed her analogy: ice was cold, solidified water that had a greatly reduced surface friction. Entities that propelled themselves by means of frictive application against available surfaces—such as the Solarians aboard a spaceship—could suffer loss of efficiency on frozen water. In fact, they might become almost helpless, or even be injured by a fall. Skidding on ice—the inexplicable become explicable. "Yes, the magnet is unable to propel himself through this region," Melody agreed. "Yet he wishes to go there."

  "Why doesn't he just roll?"

  "There is a bend in the hall. He would be stalled, powerless, there, until some frictive entity carried him out."

  "Well, we could carry him." Yael pointed out. "So we could! Child, at times you are brilliant!"

  "I'm not a child. Not after what I did with Captain Boyd." Yael spoke with a certain rueful pride.

  "I had no facetious intent about either your age or your intelligence. Sometimes the simplistic way is best." Melody was unable to comment on the culmination with the Captain; she had blanked out. But from Yael's memory she gathered it had been quite a performance; the man was an excellent lover.

  She approached the magnet. "Slammer, I'll carry you, if you're not too heavy. May I put my arms around you?" Slammer nodded. At last they understood each other! Melody reached around him and drew him into her body. The magnet's surface was warm and was vibrating. She had of course held Slammer before, but that had been out in space, and she had never actually touched his surface. Probably that space episode was the main reason he trusted her now. Magnets did not give their trust casually, she knew.

  Slammer's powerful magnetic field phased through her aura, making her slightly dizzy. She had been right: The intensity of its field varied exponentially with distance, so that even a few feet brought it too low to be useful for propulsion. A magnet an inch away from metal could not be resisted; six feet away it was helpless. "Now let go slowly, so I'll know if I can handle your weight."

  The magnet grew heavy. But when he was about half her host-body's weight, it leveled off. The host-body was young and strong; this burden could be handled.

  "We're on our way," Melody said aloud, feeling the tingle of incipient adventure. It seemed she was acquiring the taste for this sort of thing! "I hope it isn't far."

  She marched forward into the wooden hall. At the turn she swung about—and was baffled. For the passage immediately reversed to pick up on the other side. It had no likely purpose—except to inhibit the progress of magnets. "But you know, Slammer," she gasped—for she was tiring already—"you could get through here if you had to. All you have to do is get up speed in the metal section, and cannonball right through this obstruction. You'd have enough impetus left over to roll the rest of the way, I should think."

  The magnet's field flexed momentarily. He understood. Like Yael back on her farm, he had been balked by appearance as much as by fact. And he had lacked the ingenuity to devise an alternative.

  But Melody wondered how intelligent the magnet was. Slammer understood every word she said, and since it was a nonlinguistic creature, that suggested a very adaptable intellect. Limited by silence and by dependency on metal, the magnets seemed like animals; but granted the resources of the sapient creatures of the galaxy, why wouldn't they be comparable?

  Yes, they could be smart enough. If a magnet slammed through the wooden barrier, his act would soon be known. So it would not do any such breaking without excellent reason. And how could anyone be sure the magnets were not linguistic? They could have their own magnetic language that no human had bothered to learn. Also, it would be the least intelligent magnets who would be lured into spaceship duty; the smart ones would stay clear. Unless they chose to come, and play dumb, until they knew enough to build and operate their own spaceships.

  All speculation, probably without foundation. But she would keep working on it. She had to understand the magnets if she wanted to win them over.

  They came to a second detour in the wooden hall. This one incorporated dips and rises in the floor, so that a magnet trying to roll through would be trapped. Melody's arms were hurting now, and she staggered along; she would have to exercise more to build up the human tissues. "Next time, I'll roll you!" she gasped. The magnet could not roll himself up a slope, but she could push him.

  Then the metal hall resumed, to her relief. As they came into it, Slammer's weight abated. Finally she loosened her grip, and he floated free. "We made it!" Yael exclaimed, as if it had been a great adventure. "But, oh, my arms!"

  Now Slammer led the way with impetuous haste. He moved up a ramp, then up another. The passage branched, but the magnet seemed to know exactly where he was going. Melody had to run to keep up.

  Abruptly Slammer stopped. Melody drew up, her chest heaving in a fashion she knew would have been an impregnation hazard in the presence of a male Solarian, and looked about.

  They were in a storage chamber. Cartons of supplies marked in code were stacked in tall columns. They appeared to contain military hardware. This was deep within the ship, several levels above their starting point. The gravity had diminished slightly as they moved nearer the center. This made it good for storage, as the boxes could be stacked higher with less danger of breakage, were easier to move, and could be delivered to other parts of the ship readily by chute. So this was a well-protected spot, suitable for bombs, laser guns, and such. And isolated from magnets.

  Now Slammer hovered nervously. When placid, he was unmoving; here he was doing little spins about a tight axis. What was bothering him? Surely he couldn't be afraid!

  Then another magnet appeared. "Oh-oh," Yael said, suddenly worried. "If
magnets can't get in here, how come—?"

  Melody wondered the same. "Slammer, are we in danger?"

  But Slammer had already shot out to meet the strange magnet. The two banged together resoundingly, flew apart, and clanged together again. The sonics were deafening.

  Melody covered her ears. Not since leaving Sphere Mintaka had she experienced clangor of this magnitude! But it hurt the less-sophisticated human auditory apparatus.

  "They're fighting!" Yael cried. "We'd better get out of here!"

  At first Melody was inclined to agree. But several things nagged at her. If Slammer were protecting its human companion, it would not be politic to desert him. And if no magnet could cross the wooden barrier, what was the other magnet doing here? Slammer had evidently known where he was going, and expected to be met like this. But why would he go to all this trouble for a fight? What was so precious that he had to search it out and fight for it? "That other magnet did not attack us," Melody pointed out. "It's smaller, and not brightly painted. Not a warrior-type, I think. This is a magnet-magnet affair; we're probably safe." She was hardly sure of that, but she also doubted her human body could get away fast enough to escape an aggressive magnet. "And I want to see exactly what they're fighting about. It might be important."

  "And you say you don't like adventure!" Yael said admiringly. "You've got nerves of steel!"

  "All Mintakans do. Oh—you meant that figuratively! No, I'm extremely uncomfortable. But I honestly don't think we're in immediate danger. Slammer can protect us, and it would not have gone to this trouble to lead us into danger."

  So she poked around while the noise of the clashing magnets became even more intense. The ship must be sound-conditioned, otherwise the commotion would already have attracted attention, even from sleeping off-shift officers. The two globes were striking each other faster now, and with unerring accuracy, though they moved so swiftly they were only blurs. What a battle!