Viscous Circle

by Piers Anthony

  Then Rondl spied another pair of Bands coasting along farther down the valley. Maybe they were on a similar excursion. Maybe they would say what needed to be said and do whatever was supposed to be done and he could find out by observation. All he needed to do was keep them in sight long enough.

  "Let's explore this mountain," Cirl flashed, detouring toward it on a new line. But the other couple continued on down the valley. The two were drawing closer together; perhaps any moment—

  Cirl zoomed away, and Rondl had to go after her. The other couple disappeared behind an outcropping of rock.

  He caught up to her, then led her. "Let's loop the peak!" he flashed, hoping to come back into sight of the others.

  They looped it—but the other pair was not in sight. The two must have paused for a private matter. Maybe right now they were engaged in—

  Rondl moved on down the slope, trying to find them. "Where are you going?" Cirl flashed.

  He had to desist, not daring to admit his object. They slid slowly down the line. At the base of the mountain they almost collided with the other couple, who were just separating, spinning. Both were sending out flashes of satisfaction. He had missed it!

  Still, now he knew—assuming the others had done what he assumed they had done—that whatever it was did not take long. Maybe it was merely physical contact. Many species made love by some form of touching, didn't they? His unreliable memory indicated so. Too bad he knew that, without knowing what Bands did. What good was it to know about aliens, and not about his own species?

  Cirl continued to drift amicably along, as if innocent of any complicity. She was not even flashing her usual ultrablue streak of comment. She knew he wanted to do—whatever—and also knew he didn't know how, yet she would not enlighten him. Yet this was the way of females the Galaxy over; the fundamental frustrations of the sex were constant regardless of species.

  Other species—did he really remember in detail how they did it? If so, he might extrapolate, to arrive at a viable technique here.

  Rondl concentrated, but could come up with only vague concepts of overlapping, interpenetration, and substance exchange. Not only were these probably inapplicable, they were repulsive. He was beginning to feel nauseated—which itself was alien. No help there.

  So it had to be trial and error. He angled close to her and exerted his attraction, the way he had in order to rescue her from the water at their first meeting. The fibers about his fringe could twine with her fibers to hold them together without constant magnetic exertion.

  "What are you doing?" Cirl protested irately.

  Rondl hastily let go, embarrassed. He had flubbed it!

  "I never expected you to try something like that," she continued, her flashes tinged with maidenly abhorrence of the obscene.

  Rondl was too mortified even to attempt an excuse.

  They flew up a convenient line away from the planet. Their romance had been stifled for the nonce. He simply had to find out elsewhere how to do it without mishap. How he wished he could have remembered!

  The alien invasion continued. The gross creatures overran another System planet and its moons and rings, causing horrendous waves of disbandings. More information came in, and now the educated individuals were able to identify the species.

  The invaders were Solarians, from a Sphere several hundred light years distant. They were one of the more quarrelsome, less responsible species. They had an extraordinary affinity for material things, being largely material themselves; their concept of property was overwhelming and their concept of spirit insignificant. They were certainly the type to expend resources in quest of something material. Yet they required special atmosphere to breathe, like the Bellatrixians, and constantly imbibed liquid—surely to fill their fluid eyeball sacs—and consumed and excreted in rapid intermittence all manner of solids. They were messy creatures, depositing refuse wherever they went. It was hard to imagine a more grotesque manifestation of encroachment; it was an esthetic as well as physical horror.

  Now the monsters progressed to the outermost planetoids of Planet Band. Thousands of Bands disbanded at the very notion. "We must do something!" Rondl exclaimed as though he personally were responsible.

  "What?" Cirl asked. She was always uncomfortably practical.

  Rondl still didn't know. But he tried to find out. He flew toward Moon Dinge, where the aliens were clustering. Cirl was terrified, but went with him. Death in the form of disbanding did not much alarm her, but the presence of grotesque monsters did.

  The moons were scattered around the home planet, so that Rondl and Cirl did not pass close to Moons Fair, Glow, or Spare on the way out. But in the orbit of each was its thin collection of stones, and between Glow and Spare was a disadvantaged comet, caught at last in orbit about the planet instead of the suns, and reduced to a diffuse cluster of metallic fragments and a few wisps of worn-out gas. It seemed like a nice place to visit.

  "Threat! Threat!" Cirl flashed abruptly. "Flee, Rondl, flee!"

  Rondl drew close to her, trying to discover what she saw. It was soon apparent. A shape was hurtling toward them. He had seen it before, but taken it to be a rock fragment. It was roughly cylindrical, with a tapering spike in front and a flat or hollowed rear, from which occasional gusts of dust emerged. It was black-brown, streaked with red, like stratified rock, unpretty though symmetrical. The very sight of it made him react unpleasantly.

  "What is it?" Rondl asked.

  "Monster! Monster!" she flashed wildly. "Flee! Flee!"

  She was obviously too frightened to make much sense. The approaching object was no Solarian, unless all that he had recently learned was wrong. This was something else. Yet Cirl's fear was contagious; he felt fright himself, and kept himself under control only with difficulty.

  If this thing really was a serious threat, it was better to tackle it sensibly. If it was not, then there was no need to flee. Rondl flew toward it.

  "No!" Cirl flashed, horrified, halting her flight as she saw what he was doing. "It will consume you!"

  Oh—like the toothed water creature. Now he had proper caution. Yet this was space, with good magnetic lines; he was free to maneuver to fly at full speed. Surely this squat thing could not catch a Band!

  "It's the Kratch!" she flashed. "Don't you know?"

  The dread monster! Despite his decision to be objective, Rondl yielded to apprehension and reversed course as Cirl came near.

  Rondl, Cirl, and the Kratch were now in a roughly equilateral triangle. The monster veered, going after Cirl, who was obviously the more delectable creature. She fled, accelerating desperately—and now Rondl saw that the thing was faster than she was. It had a kind of circular scoop at the base of its forward spike; he could see how a circular object like a Band could be caught on that spike and set down firmly against that scoop. The mechanism of this predator was becoming apparent. No doubt it consumed the substance of Bands the way the water monster did, assimilating the disbanded substance into itself while utilizing the magnetic reserves to enhance its own energy.

  Why hadn't the Bands organized to rid the System of this nemesis? It was evident that the Kratch had evolved as a predator of Bands; its whole design oriented on them. For millennia it had culled at will. Yet obviously it could capture only one Band at a time, and if a number of Bands attacked simultaneously—no, that was no good. Bands had no offensive capability. Still, they might make a machine—no, they did not even understand the term. Maybe they could have the Bellatrixians build one to destroy the Kratch. Surely there were ways, if they were to decide to do it.

  And there was the real problem. The Bands would never adopt methods of violence and destruction, albeit of an enemy or predator on their kind, for they were completely pacifistic. They would simply continue to tolerate this vile predation...

  There was another blast of dust or gas from the monster's rear. The Kratch moved forward faster. Action and reaction—evidently this was a magnetic creature, touching the lines, but it could also boos
t its velocity by jetting out bursts of substance at key moments.

  Cirl's line curved, and she curved with it, as she had to. Now the Kratch jetted itself off the line, cutting across the curve, gaining distance. It wasn't really faster than a Band, Rondl saw now, but because it was not limited to the lines, it could maneuver better. That gave it its edge on Cirl, It would soon catch her.

  Rondl was already accelerating toward them, cutting across on the most available lines. Because the gap between Cirl and the predator was closing slowly, he had time to maneuver closer at a tangent. Then, acting on what impulse he did not know, he cut in between the two.

  The monster, confused, veered to follow Rondl, who was closer. Apparently it was, after all, not smart enough to distinguish between one morsel and another. But it lost relative velocity in the maneuver, for it had substantial mass, and Rondl drew ahead.

  Cirl, relieved, slowed, falling behind. Then she realized that her gain was Rondl's loss. Flashing misgivings, she came toward them.

  "Stay clear!" Rondl flashed. "I'll handle this!" But now that he was committed, he didn't know how. He was sure the Kratch had the means to destroy him; it was too solid, too certain of itself, and had survived too long as a predator to be incompetent in this respect. He had to escape it—and now the thing was gaining on him as it cut across stray shortcuts between lines.

  Rondl dodged to a diverging line, and the monster dodged after him. He reversed, and it reversed too, not being led astray. He accelerated, but it accelerated at the same rate. It was locked on him, holding even or gaining. Only if he found a perfectly straight line that went directly to Planet Band and the safety of atmosphere and great numbers of his kind, could he hope to escape this predator. The Kratch never went into atmosphere or too close a massive planetary body or into a crowd of Bands, Rondl remembered now. Atmosphere fouled its system; gravity tired it rapidly; multiple targets confused it.

  But the lines were not straight, and the planet was not close, and every curve would allow the monster to shortcut across and creep up. This chase could have only one end.

  Could he somehow fight it? No, not without a weapon.

  Weapon? What did any Band know about weapons?

  Well, he knew something. A weapon was a tool for combat—something to enhance the individual's powers of destruction; something like an explosive object that could damage or disband the pursuing monster. Maybe his obscure research in his prior existence could benefit him now.

  What was available? Nothing physical; this was space. The only substantial matter in range was that of the derelict comet, and he could hardly throw that at the monster.

  Or could he? There was more than one way to use a tool. A small readjustment of outlook and definition, and he might have his weapon.

  He surveyed the nearest lines, found the proper configuration, and threw himself into a tight turn. The Kratch, more massive, was unable to change course so abruptly; its turn swung outside Rondl's arc, and for once it lost distance. But this was temporary; as it slowed, it regained maneuverability.

  Rondl completed his turn and shot forward toward the debris. The Kratch accelerated after him. Rondl followed a line that went straight in among the moving rocks; at this velocity they seemed close together. He threaded between two big ones, but the Kratch threaded also. This was, after all, where the Kratch had been hiding; it knew how to avoid rubble. Rondl let a little rock pass through his lens; it made no difference to him, since the lens was not solid. It made no difference to the Kratch either; it caromed off the metallic slanted surface harmlessly. The monster got its metal from consuming Bands; its surface ought to be of good quality.

  Rondl found a huge chunk with a lot of metal, enough to cause several nearby lines to bend. He swung around it as tightly as he could, hoping the Kratch would have to swing wide again. Here, inside the comet, the rocks would interfere with such a swing. But Rondl's pursuer slowed, jetted more dust, and swung almost as tightly as Rondl had. The creature was stupid, but it did learn from immediate experience. The gap between them narrowed again. Soon the monster would catch up, regardless of any maneuvers Rondl might essay...

  Unless he found what he needed in time, and was able to make it work. It seemed to him that it should be here, somewhere—if only he could locate it.

  The Kratch was nosing very close now. The dread horn was almost near enough to touch Rondl. If he didn't soon find—

  There it was: a cloud of metallic dust interspersed with diffuse gas, thick enough to obscure the rocks beyond. It was what remained of the heart of the comet—something resembling atmosphere! Rondl swooped into it.

  The Kratch followed, intent on the incipient capture. Rondl's hope dissipated; the creature was not at all put off by the gas. Eliminate one illusion! Perhaps the stuff was too thin, here in space, to have much effect. Maybe it lacked whatever corrosive component damaged the Kratch, or acted too slowly to be of much help at the moment.

  But there was another possibility. Rondl exerted his magnetism, collecting a large mass of crude material. It coalesced about him, furring his circle, turning the green to gray, fuzzing his lens, interfering with his perception and his motion. But he kept on, adding to it as if he were going through the tunnel of formation, making himself a dust-encased travesty of a Band. Soon he had increased his apparent mass by half. The sensation was awful.

  The Kratch caught him. Its cruel snout poked through his lens, disrupting the magnetism—but Rondl had already blinded himself by the cluster of dust and fragments. He felt himself sliding up on the spike, toward the consuming orifice—

  Just as he touched that dread circular aperture that (his mind's lens suggested) gaped to take him in, Rondl reversed the charge on his surface, repelling the metallic debris instead of holding it to him.

  The Kratch drew it all in, assuming this was Rondl himself disbanding. The monster's lack of intelligence was now paying off for Rondl. While the dust disappeared into the orifice, Rondl himself slipped off the spike and away.

  Almost immediately there was trouble for the Kratch. Debris might superficially resemble the material of a Band, but it was unrefined, with gross impurities. Had it been edible, the Kratch would have scooped it in instead of chasing Bands. This was space garbage—not that there was any Band concept of garbage.

  The monster was suffering intense indigestion. It choked the stuff back out. Had Rondl not already freed himself, he would at this point have been flung off its spike and away. His strategy had, after all, been sound.

  He caught a line and zoomed out of the comet, leaving the monster to its agony. Probably the Kratch would survive, but it should be some time before it had the gumption to chase another Band.

  Cirl joined him, amazed. "Oh, Rondl—you escaped the Kratch! I thought—"

  "Relax," he flashed. "I told you I would handle it. I was fortunate."

  But inwardly he realized that it had been more than fortune. He had fought the monster in a way no other Band would have. He, Rondl, knew how to fight, and had the will for it. This was significant. He had not merely researched alien ways, he had mastered them.

  He no longer needed to investigate the invading Solarians. They were obviously of the Kratch type: ruthless predators. Instead he needed to investigate the Bands' potential for resisting the invasion. If he could foil a monster, it should be possible for other Bands to do so too. The techniques of self-defense could be mastered by Bands—since he himself had done it.

  They went to the education center and flashed again with Proft. The educated Bands were already investigating the invasion; they had sent out individuals to neighboring Spheres for advice. Or rather, they had made use of a Mattermitter borrowed from the Bellatrixians for the purpose, since actual star travel would have taken too long. The Bellatrixians were remaining neutral on this matter, but would always make advantageous trades.

  But no one could make sense of the advice received. "War—resistance—fight—destruction—retaliate." What was the meaning of these
alien terms? The experts were working on the matter, trying to come up with comprehensible definitions that would not cause Bands to disband...

  War— an organized effort of mutual destruction, as if two groups of Bands encountered each other and, instead of conversing amicably or forming circles of mutual understanding, attempted to disband all its members first, or to cause the other group to disband first. The thing remained nonsensical; disbanding was always done voluntarily, except in those rare instances when a Band foolishly became trapped in a lethal situation, such as within range of a Trugd or Kratch.

  Resistance—the effort of one person or party to oppose the will of another when that will was asocial. This, too, was almost incomprehensible; no Band would indulge in asocial will, so would need no opposition—and opposition itself was asocial. Avoidance was the appropriate course, not overt resistance.

  Fight—active attempt to do harm to another person while the other person did the same. The one who hurt the other first or worst was deemed the better creature. How could any Band grasp this? The very notion was enough to cause some Bands to disband—as several had when presented with this appalling concept.

  Destruction—the reduction of objects to nonuseful status. This was too silly on the face of it for further consideration.

  Retaliate—to do similar harm to another, following the pattern of the harm that that other had done to the first person. This resembled half a Fight—and half of an intolerable concept remained intolerable. In the present case, this would be an attempt to "destroy" the alien ships and force them to disband, so that none would be left to make mischief.

  "Even if we were willing to perform such horror," Cirl asked, her color pale, "how would we accomplish it? We have no—"

  "Weapons," Rondl provided when she paused, at loss for a term or concept.

  "What?"

  "Weapons. Devices that facilitate destruction and disbanding."

  Her magnetic field wavered so sharply that for a moment Rondl feared she would disband. But, with an effort, she stabilized. "Your strange, horrible, alien knowledge," she flashed weakly. "I know you have odd attitudes, yet sometimes—"