Melody threw a rod at the magnet: rod against sphere. The metal stick clattered on the deck and spun to a stop.
“What’s the third wand stand for?” Yael asked nervously. They both knew that if the ruse failed, they were done for, but the immediate horror of incipient death had been blocked out, leaving the minor distractions.
“Enterprise,” Melody said. “Strength. Cooperation.”
The magnet came close. It was not Slammer; its painted decorations differed. Melody wondered fleetingly whether the creatures objected to the indignity of such designs, as though they were mere beach balls. Probably they simply didn’t take notice.
Suddenly the magnet shot forward, then backward, over the rod. It had evidently expected something larger. Now it hovered above the rod in confusion.
“It works!” Yael cried jubilantly, and there was a sensation associated with this trifling victory wholly out of proportion to the reality. For their situation remained desperate.
“For the moment,” Melody said, relieved. “But it won’t last long. Let’s get moving.”
They moved. They had escaped a magnet—once. The luck might be short-lived—like them.
Melody started down the last passage to the Captain’s office. She had distributed two more rods strategically along the way, and had only one left.
Another magnet appeared.
It was cruising toward her at a fast clip. She started to backtrack, but she was exhausted from running and her bare feet were sore.
She hurled the last rod with all her strength. It clattered far down toward the magnet, but this time the creature paused only momentarily, then continued on. It had figured out the nature of this ruse. No hope of escaping it now.
Melody tilted back her head, squeezed her nose, and snorted. Would her secret weapon work?
Two beams speared out. One was pale yellow, the other pale blue. They converged about two body-lengths ahead of her.
She pushed at her nose with her fingers. The beams veered. Their point of convergence shot forward.
The oncoming magnet intercepted that point. The beam-light flashed purple, not green, on its surface. There was a strange crackle and sizzle.
The magnet exploded. Its fragments ricocheted off the walls.
Melody hunched down as shrapnel flew past her. One jagged piece of metal struck her leg. She fell forward, clutching her torn flesh as blood welled out. It hurt terribly.
Suddenly she had become much more clearly aware of the specific meaning of danger. Her host’s red blood dripping on the deck spoke with a force that matched all the rest of this adventure. This was the beginning of dying!
She had slain the magnet. But most of its remains lay jagged and smoking in the hall ahead. Her bare feet and injury made approach to the Captain’s office hazardous at the moment. And what could she do, even if she did get there? She had to crawl back toward her own cabin where she might be able to bandage herself.
Yet what a weapon she had been given! Skot’s laser had heated only one part of the surface of a magnet; this twin-beam had blasted it apart!
“Lord God of Hosts,” she moaned. “Be with us yet…”
She reached up to grasp the handholds of the wall, drawing herself erect. Hitherto these holds had been a nuisance; now they were essential! She was able to move along with fair dispatch by holding and hopping, but her wounded leg hurt with every motion and dripped more bright red blood on the floor. She was leaving a trail… of her own life-stuff.
“I’m not doing well by your body,” she told Yael apologetically. “Or by my mission. I don’t know how we’re going to save the galaxy now.”
“I don’t know either,” Yael admitted. “Oh, it hurts!” She was referring more to the leg than the galactic defeat, but Melody didn’t choose to quarrel. “Do you think we might find some way to blow up the ship? That might alert the authorities.”
“We don’t have the strength to even figure out how,” Yael said. “We’re losing blood, getting faint…”
It was true. Only an iron will kept Melody moving; iron that was already melting. She knew that her intense aura had a kind of healing property that enabled this body to continue functioning; Yael alone would have collapsed already. “Just a little time,” Melody said. “Get to cabin, bandage, rest… then we can think, plan—” She collapsed.
Melody was unconscious only a moment. The human body adapted to strife. When its systems malfunctioned, it became horizontal. Then more of the depleted blood supply reached the brain, improving its performance. A fail-safe mechanism. Intriguing; Mintakans lacked this faculty, as they did not possess blood.
“God of Hosts,” Yael said. She was praying. Melody lay and listened, suffering a private revelation. The girl believed. She really did honor the God of Hosts, and believed in its beneficence, contrary to all reason. Yael thought the god would intervene to save her. No—that the god would safeguard her interests, intervening if that were required, letting her perish if that were best. And if she died, that god would take her into its bosom of hosts and recompense her for all her pain and doubt. It was an altogether naive and charming belief.
“And save Melody too,” Yael concluded.
That simple, sincere addendum struck Melody like the impact of a magnet. Despite everything, Yael had blessed Melody with her good will. Yael cared. Even as she lay dying.
“I wish I had your faith,” Melody said.
“You have it. You call it Tarot.”
A second impact, as hard as the first. Melody’s god was Tarot! Why had she never realized that? She prayed to her Tarot every day, calling it meditation.
“Yes, I worship the God of Tarot,” Melody said. “Do you resent that?”
“Why should I? It’s the same God.”
The same God. Melody could not deny it.
She gathered her strength and drew them up. “God is with us,” Melody said. “I have to believe that.”
After that the journey to the cabin was easier. The bleeding had slowed, and Melody’s consciousness remained clear. The door opened at her touch and slid into its frame. Now she realized that it was merely a convenience door and not airtight. When the atmospheric composition of the ship was changed, the air of the regular cabins changed with it, but the Captain’s office could be isolated. The moment the hostages gave up their present strategy of pursuit with the magnets, they could trap her with certainty by putting knockout vapor into the air system. They could protect themselves by donning masks. The odds were more against her than she had thought! But if she could mend herself and get to the Captain’s office and get Dash to the transfer unit…
There was the keening of another magnet traveling toward them at high speed.
Melody leaped into the cabin, hoping to seal it behind her before the magnet arrived. The metal would not hold the thing back long, but maybe she could catch it with her nose-beams as it burst through.
But her bad leg gave way, and she suffered a stab of pain that brought her to the floor halfway through the portal. She rolled and drew her legs up, her dress falling up in a fashion that would have invited impregnation in the presence of a male. She tried to get one hand on the panel as her feet cleared it, but could not.
The magnet shot into the room. It passed directly over her, stopped, and hovered in the center of the room. It was Slammer, and she knew why he hesitated: He had been deceived too many times by the rods she had scattered about. This time he wanted to be sure of his quarry before crushing it.