Slammer moved. But not as fast as before. Melody shoved her legs, propelling her body across the floor— and the magnet missed her. He was tired, after all his searching; he was running low on fuel and had to conserve!
Melody tried to orient her nose, but could not do it while lying on the floor, half on her side. Slammer was coming over her, ready to crush her between his body and the floor, where his magnetism was strongest. She reached up and flung her arms about him, dragging him down with her weight so that he could not get momentum for a strike. She weighed twice as much as the magnet and he was heated from his own exertions. Maybe she had a chance—
Slammer jerked back, but she clung, her fingernails scratching across his surface. Parts of the creature were rough, where his eating and breathing vents were; that gave her purchase. Her feet dragged along the deck, but she retained her hold.
Now the magnet was desperate. He shook back and forth violently, and puffs of burning hot air escaped from his vents. But still she hung on, knowing it was her only chance. Her face was against his metal, assisting her grip. But she could not get her nose focused on him.
Slammer dragged her to the wall and started banging her hands. Sudden pain shot up her arms; her fingers were being crushed! Then they turned, and it was her shoulder and head getting smashed. Little white sparks flew up inside her eyes; she was getting knocked out. But her albatross-weight was wearing the magnet down; his motions were slowing, and it was descending to the floor. Soon she would have him…
Slammer made a final effort. He jammed toward the wall, crushing her arm, then spun and pulled violently away. Melody threw her legs up to enclose him, but the blood from her reopened wound leaked out over his surface, and her hand slipped. Suddenly the magnet squirted free, leaving her to collapse.
She had almost beaten him. Almost. Now, her hands, arms, leg, and head hurting, she could only lie where she was. She lacked the strength to go after the creature.
Slammer paused across the room, recharging his power. The struggle had weakened him, but not quite enough. Blood was smeared on his surface, the four scrape-marks of her last despairing handhold forming a fingerpainting. One other scrape-mark curved below, like the scythe-blade of the Grim Reaper in the Death-card of the Tarot.
There was a stirring in the corner. The lid to the nest lifted, and little Beanball emerged. He started toward her.
Oh, no! “Beanball, stay out of this!” Melody screamed, trying to pull herself to her feet, but failing. The little magnet did not comprehend many human words yet, but should get the gist. If he came to her now, he could be crushed accidentally as she was struck. Or at least he would perceive her demise: a horrible thing for any youngling. Melody loved Beanball in her fashion, and knew that love was returned. “Get back in your nest! Close the lid!”
But Beanball continued, arriving just as Slammer stabilized. Melody had learned to read the reactions of magnets to some extent; Slammer was about to strike again. He would launch himself from across the room, so that she had no chance to stop him, and this time he would not miss the mark. “God of Hosts!” she repeated, staring at the friend who had become Death.
Slammer moved—and so did Beanball, leaping forward in an amazing burst of vitality. The two met, the massive and the tiny—and it was the massive that bounced away.
Melody, resigned to death, stared. What had happened?
Yael comprehended first. “Beanball’s defending us!”
Because Melody/Yael was the primary parent the little magnet had known. They had brought him coal and metal, and talked to him and been moved by his little successes. They had cherished him. Slammer had been there too, but more aloof, so was not the primary loyalty. As Slammer honored the Captain, so Beanball honored Melody. It was the magnet way. She was a surrogate mother. And so when the crisis of choice came, Beanball had to protect her—even against his father. Obvious—in retrospect. She had tamed the wrong magnet!
Slammer had rebounded. No physical force from the tiny magnet could have accounted for that. It had to be a conscious decision on Slammer’s part. Given the conflict between his orders and the welfare of his son, he had chosen the stronger loyalty.
For Slammer was no longer attacking. He hovered quiescently. He could easily have gotten around Beanball, or thrown him out of the way with one magnetic twitch. But he could not change the little magnet’s devotion—and perhaps did not want to, knowing it was justified. Perhaps, despite the ferocity of Slammer’s actions, his ultimate loyalty had been based on an extremely narrow margin of decision—and now the lead in favor of the Captain had reversed.
“Are you with us, Slammer?” Melody asked, petting Beanball, hardly daring to believe her fortune.
Slammer nodded. No indecision for him, once the balance changed!
“Then you know that those who sought to kill me are false.”
Hesitation. Slammer’s decision had been based on a personal level, not a philosophic one.
“The Captain and the other officers are hostages,” Melody explained. “Captives of alien auras. Haven’t you noticed the changes in their imprints?”
Now the magnet nodded affirmatively. The change had not had significance for him before.
“Enemies have taken over their bodies. We must capture them and send away those enemies. Then your real masters will return. Do you understand?” Slammer nodded again, more positively. Melody drew herself upright, feeling good despite her bruises. “Then tell all the other magnets of this ship. You can do that, can’t you?” He nodded. “We must govern this ship until the real masters return.”
And Slammer was gone. Victory was theirs, for the magnets represented the ultimate disciplinary power aboard the ship. Whoever had their loyalty, had control.
The God of Hosts had answered.
PART II
MISTRESS OF SPACE
10. Lot of *
*notice: trouble in segment etamin*
—details?—
*discovery and capture of dash command by enemy*
—(chagrin!) who is backup command there?—
*slash, then quadpoint*
—conceal the news we cannot risk action yet—
*council will not favor further delay without explanation*
—we must gain advantage galaxy-wide! the situation in segment knyfh is not yet secure, and knyfh is more vital to our thrust than etamin action in etamin now will prejudice that more serious encounter perhaps the backup command in etamin can still salvage the aura we require this has more importance than may be apparent—
*under protest, I yield*
—appreciation, ast you always were an understanding entity I suppose the fact that your kind has five sexes makes you especially diplomatic—
*to call our situation five sexes is not quite correct*
—regrets I was trying to—
*actually, I regard this as an aspect of the lot of ast*
—yes, I am aware of that convention it is a good one, used in many spheres—
Compliments on a masterstroke of strategy, the Captain’s note read. Dash was unable to speak because of the mess Skot’s laser had made of his mouth. He was missing two front teeth, part of his lower lip, and a section of his tongue; at the moment he was not handsome. We thought the magnets were incorruptible.
“They are,” Melody said. “They remain loyal to their galaxy.” She kept her voice firm, not wanting him to know what the sight of his grotesque injury did to her. “Please step into the transfer unit.”
Without objection, Dash of Andromeda entered the box. He made no plea, no threat; he took his defeat in stride. She was proud of him for that—and dared not show him that, either. She limped over and threw the switch. Her shrapnel wound needed proper attention, and she had a headache and bruises all over her body from the fight with Slammer, but the present task was more important. She could not relax until the flagship was free of hostages.