But this Drone Master—ah, here it was! Every initially female Canopian entity possessed the potential to become a full female if properly fed; a queen. But queens never went to space. They mated with full males, or drones, the only truly masculine Masters. A drone, in the insectoid hierarchy, was parallel to a queen, but since only one drone could mate with a queen, the others became expendable. So they went to space—as captains of ships. Because they were not stunted neuters, they did not fit the mechanistic classification system; but since only one was aboard each ship, he needed no private designation. He was simply the Drone, the Captain—the ultimate authority. For reference between ships of the Canopian contingent, this was the Drone of the Deuce of Scepters.
Melody looked up. Across the chamber from her stood the Drone. He was huge, much larger than ordinary Masters, and beautiful. Bright bands of color traversed his abdomen, and his wings were iridescent. His six limbs were stout and strong, his mandibles powerful, like monstrous pincers. There must have been a time in the evolution of the species when the drone was the warrior-king, the fiercest fighter of the tribe, protecting the queen and minions. But most compelling were his eyes: two great multi-faceted crystals that reflected the light of the room like little mirrors. Hundreds of miniature images, like the massed thought of his great mind…
There was a film of dust on the fur of his feet. $fe reacted with horror. She had to clean away that dust instantly! It profaned the Drone! She got up and started toward him.
“Desist,” the Drone said immediately. Even the formidable timbre of his voice sent a shiver through the host’s nervous system. This was $fe’s god!
$fe would have been frozen in her tracks by that directive, but Melody was no slave, and her response to the warning was not swift enough. Her forward arm touched a shimmering curtain that crossed the room between them —and the searing pain caused her to fall back, exclaiming in agony.
The surface of her arm was turning red. She had been burned by a sheet laser; there would be blisters and sloughing of skin.
She paused to consider the situation, while the savage pain subsided slowly. The Captain had discovered the hostages prematurely, and they had made him prisoner by using the discipline box on him. This was a pain-generating unit that could be set to cause steady pain on a scale of one through ten, or to cause variable pain as the prisoner tried to resist it. The box picked up the myriad indicators of the functioning body and adjusted its output accordingly. It was a most sophisticated device; no entity could resist it. The Drone could not even think consciously of escaping.
The Drone-Captain was in a sheet-laser cell, so that he could not even accidentally escape the box. Its effect faded rapidly with distance, so it had to be kept close to the subject It was not tuned to Melody’s host, so she could have approached and turned it off, but a double laser barrier curtain separated her from it.
She paced around her scintillating cell. The Drone surely knew how to deactivate the box, but even if she were free, he could not tell her, because that would be an escape-thought He could warn her against danger to herself, because that did not relate to his escape, but that was all.
So they were helpless. Melody’s host simply did not know enough to get around the barriers, and the Drone could not tell her. What a trap!
“Regret,” the Drone said.
There was no need to clarify his meaning. Melody’s host-system thrilled to her Master’s expression of concern. She had taken injury on his behalf, and he had taken note. Instead of chastising her for her negligence, he had issued a word of consolation. She would gladly have taken a thousand similar injuries, for similar reward.
But Melody was not $fe. Perhaps if she could communicate this to the Drone…
“Canopian,” she said clearly.
The reflections from his facets shifted as the Drone looked her way. It was not necessary for him to turn his head at all, since several facets covered her regardless of the way he was facing, so this was a signal of special attention. A Slave did not address her Master in this, manner!
“Please approach the curtain,” Melody continued.
Again the shifting of reflections, his only indication of surprise. Now he was definitely aware of a change in his Slave. The Drone walked slowly to the barrier, stopping just beyond it.
Melody moved up to the limit on her side. They could not touch each other, but they could approach to within the thickness of a molecule, if they were careful. Melody put one hand forward with extreme care.
The Drone did likewise with a forward appendage. As their extremities came close together, the two auras began to interact. The laser curtain had no effect on an aura, of course. The Kirlian intensity of the Canopian was extremely strong—about 140—which explained why he had not been taken hostage. By showing him her own aura, Melody had documented her status; the aura capable of making her hostage did not exist.
After a moment, the Drone withdrew. Melody knew he had felt her aura, and so he was now aware that she was a transferee. The fact that he did not speak suggested that he knew their speech was being recorded.
But he might think she was an Andromedan spy! No, for if the Andromedans had an aura like hers available, they would not have wasted it on a mere Slave; they would have taken over the Drone himself, instead of imprisoning him. So his logic should tell him that she was not one of the enemy.
The Drone now knew her nature, and knew what to tell her to do—but still could not show or tell her directly. So maybe she had gained nothing—but she felt she had made progress. She returned to the table and sat down. Her arm was still hurting from the burn, and she hated to waste valuable time, but all she could do now was wait and try to figure out the necessary course of action.
After a time, a Canopian Master entered the room. He (she/it) was a Solarian-sapient-sized black insectoid, perhaps half the mass of the Drone and not nearly as handsome. A hostage, obviously.
“So your little Slave has revived,” the hostage remarked callously. “Good. We can use her. Slave, come out.” It touched a control on a portable instrument, causing one curtain to fade out.
Melody hesitated, and it was well she did, for she discovered that $fe would not have obeyed the hostage’s directive. She could have given herself away that readily! She remained where she was.
“Drone, tell her to obey me,” the hostage snapped. The snapping was literaclass="underline" its mandibles clicked.
“Do,” the Drone said.
Now Melody stood and crossed the room to stand before the hostage. She was tempted to attack it, but still didn’t know enough to free the Drone, so attack was pointless. Better to wait for a better opportunity, unless the hostage discovered her powerful aura and forced the issue.
“Go to the Master’s galley and fetch food,” the hostage said melodiously. Canopians had excellent linguistic ability, and always spoke well. “Feed the Drone.”
Melody drew on her host’s information and made her way down the corridor to the galley. This was a routine chore; she not only cleaned her Master, she fed him and carried away his wastes. With no personal distractions he was able to devote his full attention to his position as captain. Even from the uncomprehended fragments in the uneducated Slave mind, Melody perceived the massive capacity of the Drone. He had, by any definition, a first-rate intellectual competency.
Slaves operated the galley. “Hey, $fe,” the server said. She recognized him as 0slash;to of A[th]. “What’s going on up front? The Masters have been acting strange.”