This ship’s armament was magnetic. Since metal was much used in all ships of the fleet, especially alloys of iron, all were subject to magnetism. The fields generated here were so strong they could operate at intership distance, alternately attracting and repulsing the enemy with such force that his ship could be damaged or even broken apart. At greater distances, the enemy’s control instruments could be sabotaged magnetically. These magnetic weapons lacked the almost infinite range of the Solarian lasers, but in near proximity, the Knyfh attack would be devastating. Melody knew she would not want the flagship to be in range of a hostage-controlled Atom.
At least she had time to plan her local campaign. She picked out each name from the hostage mind. The Captain was free. He had a aura of 160, too high to take over by an available oo entity, and was probably the highest loyalist of the entire fleet. But the Transfer Officer was hostage to a oo with an aura of 135, and—
Transfer Officer? Melody focused on that. Sure enough, this ship had a transfer unit aboard! Melody had assumed that the unit on the Ace of Swords was the only one in the fleet, but of course this Atom was a representative of another segment, a more sophisticated one. The presence of the unit made this ship doubly vital. The Andromedans could use it to take over more entities. No… her host-mind informed her that it was not the proper type. To modify it for hostaging would be to put that secret in the field, something that could not be risked. This was inflexible policy; the secret never left Andromeda. In fact, it never left Sphere —, and hardly left Planet £ of that Sphere. Bluefield’s information confirmed Tiala’s; the / hostage had not lied under the Lot of *. Melody found that vaguely gratifying. And the policy itself was wise, in terms of Andromedan interest. Had Melody been able to capture a modified unit, Galaxy Milky Way would have had equalization of technology at a single stroke.
Still, that unmodified unit was important. It was probably heavily guarded as it was potentially a key mechanism of communication. Put a low-Kirlian voluntary host at each end, and the ships of Segment Etamin and Segment Knyfh could coordinate operations closely. Spot a hostage ship, and if it escaped Knyfh’s magnetism, Sol’s laser could beam it down. The Andromedans thought the loyal members of the fleet had no communications that could not be monitored by strategically positioned hostages— but here it was!
Should she go first to the loyal Captain, or tackle the hostages one by one herself? Obviously the first. It would be almost impossible to nullify eight more hostages without attracting unfortunate attention. The Captain could handle it most expeditiously. That approach had worked twice before, and as Yael would have put it in her cute Solarian idiom, one did not change a winning game.
But she could not just roll into the Captain’s office. On this ship there was protocol to be followed. This was essential in any encounter here, since any two Knfyhs possessed the capacity to mate. Such mating would change the identity of each, and that would be awkward in a military situation. In fact, mating—or as the Knyfhs put it, exchanging—was forbidden during this tour. The Captain especially was protected from temptation.
“Request permission for private audience with Captain,” Melody signaled formally into the officer’s circuit. Her present body possessed none of the senses of the Segment Etamin hosts she had previously used; everything was magnetic. But she was becoming accustomed to differing modes of operation, and hardly noticed.
“Hold,” the network responded. Presumably the Captain was preoccupied at the moment. Melody returned to her routine.
Soon a Knyfh appeared. “Request dialogue,” it signaled.
Melody oriented on it. The magnetic imprint resembled that of the Captain, but the aura differed. She had become highly attuned to aural nuances, for this was her primary tool for identifying hostages. This entity had a powerful aura; too powerful. It had to be a hostage!
“You are not Bluefield,” the hostage signaled. “Therefore you must be—”
Melody attacked. She could not afford to have her identity betrayed to the hostages yet! She hurled herself at the globe of the other entity.
Unfortunately, she had not had occasion to study the art of Knyfh personal combat. Her attack was a clumsy thrust that the other entity easily avoided. Melody rolled past and received in return a disorganizing, jolt of current. Her prior aura versus aura battles had seemed equivalent to physical encounters, since they were all on a single level, but now that she was in a real physical encounter, she discovered there was no real parallel at all. In aura versus aura she had a tremendous advantage; here she was merely even—or less than even. That dimmed her confidence considerably.
oo So you are a segment counterhostage oo the other signaled, lapsing into his native mode of expression. oo Your fiendishly strong aura will not avail you now. Do you wish to exchange identities before I destroy you? oo
“No,” Melody replied. She recognized the other entity now: it was Greenaura of oo the Transfer Officer hostage. And she knew the Andromedan was bluffing, at least in part; he would not kill her until he knew more about her. The existence of counterhostages would be a terrible threat to the hostage effort, and Greenaura would have to get at Melody’s mind to discover the full ramifications. For all Greenaura knew, she was one of hundreds.
On the other hand, she could afford to dispatch the Andromedan any way she could manage. So the terms of the combat were not so disadvantageous.
Greenaura rolled toward her. His electron shield scintillated with flexible power; he was a fine figure of a Knyfh, in optimum health, and an experienced soldier. The military mind might be rigid to the point of obtusity in general matters, but in combat on this level he was an expert. Melody knew she did not have a chance against him. But she had no chance to escape.
Here she was, vacillating wildly in her estimations, one moment expecting to win, the next moment knowing she would lose. And the Drone had thought she had courage!
Their shields interacted. Controlled current touched her stunningly; Melody’s strength was drawn off. She had let herself be vulnerable to a ploy no native would have fallen for. It was like allowing her Mintakan strings to be cut, or her Solarian throat to be looped without opposition. Her shield was now soft, permeable, laying her nucleus open to penetration; she could be fissioned—which, in the absence of prior mergence, meant destruction.
“Help me, Knyfh host!” she cried inwardly, reaching past the quiescent hostage within her to the original Knyfh mind.
And the stunted, suppressed, half-insane Knyfh mind sprang out, knowing only one cause: her galaxy needed help. This mind was Gnejh, a low-Kirlian tigress; on a purely magnetic level, a deadly foe.
Greenaura sent a spear of current through Melody’s shield, brushing her nucleus. The sensation was awful; she felt as if her nucleus was being sundered. oo You will identify yourself, now oo the Andromedan signaled. He knew the pain he was inflicting, and he would torture her until she broke under the strain.
Melody was silent. She felt the host-entity gathering, waiting, building up a nuclear charge. There was something horrible about it, like poison dripping from the jaws of a half-crushed reptile.