“I declined to honor the Galactic Convention,” she reminded him. “Does that mean there are no rules to break?”
“Anything, as you Etamins put it, goes,” Mnuhl agreed. “However, while the individual contests are in progress, we are under an understood truce.”
“Yes, of course,” she signaled. “But when that truce ends…”
“Only the practical laws of physics prevail,” Mnuhl said. “No, I must qualify that. I would not condone treachery—”
“Nothing like that! Here is what I have in mind.” And while she kept one perceptor current attuned to the Knyfh equivalent of the viewglobe, tracking the single combat of champions, she described her plan.
“That is legitimate,” Mnuhl agreed at last. “I shall implement it the moment truce abates. I compliment you on an innovative strategy.”
“It is a desperation strategy,” Melody said. “I can’t stand to see—”
The Scepter exploded. The sudden burst of magnetism made her shield blanch.
“One of its own missiles detonated before it fired,” Mnuhl remarked. “Exceedingly apt laser accuracy at that range.”
“The Sword of Sol strikes again!” Melody said, pleased in spite of her horror. She was slowly getting acclimatized to this sudden, massive killing. “That’s four to one, our favor. Do you think our management is better than theirs?”
“It may be,” Mnuhl pulsed. “A hostage probably is not as efficient or motivated as a natural entity or volunteer transferee. This could throw judgment off, make close decisions harder, gunnery less accurate, encourage errors under stress. I would not wish to take an examination in marksmanship with a hostile or insane host dephasing my surface.”
“So maybe that two-to-one ship advantage of theirs is not so much as they think,” Melody returned. “I’d better get back to my ship.” She rolled to the transfer unit, and in a moment was back in Yael. She hurried to the control room.
“We won the last,” Skot announced. “But now they’re sending out another Sword.” He licked his lips. “Sword against Sword!”
“You seem to enjoy the prospect.”
He looked embarrassed. “At least this is fair play. If our handling is better, this will show it.”
“I suppose it will,” Melody agreed. “Skot, please get in touch with the crew’s quarters and get some more volunteers. They’d better have Kirlians of at least two. Make sure they understand that this will be dangerous, uncomfortable work—but extremely important.”
He looked curiously at her and left after a last glance at the viewglobe. Melody knew he wanted to watch this particular match, but her other project was more pressing. She could have set it up herself, but if Hammer of :: called her on the net while she was away he might catch on that she was up to something.
The two Swords approached each other, and again she watched compulsively. While she hated this destruction and loss of sapient life and the emotions it roused in her, she was nevertheless fascinated by the competitive aspect. All sapient species were highly competitive, she thought; that was how they got to be sapient. Every Spherical species lusted for death and glory, however much individuals disguised it with the veneer of civilization. If even an old neuter like herself felt the urges, what of the young males?
The hostage Sword fired first. Melody had learned to interpret the flash on the globe. It could not be a direct glimpse, for that would mean the laser had struck her own ship; but there was always some trace leakage and refraction that the instruments could pick up and amplify. Lasers were designed to diffuse with distance, so that those that missed their targets were not a menace to other ships of their own fleets. Missiles were also detonated or defused automatically after a certain number of minutes, for the same reason.
The hostage bolt missed. Now the Four of Swords fired —and scored. There was a bright splay of light as the globe amplified the reflecting beam. But though struck, the hostage was not dead. The trouble with lasers, she realized, was that unless they struck a vulnerable section, they didn’t do much damage. It took several scores to put away an opponent, and in that time the enemy might reverse the advantage by a good or lucky shot of his own.
So there really was no inherently superior weapon, she concluded. The lasers had speed and range, being impossible to avoid or intercept, but no punch. The missiles had plenty of punch, but could be dodged or triggered prematurely. The magnetic fields were fast and could not be avoided, but their range was short. So it all came out even, with a good sharp ship of any type able to overcome a sloppy one of any other type. Chance was a considerable factor. Ideally, ships should fight in sets, with a Sword to snipe long distance and an Atom to handle any enemy ship that tried to move in close, and—but that led right back to the present mixed-composition fleet.
The two Swords were very close now, within a thousand miles of each other. Both were firing and scoring, but neither was disabled. In moments one of them would die, though both had been built in the shipyards of Sphere Sol and were crewed primarily by Solarians. Whoever won, Solarians would die. Friend was killing friend.
Suddenly her sickness of it all overcame her. “Call it off!” she cried aloud. “I can’t stand this ritual slaughter!”
But Skot was away on his assignment, the Knyfh officer had other jobs, and the net was off. She was talking to herself. Her hand went out to activate the net—and she saw the hostage ship explode. Its air gouted out. Though the hull remained almost intact, the ship was dead.
Then the same thing happened to the Four of Swords.
Both had been destroyed… seconds before she had been able to call a halt. “Damn my indecision!” she cried, gritting her teeth. Her host’s leg started hurting again, and she felt very tired.
Now she activated the net. “Melody of Mintaka here,” she said. “Terminate the contests of champions. Abate truce.”
The sixty-six-thirty-three ratio of hostage to loyal ships had shifted to sixty-one-thirty-one; an improvement, but still highly disadvantageous. Would the Andromedan command have gone along with the one-to-one battles much longer?
“Truce terminated,” Hammer of :: said. “Intergalactic Conventions not in force.”
Skot hurried up. “I have the volunteers. What’s this about terminating the truce?”
“We are about to get down to the real combat,” she told him. “In fact, let’s give our project a code name, so we don’t have to risk enemy interception of the details. Call it… call it the Lan of Yap.”
Skot looked at her strangely. “I don’t even know what the program is.”
“That’s all right. Transfer over to the Ace of Atoms and tell Captain Mnuhl to implement the Lan of Yap. He’ll understand.”
Skot hesitated, then departed again. But Melody’s eyes were still fixed on the two drifting, leaking hulks, the Swords of Sol. She shook her head. What a waste!
16. Lan of Yap
*progress report*
:: proceed ::
*the following segments have fallen: lodo, bhyo, fa¿, novagleam progress in freng and thousandstar continued resistance in qaval, etamin, knyfh and weew*
:: knyfh and weew I comprehend they are center galaxy cultures, sophisticated lodo is a surprise I thought it would be another center of resistance, and perhaps bhyo too instead we encounter trouble in the lesser regions! what is there about qaval and etamin? ::
*they are centers of the cult of tarotism, said to have originated in etamin prior to the first war their spheres orient on tarot symbolism, and the name of qaval derives from qabalah*
:: does this cult study transfer science? ::