“Fire as appropriate,” Llume murmured against Melody’s arm. “No need to give specifics to an experienced space officer.”
Bless her! “Fire as appropriate!” Melody said loudly. A weight lifted from her, and she felt better. Part of it was physical, because of decreased acceleration, but the rest was internal. She had not shown her indecision, except to Llume, who had not given her away.
“Something about those ships,” Yael said. “The Ten of Disks…”
Ships were firing all about them. In the globe a Sword exploded; was it friend or enemy? A Cup sprang a leak. A Wand went dead—maybe. A terrible carnage, and how was it possible to know who was benefiting?
The Seven of Cups loomed close. Melody saw the Knyfh laser cannoneer orienting on it, centering it on his crosshairs screen. She knew he would not miss.
“The Ten of Disks!” she exclaimed, Yael’s comment registering at last. “That’s Admiral Hammer’s ship!”
Llume straightened up. “So it is! I should have realized. That is a preemptive target.”
“Don’t I know it!” Melody said. Then, to the Knyfhs: “Orient on the Ten of Disks. Blast it out of space. Ignore the Cup.”
The excellent Knyfh officers responded immediately, making no argument. The Seven of Cups drifted away from the cross-hair focus as the ship reoriented, and the Ten of Disks drifted in.
The view in the globe faded out. “Hey!” Melody exclaimed in annoyance. “This instrument’s malfunctioning!”
“We have been enveloped by a cloud from the Seven of Cups,” a Knyfh reported. “Visual interference, corrosion of lenses proceeding.”
She had made them ignore the cup, just when they had been about to blast it! Why had she interfered?
The view resumed. “Only caught the fringe of it,” Melody said, relieved.
“The corrosion proceeds,” the Knyfh said tersely. “Repair crew: replace external lenses. Verify other damage.”
Now the blips in the globe were fogging. The cloud projected by the Cups was large and diffuse, able to envelope a ship traveling rapidly, and its initial effect was momentary. But once the corrosive agent coated the external appurtenances, it kept acting after the ship had shot clear of the cloud. A Sword whose lenses were fogged lost its offensive punch, and one whose communications and perceptions were fouled would have trouble avoiding other attacks.
“Solar vanes coated, bearing fouled,” the Knyfh reported, reading his indications. “Reduce power draw.”
Immediately the internal illumination dimmed, as the systems cut power. It was not wise to draw on the reserves unnecessarily.
There was a wrench that would have knocked Melody from her chair had she not been hanging on. Her stomach writhed within the cavity of her torso.
“We have been secured by a contra-rotation anchor,” the Knyfh reported. “Repair crews: preemptive mission— disengage anchor.”
Melody knew the ship was in trouble. Blinded and muzzled by the Cup cloud (result of her folly!), and now hooked by an anchor from the enemy flagship, this Sword was helpless unless the repair crews could free it quickly. Already she felt the vertigo of a shift in gravity.
There was another wrench. “Second anchor attached,” the Knyfh announced, showing no emotion.
“Can the same crew take off both anchors?” Melody asked.
The officer was silent.
Llume had wrapped her tail around Melody’s bolted-down chair. Now she unwound so that she could speak. “The repair crew is gone,” she explained gently. “They were on the hull when the second anchor struck—”
“Oh, no!” Melody cried. “Knocked into space by the impact!”
“It will not be possible to free the ship of the anchors now,” Llume continued. “I wish to have your release.”
“Release?” Melody was having trouble thinking clearly.
“Your forgiveness. Expiation. For the wrong I have done you. Before we die.”
“We aren’t going to die!” Melody snapped. “If you really want to help, come with me.” And she pushed herself from the chair.
“Admiral, what is your intent?” an impassive Knyfh officer inquired.
“I intend to round up a crew and free this ship of anchors!”
“That is not feasible,” the Knyfh said. “It is necessary to abandon ship.”
Melody halted, maintaining her balance precariously in the face of the shifting gravity. “Abandon ship! Ridiculous!” The music of challenge and irritation rang in her mind. There were times when the lack of her Mintakan body severely hindered her expression. A couple of strikes on the ship, no real damage done, and they were all ready to quit! “You had better have most chordant reason.”
“Our ship is disabled, therefore vulnerable to further enemy attack,” the Knyfh said with the same infuriating calm. Melody couldn’t even be sure it was the same one she had talked to before; behind the varied faces of the human hosts, they were half a dozen faceless competencies. “A missile or beam can hole the hull momentarily, and our handicapped repair systems may not be able to act in time. The corrosive acid itself may penetrate the hull, causing loss of atmosphere. The probability of loss of life-support prior to successful de-anchoring and necessary repairs is sixty percent according to established tables of risk.
“This ship has lifecraft capable of removing the entire crew promptly, so that another ship can pick them up. The probability of salvaging ninety percent of personnel prior to loss of life-support is eighty percent. Our chances are therefore approximately twice as good if we abandon ship. Therefore, according to the galactic manual, we must signal derelict status and vacate. No enemy will fire on us in this circumstance.”
A completely reasonable lecture—from the military view.
“But then we could still repair—” Melody started. The Knyfh’s frozen expression showed her that was useless. To signal disablement falsely would violate the military code of honor, and these veteran officers would not do it. Strange (though perhaps only to her nonmilitary view) how very similar the military minds were to each other, despite gross difference in physical format. A magnetic entity shaped like a model atom had treated her to the exact line of reasoning a Solarian or Mintakan officer would have! Yet she could not blame these officers; in fact, she knew that in this instance they were right and she was wrong. Had she only kept her mouth shut and let them blast the Cup first, the Ace of Swords might not be in this predicament. “We aren’t derelict until we signal?” she inquired instead.
“Not officially. It would be wise to signal promptly, so that we will not be fired upon again.”
“Don’t signal,” she said. “We’ll repair ship instead.”
“Admiral, the manual—”
Melody blew out an obscene note. But again, it didn’t work, in this host. “All right! Explain the situation to the crew, and evacuate all who want to go. But don’t signal. I’m going to stay here and repair this ship alone if I have to, and use it to finish the battle.”
“You’re absolutely crazy!” Yael said admiringly.
“This is not feasible,” the Knyfh insisted. “Do you desire a detailed analysis?”
“No! I’m sure reason is all on your side. But we aren’t fighting a reasonable battle, we’re defending our galaxy. If we lose here, we lose our segment, and if we lose that—”