“One might question the need for this step,” Polaris objected in the roundabout fashion of his kind. “I recognize the Minister directly.”
“Yet he was out of place,” Sol pointed out. “It is our duty as investigators to explore all potentially pertinent factors. A reading of his Kirlian aura could have bearing.”
“Agreed,” Canopus said, exerting his decision-making propensity. “Recognition is not the issue; circumstance is. The Minister should have been aware he was in violation of regulations.” He produced a unit outlet and tuned it to the stunned Minister.
And exhibited surprise; an emotion uncommon to his species. “This is not the aura of the Minister of Research.”
The guard looked up, hope flaring. “An imposter?”
“But I am certain of his identity!” Polaris protested with uncircular vigor.
“Both true. This is a Kirlian transferee. An alien mind in the Minister’s body. This aura is not in our records.”
“This is verging on the angular,” Polaris said. “Our Minister would not lend his body to such use.”
“Not voluntarily,” Sol said.
“He has not been absent from these demesnes since the last routine Kirlian verification,” Polaris insisted. “He was under no pressure to depress his aura, and in any event—”
“He remains with us,” Canopus said, studying the indicator closely with several facets of his eyes. “I now perceive a second aura imprint, suppressed by the first. This second one matches his own.”
“He is an involuntary host?” Sol inquired challengingly. Such a thing was considered impossible.
“So it would seem. The Minister’s aura is normal— one point two intensity, not in good health at the moment. The alien aura is more potent—twenty-seven. It has apparently overwhelmed that of the host. There are certain indications of strife between the two, augmenting the supposition that the hosting is not voluntary.”
“What is the identity of the alien aura?” Nath inquired.
“This is uncertain without computer analysis,” Canopus said. “But it corresponds to the aural family typical of Sphere *, of Galaxy Andromeda.”
There was a brief silence as the implication sank in. The War of Energy had ended a thousand years before, but only because the Milky Way had achieved parity. If that parity had been upset, the Second War of Energy was upon them. It could mean the destruction of a galaxy. Without energy, a galaxy became nothing, for energy was the very heart of matter.
“Well, verify it!” Sol cried in the thrusting manner of his kind. “We’ve got ourselves a spy!”
“That might be uncircular,” Polaris said. “If Andromeda can make hostage our Minister of Research, it may have done similar work elsewhere—perhaps in the most critical locations.”
“Hostage…” Sol mused. “Involuntary hosting, without the prior demolition of the host-mind and aura. Apt term.”
“Pull-hook,” Nath agreed. “And we cannot know how many other hostages are present. We cannot trust any entity of low aura anywhere. We may already be at war.”
“But if the highest levels of our government itself have been infiltrated, how can we save our segment—even our galaxy?” the guard asked. In this crisis, the distinctions of species and position were lost; all of them were galactics. “We can kill this spy, but our own chain of command may be suspect.” Then he glanced quickly at the human officer. “Present company excepted, sir.”
“Not excepted,” the officer said. “You have made an excellent point, soldier.” There was a certain grimness about his mouth.
“We shall neither kill this entity nor ignore the implications,” Canopus said firmly. “Our own Minster of Research is hostage. We can not execute him without due procedure. And to do this would be to advise Andromeda that we have discovered its plot. Obviously the infiltration is not yet complete, for the invading agents practice secrecy. This one must have been searching the records of Population for information on the strength of the auras of key personnel who can be taken over or neutralized. It is reasonable to assume that it requires a stronger aura to control an entity, as with normal hosting. This infiltration may be only beginning. We can therefore counter it if we can ascertain its full extent and master the technology to nullify it. Therefore we let this hostage go. The security guard shall be duly disciplined for his unwarranted attack on a Minister. He shall be removed to a far post for an extended tour, one no Minister would visit. I shall authorize and implement this myself, on the authority of the unanimous decision of this investigation team, with the concurrence and waiver of appeal by the Entity on the Spot. An innocuous report will be filed under the code-name ‘March.’ I shall proffer the Executive’s sincerest apologies to this wronged Minister for this blunder by one of our personnel. I doubt the Andromedan agent will take the matter further; he will not want any commotion that might expose him. Then, secretly, we shall indeed march.” He faced the guard, all facets seeming to bear on him momentarily. “Do you concur, Solarian?”
The man bowed his head. “I understand. My career is over—for the sake of my galaxy.”
“Yet if we prevail, and if any of we five entities survive,” Nath clicked, “there will be recompense.”
“Such reward as you have not dreamed,” the Solarian officer agreed. He turned to Canopus. “But how can we know who is loyal? We can’t check the whole government! We are merely an ad hoc investigatory team with little authority.”
“It becomes necessary to preempt authority,” Nath said. “But as my brother Solarian pointed out,” the human officer said, “we ourselves are suspect. We have no basis—”
“It would be circular to verify ourselves,” Polaris suggested.
“Circular and direct,” Canopus agreed. “We must ascertain that we five are not hostage.” His faceted eyes bore on all the others simultaneously. “Amenable?” Sol nodded. Polaris glowed. Nath rippled. Canopus reset the unit.
“And after this,” Sol said, “we shall trust no one without immediate aural verification. Especially not Ministers, though this does present a problem. They are nominally the heads of our segment government, the highest officers among us.”
“Nominally,” Canopus agreed, his inflection carrying significance that made the others reflect agreement in their separate fashions.
Sol looked at the hostage. “What do we do with this one—at the moment?”
“We run it through an aural probe,” Canopus said. “Thereby we glean relevant information about the mechanism of involuntary hosting. Then we take our information to the single organization we can trust to contain no hostages.”
Sol raised an eyebrow, a feat none of the other species could duplicate. “Organization?”
“The Society of Hosts.”
The others, startled by the obvious, signified agreement.
“Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,” the Solarian murmured, awed at the concept of this organization becoming the true government of the segment, and perhaps of the entire Milky Way galaxy.
And the others completed the Litany of Hosts, taken from a poem written five centuries before transfer came to the author’s planet: “Recessional,” by Rudyard Kipling. “Lest we forget, lest we forget…”
PART I
MISTRESS OF TAROT
1. Melody of Mintaka
*occasion for preparatory briefing*
—summon council governing sphere representatives linked thought transfer immediate—
COUNCIL INITIATED PARTICIPATING * — / :: oo
—welcome ast, slash, quadpoint, duocirc—