Something about that very proficiency bothered Melody, but she couldn’t quite place her objection.
“I’ve checked six officers,” Melody said subvocally to Llume’s ball. “And all six are hostages. High-Kirlian Andromedans masquerading as loyal Segment Etamin entities.”
“I am dismayed, not surprised,” Llume replied. “I had noted some possibilities, once put on alert. This is why I brought these entities to you first. Is it time to take the matter to the Captain?”
“Maybe,” Melody agreed. “But I don’t know how he’ll react. These are his trusted officers, after all. If he refuses to believe, it could be instant disaster, six against one. They’d kill him. I’d better play it pianissimo until I’m sure.”
“Yes.” The Spican, too, was uneasy. “We swim through treacherous waters.”
But if they didn’t swim, Melody thought, they would soon sink.
6. Chaining the Lady
*action hour revised approaches*
—we must delay it a little longer segment knyfh remains in doubt we must improve our situation there—
*quadpoint will object*
—droppings on quadpoint! let him hammer out his own tunnel I coordinate this effort—
Melody had been finding so many hostages she was beginning to wonder if there was anyone aboard who was not a hostage.
It was her off-shift, not that she really had shifts. Llume was sleeping. Spicans might not sleep, but the Polarian host did. Melody would normally be sleeping too, but now she was awake and restless. Should she tell the Captain about the hostages? When? How?
She garbed herself in reasonably nonprovocative attire and poked her nose into the hall. No one was in sight. “Slammer, let’s take a walk,” she said. “Lead the way—” She broke off. Where did she want to go? She really had no destination.
“I wonder where March lives?” Yael remarked innocently. “We haven’t seen him since we left the shuttle, and so much has happened… I hope he wasn’t hurt in the explosion.”
“The crew’s quarters!” Melody said with sudden inspiration. She might be able to make a quick survey for hostages.
Slammer moved down the hall. Melody followed, pleased to have the experiment work: the magnet could and would take her where she wanted to go.
The officer’s section of the ship seemed to be sealed off, a separate world, yet there was far more to this vessel of space than that. The whole sword-handle was almost a Solarian mile, 1/186,000 of a light-second, in diameter, and several miles long. Much of it was taken up with supplies and machinery and huge stores of emergency fuel, but even the residential levels were partitioned. Toward the end of the handle, away from the blade, was the crew ring, much larger than the officer ring. Crewmen did not even pass through the officer ring when on duty; they took light or heavy gravity bypasses. Melody regarded this as a form of discrimination. After all, March was just as much an individual entity as was Captain Dash.
Slammer brought her to an airlock. “An airlock—here in the middle of the ship?” she asked, surprised. But she saw that the pressure gauge indicated no differential, so she waved one finger over the OPEN panel. The barrier slid aside, and she stepped through.
A smart young man stepped up, saluting. “Sir?”
“Oh, I’m not an officer,” Melody said. “Just a wandering visitor.”
He looked at her again. “With a magnet, sir?”
“Well, the Captain assigned—a courtesy gesture, so I wouldn’t get into too much trouble.”
He politely let that stand unchallenged. “And your business here?”
“I… thought I’d…” Would it get March in trouble if she gave his name? She decided not to risk it yet. “I’d like to take a look at the crew’s quarters, just from curiosity. I am very new to space. Is this permitted?”
“Is this an official or unofficial visit, sir?”
“Unofficial. I have no authority, no rank. I’m just… I don’t want to be any trouble…”
“Lagniappe?” he said.
“Lan of Yap? I’m afraid I don’t understand…”
He smiled. “Lagniappe. One word, not a place. It signifies—sir, you really don’t understand?”
“I really don’t. Have I given offense?”
His eyes traveled over her body, seeing what her demure clothing could not conceal. It was amazing the persistence with which the Solarian male observed the Solarian female. “Sir, there is no way you could give offense. If you will appoint me as your escort, and so advise the magnet, I shall be happy to explain and demonstrate.” He smiled again. “Lan of Yap—that’s clever.”
“Slammer, I appoint this man as my escort through the crew’s quarters of this ship,” Melody said to the magnet. Slammer nodded agreeably. Melody’s initial fear of the magnet had rapidly faded. Cannonballs weren’t dangerous unless someone activated the cannon.
The man spoke into the intercom. “Replacement to Officer’s Lock number Two,” he said crisply. “Lagniappe.” Then, to Melody: “It will only be a moment, sir. Please don this cover.” And he handed her a somewhat wrinkled brown jacket.
Perplexed, Melody put it on. The young man removed his hat, revealing bright yellow hair. “Now if you will give me your name…”
“Yael,” she said. “Yael of—”
“That suffices. I am… Gary. No more need be said.”
Another crewman arrived. “Take over, Sam,” Gary said. “I’m going Lan of Yap.”
The other smiled. “Lan of Yap.” Then he peered at Melody, his eyes seeming to strike right through the jacket. “With her? You lucky—”
Gary cut him off with a lifted hand. “Carry on, E-Two.” Then he took Melody firmly by the arm. “This way, Yael.”
As they walked down the passage, with Slammer floating sedately behind, Gary explained. “Officers have to act like officers, because that’s what they are. We enlisted men have more freedom to be ourselves. We fight, we cry, we laugh, we have wild parties, we goof off. So while the officers go slowly crazy, we enlisted men get along pretty well. When an officer can’t take any more of the gung-ho, he comes down here, off the record, and takes off his rank, and we let him in on some of the fun. We don’t recognize him, we don’t call him ‘sir,’ we just help him let go. It’s like a night on the town. No one ever says a thing about it afterward; it just doesn’t exist, as far as official ship’s protocol is concerned. It’s that little extra in his life, the lagniappe, the gift we give beyond the call of duty, no obligation… know what I mean?”
“Sounds like fun,” Melody agreed, though she was not entirely clear about the rationale.
“More than fun. Lagniappe is the way of space. You do a little something extra for your neighbor, and in turn he does it for you, because we all are here in space and there’s nothing else but the ship. If we don’t get along here, we don’t get along at all.”
“What do you do, Gary, when you aren’t… getting along?”
“I’m a foilman,” he said. “When I’m not pulling guard duty. I put on my suit and get out there and clean the blade. It gets pitted and holed and dirty from space dust, you know, and—”
“You go outside the ship?” she asked, surprised.
“Sure; that’s where the solar collection foils are. If we just let them go, next thing you know collection efficiency will be down ten percent, then twenty percent. We need that light-power to keep us energy self-sufficient.
“Yes, of course. All the ships have solar collectors. I saw that as I came in on the shuttle. But Gary, the ship is turning, isn’t it, and centrifugal force is more than one gravity at the outer shell. How do you stay on?”