“That’s what makes it a challenge,” he said, inflating a little. “I have magnetic soles on my boots, of course, and a safety line, but it’s a bit like hanging by your toes. And I can’t even do that on the sword-foil; it’d tear. So I have to use a support sling.”
“But if anything breaks—”
“I go swinging out into space,” he said. “That’s why I’m careful, very careful.” He guided her into a lounge. “The job isn’t bad, in fact I like it, but it takes a special kind of man. One who gets a bit paranoid about carelessness.”
Five crewmen looked up. Rather, three human crewmen looked, and one translucent jellylike Antarian quivered, and a jumper from Mirzam angled an antenna. Evidently there was quite a bit of physical travel between Spheres, for Mirzam was about eight hundred light-years from Etamin. Maybe some entities had been mattermitted on a special mission, then left at Outworld to fend for themselves because of the enormous expense of the return trip. If the contingents representing other Spheres were staffed by Sphere-natives, this was another example of the tremendous waste of energy involved in the military—all for the sake of show. If all that energy were only used for more positive purposes—but probably that issue would never be settled. Waste, thy name is Empire, she thought. “This is Yael,” Gary said. “Lan of Yap.” The others smiled in their separate fashions, enjoying the mispronunciation. In turn they introduced themselves: “Adam.” “Joyce.” “Manfred.” “Slither.” “Bounce.” Melody was glad to find an integrated crew, regardless of the waste. The officership was almost entirely Solarian, but it seemed any entity could join the crew. There would be plenty of Solarians and Polarians in the crews of other-Sphere ships, too, serving under other-Sphere officers. She was sure this was a deliberate policy, to prevent prejudices from arising between Spheres of the segment. Of course some adjustments had to be made, as the atmospheres of all planets were not interchangeable. She could detect a faint odor in the air here; presumably something had been added for the benefit of one of the other species. And the Mirzam entity seemed to have a mask of sorts covering part of its face, much as a Solarian would carry an oxygen inhaler in an oxygen-deficient atmosphere.
“Let’s have a party,” Gary said.
There was a flurry of activity. Slither the Antarian cleared a table by englobing its surface in animate jelly. When the flesh withdrew, the table was spotless. The three Solarians fetched food and drink. Bounce of Mirzam remained to entertain the visitor. Melody felt a certain affinity to him, because she was an equivalently alien creature, and Sphere Mirzam bordered Sphere Mintaka. She was sorry she could not reveal her origin to him. “We do not receive many Lans currently.” He spoke by vibrating one antenna against another, and his height varied as his legs extended hydraulically from their stout tube-sockets. Mirzam was a jumping society, she knew; those three legs were made to deliver a lot of lift, and to absorb a lot of shock.
“Oh?” Melody inquired, accepting a squeeze-bottle of greenish liquid. In space, potable liquids were never poured; one never knew when a condition of null-gravity might occur. This drink had a sweet but strong flavor. “I understood this was a regular exchange.”
“It used to be,” Gary said. “But in the last two weeks no one has come except Skot, and the tabs have not been honored. Something funny going on. I have a message overdue from my buddy aboard the Trey of Swords. Usually Hath or somebody slips it in the chute during slack-time, but…”
So that was the nature of the exchange. Officers did little unofficial favors for crew, in return for a few hours’ “anonymous” relaxation that she suspected had something to do with intoxicants and amenable female Solarians. All off the record, of course. Getting along, in a fleet that never put in to planet.
And the hostages were fouling up the system. Because a hostage was not the same entity as the host. Hath of * had different priorities from Hath of Conquest. What was important to a member of a two-sexed species was not important to a member of a five-sexed species. So far no one but Melody knew the situation. And how would she make it known?
She was beginning to feel dizzy. “The drink,” Yael said in answer to Melody’s confusion. “Alcoholic.” She giggled. “Drink it slow, or you might wind up getting impregnated.”
Melody looked at the drink, startled. “An intoxicant!” Yet why was she surprised? She had known from her host’s memory that such things were common, and had reasoned that they applied to this lagniappe custom. She had merely failed to relate her intellectual comprehension to herself.
Suddenly a buzzer sounded in a rapid series of bursts and pauses. Gary looked up, dismayed. “That’s my call—emergency. It would have to come right now!”
“We shall see to your friend,” Bounce of Mirzam said, jumping up. Literally. His feet left the deck. “Like pogo sticks,” Yael commented, observing the way his three legs pistoned.
“No, I’ll go with you,” Melody said quickly to Gary. She was glad for an excuse to stop taking the intoxicant, and she didn’t want to have to explain to Slammer about a new escort; the magnet might get confused.
“Can’t do,” Gary said. “I’ve got to go hullside.” He started off down the hall.
Melody ran after him. “I’d like to go hullside!”
He whirled on her, harried. “You’re crazy!—no offense, sir.”
But she stayed with him, and Slammer stayed with her. “I won’t get in the way!”
“I never should have gotten relieved from watch,” he muttered. “Then I wouldn’t have been on call.” He jumped into a chute, disappearing from view.
Melody hesitated, then followed him, sliding down through darkness. This crew chute was smaller and faster than the officer’s access she had used before. Finally she leveled off in heavy gravity. She was, she judged, near the outer hull, her weight now about half again its normal amount. This was not a pleasant sensation; it dragged on her internal organs as well as her limbs, and her mammaries were uncomfortable. Although it was not as bad as the shuttle deceleration had been, she knew there was no immediate relief, and she had to stay on her feet.
Slammer arrived just after her. He did not seem discommoded. She wondered what the surface gravity was like on his home world. Maybe it made no difference to him.
Other crewmen were popping out of the chute. Gary was already stepping into his spacesuit. It opened like an ancient Solarian “iron maiden” torture device; fortunately, it did not possess the internal spikes. As he entered it, it closed on him, locking automatically. Melody marched up to a similar suit that seemed to be her size and stepped in. She had a surge of claustrophobia as it closed, but fought it off. She did want to see the outside.
Air filled the suit. She found she could move her arms and legs readily; the suit was so cleverly articulated that it presented no hindrance. It was not one of the invisible “second skin” suits, but a rugged heavy-duty workman’s job suitable for use in the special conditions of deep space.
Apparently Gary had forgotten her in his preoccupation with the emergency, and the others didn’t realize she didn’t belong. She knew she was taking a risk, but at least it was a release from the growing problem of the hostages. These people were not hostages; their auras were so low they were not even aware of her Kirlian nature. That was in itself valuable to know. As far as she could tell there had been no intrusion of hostages among the crew, unlike the heavily infiltrated officership. If she ever had to hide…