“The sun will catch him!” Melody cried, alarmed. And she jumped with both feet.
Suddenly she was falling through space—with no safety line. It had been a natural reaction, but a mistaken one. She screamed.
There was a clamor in her suitphone as the startled men exclaimed. “The fool! Doesn’t she know not to—”
“Get another line and jet!” “No time; she’ll be out of range before we can—” “Look at that magnet!”
Melody looked as well as her slow spin in space enabled her to, though of course the remark had not been directed at her. Sure enough, Slammer had followed her into space, ever-loyal to its assignment. “But you have no metal to interact with out here!” she exclaimed to it. “You can’t maneuver!”
Slammer of course did not answer. He could not even nod. He had become an aimless meteor.
The sun had not reappeared. Melody remembered that the blade was tripartite; that last adjustment had merely taken it another third of the way around. Gary had been in no danger. No question about it: She had reacted foolishly, and now was in trouble.
“I’ll get her,” Gary said, sounding disgusted. Melody turned her head to face him—and her body turned the opposite way, confusing her. She was in freefall, unable to direct her progress. She found herself staring at the stars, some of which she knew were the other ships of the fleet. On the shuttle’s screen they had looked large and close together, but here in the open, five thousand miles apart, they were nothings. Long stars were Swords or Wands; the others were uncertain. Her chance in intersecting one was about one in five thousand—after allowing for the three weeks it would take at her present velocity to get her there. She would not be bored, however, as she could anticipate suffocating within one day.
Somewhat sooner than that, Gary arrived, having jetted across to intercept her. He caught her by one arm and they gyrated crazily in space; then he enfolded her space-suit in his arms and steadied them both with the jet. It was a tricky business, but he was expert. Almost immediately they stabilized.
“Save the magnet!” Melody cried.
“There’s no time; the sun’s coming back,” he said.
“No, we’re in the shade of the ship,” she said. “It may be turning, but we aren’t.” When he had been working on the trough, he had had in effect to race the rotation of the ship merely to keep up with it, but now they were flying straight out.
“But we have to get back to the lock. It will soon be in sun.”
Meanwhile, Slammer had passed them, going out. “I don’t care,” Melody cried. “We have to save the magnet!”
Gary sighed. “I’m a fool. I never could resist a plea from a pretty girl.” He timed their spin and actuated the jet. They accelerated after Slammer, gaining slowly.
Abruptly they stopped. “Oh-oh,” Gary said. “That’s as far as the safety line goes.”
“Then give me the jet and let me bring it back!” Melody exclaimed.
Gary shook his head within the helmet and said, “You are something else!” He was unaware how accurate that comment was. “You really want to catch that thing?”
“Slammer is a living, sapient, loyal entity. He tried to help me. I can’t let him die in space!”
“All right,” he said wearily. “I’ll put you on the line while I go after the magnet.” And he did so.
In due course he caught up with Slammer, put his arms around the sphere, and jetted back to Melody. Then she took the magnet while Gary grabbed her around the waist. They jetted as a mass back to the ship, following the spiraling safety line in.
They did have to land sunside, for the jet was now too low on fuel to permit them to stand off. They allowed the winding action of the ship as it turned under the line to reel them in. As they passed through the periphery of the sun-focus region, Melody felt the intense heat despite her suit. As they dropped lower, it abated, until at the deck the ambience was bright, not hot.
“Thank you, Gary,” she said as her feet took hold and Slammer assumed his own mobility. “I will remember you.”
Gary merely grimaced.
The Captain was approachable. At his invitation, Melody joined him for dinner in his quarters. The meal was not elaborate; they had the same tubed refreshments she had encountered before. But the atmosphere was different.
Captain Boyd did not mention her hullside episode, though he surely knew about it, and she was grateful for that. “It is good to relax with a pretty girl,” he remarked.
Melody was pretty at the moment; she and Yael had taken great pains to perfect her appearance. But she passed off the compliment as inconsequential. “For that, thank my host,” she said. “In my natural form I would hardly appeal to you.”
“Untrue,” he said, squeezing liquid into a cup that strongly resembled a miniature Spican ship. That design was intentional; the knives were like Sword ships, the plates were Polarian Disks, and a large set of Canopian Wands was used to serve the canned salad from an atom ship container. Naturally his interests in the fleet and Tarot would be reflected here! “Your mind and aura appeal to me regardless of your form. More than you perhaps appreciate. I, too, am a transfer.”
Melody looked at him, startled. “You?”
“Body is mere convenience. It is not in my records; very few entities know, and none aboard this ship. It is, in fact, a deep dark military secret. But I feel I can trust you.”
“No. Don’t trust me. I am not your kind.”
He moved his closed human mouth about in an expressive Solarian gesture. “How can we know? They needed a high-Kirlian captain in a hurry, and a high-Kirlian anti-hostage agent. A similar situation brings us together. Perhaps we derive from the same Sphere.”
“Unlikely. Auras such as ours are seldom discovered proximately.” That was one of the problems of aura; no one knew the rules by which it manifested. They were not genetic, certainly, but then what did account for the wide variation? Regardless, she was not about to reveal her origin, though it was possible he already knew it. Llume would not have told him, but he surely had other sources of information, and he was not stupid. Not stupid at all. She suspected he was smarter than she was, though he underplayed that aspect. Besides, how could she be certain that they were not being overheard, even here? With so many hostages around, no words were entirely safe.
“True,” he said equably. “I have no right to pry. Still, I feel a certain affinity.”
“It is the aura,” she said shortly. She still had not made up her mind whether to tell him about the six hostages, or even how to express it. The indecision irritated her.
“That too. I am in love with that aura; it is the most remarkable I ever expect to encounter.” He brought out a small box. “You have adapted very well to your confinement aboard this ship, and I hope soon to have the clearance for your return to Outworld. But I must admit to a certain pleasure in your presence. You are an uncommonly attractive woman.”
“He’s an uncommonly attractive man,” Yael murmured inside her, like an errant conscience. “I’d like to take him and… would it really be wrong to…?” The remainder of the thought was inchoate but powerfuclass="underline" the urge to be sexually taken.
Melody was unable to debate it as she had the same urge. But she kept her voice controlled. “Captain, what do you know of my mind?” she asked him.
“I have had reports of your expertise in Tarot,” he said. “It becomes apparent that you are no dabbler. I am inclined to verify the extent of your commitment.”