Chapter 5: Invasion

The news flashed rapidly through the Band society: alien monsters were intruding into the Band region of space. They were utterly horrible, possessing gross, fat limbs, liquid-filled eyeballs, and teeth like those of a Trugd. They had no magnetism; they tramped on planetary surfaces vaguely like Bellatrixians, except that they could not even jump far. Their ponderous nether appendages hauled forward one at a time, leaving indentations in the ground. The creatures could not fly; they employed tremendous devices to convey them from planet to planet and even from place to place aboard a particular planet.

Why were they coming? No one knew. One Band had been in the vicinity when a huge alien vessel materialized near a neighbor star. He and a friend had recognized the alien nature of it and concluded that the creatures were lost, and the friend had gone to that ship to proffer assistance, flashing back spot reports. The aliens had grasped that Band physically and hauled him into their vessel. In a moment had come the magnetic ripple of his disbanding.

The aliens had destroyed him without even bothering to communicate, or had so horrified him that he had felt compelled to vacate this existence immediately.

Now the surviving Band had traveled in all haste back to the home planet to give warning.

Other reports came in; other Bands had disbanded. The survivors did not take this too seriously, for they considered disbanding to be but an act of transformation, of return with news to the Viscous Circle. They were alarmed, however, because of the unsocial nature of the intrusion. Was something important causing the aliens to rampage? Or had they merely lost their way?

Rondl experienced a cold, grim fear. Somehow he knew it was more serious than that. The reports were garbled, of course; the first encounter could not have been at another star, for the Band would have required many years to return with the news. But certainly an alien ship or ships had entered System Band, perhaps out beyond Moon Dinge. Large-scale movement of equipment by Mattermission was expensive; it consumed a significant value of property and was unlikely to occur by accident. Spaceships did not readily become lost.

These aliens had come here on purpose, and they wanted something -- and it was best to fathom what that thing was as soon as possible.

More aliens came. They overran the outer reaches. Bands disbanded in droves, unable to adapt to this rough intrusion. Only those who peeked and fled survived with news. They reported that the aliens were setting their gross ships down on moons and small planets, disgorging metal vehicles, and racing across the surfaces of those worlds. It was a mystery what they were doing."I know what they're doing," Rondl said grimly. "They are searching for something."

"Why don't they ask us where it is?" Cirl asked. "That is the sensible thing to do."

Indeed it was. Rondl had no satisfactory answer. Yet he knew that terrible trouble was in the making. "We must do something," he said.

"Maybe they will go away," she replied with innocent hope.

"I don't think so," he said. "There's something -- "

"What is it?"

But he could not evoke the substance of his concern. "All I know is that something has to be done."

"But what?" Cirl persisted. She did not approve of unclarity. But Rondl still didn't know.

Gradually the reports achieved a semblance of organization. There were a dozen or more planets in the double System of Eclat-Dazzle, together with considerable lesser matter, and the aliens were taking over the outermost ring of substance, piece by piece. They remained far from Planet Band, but were slowly approaching it and its moons. There seemed to be no way to stop them, and it did not occur to other Bands even to make the attempt. What would be, would be.

"Let's fly about the planet," Cirl suggested. Rondl realized she sought to distract him from his impotent concern about the alien intrusion. Perhaps she had romance in mind. He was amenable -- if only he could find out how.

They flew on a line through a richly fertile region. The lines curved through gently sloping valleys and around mountain peaks. Partially magnetic animals grazed in the fields, consuming the short vegetation, using the lines for orientation instead of for energy. They were harmless. This was certainly a romantic setting. But how was he to proceed? This was a riddle as bewildering as that of the alien intrusion!

Cirl floated blithely along, awaiting his move. He had to do something.

If only he had retained this portion of his memory!

Well, he would simply have to try, and hope nature guided him correctly.

He might get lucky, as he had with the "yellow" compliment. If not, she would let him know -- probably with devastating clarity.

Rondl slid close on the line. "I love you," he flashed. And he did. Only

-- what next?

Cirl did not reply, and realized he had already made a mistake. She was still rebounding from her prior love; she was not yet interested in total commitment. She needed a kiss, not --

Not what? And what in the System was a kiss? As he tried to interpret the concept into Band reality he garnered only a vague feeling of obscenity.

Whatever a kiss was, it was not fit for Bands.

"That is, I think you're -- " But physical compliments were useless, generally. He had used up all the good ones. "Extremely pleasant."

"Of course," she agreed without emotion.

"A beautiful shade of -- " But he couldn't repeat a given compliment.

"Of delight."

"Are you well?"

Well, yes; adequate, no. He was destroying himself with inanities. But what else was there?

Then Rondl spied another pair of Bands coasting along farther down the valley. Maybe they were on a similar excursion. Maybe they would say what needed to be said and do whatever was supposed to be done and he could find out by observation. All he needed to do was keep them in sight long enough.

"Let's explore this mountain," Cirl flashed, detouring toward it on a new line. But the other couple continued on down the valley. The two were drawing closer together; perhaps any moment --

Cirl zoomed away, and Rondl had to go after her. The other couple disappeared behind an outcropping of rock.

He caught up to her, then led her. "Let's loop the peak!" he flashed, hoping to come back into sight of the others.

They looped it -- but the other pair was not in sight. The two must have paused for a private matter. Maybe right now they were engaged in --

Rondl moved on down the slope, trying to find them. "Where are you going?" Cirl flashed.

He had to desist, not daring to admit his object. They slid slowly down the line. At the base of the mountain they almost collided with the other couple, who were just separating, spinning. Both were sending out flashes of satisfaction. He had missed it!

Still, now he knew -- assuming the others had done what he assumed they had done -- that whatever it was did not take long. Maybe it was merely physical contact. Many species made love by some form of touching, didn't they? His unreliable memory indicated so. Too bad he knew that, without knowing what Bands did. What good was it to know about aliens, and not about his own species?

Cirl continued to drift amicably along, as if innocent of any complicity. She was not even flashing her usual ultrablue streak of comment.

She knew he wanted to do -- whatever -- and also knew he didn't know how, yet she would not enlighten him. Yet this was the way of females the Galaxy over; the fundamental frustrations of the sex were constant regardless of species.

Other species -- did he really remember in detail how they did it? If so, he might extrapolate, to arrive at a viable technique here.

Rondl concentrated, but could come up with only vague concepts of overlapping, interpenetration, and substance exchange. Not only were these probably inapplicable, they were repulsive. He was beginning to feel nauseated

-- which itself was alien. No help there.

So it had to be trial and error. He angled close to her and exerted his attraction, the way he had in order to rescue her from the water at their first meeting. The fibers about his fringe could twine with her fibers to hold them together without constant magnetic exertion.

"What are you doing?" Cirl protested irately.

Rondl hastily let go, embarrassed. He had flubbed it!

"I never expected you to try something like that," she continued, her flashes tinged with maidenly abhorrence of the obscene.

Rondl was too mortified even to attempt an excuse.

They flew up a convenient line away from the planet. Their romance had been stifled for the nonce. He simply had to find out elsewhere how to do it without mishap. How he wished he could have remembered!

The alien invasion continued. The gross creatures overran another System planet and its moons and rings, causing horrendous waves of disbandings. More information came in, and now the educated individuals were able to identify the species.

The invaders were Solarians, from a Sphere several hundred light years distant. They were one of the more quarrelsome, less responsible species. They had an extraordinary affinity for material things, being largely material themselves; their concept of property was overwhelming and their concept of spirit insignificant. They were certainly the type to expend resources in quest of something material. Yet they required special atmosphere to breathe, like the Bellatrixians, and constantly imbibed liquid -- surely to fill their fluid eyeball sacs -- and consumed and excreted in rapid intermittence all manner of solids. They were messy creatures, depositing refuse wherever they went. It was hard to imagine a more grotesque manifestation of encroachment; it was an esthetic as well as physical horror.

Now the monsters progressed to the outermost planetoids of Planet Band.

Thousands of Bands disbanded at the very notion. "We must do something!" Rondl exclaimed as though he personally were responsible.

"What?" Cirl asked. She was always uncomfortably practical.

Rondl still didn't know. But he tried to find out. He flew toward Moon Dinge, where the aliens were clustering. Cirl was terrified, but went with him. Death in the form of disbanding did not much alarm her, but the presence of grotesque monsters did.

The moons were scattered around the home planet, so that Rondl and Cirl did not pass close to Moons Fair, Glow, or Spare on the way out. But in the orbit of each was its thin collection of stones, and between Glow and Spare was a disadvantaged comet, caught at last in orbit about the planet instead of the suns, and reduced to a diffuse cluster of metallic fragments and a few wisps of worn-out gas. It seemed like a nice place to visit.

"Threat! Threat!" Cirl flashed abruptly. "Flee, Rondl, flee!"

Rondl drew close to her, trying to discover what she saw. It was soon apparent. A shape was hurtling toward them. He had seen it before, but taken it to be a rock fragment. It was roughly cylindrical, with a tapering spike in front and a flat or hollowed rear, from which occasional gusts of dust emerged. It was black-brown, streaked with red, like stratified rock, unpretty though symmetrical. The very sight of it made him react unpleasantly.

"What is it?" Rondl asked.

"Monster! Monster!" she flashed wildly. "Flee! Flee!"

She was obviously too frightened to make much sense. The approaching object was no Solarian, unless all that he had recently learned was wrong.

This was something else. Yet Cirl's fear was contagious; he felt fright himself, and kept himself under control only with difficulty.

If this thing really was a serious threat, it was better to tackle it sensibly. If it was not, then there was no need to flee. Rondl flew toward it.

"No!" Cirl flashed, horrified, halting her flight as she saw what he was doing. "It will consume you!"

Oh -- like the toothed water creature. Now he had proper caution. Yet this was space, with good magnetic lines; he was free to maneuver to fly at full speed. Surely this squat thing could not catch a Band!

"It's the Kratch!" she flashed. "Don't you know?"

The dread monster! Despite his decision to be objective, Rondl yielded to apprehension and reversed course as Cirl came near.

Rondl, Cirl, and the Kratch were now in a roughly equilateral triangle.

The monster veered, going after Cirl, who was obviously the more delectable creature. She fled, accelerating desperately -- and now Rondl saw that the thing was faster than she was. It had a kind of circular scoop at the base of its forward spike; he could see how a circular object like a Band could be caught on that spike and set down firmly against that scoop. The mechanism of this predator was becoming apparent. No doubt it consumed the substance of Bands the way the water monster did, assimilating the disbanded substance into itself while utilizing the magnetic reserves to enhance its own energy.

Why hadn't the Bands organized to rid the System of this nemesis? It was evident that the Kratch had evolved as a predator of Bands; its whole design oriented on them. For millennia it had culled at will. Yet obviously it could capture only one Band at a time, and if a number of Bands attacked simultaneously -- no, that was no good. Bands had no offensive capability.

Still, they might make a machine -- no, they did not even understand the term.

Maybe they could have the Bellatrixians build one to destroy the Kratch.

Surely there were ways, if they were to decide to do it.

And there was the real problem. The Bands would never adopt methods of violence and destruction, albeit of an enemy or predator on their kind, for they were completely pacifistic. They would simply continue to tolerate this vile predation...

There was another blast of dust or gas from the monster's rear. The Kratch moved forward faster. Action and reaction -- evidently this was a magnetic creature, touching the lines, but it could also boost its velocity by jetting out bursts of substance at key moments.

Cirl's line curved, and she curved with it, as she had to. Now the Kratch jetted itself off the line, cutting across the curve, gaining distance.

It wasn't really faster than a Band, Rondl saw now, but because it was not limited to the lines, it could maneuver better. That gave it its edge on Cirl, It would soon catch her.

Rondl was already accelerating toward them, cutting across on the most available lines. Because the gap between Cirl and the predator was closing slowly, he had time to maneuver closer at a tangent. Then, acting on what impulse he did not know, he cut in between the two.

The monster, confused, veered to follow Rondl, who was closer.

Apparently it was, after all, not smart enough to distinguish between one morsel and another. But it lost relative velocity in the maneuver, for it had substantial mass, and Rondl drew ahead.

Cirl, relieved, slowed, falling behind. Then she realized that her gain was Rondl's loss. Flashing misgivings, she came toward them.

"Stay clear!" Rondl flashed. "I'll handle this!" But now that he was committed, he didn't know how. He was sure the Kratch had the means to destroy him; it was too solid, too certain of itself, and had survived too long as a predator to be incompetent in this respect. He had to escape it -- and now the thing was gaining on him as it cut across stray shortcuts between lines.

Rondl dodged to a diverging line, and the monster dodged after him. He reversed, and it reversed too, not being led astray. He accelerated, but it accelerated at the same rate. It was locked on him, holding even or gaining.

Only if he found a perfectly straight line that went directly to Planet Band and the safety of atmosphere and great numbers of his kind, could he hope to escape this predator. The Kratch never went into atmosphere or too close a massive planetary body or into a crowd of Bands, Rondl remembered now.

Atmosphere fouled its system; gravity tired it rapidly; multiple targets confused it.

But the lines were not straight, and the planet was not close, and every curve would allow the monster to shortcut across and creep up. This chase could have only one end.

Could he somehow fight it? No, not without a weapon.

Weapon? What did any Band know about weapons?

Well, he knew something. A weapon was a tool for combat -- something to enhance the individual's powers of destruction; something like an explosive object that could damage or disband the pursuing monster. Maybe his obscure research in his prior existence could benefit him now.

What was available? Nothing physical; this was space. The only substantial matter in range was that of the derelict comet, and he could hardly throw that at the monster.

Or could he? There was more than one way to use a tool. A small readjustment of outlook and definition, and he might have his weapon.

He surveyed the nearest lines, found the proper configuration, and threw himself into a tight turn. The Kratch, more massive, was unable to change course so abruptly; its turn swung outside Rondl's arc, and for once it lost distance. But this was temporary; as it slowed, it regained maneuverability.

Rondl completed his turn and shot forward toward the debris. The Kratch accelerated after him. Rondl followed a line that went straight in among the moving rocks; at this velocity they seemed close together. He threaded between two big ones, but the Kratch threaded also. This was, after all, where the Kratch had been hiding; it knew how to avoid rubble. Rondl let a little rock pass through his lens; it made no difference to him, since the lens was not solid. It made no difference to the Kratch either; it caromed off the metallic slanted surface harmlessly. The monster got its metal from consuming Bands; its surface ought to be of good quality.

Rondl found a huge chunk with a lot of metal, enough to cause several nearby lines to bend. He swung around it as tightly as he could, hoping the Kratch would have to swing wide again. Here, inside the comet, the rocks would interfere with such a swing. But Rondl's pursuer slowed, jetted more dust, and swung almost as tightly as Rondl had. The creature was stupid, but it did learn from immediate experience. The gap between them narrowed again. Soon the monster would catch up, regardless of any maneuvers Rondl might essay...

Unless he found what he needed in time, and was able to make it work. It seemed to him that it should be here, somewhere -- if only he could locate it.

The Kratch was nosing very close now. The dread horn was almost near enough to touch Rondl. If he didn't soon find --

There it was: a cloud of metallic dust interspersed with diffuse gas, thick enough to obscure the rocks beyond. It was what remained of the heart of the comet -- something resembling atmosphere! Rondl swooped into it.

The Kratch followed, intent on the incipient capture. Rondl's hope dissipated; the creature was not at all put off by the gas. Eliminate one illusion! Perhaps the stuff was too thin, here in space, to have much effect.

Maybe it lacked whatever corrosive component damaged the Kratch, or acted too slowly to be of much help at the moment.

But there was another possibility. Rondl exerted his magnetism, collecting a large mass of crude material. It coalesced about him, furring his circle, turning the green to gray, fuzzing his lens, interfering with his perception and his motion. But he kept on, adding to it as if he were going through the tunnel of formation, making himself a dust-encased travesty of a Band. Soon he had increased his apparent mass by half. The sensation was awful.The Kratch caught him. Its cruel snout poked through his lens, disrupting the magnetism -- but Rondl had already blinded himself by the cluster of dust and fragments. He felt himself sliding up on the spike, toward the consuming orifice --

Just as he touched that dread circular aperture that (his mind's lens suggested) gaped to take him in, Rondl reversed the charge on his surface, repelling the metallic debris instead of holding it to him.

The Kratch drew it all in, assuming this was Rondl himself disbanding.

The monster's lack of intelligence was now paying off for Rondl. While the dust disappeared into the orifice, Rondl himself slipped off the spike and away. Almost immediately there was trouble for the Kratch. Debris might superficially resemble the material of a Band, but it was unrefined, with gross impurities. Had it been edible, the Kratch would have scooped it in instead of chasing Bands. This was space garbage -- not that there was any Band concept of garbage.

The monster was suffering intense indigestion. It choked the stuff back out. Had Rondl not already freed himself, he would at this point have been flung off its spike and away. His strategy had, after all, been sound.

He caught a line and zoomed out of the comet, leaving the monster to its agony. Probably the Kratch would survive, but it should be some time before it had the gumption to chase another Band.

Cirl joined him, amazed. "Oh, Rondl -- you escaped the Kratch! I thought

-- "

"Relax," he flashed. "I told you I would handle it. I was fortunate."

But inwardly he realized that it had been more than fortune. He had fought the monster in a way no other Band would have. He, Rondl, knew how to fight, and had the will for it. This was significant. He had not merely researched alien ways, he had mastered them.

He no longer needed to investigate the invading Solarians. They were obviously of the Kratch type: ruthless predators. Instead he needed to investigate the Bands' potential for resisting the invasion. If he could foil a monster, it should be possible for other Bands to do so too. The techniques of self-defense could be mastered by Bands -- since he himself had done it.

They went to the education center and flashed again with Proft. The educated Bands were already investigating the invasion; they had sent out individuals to neighboring Spheres for advice. Or rather, they had made use of a Mattermitter borrowed from the Bellatrixians for the purpose, since actual star travel would have taken too long. The Bellatrixians were remaining neutral on this matter, but would always make advantageous trades.

But no one could make sense of the advice received. "War-resistance-fight-destruction-retaliate." What was the meaning of these alien terms? The experts were working on the matter, trying to come up with comprehensible definitions that would not cause Bands to disband...

War -- an organized effort of mutual destruction, as if two groups of Bands encountered each other and, instead of conversing amicably or forming circles of mutual understanding, attempted to disband all its members first, or to cause the other group to disband first. The thing remained nonsensical; disbanding was always done voluntarily, except in those rare instances when a Band foolishly became trapped in a lethal situation, such as within range of a Trugd or Kratch.

Resistance -- the effort of one person or party to oppose the will of another when that will was asocial. This, too, was almost incomprehensible; no Band would indulge in asocial will, so would need no opposition -- and opposition itself was asocial. Avoidance was the appropriate course, not overt resistance.

Fight -- active attempt to do harm to another person while the other person did the same. The one who hurt the other first or worst was deemed the better creature. How could any Band grasp this? The very notion was enough to cause some Bands to disband -- as several had when presented with this appalling concept.

Destruction -- the reduction of objects to nonuseful status. This was too silly on the face of it for further consideration.

Retaliate -- to do similar harm to another, following the pattern of the harm that that other had done to the first person. This resembled half a Fight

-- and half of an intolerable concept remained intolerable. In the present case, this would be an attempt to "destroy" the alien ships and force them to disband, so that none would be left to make mischief.

"Even if we were willing to perform such horror," Cirl asked, her color pale, "how would we accomplish it? We have no -- "

"Weapons," Rondl provided when she paused, at loss for a term or concept.

"What?"

"Weapons. Devices that facilitate destruction and disbanding."

Her magnetic field wavered so sharply that for a moment Rondl feared she would disband. But, with an effort, she stabilized. "Your strange, horrible, alien knowledge," she flashed weakly. "I know you have odd attitudes, yet sometimes -- "

"You do seem to have a certain tolerance for difficult concepts," Proft remarked diplomatically.

"Yes. I now doubt my amnesia derives from contact with a Kratch. I just encountered one, and foiled it without further complications in my memory."

"You foiled a Kratch?" Proft was astonished.

"He led it into a comet and stuffed it with dust," Cirl said excitedly.

"He stopped it from eating me." She made a demure spin. "That is the second time he salvaged me from disbanding."

"This is impressive," Proft admitted. "Your tolerance for violence far exceeds what I have seen in other Bands. What do you think is the proper course in the present crisis?"

"I suspect the advice of the other Spheres is correct. Aliens have opposed each other violently for millennia. Aliens are long hardened to asocial concepts. We Bands must harden ourselves, so that we can somehow abate this devastating thrust. Because if we do not, we may suffer colossal destruction ourselves."

"Intellectually, I can appreciate your point," Proft said. "Yet I cannot support it. I have been long exposed to a variety of attitudes, so have more tolerance than most, but I could never indulge in -- hardening. It is contrary to my nature."

"And to that of the great majority of Bands," Rondl agreed. "I admit the notion makes me uneasy too. Yet not as uneasy as the notion of allowing ourselves to be dispossessed."

Even as they conversed, more news flashed across the region. The aliens had landed on the outermost major satellite of Planet Band, Moon Dinge, and were setting off explosions on its surface. The magnetic lines in that vicinity were being distorted, causing Bands to be stranded. There was another wave of disbanding.

"Will they never stop?" Cirl exclaimed, appalled.

"Not until they obtain what they want," Proft replied grimly.

"Which may be the extirpation of the Band species," Rondl added. "How are the Bellatrixians reacting to this? Isn't their enclave near Moon Dinge?"

"They are watching, but remaining quiescent," Proft said. "In this System they abide by our conventions, and do not seek violence, though I believe they are capable of it."

"They certainly are!" Rondl agreed vehemently, tagged by another stray memory. "Once they had a war with Sphere Mirzam, at the area of intersection of their respective Spheres, and they destroyed fifty warships with a single -

- " He broke off, seeing their confusion and horror, and the memory faded. It didn't seem to make much sense anyway: considering the difficulties of Spherical Regression, how could a major modern engagement take place at the fringes of the Spheres? "Sorry. My recollection caught me by surprise. I think it was fiction, anyway. But I agree that the Bellatrixians are not bellicose here. If the Solarians do not attack their enclave -- "

"The Solarians do not seem to know about the enclave," Proft said.

"Certainly it is well concealed, in a planetoid in the Dinge orbit, and the Bellatrixians are keeping themselves hidden. They are following our policy of staying out of mischief."

Something about that concept of an alien base concealed in a planetoid intrigued Rondl, but he could not place the notion. Had he been to that enclave in his prior life? Some memories burst full-blown from minor triggers, while others remained below the threshold of recovery despite his best efforts, radiating only tantalizing suggestions of their nature. One impression came through, however; should the Solarians actually attack the Bellatrixian enclave, or even venture near it in their warships, another side of the Bellatrixian nature as Bands knew it would manifest itself. He was certain of this, without any definable reason for his certainty. Perhaps it was that aliens of any species could be extremely touchy about their operations.

Cirl fluctuated again. "You are right, Rondl. We must -- must oppose this. Somehow." For her, this reluctant acceptance of the notion of opposition was a considerable shift.

"Is there any -- any authority in charge of -- of defense?" Rondl asked.

"Authority?" Cirl asked blankly. "Defense?" She had assimilated one alien concept; others remained beyond her.

"These are other Spherical matters," Proft replied. "Bands have no government in the Galactic sense. We are governed solely by convention and our nature."

"Then how can I consult with the Band military -- " He broke off, realizing there was no such thing. How could he have thought there was? "Or obtain appointment to whatever organization is supposed to preserve Bands from extinction?" he asked, frustrated.

"You must appoint yourself, and recruit anyone you can," Proft said.

"That is how any cause is served. Whoever has the interest expresses it and seeks the support of others with similar interest."

"But I have no authority! Not even memory!"

"These are irrelevant concepts."

"But there has to be some -- structure. Some organization. For example, who appointed you to your educational position?"

"I appointed myself," Proft said.

Rondl assimilated this. No central administration at all? "Do you mean that I can just go out and ask Bands to work with me -- and they will?"

"Those who so choose. Those who have the will. It depends on how persuasive you are."

"But there are so many things that just had to be organized! Who set up trade relations with the Bellatrixians?"

"Some time ago, when the Bellatrixians came to proffer their trade, a self-formed group labored diligently to grasp the concept, and was so successful that it arranged all the benefits we have derived from that connection, including the construction of these convenient reflective walls for this institution. This was done by one Band who had strong motivation and perception; he is a hero to our memory now. Wonr the Trader."

What would be Rondl's reputation, if he did something like this? Rondl the Warrior? Warmonger? Well, why not?

Yet that seemed foolish vanity, for one with no memory. "I can hardly persuade myself. I seek to join an existing apparatus."

"Apparatus?" Cirl asked.

"You perceive the problem," Proft said. "If you wish, I will invite you to address my classes. Perhaps some individuals will join you."

Another general flash of news came: more Solarian ships had been spied, hurtling toward System Band at sublight velocity. In a few days they would arrive.

"They must have a major Mattermission station set up in this vicinity,"

Rondl flashed. "It would take hundreds of years for them to move from Sol to Band at sublight velocity."

"You have an amazing knowledge of Spherical space," Proft observed.

"I do, for an amnesiac." But he could not take time to dwell on that at the moment. "I think I had better accept your offer, and talk to your students. Give me time to organize my case, and I will see what can be done."

Rondl and Cirl retired to consult. "I must try to summarize the problem and offer a viable mode of action," he said. "But the problem of definitions seems overwhelming. If I start in defining combat, counterintelligence, and military discipline, I'll never get to the subject."

"Combat? Counterintelligence?" she asked.

"You see? I can no more communicate such concepts to you than you can communicate the correct mode of lovemaking to me."

She assimilated that. "Perhaps I could -- "

"You could?" Suddenly this was more interesting.

"If I could find a way to inform you, maybe you could find a way to inform others of your concepts."

"I'm not sure that follows. Still -- "

"Sometimes it is easier if others do it."

"But we have to do it!" Suddenly he was not sure they were talking about the same thing. But assuming the subject was love, he did not want to commit himself to making love with some other female, while Cirl -- no!

"Like a story of others. Others make war, whatever that is. And love."

Oh. A story, rather than an actual -- yes! Rondl realized that she was offering him something similar to what he had sought before: a look at another couple in action. "A story of others," he agreed, relieved. "Call him One, call her Two. What is it they do?"

Cirl considered, still finding this difficult. "One wished to -- to express himself to Two, and she was willing to receive the expression. More than willing! So he -- "

This was obviously extremely awkward for her to present. It occurred to him that in many Galactic cultures there were things that were socially acceptable in the doing, but not in the describing. Other things could be described, but not done. The gratuitous murder of a member of the same species was an example of the latter, while the detailed processes of procreation --

yes. That was the barrier they encountered here. Perhaps he could assist her narration.

"I assume this happened a long time ago," he said. "Both parties have long since disbanded, so there can be no offense in the memory of their history."

"Yes," she agreed gratefully. "A long time ago. They later disbanded after full lives. Maybe their auras merged in the Viscous Circle, and they were sublimely happy for an eternity, and after that, sections of those auras fragmented off to join new Bands, and parts of both are in our own auras -- "

But that was getting too personal again, causing her to balk. Anything that made the analogy too plain was taboo.

"Parts of earlier auras are in all of us," Rondl said, playing along with the mythology, which he found charming. "But they are spread so thin, as the result of centuries of viscosity and dilution in others, that nothing is recognizable now. All we have is their story, not their spirits."

This enabled Cirl to continue. "It is flashed that when the time came, he -- positioned himself so that -- " She paused again, her color pulsing with embarrassment. It was amazing what magnetic fluctuations could do to surface hue! "So that his communication beam intersected her -- " Yet again she paused, her flashes fuzzing with the supposed shame of the unutterable.

An alien concept came to Rondl now: pornography. What was natural and necessary in life became, through the alchemy of social perception, indescribable. To him, he discovered when he thought about it, the evil lay not so much in the act, or in the depiction of it, as in the twisted attitudes of others who perceived it as unclean. Yet his own attitude had undergone a gradual transformation with experience. There had been a time, on a backward fringe world -- but what was he thinking of? The memory evanesced with a fleeting picture of some alien creature with a triple-head extremity.

Absolutely meaningless! "Some things are not to be expressed," he flashed. "I think I know of the phenomenon in other cultures."

"True."

"But many aliens are monsters." Triple-headed monsters? "We are not."

"Yes," she agreed. And tried again. "So these two reversed their -- "

She could not complete it, but Rondl had caught on. There were, after all, only so many positions two Bands could assume with respect to each other.

Position was the key!

He positioned himself so that the output of his lens intersected the output of hers. This was no good for dialogue, as neither could assimilate the message of the other. The lenses placed backward did not communicate. Not intelligibly. But the mode turned out to be excellent for love.

Rondl experienced an exceptional thrill as her flash passed through his reversed lens, and he knew that she was having a similar experience. The lens was dual-purpose, he realized now: one way for intellectual communication, the other way for love.

"Love, love, love!" he broadcast, drawing nearer, orienting more perfectly to the light of Sun Dazzle while she oriented on Sun Eclat. And he felt her response, more wonderful than any intellectual thing could be: Love, love, love! There was communication, but of a nonintellectual, nonobjective nature. Love was not intellect, but feeling. The other side of the lens.

Then Rondl stopped thinking and gave himself up entirely to feeling.