Two strides only.
The tanks that contained the aromatic compounds necessary for the olfactory component of the dance were located in sections of the outer hull. Several of the tanks had been damaged and now one of them burst open entirely, spilling its complex organic substances into the choreochamber. Exposed to the intense heat, the chemical compounds ignited in a flash explosion that sent the huge body of the Melodist flying across the choreochamber, shredding its limbs along the way and carbonizing its integument. When the Melodist landed atop a crowd of fleeing Huilek, crushing them in the process, it was already half-dead. Its last thoughts, blurred and confused, were simply wonder at the meaning of the extreme dissonance.
* * *
In the control chamber of the craft, the Critic stared at the image being relayed from the choreochamber into the holo tank before the Conductor. The Conductor voiced the Critic’s own thoughts.
The work is not finished and cannot be. Many Huilek have been completed before their time. Without a Melodist, the remainder will be useless. The craft cannot be operated without its leitmotif components.
The Critic understood the thoughts, but still groped at their meaning. Everything had unfolded too quickly, too unexpectedly.
The Conductor, naturally more decisive, provided meaning also.
My function-mode ends.
That much, the Critic could comprehend. With a quick strike of its forelimb, using the genetically-modified forehand-blade specific to its own function-mode, the Critic completed the Conductor.
The Lead, after gazing at the corpse of the Conductor, lowered itself to expose the thoracic joint.
The craft will be swept down, to premature completion. There is no way to prevent it, with neither Conductor nor Melodist nor sufficient leitmotif components. My function-mode ends.
The Critic completed the Lead. Then, in quick succession, as they each reported the end of their own function-modes, the three remaining Ekhat in the control chamber.
Of course, it completed the eight leitmotif components also present. The Critic was forced to seal the gates to prevent the augment species from escaping. The squeals of the little Huilek added further disharmony to an already dismaying performance.
When it was alone, the Critic changed the view to display the craft’s exterior. Already, it saw, the craft was plunging down one of the granular currents. Soon, with no Lead to guide the way, it would be swept into one of the supergranular cells; and, soon thereafter, would be completed long before it reached the radiation zone.
That was a pity. The Critic would have found solace, even ecstasy, in the music of death-in-creation. But there would be nothing, beyond the increasing discordance of a craft being shattered by crude convection.
The Critic completed itself. Not without difficulty; being forced to strike four times, very awkwardly, until the forehand-blade found the thoracic ganglion.
* * *
“Until this moment, I did not really believe,” Yaut said softly, almost whispering. “That ship is out of control. Thrown out of control, by your guns. It is doomed. Truly, I did not believe it could be done, until now.”
Aguilera glanced at him, startled by the fraghta’s tone of voice. Yaut’s mood usually ranged from unflappable to caustic. This was the first time Rafe had ever seen him shaken by anything.
He and Yaut were standing in the center of the sub’s control room, just behind Aille in the pilot’s seat. By the time he looked back at the holo tank, the Ekhat ship had vanished into the solar fog. Fighting a battle in the sun’s photosphere was like a dog fight in heavy overcast, except these clouds were fiery bright. An ambient temperature of six thousand degrees—and more turbulent than any storm cells in Earth’s atmosphere. Were it not for the forcefields, the submarine would have been ripped apart by the shear stresses even before it melted and vaporized. What made the experience even more disconcerting was that the sub’s artificial gravity field kept those in it from feeling any of the vessel’s sudden and sharp movements. There was a complete disconnect between someone’s tactile perceptions and sense of balance and what they could see in the holo tank.
Aguilera winced. He had suddenly realized that one of the dangers they faced, which he simply hadn’t thought about, was the very real possibility of two submarines colliding with each other. There was no way to maintain electronic communication in the photosphere. For all that Jao comm technology was more highly advanced than human, it still depended on electromagnetic signals. Here, trying to send or receive such signals would be like trying to talk in the middle of a waterfall.