Free Thousandstar (#4 of the Cluster series) by Piers Anthony Page A

could taste the pattern quite well without it.
    Now what about the next five concepts? Would they be a repeat of the initial sequence, or a variant, or a continuation of a developing sequence? No time to conjecture; he would have to translate the raw data directly into the format and see. The concepts were Ascent-Brittle-Humor-Direction-Sour. Categories C-A-B-C-D. No repeat of the first five-concept pattern.
    Well, there was no reason the sequence should be in fives; that was just for his convenience in organizing. Consider them all together: AABABCABCD.
    Suddenly a repeating subsequence leaped out at him: ABC-ABC. Preceded by AAB, followed by D. What sense could be made of that?
    It was pointless to struggle with it when so much more data was available. He had Swoon jet him the next ten concepts, and translated them into taste categories with increasing proficiency. Diffuse-A, Fear-B Plunge-C, Sweet-D, Rain-E, Elastic-A, Courage-B, Rotation-C, Pungent-D, Sea-E. And there it was, beautifully, stupidly simple: a concept progression!
    Reverifying, he worked it out. A-AB-ABC-ABCD-ABCDE-ABCDE. The next one the twenty-first concept had to be F—a new category. A Sapient Process, or a Number, or something else—anything but a repeat category.
    "Give me the concept for Ship Twenty-one," he jetted.
    "Nine," Swoon answered promptly.
    Victory! The category of Number, new to the progression. "Now feed me the remaining ships, slowly," he jetted.
    "Rare," she jetted back, and he translated that to A. "Caution." He rendered that B. As she continued, he hardly perceived the specific concepts, so readily did they become taste-designates. C-D-E-F-G, and then a new sequence in the progression: ABCDEFGH. And another: ABCD—
    "Where's the next?" he needled irritably.
    "That's it!" Swoon jetted. "Forty ships taken! Have you solved it?" Anxiety was beginning to blur her communication, intruding irrelevant tastes.
    "Yes. The next one will be an E concept, followed by—"
    "What?" Her jet was pure confusion.
    Oops—he had squirted her with his notational symbols. "A concept relating to Fluid Matter, that has not been used before, like—"
    "Liquid is correct," the public spray sprayed.
    "You've got it!" Swoon jetted jubilantly.
    "I just lost it," he responded. "I didn't make that formal guess; another HydrO did, and he got the ship. The others are catching on rapidly."
    "Five is correct," the spray announced. "Stupidity is correct. Victory is correct."
    "There went F, G, and H," Heem jetted in alarm. "We've got to grab our own ships before the entire next sequence goes!"
    "Yes!" Swoon agreed. "Give me a concept!"
    "It has to be a new category. Maybe an Abstract Relation, like Strength—"
    "Virtue is correct," the public spray came.
    "That too; that's category I," Heem jetted. "The next eight will be easy."
    "I will settle for the next one," Swoon jetted.
    "A Physical Property, but not one that's been used before."
    "How about Light, the opposite of Heavy? Heavy has been used, but not Light."
    "That should roll it," he agreed.
    "If this is wrong—" She squirted with needlesome force into her niche-receptor. There was a pause.
    "Light is correct," the public spray sprayed. "Swoon of Sweetswamp has won Ship Forty-six."
    Swoon practically melted. "Thank you, Heem, thank you! I will repay you for this! Catch up to me at the target planet—"
    But Heem had little faith in such gratitude. "Only one can win the competition," he reminded her.
    "The competition is not yet over. Perhaps there will be occasion to cooperate again." She doused him with a jet of intensely erotic suggestion and rolled out of her niche. She was off to collect her key and her ship.
    Heem took a moment to reorient. Swoon might not be the cleverest concepts-riddle manipulator, but she certainly had sex appeal.
    He was now free to win his own ship. That should be no problem. The next concept should be B—
    "Humility is correct," the public spray