Free Viscous Circle by Piers Anthony Page B

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