The Witches of Karres by James E. Schmitz

“So then, I think, we have the principal answers. You do not control the drive as was reported, except as the child does what you wish. For the witch is the drive and the drive is the witch. That is the essential fact here. To me it means that to control the drive I, too, must learn to control the witch. And the witch is young, relatively inexperienced, and relatively defenseless. I think it will be possible to control her.”

“She has a large number of friends who are less inexperienced,” the captain pointed out carefully.

“Perhaps. But Karres, whatever has happened to it, is at present very far out of the picture. Time is what I need now, and the circumstances are giving it to me. Consider the situation. This ship will not reappear from the Chaladoor, a fact disappointing to the owners of her cargo but not really surprising to anyone. If they learn of it eventually, even the girl’s witch friends will not know where to begin to search for her here. And, of course, she will not be here.”

“Where will she be?” asked her captain.

“On my flagship, sir. A ship which will have developed a very special capacity; one that will be most useful if never advertised…”

“I see. Meanwhile it might be a good idea if you gave the witch the same antidote you gave me.”

Laes Yango shook his head slightly. “Why should I do that?”

“Because,” said the captain, nodding at the console, “the detectors have begun to register a couple of blips. We may need her help in a few minutes.”

“Oh, come now, sir!” The Agandar picked up the paralysis gun, stood up and came striding over towards the desk. However, he stopped a good twelve feet away, eyes searching the screens. “Yes, I see them! Take the controls, Captain Pausert. The ship is yours again for now. Step up speed but remain on course, unless we presently have sufficient reason to change it.”

“It isn’t the course we were on,” the captain observed. His leg felt all right again, but unless the Agandar came a good deal closer that wasn’t much help. What else could he do? This incredible man had worked out almost everything about the Sheewash Drive, and wasn’t at all likely to fall into traps. If Goth were awake, they’d handle him quickly between them. But apparently he suspected they might.

“I’m afraid I took it on myself to set up a new course,” the Agandar agreed mildly. “I shall explain that in a moment…” He nodded at the screen. “It seems our presence has been noted!”

The pair of blips had shifted direction, were angling towards them. Detector instruments of some kind over there, probably of extremely alien type, had also come awake. Distance still too great to afford other suggestions of the prospective visitors’ nature… Would it do any good to tell this pirate chieftain something about Olimy and the strongbox in the vault? Probably not. Too early for a move of that sort, anyway.

“The Chaladoor holds terrors no man can hope to withstand,” the Agandar remarked, watching the screen. “But they are rare and whether one draws their attention or not becomes a matter of good sense as much as of fortune. For the common run of its vermin, such as we can take those two to be, audacity and a dependable ship are an even match or better. As you’ve demonstrated repeatedly these days, Captain Pausert.”

The captain glanced over at him. Under rather different circumstances, he thought, he might have liked Laes Yango, some ten thousand cold-blooded murders back! But there was something no longer quite human about this living symbol of fear which had turned itself into the dreaded Agandar.

“Already they begin to hesitate!” the pirate went on. The blips were veering once more to take up a parallel course. “They will follow for some minutes now, then, finding themselves ignored, decide this is not a day for valor….” He looked at the captain, returned to the chair, and settled himself into it. “Remain on course, sir. No need to disturb your young friend over a matter like this!”

“Perhaps not. But some four hours ago,” the captain said, “there was Worm Weather in the screens.” The Agandar’s face became very thoughtful. “It has been a long time since that was last reported in these areas,” he stated presently. “I’m not sure I believe you, sir.”

“It was not at all close,” said the captain, “but we had the Drive ready. Are you certain you could get her awake in time if we see it again, and it happens to see us?”

“Nothing is certain about the phenomenon you’ve mentioned,” Yango told him. “The witch can be brought awake very quickly. But I will not awaken her without absolute need before we reach our present destination. That will be in approximately six hours. Meanwhile we shall keep close watch on the screens.”

“And what’s our destination?” asked the captain.

“My flagship. I’ve been in contact with it through a shielded transmitter. Preparations are being made aboard which will dissuade the witch from attempting to become a problem while she is being coaxed into full cooperation.” Yango’s tone did not change in any describable manner; nevertheless the last was said chillingly. “For the rest of you, places will be found suited to your abilities. I don’t waste good human material. Are you aware Miss do Eldel is an intelligence agent for the Imperium?”

“Nobody told me she was,” said the captain. There were several ways in which letting the Agandar know there might be a reason why Worm Weather was quartering the Chaladoor along the Venture’s general route could make matters immediately worse instead of better; he decided again to keep quiet. “I’ve suspected she might be something of the sort,” he added.

“I’ve been informed she’s very capable, “ Yango said. “Once she’s experienced the discipline of my organization, Miss do Eldel should reorient her loyalties promptly. Vezzarn has been doing odd jobs for an unpublicized branch of the Daal’s services; we can put him back to work with her. And I can always use a good shiphandler….” Yango smiled briefly. “You see, sir, while you have no real choice, as I said, the future is not too dark for any of you here. My flagship is a magnificent machine, few of the Chaladoor’s inhabitants she has encountered so far have cared to cross her, and none of those survived to cross her twice. You are a man who appreciates a fine ship; you should like her. And you’ll find I make good service rewarding.”

As the captain started to reply, the detector warning system shrieked imminent attack.

“Get Goth awake, fast! She may get us out of this yet….”

He’d flicked one horrified look about the screens, slapped the yammering detectors into silence, spun in the chair to face Yango.

Then he checked. Yango was unmoving, watching him alertly, the paralysis gun half raised.

“Don’t try to trick me, sir!” The Agandar’s voice was deadly quiet.

“Trick you! Great Patham!” bellowed the captain. “Can’t you see for yourself!”

The gun came full up, pointing at his chest. The Agandar’s eyes shifted quickly about the screens, came back to the captain. “What am I supposed to see?” he asked, with contempt.

The captain stared at him. “You didn’t hear the detectors either!” he said suddenly.

“The detectors?” Now there was an oddly puzzled look about Yango’s eyes, almost as if he were struggling to remember something. “No,” he said slowly then the puzzled look faded. “I didn’t hear the detectors because the detectors have made no sound. And there is nothing in the screens. Nothing at all! If you are pretending insanity, Captain Pausert, you are doing it too well. I have no room in my organization for a lunatic. “

The captain looked again, for an instant only, at the screens. There was no need to study them to see what they contained. All about the ship swam the great glowing globes of Manaret, moving with them, preceding them, following them. Above his own ragged breathing there was a small, momentary near-sound, a click not quite heard.

Then he knew there was only one thing left to do. And almost no time in which to do it.

I – I was wrong!” he said loudly, beginning to rise from the chair. “There is nothing there… The entire port screen was filling with yellow fire now, reflecting its glare down into the room, staining the air, the walls, the Agandar’s motionless figure, the steadily held gun. But if he could get, even for an instant, within four or five feet of the man. “I’m in no shape to handle the ship, Mr. Yango!” he shouted desperately at the figure. “You’ll have to take over!”

“Stay in that chair!” Yango told him in a flat, strained voice. “And be quiet! Be absolutely quiet. Don’t speak. Don’t move. If you do either, I pull this trigger a trifle farther and your heart, sir, stops in that instant…. I must listen and think!”

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