The Sorceress of Karres

by Eric Flint

  Sedmon understood only part of that. But he understood the important part. The part about a war that even Karres was not sure it could win. They seemed very cool about it. He said as much.

  Toll gave him another one of those looks of hers. "You still have a great deal to learn about parenthood."

  And then they both disappeared.

  Sedmon stood there, as if frozen, for a few seconds, while the hexaperson consulted with itself. Then he went to carefully check his instruments.

  One recorded a gravitational anomaly less than five light-minutes away. Checking back, it had been there-where there was obviously nothing but empty space-for roughly the same length of time as he been speaking to them.

  It was a large anomaly. A planetary sized mass! Only it wasn't there now.

  Sedmon recalled a long ago conversation with Hulik do Eldel, back when she had merely been an Imperial agent, and not a part of his hearts, and she'd informed him that the world of Karres was no longer in the Iverdahl system. She'd scoffed at the time, at the idea of a super spacedrive that moved worlds, or that Karres could be made invisible and undetectable.

  He went and poured himself a drink, and thought about it. The more he thought, the more sure he was that they'd only let him have the mass reading as an indication of what they were capable of. Comfort and a warning. Or were they misleading him? The witches were capable of fooling with an instrument, just as they were capable of projecting holographic images of themselves into his cabin.

  It was then that he noticed that the other half of his new miniature subradio had gone missing from where it had definitely been sitting just before their visit.

  He had a great deal to think about. Some uncertainty-but one thing he was clear on. He would rather have the witches of Karres regarding him as a friend, than otherwise. Much rather.

  He sweated a little bit, wondering how they had known that the wristwatch on Goth's arm, as well as being a miniature subradio and spyscreen, was also a potent hyperelectonic bomb.

  ***

  The Venture had passed, undisturbed, through the last orbiting shield of Phantoms. The Leewit, well slept and fed, sat at the communicator.

  Of course one had to know it was the Leewit sitting there, otherwise an observer might have thought it was a Megair Cannibal.

  Listening to her, if one spoke the language of croaks and whistles, the listener might have thought that she was a very triumphant and successful Megair Cannibal-having been locked into a cabin, and having escaped and captured the ship. The Cannibal speaking to the Cannibal port control was bringing home a ship-full of fresh meat. And what was more, a way of evading the Phantom ships that held them prisoner here.

  They were, not surprisingly, free to land.

  Goth was very proud of the Leewit.

  The entire exercise had had quite an impact on the mother-plant Marshi too, Goth could tell. The plant life-form probably had no idea how much other animals could read of the mother-plant's thoughts from the postural cues of the host. The Leewit and Goth would have to be very careful.

  ***

  The Venture dropped slowly towards the clouds and then down into them. The mother-plant was focused on matters besides the view. The ship from which the two witches and the bodyguard had come might as well be taken. The craft was not damaged and would appear to be fast in its own right, for a small freighter. Even if something went wrong here, those haploids still survived, along with some within the Empire. One of them could switch sexes and become a new prime. The mother-plant had no real concept of anything except self. They were all just parts of her.

  Closer at hand, these two witches had been shown to be very cunning. Cunning to a level that worried the mother-plant. It was possible that their dangerousness and abilities outweighed their potential usefulness.

  She decided it was time to use one of the tools of the criminal gangs she had taken over: a metal collar with a highly sensitive explosive in a tube inside it. Once the collar clicked shut around the victim's neck, the circuit was complete and within four hours the explosive would detonate, severing the head, unless the properly coded signal was received. The charge could also be triggered by the same small remote used to send the de-activation signal.

  The devices were useful for ensuring the co-operation of the un-trustable. Trust was not a problem the mother-plant had had, before. If something needed trust, it did it itself. But the collars were appropriate this time.

  As soon as she had successfully enspored the Megair Cannibal motiles, of course, the two little Karres creatures would have to die. She was surprised to feel within herself some resistance to that idea. When the mind has thousands of components it was easy to lose touch with which parts were which. But none should resist her will. It took a period of self examination to isolate the feeling to the motile that had once called itself Pausert.

  That was not good. Not for one that was totally subsumed. So it too would have to be eliminated.

  The Venture set down on the edge of the landing-field, next to a swamp-perfect for Illtraming-and, on the other side, were a number of ships that were, the mother-plant noticed, not of Illtraming design.

  The Karres witch Goth asked: "Do you want us to get you in? I can escort you, light-shifted."

  The mother-plant was not sensitive to the nuances of this host species, undomesticated. Perhaps for that reason, she was very suspicious.

  "There is a price, of course," said Goth. "Pausert and my sister must stay here."

  Aha! There was the plan. The witch planned to sacrifice herself and allow the other one to attempt to capture the ship and leave, with the part of the plant they considered valuable.

  Marshi shook her head. "No. You and your sister must accompany us. She is needed to speak."

  Goth slumped her shoulders. "You must promise to keep Pausert safe. You agreed to let us go."

  The airlock opened. "I will leave him here, under guard," said Marshi. Pausert stood empty-eyed and chewing. Like all animals, he seemed to be constantly feeding.

  She got the spore box, and the collars. "Put these around your necks."

  Gullibly, they did so. The collars clicked shut. She then explained what the collars would do if not disarmed within four hours.

  They seemed less upset than they should be, somehow.

  "Take us in to the mound," the mother-plant said.

  ***

  Goth hoped she was right about the collar. Could it be 'ported off their necks? Could Vezzarn pick the lock? At least they'd gotten Marshi to leave the captain aboard the Venture. Goth had been hard at work 'porting chunks of the leafy stuff from the swamp into the stomachs and even the mouths of all those she could see. Ta'zara had assured her that it was just about the most common tree there. She had checked its lobular fleshy leaves with him, before seeding bits of it.

  It was amazing how the animal instinct to chew little tasty fragments in your mouth worked without much thought. The Leewit meanwhile kept the Mother-plant distracted, talking them in to land.

  They had a few hours at least to survive, to find out if it worked.

  "We need close contact to enspore some of these host-creatures," said Marshi, who was walking along towards the mound as the apparent prisoner of the Leewit-who appeared to be a triumphant Megair Cannibal.

  "I'll tell the Leewit," said Goth calmly, and fell back to speak to her, vanishing into no-shape at the end of the column.

  "Our dear Marshi wants you to get us nice and close to the Megair Cannibals in order to infect them."

  "I don't think I can do that, Goth," said the Leewit quietly. "They're clumping Cannibals… Or do you think they also eat the plants here?"

  "Bound to. There is nothing else for them to eat. And they'd run out of people to eat and even other Cannibals, otherwise. Anyway, it doesn't matter."

  "They'd be pretty horrible, if we're wrong," said the Leewit, doubtfully. "There's a whole bunch of them coming towards us now."

  "Relax. I don't like the Megair Cannibals
any better than anybody else likes them, but I don't think the galaxy needs them driven by something like Marshi."

  "But we need time for the captain… "

  "Agreed. I thought about it before we had that last sleep. I reckon those spores are pretty fragile. Well, I hope so."

  The Leewit was beginning to smile. "What have you done, Goth?"

  "'Ported them out into space onto a comet. I'm pretty sure that comet is headed out-system, too, for a leisurely billion-year stroll through this system's Oort Cloud. I'd give it a push to make sure, but it's too massive for me. Yet, anyway."

  Now Goth was smiling. "I gave Miss Nasty some comet-ice in that box instead. She can make the Megair Cannibals wet, once it starts melting. Stop laughing, you little pest! It's hard to keep your light-shift image right when you're shaking about like that."

  ***

  The people of the planet of Karres weren't laughing right now. Stealthed, and using the Sheewash drive, they should have easily penetrated the Megair cluster. But they were having limited success. It appeared that the Phantom ships could not be fooled or outrun. And although the planet had a klatha envelope around it, keeping the atmosphere in and defending it against energy weapons such as those the Nuri globes had used, the witches did not want their planet saturated in heavy radiation. It appeared that the Phantoms had been well-designed for launching attacks on planets. Very destructive attacks.

  It also appeared that they had a clear perimeter past which they would not be drawn.

  "The Venture got through easily enough," said Threbus.

  The council chief Palaceles frowned. "I think we have to conclude that there was no attempt to stop the Venture this time. And that in her earlier flight she seems to have barely encountered these ships. We could cope with fifty, or even five hundred. But there were some ten thousand ships in that last exercise. And in the early contacts with the Venture they apparently seemed to back off from damage-now. .. well they seem to have decided that 'stop at all costs' is the order."

  He turned grimly to Threbus. "Your children are on their own, I'm afraid. This is rather what was predicted."

  ***

  The Daal of Uldune, naturally, had equipped the Thunderbird with some exceptional weapons and detection systems. Those systems gave him ample warning of the coming attack-an attack which, using jet-packs on suits, might possibly not have been detected by some other ship with lesser equipment.

  For Sedmon, the situation seemed faintly ridiculous. He began triggering his fire systems. It was rather like swatting slow moving bugs. But, if that was what they wanted…

  While he was at it, he destroyed their ship. And then, in case he'd missed any attackers, engaged his spacedrive and moved off a few light-seconds.

  It was a lesson for this vegetable lifeform that the Daal understood well. Do not be deceived by appearances, and there is always someone more powerful than you. All you can seek to do is to balance that. He just wished that he could have given the plant a message along with the lesson: don't mess with Uldune.

  Still, perhaps the more generic lesson- there are dangerous things out here you know nothing about -would do just as well.

  ***

  The Megair Cannibals surrounded them. Marshi would have had no trouble spreading her spores-if she'd had any spores left in her box. The Cannibals were poking and prodding the prisoners, in between, from what Goth could gather by tone, respectfully congratulating her sister. They were also keeping a suitable respectful distance from the Leewit. That was good too.

  Marshi and her acolytes were busy pushing back, doubtless seeding "spores" as they did so.

  "I 'ported Marshi's remote into the swamp where we first touched down the first time," said Goth. "So we're safe until the four hour limit runs out. I think it's just about time to get out of here. "

  "Okay. Where to?"

  "Break left and then back the way we came. Vezzarn should have the loading bay airlock unlocked. Give them your best whistle, sis. Let's have a bit of a distraction, before you vanish into thin air."

  "Okay. Just get behind me. This one causes stomach cramps. Really nasty ones."

  "Doesn't make them throw up, does it? We want the stuff to stay in them."

  The Leewit shook her head. "Nope. That's my number seven. Block your ears!"

  Goth did. It didn't help that much, but she was really glad to be behind the whistle, not on the receiving end. She slipped the Leewit into no-shape and they ran. It was a beautiful day for Megair 4, barely drizzling. She risked a glance back to see that the progression of Marshi's plant-goons among the Megair Cannibals had turned into a merry mixture. Somewhere between mud-wrestling and an all-out melee.

  ***

  The mother-plant had begun to be perturbed. She was aware that some plants had died trying to take control of the freighter from which the Karres witches had come. That was not particularly surprising nor distressing. It probably had a crew of the same caliber. And the death of small parts of the mother-plant happened all the time.

  The gray aliens were taking an unusually long time to begin to be affected, though, to become part of the plant. The damp bare skins should have been an ideal germination ground.

  Then had come the treachery.

  The mother-plant itself had not felt the pain. But the host animals were quite inferior about reacting autonomously to pain. The Illtraming had had that sort of reaction largely bred out them. One could not remove it totally, of course, or fires or other sudden dangers would kill them before the mother-plant had a chance to pull them back.

  This host reacted by writhing wildly, and clutching its lower abdomen. That didn't stop the mother-plant from forcing her host to reach into her pocket and pressing the button on the remote…

  Except that it was no longer there. Instead there was just an electronic screwdriver-an object of roughly the same size and shape. Then it occurred to her. The witches of Karres could teleport objects

  …

  The gray-skinned red eyed ones seemed to have taken what had happened as a personal attack, and one to be severely dealt with. They were busy dealing out more pain with a device that was intended to affect the host's nervous system.

  It didn't affect the mother-plant. But they were outnumbered. And more gray-skins were running out of the mound.

  None of them were responding to having been enspored. The plant did not, by the standards of its host, make intuitive leaps. But this conclusion was all too easy to reach. The Illtraming, vile rebellious slaves, evil beyond the comprehension of the plant, had made the skin of their foot soldiers skin somehow proof against the mother-plant.

  Anathema! To be destroyed!

  By sheer weight of numbers and physical superiority the Megair Cannibals were overpowering the mother-plant. The mother-plant realized that it could have come so far, gotten so close, simply to have the hosts dismembered and eaten.

  So be it. The plant could grow from broken fragments of tissue. And mere stomach acid would not kill it.

  There was a reserve of the mother-plant back in the Venture. But would the gray ones not destroy that? A glance back in the midst of the fight-the mother-plant still had many eyes-said that they had already. The Venture was gone. But the parts of the plant inside the vessel said it was still there! The mother-plant decided she'd call some of those resources to help. The bodyguard was a powerful fighter.

  Only the mother-plant couldn't find that element.

  Had it died without her being aware?

  The mother-plant was not accustomed to fear. Caution, sometimes. A slow burning determination for dominance, always.

  Fear? No.

  Even when the motherworld had been destroyed, reduced from endless forest to a slag-covered cinder, the mother-plant's spores survived. But these were new and doughty foes. And the hosts' juices were remarkably sour right now. The ones back in the Empire were still sweet. It must be the beating it was taking.

  ***

  From inside the Venture, Ta'zara had watche
d as the fight raged. He'd wanted to be out there, defending the Leewit and her sister. But, he had to admit, their abilities probably made him a liability. He wasn't even sure where they were. Still, he was a Na'kalauf warrior, and the little one had given him back that pride and heritage. He would die before anyone could take it away again.

  So, here on the ship, he'd taken his responsibilities seriously. He'd quietly made sure, with Vezzarn's help, that Captain Pausert wasn't going anywhere. They'd locked him into a stateroom. They had audio via the intercom and had rigged a visual input from the room too. The two waited in the darkened hold, knowing that if the Megair Cannibals fired on the Venture, the ship was a sitting duck.

  ***

  "Can we walk a little slower?" said Goth.

  "Sure," said the Leewit. "What's up? Not like you to want to walk slower."

  "Doing too many things. No shape for us. False appearance for the Venture," She waved a hand at the mound. "And porting little rocks into the spaceguns' energy chambers. If they fire, they're going to blow," said Goth. "I'm chewing energy."

  She didn't want to admit that at least some of that was displacement activity. She was afraid that the local food would not have had any effect on Captain Pausert. Her range was not much above a light-second. She'd started 'porting leaves up from the world below a good two and half hours ago. Maybe it was bacteria in the local air-but he'd breathed that. Or the water…

  The Venture was close now.

  "Cargo bay airlock is open just a crack, " said the Leewit. "Vezzarn must have got that right, at least."

  "Good," said Goth, tiredly. "All I want is to get out of here, right now."

  "'nother couple of yards, sis," said the Leewit, sounding atypically considerate.

  And then they were there, calling quietly to the watchers, having the lock opened slightly, and being hauled up by strong hands into the belly of the Venture. With a sigh of relief, Goth let go of the light-shift, as the lock closed behind them.