by Dale Olausen
"Good. What about the location of Stone-fire in terms of the planet itself? Is there any geographical information that you can give me?"
"The blaze seems to be underground, so the Stones must still be inside the mountain," the Witch said slowly. She then gave a broad description of the planet's geography, explaining in detail where the mountain in question was located. Coryn was glad that his computer was catching all the information. He could not have retained the half of it.
"Okay," he said after she had finished. "I think I may be able to do something with what you've told me. Can you give me a call number so I can get in touch with you Witches? I'll be in touch as soon as I have a plan of action."
He was only mildly surprised when the Witch actually did rhyme off a communicator number. The Kordean Witches were a wily and practical bunch of crones. If they found a communicator useful, then they brought in a communicator, no matter how little respect they had for the technology, and its developers.
The clock on the communicator registered four-thirty Standard, when Coryn clicked off the connection to Kordea. What was it about emergencies, he wondered with a shake of his head; they always seemed to happen in the middle of the night. His contacts were not going to be any happier than he had been, being woken up at such an hour. There was no avoiding it, though. A batch of amartos blazing brightly for The Organization's machinery to detect was an urgent matter. The Hounds were no doubt already plotting how to get their hands on the prize.
He gave the communicator instructions to put emergency wake up calls through to two of his colleagues who had been working with him on the amarto-angle. They were to come to his apartment at once for a conference. Then he put through two other calls.
The first had him dealing with another irate sleeper. "Kev, I'm really sorry to get you out of bed at this hour," he apologized, "But this really is urgent."
"It had better be. Did you forget that I've been married exactly a week, you son-of-a-bitch? I'm on a honeymoon, not a twenty-four hour duty roster."
"No, of course I didn't forget, Kev," Coryn lied smoothly, "it's just that this is about as urgent as things can get, and you're the best person there is for the job. Nobody can squeeze info out of the galactic computer system the way you can."
"All right," the voice at the other end sighed. "Your flattery will work - this time. What is it you want?"
"I'd like you to run a complete scan on an Explorer ship for me. About all its comings and goings for the past twenty Standard years, say. The Beth 117, present Captain's name is Dav Castilo."
"Come on, Coryn," Kev protested, his tone incredulous.
"You've got to do better than that. You didn't really drag me out of bed on my honeymoon to do a scan on an Explorer ship?"
"Kev, please, don't do this to me." Coryn ran a hand across his sweaty brow. "You have no idea what's up. I've got to have that scan and it would take me way longer than I have, to baby the memory banks into parting with the info. Just do it, please."
"Okay." Kev still sounded hesitant. "Am I looking for something in particular?"
"Anything unusual. Something that doesn't fit in."
"Coryn, get serious. Everything the Explorers do is unusual. Nothing they do fits in. You got to do better than this."
"Damn it Kev, just give it a go. I don't know what you'll find but this much I can tell you: there are amartos in the picture and maybe The Organization. Okay?"
"Amartos, huh? Your pet oddities. Okay, pal, you've got yourself a computer hack for the morning. I'll report back just as soon as I find out something - if I do."
Kev's communicator clicked off and Coryn sighed with relief. Then he turned his attention to the second call.
Coryn thought that Carovan was probably used to being awakened at odd hours. After all, he was the head of the Experimental Craft Division of the Terra Confederation Armed Forces. Moreover, the hour might not have been as early on Mallora where the Division was located, as it was on RES. Mallora, of course, had its own times zones and used the Standard only as a reference, unlike the space stations which functioned entirely on the Standard. In any case Carovan responded quickly to the call.
"The Camin 001?" he repeated when he had heard Coryn's request. "Sure, it can be arranged. You want it immediately if not sooner, I suppose?"
"Preferably yesterday," Coryn sighed.
"I can't manage that, I'm afraid. I'll have to choose a pilot and get the ship supplied. The trip from here to RES will take at least two hours, even with the Camin." Carovan paused for a moment. "Three hours Standard should do it," he concluded.
"That's better than I had dared to hope for," Coryn responded gratefully. "Tell the pilot to buzz me as soon as he gets into port and I'll be there immediately."
He clicked off the connection feeling more hopeful than he had before. The Camin 001 was an experimental scoutship, faster and more durable than any other space craft in existence. It had extraordinary manoeuvrability in normal space and was capable of withstanding up to seven omega-jumps between maintenance stops. It had been designed with galactic war in mind, but fortunately had never had to see any action.
Coryn, however, was very glad, at the moment, that the ship existed, and that his old mentor was in position to lend it to him. The Camin was probably the only ship in the galaxy that might be able to get to the planet of the amartos in time to keep The Organization's amarto-Hounds from rooting out the precious stones!
*****
"This had better be good, Coryn," said Fiana Marsh, stalking imperiously into the living room. "I don't throw out one of my best customers at four-thirty in the morning for nothing."
Coryn grinned at her sheepishly, and motioned her to precede him into the dining alcove of his apartment.
"I wouldn't have called if it wasn't important," he assured her. He had indulged in a hasty shower before Fiana's arrival, and thought that it was probably wise for them to have the meeting over breakfast. The day ahead would be a long one.
"Is Max coming too?" she asked as she seated herself.
"You bet. Ought to be here any minute."
Coryn reached for the keyboard that connected with the apartment complex kitchens. "Can you eat this early in the morning?"
Fiana nodded.
"I'm always hungry in the mornings. I'll have a Valtoran-style breakfast with coffee added," she said. Coryn made it two.
At that moment a chime announced that the apartment security system was allowing an expected guest in. Coryn jumped up and went to greet Max Caitlin, the owner of the most exclusive gem shop on RES. He looked the perfect, well-dressed, middle-aged gentleman; he even carried a walking stick. There was no hint in his jovial greeting that he might think it odd to be summoned from his bed in the wee hours of the morning.
"Join us for breakfast?" Coryn asked as he escorted the older man to the table.
"Don't mind if I do," he replied, nodding cheerfully at Fiana. "If I remember correctly, this complex of yours has excellent kitchens. Ah, make it Earth-style: sausages, pancakes, juice, coffee."
Coryn at the keyboard obliged while Max seated himself.
Fiana glared at the alyen suspiciously.
"All right, Coryn," she snapped as soon as he was finished with Max's order. "Tell us why we're sitting here, ordering breakfast at this ungodly hour."
Coryn looked at both his colleagues in turn. "I'm sorry to have dragged you here from your comfortable beds," he began, "but I can't see how it could be helped. I, too, got a rude awakening this morning. The old emergency buzzer screeched away and every red light in the place was flashing when I finally came to. And when I managed to answer the call I found I was talking to - would you believe? - a Kordean witch."
"A Kordean witch?" Max leaned closer, his eyes bright with interest.
"On the communicator? You mean she didn't just zap into your brain or something?" Fiana was not quite ready to chuck her sour attitude. But she was intrigued.
"Fortunately, I can't make any claim to
the kind of talent that would allow the Kordean witches to 'just zap into my brain'," Coryn said mildly. "But I did leave my communicator call number with the venerable women during that visit that I made to Ferhil Stones a while back. It seems that somebody made a note of it."
"And what might persuade the Witches to deign to get in touch with a Terran Agent, may I ask?" queried Fiana.
"Trouble." Coryn sighed, staring at the hands he had balled into fists on the table. "Trouble like you've never heard of 'til now.
"The Witch Alta - she's the one who gets to deal with us crude Terrans - told me that they had found out that there's a cache of amartos on an obscure planet at the edge of the galaxy. Prudently enough, considering what I had told them about The Organization activities, the wise women sent a Terran Explorer ship crewed by non-sensitives, after the Stones. However, it seems that somehow the Stones were keyed while still on the planet - underground, no less - and now are blazing like a mystical forest fire. Anyone with the least amount of sensitivity to such things can detect something like that almost without trying."
"Well, I'll be," muttered Max. He leaned back in his chair and chewed his lower lip.
"And, presumably, The Organization Hounds are even now high-tailing it to the planet." The last of Fiana's irateness had disappeared.
"We have no way of knowing for sure," sighed Coryn, "but I do think that we better assume that, yes."
"So the Witches, sagely enough, are not willing to use their considerable powers to deal with the situation?" Max asked. When Coryn nodded he continued: "I wonder if they've done a little bit of looking into The Organization themselves - in their own peculiar manner, of course."
"They seem to have a lot more respect for The Organization now, than they did when I was at Ferhil Stones," Coryn said, with a nod. "In any case, they seem to be of the opinion - and I agree - that the safest way to get those jewels off that planet is the old-fashioned way. Get a human being to scoop them up and carry them into a spaceship, then transport them to Kordea."
A door slid open at the back of the sideboard and the breakfast trays appeared. Fiana rose from her chair and found the cutlery and the mugs while Coryn lifted the trays onto the dining table. Max leaned to examine, with apparent approval, the design on the antique silver serving carafe that held the coffee.
"So what have you accomplished since taking the call from the Witch?" Fiana asked Coryn as she reseated herself. "You're supposed to be the hot-shot spy around here, aren't you?"
Coryn grinned.
Fiana had taught him the flesh-trade when he had first arrived on RES with instructions to take the cover of an alyen. He had, during the process, persuaded her to free-lance for the Agency as another pair of well-placed eyes and ears. She had quite taken to spying and although her original profession remained her first priority, she had proved herself to be invaluable. She had been in on the amarto-angle right from the start.
"Kev's doing an information scan of the ship that the Witches hired to get the Stones. Who knows - there might be some weird connection somewhere. And I called my old superior from my Armed Forces days - which truly are best forgotten - and he is lending me a fast little ship called Camin 001."
"The ship that the Witches sent after the amartos?" Max's hand paused in midair as he reached for the coffee mug that Fiana had just filled. "The name? The Captain?"
"One Beth 117. Captained by a man named Dav Castilo."
"Beth 117 doesn't ring any bells. But Dav Castilo – I believe that the male half of the couple who sold me my Witches' Stone said that his name was Castilo."
"But that was over four Standard months ago," Fiana protested quite sensibly. "That Stone probably came from Kordea."
Max nodded.
"I still have that amarto," he added. "It's not likely to give us any clues to any of this."
A shrill buzz interrupted their meal. Coryn quickly excused himself and dashed into the communications centre.
"I hope it's Kev," he muttered as he went.
It was. "Coryn, I have some good stuff for you," Kev announced excitedly. His bed and new wife seemed to have been forgotten.
"Shoot."
"Four and a half months ago the Beth 117 made some interesting stops. The first one was at the port of Trahea on Kordea and the second was shortly thereafter, here on RES. While on RES the ship underwent some expensive refitting, including new crystals for both the omega-transmitter and the insta-transmitter. They got the high end stuff – much better than what the space station would have been obligated to provide to an Explorer ship under Confederation law. Really expensive stuff. Then the ship returned to make its third stop, back at Trahea. And it stayed there - just sat there - for almost four months! Can you imagine that! On Kordea for heaven's sake! That's the crazy planet run by them Witches!"
"Hmm." Coryn stifled a chuckle. "Anything else?"
"Oh, this gets weirder yet. Just listen to this! The Beth 117 left Trahea, and went missing for about a week. There were no changes in personnel recorded, by the way. I can’t account for its whereabouts during that time - there are no records in any of the databases I can access, and I can access databases that most people don’t even know exist. Then, it turned up on – get this - Space Station XER!"
"XER?"
"Coryn, I'm not kidding! It really happened! It was an emergency stop, apparently. The ship's mechanic, a fellow named Kells, was taken to the XER hospital with a skull injury. The ship stayed in port for several days of repairs - it seems that she had taken six omega-hops before making it to a port and needed a fair bit of work. The repairs were done by one Sarah Mackenzie who had come to XER as an employee recruited through the Central Employment Services. When she was finished fixing up the Beth she abandoned her contract with the Port of XER and shipped out on the Beth as the replacement ship mechanic!"
Coryn was glad that he had a habit of neglecting to turn on the visual if all he wanted to do was speak.
"Kev - Kev - are you sure of that?" he stammered into the communicator.
"What's the matter, old man? Of course I am! Want me to transmit the stuff so you can double check it?"
"Of course not." Coryn drew a deep breath and recovered himself. "I'm just shocked, that's all. Tell it to me again, okay? The Beth 117 stopped at Space Station XER to drop off a smashed up ship mechanic and to get some very necessary repairs done. Then it left again with a young woman named Sarah Mackenzie replacing the ship mechanic. Have I got that right?"
"That's it."
"Well, Kev, I can tell you this much. I sure wasn't expecting you to find out what you did! But it was work well done; the info explains a thing or two for us."
"So is this enough or do you want me to finish the twenty-year scan that you asked for?" It seemed that Kev hadn't forgotten his bed and new wife after all.
"I believe it’s enough for now. Maybe later on, when you get some time, tomorrow perhaps, you could finish the scan. Who knows, something else useful, might turn up."
"Fair enough. I'm off to see my wife. You know. Talk to you later, Coryn." He broke the connection.
"Coryn, what is it?" Fiana stared at her colleague's ashen face in astonishment.
Coryn sank into his chair before answering. He began to toy with the cold food on his plate.
"It's almost unbelievable," he commented. Then he raised his eyes to look at each of his companions.
"Remember that little girl, Fiana, whom you introduced to me at the Galactic Gardens Restaurant?" he demanded. "Her name was Sarah Mackenzie."
"Of course I remember her," said Fiana. "She was lively and quite intelligent, as I recall. A very likeable young woman."
"She's the one who was quite clearly amarto-sensitive, wasn't she?" Max asked. "I recall making small talk about jewels and how they suit different women, in order to cover up my surprise at the reaction she was drawing from that Witches' Stone."
"That's the one, precisely." Coryn's laugh was hollow.
"She was on her way to
XER to work as a mechanic. I told her to be sure to get acquainted with Matty Harmiss. Thought that we could get hold of her through Matty if that seemed advisable. What better place than XER, after all, to stow away a Stone-sensitive! Couldn't do any harm, or get into any trouble there!"
"What are you rambling on about, Coryn?" Fiana interrupted. "Get to the point, please!"
"The point is," Coryn began slowly, deliberately, "that less than a month ago the Explorer ship Beth 117 made an emergency stop at - of all places - Space Station XER. Her ship mechanic was badly hurt, and was admitted to the hospital. When the Beth left XER, she had taken on a replacement mechanic, a young woman named Sarah Mackenzie."
There was a complete silence at the table while Fiana and Max absorbed the impact.
"You'll have to inform the Witches," the jeweller finally said.
"Yeah," Coryn agreed, rising from the table. He gave his untouched breakfast a rueful glance and picked up the mug of hot, black coffee that Fiana handed to him. "And it's more important than ever that I get to that planet before the Hounds do. Wouldn't they just love to get their fangs into a pile of amartos and an untrained sensitive too!"
Fiana's face turned white.
"I don't even want to think about what they'd do to her," she said, tight-lipped. "She seemed so fresh and innocent. Coryn, you'll just have get her safely away from there!"
"The best fate I could see for her, if the Hounds got her, would be if they chained her to one of their horrid machines," Max mused. "Isn't that what they did to that other girl that they grabbed? Only, I think this Sarah is much more sensitive than the other one; they'd probably have some more refined uses for her."
Grim-faced, Coryn stalked back into the communications room. Impatiently he began to punch the keys that would put him in touch with the Kordean Witches.
"Very interesting," commented the voice from Ferhil Stones after Coryn had finished his report. "There has, however, been a new development that your facts cannot explain."
"A new development?" Coryn was aware that he was not talking with the Witch Alta. This voice, whose owner had not identified herself, sounded older, more authoritative, yet more relaxed than Alta's had.