The Witches of Karres

by James H. Schmiz

  “Well, let’s take matters in order, sir,” the trader replied. “I can hardly have your full attention until you’ve accepted the fact that there’s nothing you can do to change the situation to your advantage. To start with then, I have your gun and the personal weapons of your companions. Your leg will regain its normal sensations within minutes, but let me assure you that you won’t be able to leave that chair until I permit it.” He tapped the paralyzer-producer. “You’ve experienced its lightest effect. That should be enough.

  “Another thing you must remember, sir, is that I don’t need you. Not in the least. You live by my indulgence. If it appears that you’re going to be troublesome, you’ll die. I can handle this ship well enough.

  “Now the explanation. I am a collector of sorts. Of items of value. Which might on occasion be ships, or people…” Yango’s left hand made an expansive gesture. “Money I obtain where I can, naturally. And information. I am an avid collector of information. I’ve established what I believe to be one of the most efficient, farthest-ranging information systems presently in existence.

  “One curious item of information that came to me some time ago concerned a certain Captain Pausert who has been until recently a citizen in good standing of the independent trans-Empire Republic of Nikkeldepain. This Captain Pausert was reported to have purchased three enslaved children on the Empire planet of Porlumma and to have taken them away with him on his ship.

  “These children, three sisters, were believed to be natives of the witch world Karres and, in the emphatic opinion of various citizens of Porlumma, already accomplished sorceresses. Subsequently there were several reports that reliable witnesses had seen Captain Pausert’s ship vanish instantly when threatened with attack by other spacecraft. It was concluded that by purchasing the Karres children he had gained control of a spacedrive of unknown type, perhaps magical in nature, which permitted him to take short-cuts through unknown dimensions of the universe and reappear in space at a point far removed from the one where he had been last observed.

  “This, sir, was an interesting little story, particularly when considered in the light of other stories which have long been current regarding the strange world of Karres. It became far more interesting to me when, some while later, I received other information suggesting strongly that Captain Pausert, his ship, and one of the three witch children he had picked up on Porlumma were now at my present base of operations, Uldune. I initiated an immediate, very comprehensive investigation.

  “It became evident that I was not the only one interested in the matter. Several versions, variously distorted, of the original story had reached Uldune. One of them implied that Captain Pausert was not a native of Nikkeldepain, but himself a Karres witch. Another made no mention of Karres or witchcraft at all but spoke only of a new spacedrive mechanism, a technological marvel which made possible the instantaneous transmission of an entire ship over interstellar distances.

  “I proceeded cautiously. If you were Captain Pausert, it seemed that you must indeed control such a drive. There was no other good examination for the fact that you had arrived on Uldune so shortly after having been reported from several points west of the Empire. This was no trifling concern. There were competitors for this secret, and I arranged matters so that, whatever might happen, I should still eventually become its possessor. During your stay on Uldune, a full half of the Agandar’s fleet of buccaneer ships were drawn into the vicinity of the planet, under orders to launch a planned, all-out attack on it if given the word. Not an easy operation, but I was determined that if the Daal obtained the drive from you — for a time there seemed reason to believe that those were Sedmon’s intentions — it would be taken in turn from him.”

  The captain cleared his throat. “You’re working with the pirates of the Agandar?” he asked.

  “Well, sir, not exactly that,” Laes Yango told him. “I am the Agandar, and my pirates work for me. As do others. As, if you so decide — and you have little real choice in the matter — will you. This was too important an undertaking to entrust to another, and too important to be brought to a hurried conclusion. If a mistake was made, everything might be lost.

  “There were questions. If you had the drive, why the elaborate restructuring of your ship for risk run work? With such a device any tub capable of holding out space could go anywhere. Unless there were limitations on its use… Then what would the nature of such limitations be? How far was the nonmaterial science apparently developed by Karres involved? And of the two of you, who was the true witch? I needed the answers to those questions and others before I could act to best advantage.

  “So I accompanied you into the Chaladoor. I watched and listened, not only by my body’s eyes and ears. I am reasonably certain the drive has not been used since I came on this ship. Therefore there are limitations on it. It is not used casually or in ordinary circumstances. But there are indications enough that it was ready for use when it was needed. You, sir, are, if I may say so, an excellent ship-handler. But you are not a witch. That story, whatever its source, was unfounded. When a situation arises which threatens to turn into more than you and your ship between you might be able to meet, you call on the child. The witch child. She remains ready to do then, at the last moment, whatever will need doing to escape.

  “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, 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 the 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, 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 ship-handler…” 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 yamering detectors into silence, spun in the chair to face Yango.

  Then he checked. Yango was watching him alertly, unmoving., 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 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!”

  The captain checked all motion. The gun remained rock-steady; and Yango, with the yellow glare from the globe just beyond the port side of the ship still gradually strengthening about them, also sat motionless and silent while some seconds went by.

  Then Yango said, “No, you were not wrong, sir. You were right. I see the Worm Weather now, too. But it makes no difference.”

  The gun muzzle still pointed unswervingly at the captain’s chest. The captain suggested, very carefully, “If you’ll wake up Goth, or give me the antidote — then—”

  “No. You don’t understand,” Yango told him. “We are all going to die unless, within the next fifteen or twenty minutes, you can think of a way to get us out of it in spite of anything I may do to stop you.”

  He nodded at the screens. “Now I have no choice left! I found they have complete control of me. I can do only what they wish. They have tried to control you, but something prevents it. That makes no difference either. There is an object on this ship they fear and must destroy. I do not know what the nature of this object is, but it seems you know about it. The Worms are under a compulsion which prohibits them from harming it by their own actions. It is impossible for them to come closer to the ship than they are now.”

  “So they have selected a new destination for us — that star you see almost dead ahead! The blue giant. You are to put the ship on full drive and turn towards it. They want the situation here to remain exactly as it is in all other respects until the ship and everything it contains plunges into the star and is annihilated. They believe that some witch stratagem may be employed to evade them if they relax their present control over us even for an instant. If you refuse to follow my orders, I am to kill you and guide the ship to the star in your stead.” Yango’s face twisted in a slow, agonized grimace. “And I will do it! I have no more wish to die in that manner than you have, Captain Pausert. But I cannot disobey the Worms — and die in that star we shall unless, between this moment and the instant before we arrive there, you have found a way of escape! There may be such a way! These beings seem hampered and confused by the proximity of the ob
ject concealed on the ship. I have the impression it blinds them mentally… You have only a few seconds left to make up your mind—”

  OHO! exclaimed the vatch. WHAT A FASCINATING PREDICAMENT! BUT TO AVOID A PREMATURE END TO THIS GAME, LET US SHUFFLE THE PIECES A LITTLE…

  Storm-bellowing around the ship and within it. Darkness closed in as the control room deck heaved up sharply. The captain felt himself flung forwards against the desk, then back away from it. Every light in the section had gone out and the Venture seemed to be tumbling through pitch blackness. Pieces of equipment or furnishing smashed here and there against the walls about him. Then the ship appeared to slew around and ride steady. Light simultaneously returned to the screens — dim, reddish brown light.

  * * *

  The captain had no time to notice other details just then. He was scrambling up on hands and knees when something slammed hard and painfully against his thigh. He heard Laes Yango curse savagely above him, and ducked forward in time to let the next boot heel coming down scrape past the back of his head. He caught the big man’s other leg, pulled sharply up on it. Yango came down on him like a sack of rocks.

  They went rolling over the floor, into obstacles and away from them. The captain hit every section of Yango in reach from moment to moment, suspected rapidly he was not getting the best of this. Then he had one of Yango’s arms twisted under him. Yango’s other hand came up promptly and closed on his throat.

  It was a large muscular hand. It seemed to tighten as inexorably as a motor-drive wrench. The captain, head swimming, let go the pirate’s other arm, heaved himself sideways on the floor, knocked his wrist against something solidly metallic, picked it up and struck where Yango’s head should be.

  The head was there. Yango grunted and the iron grip on the captain’s throat went slack. He struggled out from under the heavy body, came swaying to his feet in the semi-dark room, eyes shifting to the screens. No Nuri globes in sight, anyway! Otherwise the view out there was not particularly inviting. But that could wait.