The Witches of Karres

Its top section was swinging slowly open, snapped into position, leaving the interior of the case exposed. The captain moved up, half his attention on the trader, until he could glance into it…

It looked like a big, folded robe made of animal fur — long, coarse brown fur, streaked here and there with black tiger markings. The captain reached cautiously into the case, poked the fur, then grasped the hide through it and lifted. It came up with a kind of heavy, resilient looseness. He let it down again. The whole box might be filled with the stuff.

“This,” he asked Yango, “is valuable hyperelectronic equipment?”

Yango nodded. “Indeed it is, sir! Indeed, it is! Extremely valuable — almost priceless. Very old and in perfect condition. A disassembled Sheem robot… The great artist who created it died over three hundred years ago.”

“A disassembled Sheem robot,” said the captain. “I see… Have you had it assembled recently, Mr. Yango?”

“That is possible,” Yango said stiffly.

The captain took hold of one end of the thick fold of furred material, drew it back -

The head lay just beneath it, bedded in more brown fur.

It didn’t appear to be a head so much as the flattened-out bristly mask of one. But the eyes looked alive. Hulik do Eldel had described them accurately — a row of five smallish, round eyes of fiery yellow. They stared up out of the case at the ceiling of the stateroom. Near the other end of the head was a wide dark mouth-slit. A double pair of curved black tusks was thrust out at the sides of the mouth. It was a big head — big enough to go with a horse-sized body. And a thoroughly hideous one.

The captain pulled the folded fur back across it again.

“The Sheem Spider!” Laes Yango said. “A unique item, Captain Aron. The Sheem Robots were modeled after living animals of various worlds, and the Spider is considered to have been the most perfect creation of them all. This is the last specimen still in existence. You asked whether I had assembled it recently… Yes, I have. It’s a most simple process. With your permission—”

The captain swung the gun up, pointed it at Yango’s chest.

“What are you hiding in your left hand?” he asked.

“Why, the activating mechanism.” Yango frowned puzzledly. “I understood you wished to see it assembled. You see, the Sheem Robots assemble themselves when the signal to do it is registered by them.”

The captain glanced aside into the case. The folded fur in there was shifting, sliding aside, beginning to heave up towards the top of the case.

“You have,” he said, his voice fairly steady, “two seconds to deactivate it again! Then I’ll shoot — and not for the shoulder.”

There was the faintest of clicks from Laes Yango’s closed left fist. The stirring mass in the case settled slowly back down into it, lay quiet. “It is deactivated, sir!” Yango said, eyeing the gun.

“Then I’ll take that device,” the captain told him. “And after you’ve locked up the case, I’ll take the keys… And then perhaps you’ll let me know what this Sheem Robot is for, where you’re taking it — and why you had it assembled and walking around on this ship without warning anybody about it.”

Yango’s expression had become surly but he offered no further protest. He relocked the case, turned over the keys and the activating mechanism. He’d been commissioned, he said, to obtain the Sheem Robot for the prince consort of Swancee, a world to Galactic North of Emris. Wuesselen was the possessor of a fabulous mechanical menagerie, and the standing price he’d offered for a Sheem Spider was fabulous in keeping. How or where Yango had obtained the robot he declined to say; that was a business secret. Above and beyond the price, he’d been promised a bonus if he could deliver it in time to have it exhibited by Wuesselen at the next summer festivals of northern Swancee; and the bonus was large enough to have made it seem worthwhile to take his chances with the Chaladoor passage.

“For obvious reasons,” he said, “I have not wanted any of this to become known. I do not intend to have my throat cut before I can reach Swancee with the Spider!”

“Why did you assemble it here on the ship?” asked the captain.

“I’ve guaranteed to deliver it in good operating condition. These Robots must be tested — exercised, you might say — at least every few weeks to prevent deterioration. I regret very much that my action caused an alarm on board, but I didn’t wish to reveal the facts of the matter. And no one was in danger. The Sheem Robots are perfectly harmless. They are simply enormously expensive toys!”

The captain grunted. “How can you get as big a thing as that into your case when it’s disassembled?”

Yango looked at him. “Because these robots are hyperelectronic, sir! Assembled, they consist in considerable part of an interacting pattern of energy fields, many of which manifest as solid matter. As they disassemble, those fields collapse. The remaining material sections take up relatively little space.”

“I see,” nodded the captain. “Well, Mr. Yango, I feel you owe Miss do Eldel an explanation and an apology for the fright you gave her. After that’s done, I’ll bring the ship’s crane up here and we’ll move the robot’s case into the storage vault. It should have had all the exercise it needs on this trip, and it will be safe enough there to satisfy you…”

Hulik do Eldel had to see the robot before she would believe what the two men were telling her. However, one glance at the great fanged head in the case was enough. “That’s it!” she agreed, paling. She shuddered delicately. “Close it up again, please — quickly!”

When the case was locked, Laes Yango offered his apologies. Hulik looked at him a moment.

“I pride myself on being a lady,” she said evenly then, “so I accept the apology, Mr. Yango. I will also blow your head off if you try another trick of any kind before we reach Emris!”

Bad blood among the passengers couldn’t ordinarily be considered one of the more auspicious conditions for a space voyage. In this instance though, the captain reflected, some feuding between Laes Yango and the do Eldel might do no harm. It could help keep both of them out of his hair and generally hamper whatever sneaky maneuverings they’d be up to individually. He wondered whether Hulik would carry out her threat to blow off Laes Yango’s head, if things came to that point. She might, he decided. Yango, according to the reports he’d had from Goth, was prudently keeping to his stateroom most of the time now. Of course, the big trader was at a disadvantage… the captain had retained custody of his gun, on general suspicion.

Neither Goth nor Vezzarn ever had heard anything at all of the antique Sheem Robots. Perhaps Yango’s hyperelectronic spider monster was as harmless as he claimed, but it was staying right there in its locked-up crate in the vault until the Venture was ready to discharge her cargo in port There’d been robots built that were far from harmless…

About time for Hulik to create a tense situation on the ship next!

Well, the trip to Emris wouldn’t take forever! They were nearly halfway through the Chaladoor by now -

SMALL PERSON, said the vatch, YOU ARE MOST DIVERTING! I AM INCREASINGLY PLEASED TO HAVE FOUND YOU AMONG MY THOUGHTS.

Eh? What was that? Surprised, the captain groped around mentally, paused. Out of nowhere that vast voice came booming and whirling about him again, like great, formlessly shifting gusts of wind.

WHAT TROUBLES! WHAT PROBLEMS! exclaimed the vatch. HOW COMICALLY YOU STRUGGLE AMONG YOUR FELLOW-PHANTOMS! TINY CREATURE OF MY MIND, ARE YOU WORTHY OF CLOSER ATTENTION?

Impression, suddenly, of a mountain of wavy, unstable blackness before him. From some point near its peak, two huge, green, slitted eyes stared down.

SHALL WE MAKE THE GAME MORE INTERESTING, SMALL PERSON? SHOULD YOU BE TESTED FOR A GREATER ROLE? PERHAPS YOU WILL!… PERHAPS YOU WILL -

The captain jerked upright, found himself sitting in the control chair. There was only the familiar room and its equipment about, with the Chaladoor gazing in through the viewscreens.

Fallen asleep, he thought. Fallen asleep to dream of a preposterous vatch-thing, which had the notion it was dreaming him! His eyes went guiltily to the console chronometer. He’d nodded off for only a minute or two, apparently. But that was bad! It was still the early part of his watch.

He got coffee, lit a cigarette, sat down again and sighed heavily. It had occurred to him that he might ask Miss do Eldel if she could spare some of her stay-awake pills, but he’d given up the thought at once. Accepting drugs of any kind from a suspected spy wouldn’t be the cleverest thing to do. He’d use all his next scheduled sleep period for sleep and nothing else, he promised himself. Standing watch half the time wasn’t the problem — if Goth