The Witches of Karres

Goth nodded. “Guess something was, Captain! From what Vezzarn and Hulik say, it sounds like you got a bunch of planetaries stirred up when you landed. And some of them can get mighty mean.”

It appeared planetaries were a type of klatha entity native to this universe and bound to the worlds of their origin. They varied widely in every way. Most worlds had some, Goth thought. Karres definitely did; but they were mild, retiring beings who rarely gave indications of their presence. Sometimes they’d been helpful. The world of the red sun evidently harbored a high-powered and aggressive breed which did not tolerate trespassers on what it considered its exclusive domain.

The arrival at camp was made briefly embarrassing by Vezzarn who began weeping at sight of the captain, then knelt and tried to kiss his hand. Not until the captain announced formally that everybody had forgiven him, this time, would Vezzarn get to his feet again.

“I’m a rat, sir!” he told the captain earnestly then. “But I’m a grateful rat. You’ll see…”

They left the camp standing as it was, returned to the Venture together. Goth and Vezzarn went off to see what could be done about tidying up the trail of destruction left by the Sheem robot, Hulik following them. The captain closed the lock and settled down at the control desk for a routine engine check.

It turned out to be non-routine. There was no indication of malfunction of any kind, except for one thing. The engine systems were not delivering power to any of the drives.

He chewed his lip. Vatch, he thought. It had to be that. Thrust was being developed — smooth, even, heavy thrust. By all physical laws, there was nowhere for it to go except into one of the drives. But it wasn’t reaching them.

He shut the engines down again, reopened the lock. The vatch had made sure they’d stay here until it came for them. There was nothing wrong with the ship — they were merely being prevented from leaving with it. He decided it didn’t matter too much. In this time, there was no place they’d want to go in the Venture anyway.

When he looked around, Hulik do Eldel stood in the entry to the control room, watching him.

“Come in and sit down,” the captain said. “I’m afraid I never really got around to thanking you for helping out with the Agandar!”

She smiled and came in. After the eight days she’d spent camping out on Karres, Hulik looked perhaps better than she ever had. And she’d looked extremely good in a delicate-featured, elegant way since the first time the captain had seen her. For a moment it became a bit difficult to believe those warm, dark eyes had been sighting down the gun which blasted death at last into the legendary Agandar.

“I was helping myself out, too, you know!” she remarked. She added, “I heard the engines just now and wondered whether we were leaving.”

“No, probably not for a while,” the captain said. He hesitated. “The fact is I don’t know when we’ll be leaving or where we’ll go when we do. We’re still in something of a jam, you see. I can’t tell you what it’s about but I hope things will work out all right. And I’m sorry you’re in it with us, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Hulik was silent a moment. “Did you know I’m an Imperial agent?” she asked.

“Yango mentioned it.”

“Well, he told the truth for once. I signed up for passage on the Chaladoor run in order to steal the secret drive you were supposed to have on this ship.”

“Hmm, yes!” nodded the captain. “I gathered that… It isn’t something that would be of any use to you or the people you work for.”

“I,” Hulik said, “had gathered that some two ship-days before the trouble with Yango began. At any rate, if I’m in a jam with you and our little witch, it’s because I’ve worked myself into that position. I suspect I can’t be of much further assistance in getting us out of it. If I can, let me know. Otherwise I’ll simply try to keep out of the way. I’m considered a capable person, but Karres matters have turned out to be above my head.”

The captain didn’t tell her he’d entertained similar feelings off and on. He hoped that when this was over the do Eldel would be among the survivors, if any. But her future looked at least as uncertain as Goth’s and his own.

That evening they had their supper outside the ship, camp-style, which was Hulik’s suggestion. She’d grown fond of this world, she said, felt more comfortable and at home here after a week than she could remember feeling anywhere else. Goth looked pleased in a mildly proprietary way; and Karres came through with a magnificently blazing sunset above the western ranges as the Talsoe Twins sank from sight. The wind died gradually and they sat around a while, talking about inconsequential things carefully remote from the present and themselves. The sky was almost cloudless now. The captain watched a dainty, clean-etched little moon appear, and tried again to think of something he might do besides waiting for the vatch to show its hand. The disconcerting fact still seemed to be, however, that they had to wait for the vatch to act. Goth might have shifted them and the Venture light-years away from here; but literally and figuratively that could get them nowhere that counted… He realized suddenly he’d just heard Goth suggest they all bunk out beside the ship for the night.

He gave her a quick look. The troops obviously liked the idea at once; after everything that had happened, their cabins in the Venture’s passenger compartment might look somewhat lonely and isolated to be passing a sleep period in. But to detach themselves from the ship overnight didn’t seem a good notion. Depending on the vatch’s whims, they could awaken to find it permanently gone.

Goth acknowledged his look with no more than a flicker of her lashes, but it was an acknowledgment. So she had something in mind besides reassuring their companions… but what?

Then he felt his hackles lifting and knew the vatch had returned.

It wasn’t close by; he could barely retain a sense of its presence. But it remained around. Goth had grown aware of it before he did — that much was clear. He still didn’t see what it had to do with moving out of the ship for the night.

He waited while the others cleared away supper dishes and utensils, began hauling out bedding, and went back for more. The vatch came closer, lingered, drew back -

There was a sense of a sudden further darkening of the evening air. Thunder pealed, far overhead. As the captain looked up, startled, into the sky, rain crashed down, on and about him, with the abruptness of an upended gigantic bucket of water.

He scrambled around, hauling up the drenched bedding, swearing incoherently. It was an impossible downpour. Water spattered up from the rocks, doused him with dirt from instantly formed puddles and hurrying rivulets. Thunder cracked and snarled, lightning flickered, eerily festooning the thick, dark, churning mass of storm clouds which now almost filled what had been a serene, clear sky above the Venture less than a minute before. Vezzarn came sliding down the ramp to help him. Vatch-laughter rolled through the thunder, howling in delight as they slipped and fell in the mud, struggled back up with the sodden bedding in their arms, shoved it at last into the lock, scrambled in and through themselves. The lock slammed shut and the rain drummed its mindless fury on the Venture’s unheeding back.

Chapter ELEVEN

“Well, we’ve learned one thing,” the captain remarked grumpily. “The vatch evidently prefers us to stay in the ship…”

Goth said that wasn’t all. “Never knew there were that many cuss words!”

He grunted. He was dry again but still more than a little fed up with the unmannerly ways of vatches. “You just forget what you heard!” he said. He looked at the desk chronometer. It was over an hour since the downpour outside had begun, and it was still going on, not with its original violence but as a steady, heavy rain. The ship’s audio pickups registered intermittent rumbles of thunder; and the screens showed the Venture’s immediate vicinity transformed to a shallow lake. The captain’s nostrils wrinkled briefly as if trying to catch an elusive scent.

“You’re sure you can’t get even a trace of the thing?” he asked.

Goth shook her head. “Far as I can make out, it’s been gone pretty near an hour. Think you’re relling something now?”