Mercedes Lackey - The Wizard of Karres

"Well," said the captain, comfortingly, "luckily enough we're within three light-hours of an Empire world. It's a backwater, but they'll have repair facilities. If I can get her down in this state, that is."

"Going to be tricky landing, Captain. But you'll pull it off." Vezzarn seemed more cheerful now that he knew there was an Empire world within reach.

"I'll do my best. Is there anything I can do for you down here? Otherwise, I need to get back to the navigation and control systems. There's a ton of work up there to make them operational, never mind fit to handle a dicey landing."

"I'll be fine, Captain. With respect, sir, I've probably worked on more tubes than you have. If you like you could send one of the girls down to pass me things. And it would make my day if I could have a cup of coffee with this job."

"The electric butler's on the fritz. But I'll ask the Leewit to come down here. I want Goth up there for navigation."

Vezzarn actually laughed, something that would have been unthinkable minutes before. "That electric butler is probably the one bit of this ship I wouldn't mind seeing in the state that these engines are in. They didn't like those surges, Captain. That's not going to happen again, is it?" he asked warily.

"Not if I can help it!" The captain went back up to the control room.

After several grueling and often frustrating hours of peering at manuals and working in awkward, confined spaces, Pausert had repaired or replaced what he could of the control system, and jury-rigged as best as possible whatever couldn't be repaired. Then Vezzarn and he went through an extremely cautious test firing of the main drive. At a very reduced capacity, the drive could push the Venture onwards to Porlumma. She began the slow limp to port. What would have taken hours would take her the better part of a ship-day, and, the captain knew, he'd have as tricky a landing as he'd ever managed to pull off at the end of it. It was nearly enough to get him to consider the Egger Route again. Nearly.

The captain went off to shower and returned to find that the now inevitable poker school had taken over the navigation table again. He was glad that he had the excuse of wanting to keep an eye on the instruments and do some calculations for the landing. He already owed the Leewit too much candy to be good for her. Goth said that his problem with playing with the Leewit was that he didn't really want to win. Pausert knew it was true enough. But using klatha powers on the two young witches would seem unfair, even if he was sure that the Leewit had somehow marked the Agandar's cards.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the captain exhaled long and slowly. If he could bottle that landing, he could sell it as the perfect instant diet. Pausert thought that he'd probably lost fifteen pounds on the way down. At least ten of them had simply melted away when one of the remaining tubes lost half its liner seconds before setdown.

And yet . . . he'd managed it. Near to a textbook perfect landing, in fact. Now, so long as Porlumma's authorities didn't recognize them, all they had to do was get the Venture repaired and get back into space again. Once they were out of detector range, they'd have to make use of the Sheewash Drive to get to the Imperial Capital in time. But, according to the calendar of the customs official who was coming to give the "Evening Bird" the once-over, they still had ten days.

The question, of course, was whether they could get the Venture repaired and space-borne before then. Even with the Sheewash Drive, it was going to be a close thing.

* * *

The engineer from Saltash and Gryfin, Ltd. was not encouraging. "The tubes will have to come out entirely, Captain Aron. They're just about completely shot. And half of the instrumentation needs to be junked. The fact that you managed to set your ship down without leaving a crater in the landing field fills me with admiration for your skill as a pilot, though I have grave doubts about your common sense. I'll let you have a quote in the morning, but brace yourself for something steep. Frankly, if you could afford it, it would make more sense to haul your drive out and scrap it."

Captain Pausert sucked breath through his teeth. He was painfully aware that the Venture 's current bank balance was comfortable enough for regular running, but not really in good shape for massive repair bills. "How steep is 'something steep,' and how long is this going to take?" he asked warily. "I've got a contract to fulfill and it's got really harsh noncompletion clauses. We'll need to make this a rush job."

The engineer grimaced. "Captain, I've never seen engines or even control systems that have taken this kind of battering and still functioned, and I was once a Navy engineer. What'd you do? Pick a fight with a neutron star? I've seen craft towed in from battles that looked better. I'll give you a precise figure as soon as I can, but we're talking the better part of half a million maels, I'm guessing. And to reengineer and recalibrate the engine . . . call it three weeks. It's a big job."

"Oh." The captain sat down. So, by the sudden dent on the couch beside him, did Goth. She'd plainly been keeping an eye on the engineer while she was in no-shape. "Well," said the captain weakly, "will you get back to us with the exact quote?"

The engineer nodded. "As soon as I've done the calculations, Captain Aron. But as I said, it's a big job." He left the captain and Goth to stare at each other in despair.

"A half a million maels. And you know what these repair quotes are like," said the captain gloomily. "Never under."

Goth was already calculating. "We've got about three hundred and fifty thousand maels left in the account. And we can run into the red another fifty thousand or so. We'll be a long way short, Captain. And I just don't see how we can get Hantis and Pul to the Imperial Capital in time, if it's going to take them that long."

"It'd be quicker to haul the engines out and put a new drive in. They could do that in a couple of days."

"Well, then, that's what we need to do," said Goth, decisively.

The captain shook his head. "If we had a couple of spare million, we could do it. And stop thinking of Wansing's jewels, Goth. They'd catch us for sure. And besides, it's not right."

"It's an emergency, Captain," said Goth thoughtfully. By now her reserved manner fooled him not at all. The captain knew that she was thinking seriously about larceny.

Well, to be honest, so was he. They had a vital mission to complete, after all. But it still went against his grain.

He sighed. "Give me a few minutes to think. We must have some way of raising the money."

"I could go and play some poker," said the Leewit, appearing from behind the couch, the Agandar's cards in her hand.

"I suspect they might think that they were marked, child," said the captain, managing at least half a smile.

"Oh, they are," said the Leewit cheerfully. "Look. Here on the edges." She dealt a card out, face up. "See that pattern around the edge? It's different on some of them. Lisol and Ta'himmin spotted it back on Nartheby. Those Sprites have got sharp eyes."

"But that's on the face of the cards. That's no good. It's got to be on the edges or on the backs." Goth was betraying more knowledge of cardsharping than the captain would have expected.

The Leewit snorted. "So why is the royal flush marked then, smarty?"

The captain felt that odd scalp-crawling sensation that he got from klatha events. He reached slowly for the cards. "Not," he said in a hushed voice, "to enable the previous owner to cheat at cards."

"What?" said Goth, puzzled.

The captain looked at the two of them, and, dealing the cards out face up, separated out the suits. "Just who was the previous owner of this pack of cards?" he asked.