Mercedes Lackey - The Wizard of Karres

But the witches could do that kind of substitution very successfully. You couldn't trust superficial appearances when dealing with them. And now the Sedmons realized they had a problem, even when they were far off.

"We'll have to go to the Alpha Dendi system. Just to check."

"It'll lose us time."

"Can't be helped. I think we'd better try to slow them down if they're ahead somehow. They still bank with the Daal's bank back on Uldune. We could intervene there."

"That could be a bit awkward for Pausert."

"We could set it up so that when credit checks are run, the account comes up as requiring our clearance."

"Well, that would make for a delay."

"Which is what we want, after all."

Subradio messages were sent. The Sedmons' ship turned to the Alpha Dendi cluster.

Above the twisted, truncated cone of black wires, a ball of orange fire danced. Captain Pausert looked intently at it, wishing, not for the first time, that generating it was one of his klatha powers. But his klatha abilities had been slowly developing, growing and changing, almost as he'd needed them. Perhaps one of these days he would draw this skill from inside his mind too. Squinting with concentration, he looked at the "Sheewash Drive" on the floor between the two young Karres witches. The pattern almost made sense. Almost . . .

The wires fell inward, and the ball of fire winked out. Goth pushed back her brown fringe and blinked tiredly at him. "What's up, Captain?"

"Came to see how you were doing," said Pausert carefully. He didn't want his worry to upset them.

The Leewit scowled fiercely. "We're not! It feels like we're pushing this crate through clumping toffee."

Goth nodded. "It's not like anything we've encountered before, Captain. It's as if the Venture was as big as a dreadnaught. She just seems to be dragging a whole weight of klatha force."

Pausert checked the readings. "So it seems. We're doing about twice our normal drive speed, but nothing like the velocity we've gotten under the Sheewash Drive before. I wonder what's wrong."

"You aren't feeding us enough," said the Leewit grumpily. "I need breakfast."

Pausert waved at the door. "It's waiting for you."

"How is the oxygen supply holding out, Captain?" asked Goth, getting slowly to her feet. That wasn't like Goth. She was normally as lithe and springy as a jungle-miffel.

Pausert shrugged. "We've done what we can to the lock. But the seals are damaged beyond repair. They'll have to be replaced. So we have another thirty hours or so. We should make it at this rate . . . but not with a lot to spare."

* * *

The Sheewash Drive had brought them this far. Far, far from the pursuit in the crowded space of the Alpha Dendi cluster. Goth and the Leewit had taken three bursts at it, but the two little witches were exhausted. The Leewit had actually fallen asleep during the last session, which seemed to have severely sapped Goth.

But now, even if Goth and the Leewit had been in a fit state to do it, they could go no closer to planetfall without advertising the Sheewash Drive. They really didn't need to show that ability to all and sundry in this region of the spiral arm. So, despite the leaking airlock, they would have to proceed by more conventional means. Of course, that meant that those who followed by the leech's signals would be able to get on their trail again. Pausert just hoped he'd have a chance to find and detach the device on their next planetfall, on the world of Pidoon. If they could get in, do repairs, fuel up, get rid of the leech and head out before the pirates caught up with them, they'd show them all a clean pair of heels.

* * *

Pidoon was a busy trading hub, with a number of landing ports set into its rolling plains, in fierce competition with each other. The planet didn't have a lot to offer except for being conveniently on the way to everywhere, and having a good supply of raw materials for rocket-fuel manufacture. It was a sort of filling station and trading depot.

Hulik, Goth and the captain peered at the map on the screen. Hulik pointed. "If we land here at Gerota Town . . . it's just big enough to justify a single ISS operative. He or she will be a no-hoper farmed out somewhere they can't do too much harm. The major cities will have dozens of operatives, and one of the smaller places is more likely to be watched. Here we'd just have one to deal with."

"It's a popular choice for that reason, sir," Vezzarn said wryly. "I went there, twice, when . . . my former boss wanted more information on one of the smuggling routes. It's a small city, with nothing but a lot of prairie for a thousand miles all round it. The customs officials are so sleepy, they put pillows on their desks."

"Sounds good to me, eh, Goth?"

Goth wrinkled her forehead. She should have been asleep, Pausert knew. But something was plainly troubling her. "I wish we had someone who could premote," she said uneasily.

"I wish we didn't have to land at all, but we've got to." Pausert pointed at the fuel readout, which was distressingly close to empty. "I'm afraid we're quite low on choices around here."

Now he pointed to the display charts. "Within range before we run out of recyclable air . . . There's Pidoon, or there's the Dictat of Telmar—and every second person there is supposed to be a spy. Or, right on the edge of our fuel range, never mind air, Imperial sector headquarters. Pidoon does so well because this sector of space is quite empty of habitable worlds."

"What about this one?" Goth pointed to the chart and a beacon number right on the margin. It was out of their way, but within range.

The captain called up the star map. There was just one habitable world on that beacon, in among a cluster of red dwarfs and dead suns. "Vaudevillia," he read.

Hulik began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" asked Vezzarn, who had stepped across to check some readouts.

"They were suggesting going to Vaudevillia," said Hulik, trying to smother her laughter.

Vezzarn grinned. "Your home, this Nikkeldepain place, is pretty far away, eh, Captain?"

"I threatened to run away to Vaudevillia when I was ten," said Hulik. "It's the circus-world, Captain Pausert. All the old showboats go there."

Pausert blinked. Just one of the fabulous lattice ship showboats had ever come to Nikkeldepain in his youth. He could still remember it clearly, however. It had seemed so bright and so wild and exciting compared to life on stuffy Nikkeldepain. He'd thought of running away to join the show himself. The Nikkeldepain Council had turned down the next one's landing permit. Apparently a number of councilors had lost quite a lot of money when the first one had abruptly departed.

Vezzarn grimaced. "Especially when they're broke. No port charges—because there is no proper port. Mind you, it's a bad place to try to buy fuel, Captain. Cash money only, and at a twenty-five percent premium. The fuel-sellers have had so many bad debts, they won't provide fuel on any other terms. It sounds very romantic to kids, but believe me, Captain, it's a dump. It's barely habitable. Can't even grow its own food. And it rains non-stop."

The captain looked at Goth, who was looking very speculative. "Well, we're not going there. And we don't need to tell the Leewit about this place, do we? Let's stick to Pidoon and this Gerota Town."

Goth shrugged. "I'm too tired. But it doesn't feel right."

* * *

Gerota Town was seedy and run-down. "Not the kind of place you'd want to buy a used flyer in," said Vezzarn with a sly grin.

The captain looked at the shabby sprawl of two- and three-story buildings that stretched out towards a flat horizon. "It's a whistle-stop for us. So long as the fuel is okay and we can find that leech, and do some repairs on the airlock . . . within the day we should be out of here."