"Or worse, Karres," said Sedmon, grimly. "She is not a spent force yet. And we're determined to make sure she-and this plant-are destroyed. At any cost."
Goth had a sinking feeling that cost might include the life of Captain Pausert. She had to stop that from happening.
It took nearly two weeks before the news came in.
"We have a positive sighting on the borderplanet of Merega V. The Venture set down with four other vessels to refuel. Marshi was seen." Sedmon paused. "The operative is busy sending through an image. But there is also a person that fits the description of Captain Pausert."
Goth heaved a sigh of relief. "Let's go. You are about to experience the Sheewash drive, Sedmon."
Olimy held up a hand. "Goth. The operative said that he was in no way a prisoner. In fact he was seeing to the refueling."
Goth looked at Olimy. Sedmon. And then at her sister."He's part of the plant!" she said in horror.
The Leewit ground her small fist into her palm. "I guess we're just going to have to get it out of him, Sis."
Olimy said nothing, but Sedmon bowed. "A leech was put onto the Venture. We can track her. If you want to make use of the Thunderbird ?"
Goth stood up. "Farewells will just have to wait. Let's go, Leewit. Is Ta'zara fit to travel again?"
"I reckon," said the Leewit. "And we can work on him some more if need be."
"Going to go Sheewash. That takes it out of you too." She looked at the adult Karres witch. "You coming, Olimy?" she asked innocently.
He laughed. "No. You'll have to do your own Sheewash. I am coming along, but I'll be a step behind you. We've been calling people in from the nannite cleanup. Karres herself is coming. But that's not so quickly or easily organized, as you know.
"Well," said Goth, pacing. "Let's get moving. They've got quite a start on us."
"You can't catch it all up at once," said Olimy, warningly. "There are some Empire ships, some Uldune ships, and Karres also on track. The Venture 7333 is on a remote patch of the starways, but we're converging on them. Try to work on a delaying strategy if you get there too soon." He made no attempt to stop them. That was not the Karres way, after all.
The hexaperson was worried. The Daal of Uldune was no saint. He couldn't be, as the ruler of a planet like Uldune. Still, of late he had found that he was less unfeeling than was it was good for the Daal to be. Uldune treated the Witches of Karres with the respect-and the suspicion-that a powerful and bloody ruler treats a even more powerful force. That had, in the past, proved wise. But as the Daal he had grown up in an intrigue-filled and un-gentle environment, in which the six were, of necessity, almost entirely isolated from contact with the rest of the populace of Uldune. Emotion had largely been a stranger to the Daal… until Hulik do Eldel had woken a slumbering giant.
The hexaperson had discovered that he cared very deeply about someone. And as if that had been a crack in his defenses, the hexaperson was discovering that he cared about other people too. Not many other people. But Goth and the Leewit had somehow wormed their way in. They were not just Karres-which was respected, but as an enemy, because all who were not the hexaperson were some kind of enemy, except Hulik. But those two small witches had become something more. He liked Captain Pausert too, for that matter. The man was just so… unbelievably un-devious and well, idealistic. It had been a shock to realize that Karres too was rather like that. Yes, they were secretive. But had they been interested in ruling he had come to realize that they could have seized power fifty times over.
The hexaperson was worried as a result. He was worried because he had come to think of Karres, not merely as a powerful enemy to remain on good terms with because it could destroy or at least cripple you, but not even as an enemy. Almost… a friend. Bizarre. Not something a leader of Uldune could afford, but yet he had a feeling that he could not afford not to befriend Karres, even if it meant changing the way Uldune operated.
And he was worried for a second reason. He had seen the desperate addict that Mebeckey had become. He knew that that was the best that Goth could hope for Captain Pausert. And secondly, he knew Pausert's chances of survival were rather poor. His own instinct, as the Daal of Uldune was to regard the man as collateral damage, if the opportunity arose, to kill off Marshi.
Only he did not want to tell Goth that. Firstly, it would hurt her. And secondly, even if he was only one sixth physically here, and had a special cap that in theory would protect him, he thought that killing Pausert might just be very bad for his health.
There were limits even on the Sheewash drive. Both Goth and the Leewit worked at it in concert, but Goth knew that it was vital that they arrive at the Venture able to use klatha to its full potential. That meant not over-tiring themselves. They were still pushing the Thunderbird along at far faster than the fastest imperial cruiser-and her over-powered engines were thrusting her along while they rested. But it would still take at least five ship-days to intercept the Venture. Meanwhile, subradio information came out of the leech, letting them plot a vector.
"They're heading for the Chaladoor," said Goth looking at the screen plot.
"So why am I not surprised," said the Daal of Uldune sourly. He was busy with some calculations of his own, about the progress-at rather more modest speeds-of his fleet. He had ordered out all the ships he could spare. Uldune had watching enemies too.
The last probe into the Chaladoor had not been a successful one. The ships had in fact managed to send out quite a comprehensive report of the conflict with the Phantom ships.
They just hadn't been able to win, or escape. The Daal had, since then, acquired some insight into what the Phantom ships couldn't withstand. But that didn't alter the fact that a ship crewed with three of the witches, using their special drive, had barely escaped. The hexaperson knew that he could not afford to lose the better part of his fleet, or Uldune-the wolf-would fall to the jackals.
There was a narrow crawlspace down along the Venture 's tubes. It was the sort of place, especially for a large man like Captain Pausert, that was only visited with some discomfort while doing tube calibrations. If one was really determined and crawled along a long way one came to a slightly larger gap created by the updating of tube-liners. They'd been longer back in the long ago day that the Venture was first launched as a pirate-chaser. Modern tubes were just that little bit shorter before the final choke and outer flares. That left a gap. It was a hot, noisy spot.
Vezzarn still found it the best place to be on the ship, right now. He'd made himself a makeshift bed there, collected some food and water, and was prepared to wait it out until the Venture next set down and emptied so that he could make a quiet departure for more pleasant and safer places. It wasn't safe out there in the rest of the ship!
They'd tranq-darted him as he'd come to the airlock, and locked him into one of the staterooms. But they hadn't even bothered to tie him up. Fortunately he'd come around and been able to use his lock picks and leave before they'd come back. It was hard to work out quite what was going on as so many of the men now crowded into the Venture seemed to do things in concert, without talking. Some did talk, of course. The pilot, for one. He managed better take-offs than Captain Pausert although he was a decidedly worse ship-handler. Pausert would have done better. Except-from what Vezzarn had seen from the wiring crawlway-Pausert had somehow joined the silent majority on the ship. Vezzarn had been relieved and delighted when he'd first spied the captain. It hadn't taken the little old space-dog more than a few moments of observation to realize that this might be Captain Pausert's body, but wasn't the man he knew. Vezzarn could only be relieved that the presence of another one of the strangers had kept him from calling the captain.
He'd found that he could, with difficulty, belly-crawl and wriggle his way along to above the control room, where at least the pilot spoke and was spoken to. He'd learned a fair bit in the process. Subradio messages from frantic underlings had been coming in. It appeared that the Borozo-Shinn conglomerate had suffered cataclysmic losses. Others were moving on their territory, and some of those left on Pampez were singing, loudly. Not all had been the silent-type part-of-the-plant.
And Marshi-Tchab, it seemed, did not care. They could all die, and it could all be lost. The criminal empire she was leaving behind was worth many millions, Vezzarn was sure. But for all the attention she paid to the squalling, it might as easily have been a piece of scrap paper that she'd dropped.
Then finally, a message came in that she did want to hear.
A set of co-ordinates.
They might have been what she wanted to hear, but they filled her pilot with horror. Enough horror that he was actually brave enough to protest. "We can't go there, Tchab."
"You will go where I tell you to go."
"But that is the Chaladoor," said the pilot.
"That was to be expected. Ships have dealt with the Chaladoor before."
Vezzarn was more familiar with co-ordinates in Chaladoor than the pilot was.
Vezzarn had managed to raid the kitchen several times.
He began wondering if he could also get to the lifeboat, and get away. But as they were traveling in a formation of five ships, there was very little chance of escape that way.
But the alternative, it seemed, was to return to the Megair cluster.
And only the Wisdoms got out of there! Besides the Cannibals, the Phantoms were as thick as ants on sugar in the area.