The sharp, irregular buzzing which rose suddenly from a bank of control instruments beside him made him jump four inches. His hand shot out, threw the main drive feed to the off position. The buzzing subsided, but a set of telltales continued to flicker bright red...
There was nothing supernatural about
this
problem, he decided a few minutes later. But it was a problem, and not a small one. What the trouble indicators had registered was a developing pattern of malfunction in the main drive engines. It was no real surprise; when he'd left Nikkeldepain half a year before, it had looked like an even bet whether he could make it back without stopping for major repairs. But the drives had performed faultlessly until now.
They might have picked a more convenient time and place to go haywire. But there was no reason to regard it as a disaster just yet.
He found tools, headed to the storage and on down to the engine deck from there, and went to work. Within half an hour he'd confirmed that their predicament wasn't too serious, if nothing else happened. A minor breakdown at one point in the main engines had shifted stresses, immediately creating a dozen other trouble spots. But it wasn't a question of the engines going out completely and making it necessary to crawl through space, perhaps for months, on their secondaries before they reached a port. Handled with care, the main drive should be good for another three or four weeks, at least. But the general deterioration clearly had gone beyond the point of repair. The antiquated engines would have to be replaced as soon as possible, and meanwhile he should change the drive settings manually, holding the engines down to half their normal output to reduce strain on them. If somebody came around with hostile intentions, an emergency override on the control desk would still allow occasional spurts at full thrust. From what he'd been told of the side effects of the Sheewash Drive, it wasn't likely Goth would be able to do much to help in that department...
In a port of civilization, with repair station facilities on hand and the drive hauled clear of the ship, the adjustments he had to make might have been completed and tested in a matter of minutes. But for one man, working by the manual in the confined area of the
Venture's
engine. room, it was a lengthy, awkward job. At last, stretched in a precarious sprawl a third down on the side of the drive shaft, the captain squinted wearily at the final setting he had to change. It was in a shadowed recess of the shaft below him, barely in reach of his tools.
He wished he had a better light on it...
His breath caught in his throat. There was a feeling as if the universe had stopped for an instant; then a shock of alarm. His scalp began prickling as if an icy, soundless wind had come astir above his head.
He knew somehow exactly what was going to happen next, and that there was no use trying to revoke his wish. Some klatha machinery already was in motion now and couldn't be stopped...
A second or two went past. Then an oval of light appeared quietly about the recess, illuminating the setting within. It grew strong and clear. The captain realized it came from above, past his shoulder. Cautiously, he looked up.
And there the little monster was, suspended by its base from the upper deck. Its slender neck reached down in a serpentine curve to place a beam of light precisely where he'd wanted to have it. His skin kept crawling as if he were staring at some nightmare image…
But this was only klatha, he told himself. And after the Sheewash Drive and other matters, a lamp which began to move around mysteriously was nothing to get shaky about. Ignore it, he thought; finish up the job...
He reached down with the tools, laboriously adjusted the thrust setting, tested it twice to make sure it was adjusted right. And that wound up his work in the engine room. He hadn't glanced at the lamp again, but its light still shone steadily on the shaft. The captain collapsed the tools, stowed them into his pockets, balanced himself on the curving surface of the drive shaft, and reached up for it.
It came free of the overhead deck at his touch. He climbed down from the shaft, holding the lamp away from him by the neck, as if it were a helpful basilisk which might suddenly get a notion to bite. In the control room he placed it back on the desk, and gave it no further attention for the next twenty minutes while he ran the throttled engines through a complete instrument check. They registered satisfactorily. He switched the main drive back on, tested the emergency override. Everything seemed in working condition; the
Venture
was operational again... within prudent limits. He turned the ship on a course which would hold it roughly parallel to the Empire eastern borders, locked it in, then went to the electric butler for a cup of coffee.
He came back with the coffee, finally stood looking at the lamp again. Since he'd put it down in it usual place, it had done nothing except sit there quietly, casting a pool of light on the desk before it.
The captain put the cup aside, moved back a few steps.
"Well," he said aloud, "let's test this thing out!"
He paused while his voice went echoing faintly away through the
Venture's
passages. Then he pointed a finger at the lamp, and swung the finger commandingly towards the worktable beside the communicator stand.
"Move over to that table!" he told the lamp.
The whole ship grew very still. Even the distant hum of the drive seemed to dim. The captain's scalp was crawling again, kept on crawling as the seconds went by. But the lamp didn't move.
Instead, its light abruptly went out.
"No," Goth said. "It wasn't me. I don't think it was you either, exactly."
The captain looked at her. He'd grabbed off a few hours sleep on the couch and by the time he woke up, Goth was up and around, energies apparently restored.
She'd been doing some looking around, too, and wanted to know why the
Venture
was running on half power. The captain explained. "If we happen to get into a jam," he concluded, "would you be able to use the Sheewash Drive at present?"
"Short hops," the witch nodded reassuringly.
"No real runs for a while, though!"
"Short hops should be good enough," he reflected. "I read that item in the Regulations. They right about the klatha part?"
"Pretty much," Goth acknowledged, a trifle warily.
"Well..." He'd related his experiences with the lamp then, and she'd listened with obvious interest but no indications of surprise.
"What do you mean, it wasn't me, exactly?" he said. "I was wondering for a while, but I'm dead sure now I don't have klatha ability."
Goth wrinkled her nose, hesitant, and suddenly, "You got it, captain. Told you you'd be a witch, too. You got a lot of it! That was part of the trouble."
"Trouble?" The captain leaned back in his chair. "Mind explaining?"
Goth reflected worriedly again. "I got to be careful now," she told him. "The way klatha is, people
oughtn't
to know much more about it than they can work with. Or it's likely never going to work right for them. That's one reason we got rules. You see?"
He frowned. "Not quite."
Goth tossed her head, a flick of impatience. "It wasn't me who ported the lamp. So if you didn't have klatha, it wouldn't have
got
ported."
"But you said..."
"Trying to explain, Captain. You ought to get told more now. Not too much, though... On Karres they all knew you had it. Patham! You put it out so heavy the grownups were all messed up! It's that learned stuff they work with. That's tricky. I don't know much about it yet..."
"You mean I was, uh, producing klatha energy?"
But he gathered one didn't
produce
klatha. If one had the talent, inborn to a considerable extent, one attracted it to oneself. Being around others who used it stimulated the attraction. His own tendencies in that direction hadn't developed much before he got to Karres. There he'd turned promptly into an unwitting focal point of the klatha energies being manipulated around him, to the consternation of the adult witches who found their highly evolved and delicately balanced klatha controls thrown out of kilter by his presence.
A light dawned. "That's why they waited until I was off Karres again before they moved it!"
"Sure," said Goth. "They couldn't risk that with you there, they didn't know what would happen... " He had been the subject of much conversation and debate during his stay on Karres. So as not to disturb whatever was coming awake in him, the witches couldn't even let him know he was doing anything unusual. But only the younger children, using klatha in a very direct and basic, almost instinctive manner, weren't bothered by it. Adolescents at around Maleen's age level had been affected to some extent, though not nearly as much as their parents.
"You just don't know how to use it, that's all," Goth said. "You're going to, though."
"What makes you think that?"
Her lashes flickered. "They said it was like that with Threbus. He started late, too. Took him a couple of years to catch on--but he's a whizdang now!"
The captain grunted skeptically. "Well, we'll see... You're a kind of whizdang yourself, for my money."
"Guess I am," Goth agreed. "Aren't many grown-ups could jump us as far as this."
"Meaning you know where we went?"
"Uh-huh. "
“I ... no, let's get back to that lamp first. I can see that after your big Sheewash push we might have had plenty of klatha stirred up around the
Venture.
But you say I'm not able to use it. So--"
"Looks like you pulled in a vatch, " Goth told him.
She explained that then. It appeared a vatch was a sort of personification of klatha or a klatha entity. Vatches didn't hang around this universe much but were sometimes drawn into it by human klatha activities, and if they were amused or intrigued by what they found going on they might stay and start producing klatha phenomena themselves. They seemed to be under the impression that their experiences of the human universe were something they were dreaming. They could be helpful to the person who caught their attention but tended to be quite irresponsible and mischievous. The witches preferred to have nothing at all to do with a vatch.
"So now we've got something like
that
on board!" the captain remarked nervously.
Goth shook her head. "No, not since I woke up. I'd rell him if he were around."
"You'd rell him?"
She grinned.
"Another of the things I can't understand till I can do it?" the captain asked.
"Uh-huh. Anyway, you got rid of that vatch for good, I think."
"I did? How?"
"When you ordered the lamp to move. The vatch would figure you were telling him what to do. They don't like that at all. I figure he got mad and left."
"After switching the lamp off to show me, eh? Think he might be back?"
"They don't usually. Anyway, I'll spot him if he does."
"Yes….the captain scratched his chin. "So what made you decide to bring us out east of the Empire?"
Goth, it turned out, had had a number of reasons. Some of them sounded startling at first.
"One thing, here's Uldune!" Her fingertip traced over the star map between them, stopped. "Be just about a week away, on half-power."
The captain gave her a surprised look. Uldune was one of the worlds around here which were featured in Nikkeldepain's history books; and it was not featured at all favourably. Under the leadership of its Daal, Sedmon the Grim, and various successors of the same name, it had been the headquarters of a ferocious pirate confederacy which had trampled over half the Empire on a number of occasions, and raided far and wide beyond it. And that particular section of history, as he recalled it, wasn't very far in the past.
"What's good about being that close to Uldune?" he inquired. "From what I've heard of them, that's as blood-thirsty a bunch of cutthroats as ever infested space!"
"Guess they were pretty bad," Goth acknowledged. "But that's a time back. They're sort of reformed now."
"Sort
of reformed?"
She shrugged. "Well, they're still a bunch of crooks, Captain. But we can do business with them. "
"Business!"
She seemed to know what she was, talking about, though. The witches were familiar with this section of galactic space, Karres, in fact, had been shifted from a point east of the Empire to its recent station in the Iverdahl System not much more than eighty years ago. And while Goth was Karres born, she'd done a good deal of travelling around here with her parents and sisters. Not very surprising, of course. With the Sheewash Drive available to give their ship a boost when they felt like it, a witch family should be able to go pretty well where it chose.
She'd never been on Uldune but it was a frequent stop-over point for Karres people. Uldune's reform, initiated by its previous Daal, Sedmon the Fifth, and continued under his successor, had been a matter of simple expediency, the Empire's expanding space power was making wholesale piracy too unprofitable and risky a form of enterprise. Sedmon the Sixth was an able politician who maintained mutually satisfactory relations with the Empire and other space neighbours, while deriving much of his revenue by catering to the requirements of people who operated outside the laws of any government. Uldune today was banker, fence, haven, trading center, outfitter, supplier, broker, and middleman to all comers who could afford its services. It never asked embarrassing questions. Outright pirates, successful ones at any rate, were still perfectly welcome. So was anybody who merely wanted to transact some form of business unhampered by standard legal technicalities.