"Better do it," said one of the scrawny prisoners. "The pain is terrible from that nerve-jangler."
So Mebeckey did. Pausert suspected that there would be more weapons hidden on him. Captain Pausert didn't have a problem with him carrying weapons here. He just worried about the fact that Mebeckey had been trying to get into their arms supply. Wanting a weapon to defend himself against possible pirates was one thing. Disarming his rescuers, another entirely.
"Face the wall, all of you," said Pausert, roughly, still upset by the discovery. "Cover," he said to Goth, picking up and handing the allweather cloak to the Leewit. He patted them down quickly and found another small blaster on Mebeckey—a Glassite 300, a rich man's toy. The other two had no weapons. "Right. March. We are taking you to a new prison."
They walked them in the rain back to the
Venture
. The captain was amazed that they didn't get lost, actually. As arranged, Vezzarn cracked the hold loading bay and let the prisoners into it. When it was closed again, the three witches set off for the mound.
Goth found that she really didn't like the idea of going back into the mound. The odd feeling of having brief hallucinations of small six-limbed furry creatures and their fear and misery haunted her. It was some kind of klatha manifestation, she was sure, but she was just not sure how she was supposed to deal with it. There were occasional new phenomena that the teaching patterns had never come across. Was she encountering one? She wrapped her fingers more tightly around Pausert's hand, and determinedly thought about the Nikkeldepain Academy instead.
"What's security like on that door?" asked Pausert.
"Doesn't seem to exist, Captain," said Goth. "I just whistled at it. It opened."
"The Megair Cannibals seem secure in their, well, arrogance," said Pausert. "Let's hope it works."
"Sure hope so. It's a big door to bust up." Goth had memorized the little sequence of notes—a precise, quick memory was essential for klatha manipulation. So much of it was patterns of the mind, almost burning new synapse paths, with fatal consequences if they got it wrong, that exact memorization was part of the Karres breed by now. She whistled and the low wide door slid open. Goth reflected again how odd the Megair Cannibals were. They must have to duck every time they came in. The three witches walked into the fortress as if they belonged there. No one challenged them. Actually, there were very few of the Megair Cannibals about. Goth had to wonder why. But there was a low roar of sound coming from deeper into the mound. Still, she thought, they may as well make the most of the fact that the corridors busy, earlier, were nearly empty now. All the better to bust up equipment that might stop them leaving!
There were only three operators in the Megair Cannibals' comms room. Goth was not an expert at reading expressions on the gray faces. But she would have said that they all looked sulky. The Leewit did not give her time to find out. She whistled at them. Her favorite hit-you-with-a-sledgehammer whistle. The three were no more able to fend that off than most people would be a real sledgehammer. Even the echo made Goth's head hurt.
"Okay, now we call all ships—and you whistle down the microphone."
"I've got an even better idea," said Pausert. "Give them a general call and tell them an invasion landing has been made on the North pole. All ships to make haste there—and
then
whistle down and bust the equipment, receiving and sending."
"Oh, I like it!" said the Leewit, grabbing a microphone, and starting to talk in the strange language of the Megair Cannibals. Goth had a feeling that the captain wouldn't like what she was saying, but it provoked several squawks from the system . . . and then the Leewit put her fingers in her mouth and gave the microphone the benefit of the shrillest whistle Goth had heard. In the room glass and electronic components exploded and shards whizzed past them. "That's caused a fair amount of panic. Let's go and see if we can find that poor fellow from Na'kalauf."
"Sure. Fire control is three doors down. Let's deal with that on our way past. I hope we find him in time." None of them said it, but they all knew what would happen to the man if they didn't.
They walked on down toward the noise. It sounded like a crowd, getting warmed up at some game.
And so it was. When they got closer, they could hear the cheering and yelling.
"There's an arena down here. Must be some kind of show on," said Goth.
Pausert paused. "Uh. You know what it is likely to be."
Goth hadn't thought about it, but it was rather obvious. She stopped too and touched the wall to steady herself, then wished immediately that she hadn't. Images flooded into her head. She hastily leaned against the captain.
"There was some sort of klatha surge," said the captain. "Did you feel it? We'll be calling vatches next."
"It's me," said Goth. "It started on Nikkeldepain. Something odd is going on. But we don't have time for that now. We'd better go and see if we're too late. The Leewit . . ."
"No way I am staying here without you," said the littlest witch. "And no way I am going outside just yet, either. I'm just about warm. And yes. I have worked out they're probably fighting and eating people. Or each other. I'm not little anymore, you know."
Goth still felt that she was, even though she was not going to try to tell the Leewit that. And she couldn't get the images that she'd got when touching the wall out of her head.
"I asked Little-bit to come help," announced the Leewit. " 'Cause you don't sound too good, Goth. And there is nothing happening out there. She's getting bored. She can find anything."
He's in a cage. Off that way. The sharp-dream things are fighting and eating each other
, said the vatchlet in their heads.
They followed her directions and soon found themselves in a low circular corridor. Noise of cheering and yelling came through the wall.
"Just your average happy Megair Cannibal evening out," said Pausert grimly. "I think this must lead around the arena."
It seemed to. And there was a barred entrance, with the heavy bars being crudely attached to the smooth walls and floor.
Open
, said the vatchlet, and the cage door opened. Inside stood Ta'zara, the swirl-tattooed man from Na'kalauf. He didn't seem to see them. He was standing, arms akimbo, chanting something to himself.
"It's some kind of war cry," said the Leewit, by her tone much impressed.
"Na'kalaufers do it before they wrestle," said Pausert. "Hey, Ta'zara! We've got to go."
"You've killed my brothers. My companions. Now, I will fight and die like a man of Na'kalauf. I will take as many of you with me as possible!" Ta'zara charged.
Belatedly it occurred to Goth that he was seeing their light-shifted images, and probably not thinking too clearly about them knowing his name and speaking Imperial Universum. He grabbed the captain. Goth hastily dropped the light-shift. "Idiot!" hissed the Leewit. "It's us. We've come to fetch you. We said we would."
There was a second's pause. "Do you mind letting go?" said the captain, in a slightly choked voice.
The tattooed hands dropped. "I'm going mad. I'm going mad!" He began to chant again.
The Leewit stepped in front of him, stamped her foot, and grabbed him with both hands. Goth felt a surge of klatha energy. She could recognize types by now, and she'd felt this before when the Leewit had healed the nursebeast. Ta'zara wasn't injured, but not all kinds of wounds were physical.
His chanting stopped. He looked at the Leewit, incredulously.
"Now come!" she said. "Goth is going to make all of us look like Megair Cannibals. You too. But we're not. Here. Hold my hand."
He took it, very cautiously. "What you feel is real. Not what you see. Now just hold my hand and keep walking," said the Leewit, firmly, as if she was talking to very small child. "Do you understand?"
"No," he said. "But I believe. The brothers must be right. There is redemption."
"Let's go. It might be easier if you close your eyes."
He shook his head. "I am Ta'zara. A man of Na'kalauf. I know fear but it not my master," he said as if reciting. Goth realized he probably was. So she light-shifted.
"Calm down!" said the Leewit, seeing his reaction. "Feel my hand. It's just a disguise."
"A disguise."
"Yeah. A clumping good disguise. Now stop standing like you've grown roots and let's go before it's too late."
Goth could hear the Na'kalauf man pant a little, and her sister talk to him, calming him down. This was a different Leewit from the one she was used to.
They had walked a good long way towards the surface before the uproar behind them told Goth the escape had been discovered.
"I think we need to run," she said.
So they did. Behind them it sounded as if every last one of the of Megair Cannibals was after them.
The door stood before them. So did a small group of Megair Cannibals, with what Pausert now knew to be nerve-janglers at the ready. Ta'zara roared and charged. The Leewit whistled. The green passage light on the wall exploded. So did the Megair Cannibal weapons, with their holders yelping and dropping them. None of that stopped the charging Ta'zara, who was flinging Megair Cannibals about as if they were shrapnel and he their personal bomb.
Barely half a minute later Ta'zara stood, panting a little. "I know fear but it not my master," he said, looking at the fallen Megair Cannibals. Now it was not so much a recitation as a statement of faith, tinged with relief. He held out his hand. "Little lady?"
The Leewit skipped forward and took his hand. "You need to teach me how to do that," she said.
"Maybe later," said the captain, with the thought of just how interesting that might make dealing with the Leewit in a tantrum.
Goth whistled at the door, and it opened.
Outside was rain and darkness. It was more welcome than what lay behind them. They went out and the door slid closed again.
"That ought to hold them for a while. I ported a piece of door out of there. I think it was part of the opening device," said Goth. "Now all we have to do is find the ship."
"Well, let's do it together. Hold hands or I might lose you out here."
Pausert trusted to instinct to find their way to the
Venture
. He was getting quite good at that!
It was apparent that someone had figured that darkness was a shield for them. Lights suddenly came on. They still had a few hundred yards to go to the landing field and they did it at a sprint. Vezzarn started to raise the ramp as their boots clattered onto it. Glancing back, Pausert could see why. A mass of the gray-skinned Cannibals had started to pour out of their mound. The Karres witches and the man from Na'kalauf dived in through the lock, and the captain panted past Vezzarn to the control room.
"Crash stations!" he shouted. "This may be a rough take-off."
The
Venture
was warm and ready, and they boosted. It was one of the captain's trademark take-offs—erratic and touch and go, with the thrust-regulator down flat. Despite the Leewit's earlier efforts, the Megair Cannibals did get off a few shots as the
Venture
wobbled her way upwards into the cloud. But the ship did not even take a glancing hit, and the
Venture
, pushing g's, was hurtling for space.
"Phew!" exclaimed Goth as they headed toward the sun-side of Megair 4. "Are we going to go to the Sheewash drive soon, Captain? 'Cause the Phantom ships are out there waiting. There sure are plenty of them!"
So they were. The captain could see them hanging off in space, as if they were trying to englobe the entire planet.
"How is our air pressure holding out?"
Goth checked the instruments. "Down just a tiny fraction, Captain. About 99.8 points. The seal must be leaking, I'm afraid."
"Should have shoved one of those Cannibals into the hole," said Pausert crossly. "I'll need to get the Leewit into a pressure suit." He bit his lip. "I'd forgotten about the other prisoners in the hold. I want to have the Leewit use that grav-tractor I had Vezzarn bolt onto the floor in the hold airlock. But we need those people out of there—if they're in one piece."
"It has to be better than the alternative," said Goth. "If you offered me a choice between stay and be eaten and a launch without a crash-pad . . ."
"I gave 'em a mattress and some water," said Vezzarn.
"Well, Vezzarn, you and Goth and Ta'zara, go see how they are. Tell them we're in for some more maneuvers and they'd better come and get strapped in. We're in for a rough ride."
The big tattooed Na'kalauf man was looking at all of them as if he'd had a couple of knocks on the head—which might possibly be true, Goth reflected. He'd stormed into the Megair Cannibals like a one-man army. "Who are you?" he asked. "Am I dreaming? Am I dead?"
"I'll pinch you if like," said the Leewit.
He nodded. "Please."
So she did. He felt the spot.
"Would it feel real in a dream?"
The Leewit stamped her foot. "I've got things to do! The captain needs me in a pressure suit and I want to get out of these clothes first. They're wet. Get up! If it is a dream, it has me in it too."
He got up and bowed respectfully. "Then at least it is a good dream. One in which I found myself and courage again. Thank you. I am yours to command, Little Lady."
"I'm the Leewit. Not 'lady'—and sure not 'little lady'! And I need you stop blocking the way and get along to the hold with me. Those other friends of yours might be hurt."
He bowed again. "Very well, Leewit. Will you accept me?"
"
The
Leewit. Like '
the
captain.' "
"But do you accept me, the Leewit?"
"If it makes you happy," she said impatiently. "Now we have work to do."
Vezzarn clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it, son. You must have realized by now that Their Wisdoms don't exactly do things the way we do." Ta'zara looked at him in some puzzlement. Obviously the term wasn't familiar to him. "I'll explain it to you sometime," said the old spacer. "Meanwhile, let's go to see to the others. I hope they're in one piece."