"But what if we break the Code?" Pausert asked, now more worried than ever.
Goth rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Captain! It's all heavy stuff! Murder or attempted murder, theft or attempted theft, kidnap or attempted kidnap. That kind of thing. Believe me, I looked at it, hard. Petey'll call it 'attempted kidnapping,' and the local law'll probably agree."
"It's a bit rough on four incompetents," said Pausert. "The Empire's judges don't look kindly on the kidnapping of minors."
"I don't know if it is that harsh," Hulik said, grimly. "ISS agents can be cashiered to the hinterlands for other reasons than just sheer incompetence. And it would take a certain sort of mind to think that kidnapping and torturing a little girl is a good way to get a job done."
"You should have let me bite them," growled Pul from the floor.
CHAPTER 19
Whoever the would-be kidnappers had been working for, they were either unsuccessful in persuading the authorities of their wrongs, or else they decided not to even try involving the locals, for there was no pursuit and not even a query from the law. The Petey B lifted and got into and out of orbit with no more trouble than usual, and things went back to normal.
Pausert was left to ponder something remarkable: their little silver-eyed vatch, of the untamable sort, was not only behaving itself, it was cooperating and making itself very useful. He was not at all used to thinking of a vatch as useful.
The Petey B was well out of orbit and into interstellar space when Silver-eyes caught up with them again. Pausert just had time to notice it was there, when it announced itself.
I deserve feeding! it said cheerfully.
That you do! Pausert agreed. If you can lure something big, dumb, and juicy here—
The vatchlet vanished, but it wasn't gone long. And the vatch it brought with it was exceedingly big, slow, and evidently not much brighter than a cow. Pausert felt not a trace of guilt over tearing a couple of head-sized chunks out of it before it fled, protesting. Silver-eyes feasted, growing a bit in size.
I like you, Silver-eyes announced. I've decided that helping real things I like is more fun than playing tricks on dream things.
Maybe that's because just playing tricks is too easy for you, Pausert suggested.
The vatchlet seemed to think that over for a while. It didn't go away, it just floated in the middle of the control cabin, like a puff of shadow, while its slitty eyes winked and blinked.
What are you doing? it finally asked.
I'm resting. And thinking.
No. I meant, you have something important to do, I can feel it. I think that's why you get in so much trouble. So what is it?
Should he tell the vatch? Well, why not? It wasn't as if it would be able to blab things to anyone else who didn't already know. Only a klatha practitioner would be able to even sense a vatch was there, much less hear it. On the other hand, if he told the vatch what was going on, it just might be more inclined to help because he'd answered its question.
So he explained it all. The Nanite plague. The disappearance of Karres. Needing to get the information to the Empress.
Then he had to explain what "the Empress" was. Traitors in the ISS—and then he had to explain what "the ISS" was. That the pirates who had followed the Agandar were inexplicably convinced that they had the Agandar's treasure and were also trying to find them. And, naturally, he had to explain what "pirates" were, and who "the Agandar" had been and so forth. There was a lot of explaining to do.
The vatch was quiet for a much longer time, then. Pausert had never really gotten the impression that vatches thought much about anything before this, but he sure got that feeling now.
I don't understand most of this, the vatch said finally. I'd like to help anyway, but I'm not very big.
You're bigger now than you were when we met you, Pausert pointed out.
True. That's because you feed me. I think that's a good thing.
I'd like to think so also, Pausert told it. Believe me, I appreciate the help you've been giving us.
The bigger I get, the more I can help you. And when I'm big enough, I will be able to go to the (*) place. I think that's probably a good thing too.
So do I, said Pausert, and he meant it. Not that it wasn't a grand thing, in some ways, having a vatch around that was making its business to be helpful. But, on the whole, Pausert would be relieved to know that the one vatch he couldn't actually control had gone somewhere else and wouldn't come back. I wouldn't be a friend if I asked you to stay any longer than you have to.
What is a "friend?" it asked, and then the captain had another long explanation to make. It was one he was very careful with, emphasizing that one of the things that friends did not do was to indulge in mischief that caused each other harm, and that the thing they tried to do all the time was to make each other happy and help each other.
Like feeding you, he finished. And like you keeping those un-friends from hurting us. And no matter how far friends are from each other, they always remember what they did for each other, and they remember how good it was to be friends.
I like that. Okay. I will be your friend, Big Real Thing, and you will be mine. And that will be true even after I go to the (*) place.
* * *
Goth came in then and the vatch vanished, as vatches were inclined to do. Goth stared at the place where it had been, and then at Pausert.
"All right, Captain," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Just what have you been up to?"
When he finished telling her, Goth continued to stare at him. Now, that was not at all unusual; what was unusual was the kind of stare she was giving him.
"I'm not entirely sure you're a witch anymore, Captain," she said slowly. "You're doing things no witch I ever heard of can do, or has ever tried to do."
He felt himself flush. "Oh, come on!" he scoffed. "I can't use the Sheewash Drive—"
"Yet," Goth interrupted firmly.
"I can't use the Egger Route—"
"Yet. And you are a vatch-tamer, and now you're making friends with the things! You're no kind of a witch I ever heard of."
"All right," he replied. "Just what am I, then?"
He didn't really expect a reply, but he should have known better. This was Goth, after all.
She canted her head to the side. "A wizard, maybe," she said, rubbing the tip of her nose. "Hmm. Maybe that. A wizard of Karres."
* * *
"A vatch that wants to be friends." Hantis shook her head. "I've never heard of such a thing, but it certainly beats the alternative. You do have a way with the oddest creatures, Captain."
"He does," agreed Pul. "I only want to bite him a very little, now and again."
"I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you," Pausert replied. "Does anyone know where we're going next?"
"A mining world," Pul told him. "I overheard Cravan and Petey talking about it."
"Mining!" Pausert was surprised. "I wouldn't think miners would appreciate anything we do." And with that, he went to find one of the more experienced members of the troupe to get his opinion.