The Dark Beyond the Stars

by Frank M. Robinson

  I ran for the boulders and scrabbled to hoist myself up, slipping off the ice-covered rocks several times before finding handholds. Any minute I expected to feel metal pellets tear through my suit, but the small explosions and rockslides suddenly stopped.

  I hit the helmet squawk button with my chin. To keep down the babble, each team had its own frequency—nobody on Tybalt’s team could overhear us.

  “Ophelia! Sparrow here!”

  Ophelia’s voice, angry but relieved, echoed in my headset immediately.

  “You’re ten minutes late reporting in—”

  “Somebody with a pellet gun!” I shouted. “They’re shooting at me!”

  “Position, Sparrow.” I gave it to her and she asked the direction of the shots. Then Snipe came on, her voice shaky with worry.

  “Seek cover, Sparrow, the walls—”

  “—are dangerous,” Ophelia interrupted. “There’s an overhang in this branch as well. Use your own judgment on cover and continue toward the rendezvous point.”

  It was growing darker, which helped, and the closer I got to the canyon mouth, the stronger the winds and the more driven the snow. I feverishly hoped the weather would provide all the cover I needed.

  I was the first to reach the ravine entrance and hid behind the Rovers a few meters away, crouching down and letting the snow cover me. It didn’t take long before I was sure I looked like just another snow-covered rock.

  It was five minutes before the other team members struggled into view. I came out from behind the boulders and counted them as they pushed through the screaming winds. Three missing.

  Crow trudged over and said tentatively, “You all right, Sparrow?”

  I nodded within the helmet. Ophelia had told them nothing and I felt too drained to fill them in. They would soon learn all about it.

  A few minutes later somebody shouted and pointed toward the ravine’s mouth at the three figures coming out. One was ahead of the other two, stumbling occasionally when he was pushed from behind. Ophelia and Tybalt followed. Tybalt, limping slightly, held a pellet gun.

  We gathered around them and Ophelia reached out and scraped the snow off the visor of the first figure so we could see his face.

  “We found an alien life form after all,” Tybalt said grimly.

  The face behind the visor was pale and strained, the eyes frightened but not so frightened they didn’t fill with hatred when they saw me.

  To my great surprise, it wasn’t Thrush.

  It was Heron.

  Man’s best friend.

  Chapter 20

  Heron’s court-martial was convened on the hangar deck. More than half the crew was present, even though it was a sleep period for many. With Banquo and Cato as his guards, Heron stood in front and a little to the right of the Captain, secured to the deck with magnetic lines, his hands bound behind him. His eyes were black holes in a pale, ugly face and he constantly licked his lips. Those close to him swore later that they could smell the stink of fear.

  The audience sat in the few Rovers parked on the deck, clung to the sides of Inbetween Station, or had tied themselves to the rings on a nearby bulkhead. For the most part, they were silent and perhaps a little awed. Heron had tried to kill another crew member and that was something almost impossible to imagine. The few who glanced at him and could imagine it shivered with revulsion and looked away.

  The lead actor in the drama was the Captain, who sat behind a small desk inside the hatchway. His halter was plain black but he also wore a black armband with a single gold star. It was the first time any of us had seen him wear anything indicating rank, and we were properly impressed. We knew the Captain held the power of life and death over us, but until that moment it had been an abstraction. Now it was reality and I could sense the unease in the crew.

  There was no jury. Judgement was the Captain’s responsibility, one he apparently wasn’t required to share, according to the computer.

  Heron had been charged with attempted murder. I was called as the first witness. I told what had happened as objectively as I could. I mentioned the incident in sick bay and the Captain listened intently. He hadn’t known about it, which meant that Pipit hadn’t reported it, and that surprised me. But in the end, he struck it as irrelevant.

  “Why did you climb to the top of the boulders, Sparrow?”

  I thought I had explained why, then realized he wanted me to repeat it so he could make a point. The proceedings had made me nervous to begin with and I felt even more so now.

  “I needed the height so my whip antenna could clear the rim of the gorge and I could contact Ophelia for help.”

  He frowned.

  “Wasn’t that dangerous? Didn’t you consider that exposing yourself in the open would make you an easy target?”

  I sensed a trap.

  “I took a gamble, sir.”

  The frown deepened.

  “It would seem like a bad gamble, Sparrow. Something was shooting at you and yet you abandoned the only cover you had for the open area in the gorge. In your place, I would have assumed that would guarantee my being shot.”

  I suddenly wondered whose trial it was.

  “I could have been killed at any time, sir. The only logical answer was that a fellow crewman was shooting at me. If I were shot while in the open, there would be pellet holes in my body and my exploration suit. The list of suspects would have been very small. A landslide from the rim above would have covered the evidence as well as killed me.”

  “It’s still a gigantic leap of faith, Sparrow.” He made a few notes on a writing slate, then asked, too casually: “You never considered the possibility of indigenous life on the planet?”

  And that was the point he was driving at. Did I believe in life out there? Did I believe in the mission of the ship? Was I still willing to follow him?

  I was right, this was far more than Heron’s trial for attempted murder. I glimpsed Ophelia in the audience and she looked stricken; she realized it as well.

  I needed time to think and made a show of clearing my throat.

  “There had been no signatures of a technical civilization in the weeks before the landing, sir. And if I had stayed under the rim, it was only a matter of time before I was a dead man.”

  The Captain hunched forward in his chair.

  “So you chanced the open to try and signal for help. Since you really didn’t believe there was any life on the planet, your assailant had to be a fellow crew member. Is that right, Sparrow?”

  I opened and closed my mouth several times before replying, then finally said, “I thought there was a good possibility of life, but not of beings so technically advanced they had pellet guns. It’s a young planet.” I hesitated again, then blurted: “I took the gamble because I had to. I was afraid all the time that I might lose.”

  He relaxed but didn’t let me go without a reprimand.

  “There’s no timetable for the development of life and different levels of civilization, Sparrow—you can’t use Earth as a measuring stick.”

  He had reinforced my premonition. Heron’s trial wasn’t going to be just about Heron. It was going to be about loyalty and faith, and eventually it would involve many more crew members in addition to Heron. If we had been on Earth, a good fraction of the crew would have fled the next time period.

  “Sparrow—why would Heron want to kill you?”

  It was no trick question but it was one I could not answer. Not in open court. And not when the Captain asked it. I finally said, “I don’t know.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “A man is filled with so much hatred for you that he’s moved to murder and you have no idea why?”

  The question hung there and I could do nothing but shrug. I had no answer. He waited until the silence became smothering, then dismissed me.

  ****

  The Captain’s interrogation of Ophelia and Tybalt began relatively routinely. Ophelia was crisp and respectful and I thought I even detected respect on the Captain�
�s part. He scribbled another note on the slate and without looking up asked:

  “Why did you detach Sparrow to explore on his own?”

  Ophelia’s prompt responses suddenly slowed.

  “We had limited time and I wanted to use the team efficiently and cover as much ground as possible.”

  The Captain leaned back, tapped his teeth with his stylus, and looked thoughtful.

  “You didn’t think it was risky sending a crewman into unknown territory by himself?”

  “I didn’t consider it dangerous. He knew the geology, he could see what the terrain was like. And we were in constant communication—” She stopped, realizing she had made a mistake.

  “But you weren’t, of course. To investigate the gorge meant that Sparrow would be out of touch with you for minutes.”

  I never thought I would see Ophelia sweat but she was sweating now.

  “I didn’t realize that at the time.”

  The Captain smiled slightly. “You didn’t foresee that he would be so eager to fulfill one command that he might violate another.”

  “No, sir.”

  “And you didn’t foresee any danger from native life forms, whatever they might have been?”

  She knew it was a trap but her pride led her in without hesitation.

  “If there were any, it wouldn’t have made any difference,” she said flatly. “None of us were armed.”

  The Captain already knew that; he was making another point. But the points he was making weren’t for the witnesses or the accused, they were for himself. He was building a case for whatever action he was going to take later.

  “In retrospect,” he said slowly, “I think that was a mistake. I’m sure Sparrow thinks so, too.” He studied his slate. “You didn’t believe in the possibility of life on Aquinas even before we landed, did you, Ophelia?”

  She was white-faced, her voice hoarse.

  “No, sir, I didn’t.”

  He studied her, obviously weighing her and finding her wanting.

  “Everybody’s entitled to their opinion, Ophelia. But nobody’s entitled to act on it if it endangers this ship and its crew. You’ve violated standard exploration procedures and shown a lack of common sense. You’re relieved of your command.”

  There was a gasp from the assembled crew members.

  In the front, at the Captain’s right, Heron smirked at all of us.

  The Captain called a recess and we filed out to report to our working spaces if we were on shift or to try and get some sleep if we weren’t. It was mealtime in Exploration and we ate in silence while Pipit just as silently served us.

  It was Thrush who stated the obvious. “It’s not going well, is it?”

  And it was little Quince who growled, “Shut up, Thrush.”

  Thrush started to object, caught the looks on our faces, then shrugged and took up his usual position in the corner. Nobody said anything to Ophelia, though one or two patted her gently on the back. Then Tybalt drifted over and they talked in low voices, his arm around her shoulder. When the meal was finished, the normal hum of conversation started again, though I heard no talk about the trial. Noah pulled out the chessboard, nodded at me, and I joined him for a game. He played badly and I scored an easy win.

  “Another one?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Not this time, Sparrow.”

  I lowered my voice so only he could hear.

  “Ophelia’s too valuable as a team leader,” I reassured him. “The Captain will reinstate her next time.”

  “You still believe in Kusaka, don’t you, Sparrow?” he asked bleakly.

  “I suppose so,” I admitted. “I’ve had more contact with him than you’ve had—at least lately.” I had my reservations about the mission, but I had yet to lose my faith in the Captain.

  He laughed without humor.

  “Poor Sparrow,” he murmured. “To have lived so long and still be so innocent.”

  ****

  Tybalt was next and the Captain seemed genuinely glad to have him as a witness. But then, Tybalt was a true believer; whatever points the Captain wanted to make, Tybalt would be glad to help.

  He gave a detailed version of everything his team did after the landing while the Captain nodded patiently.

  “But you detached Heron to explore the top of the rim by himself. Didn’t you think that dangerous?”

  “He was armed,” Tybalt said, full of self-righteousness. “I saw to it that everybody on my team was armed.”

  “With pellet guns,” the Captain agreed. “Not exactly heavy artillery on a planet we knew nothing about.”

  Tybalt looked confused.

  “It was an exploration party, not an invasion,” he said slowly.

  “I wasn’t questioning the armament, just the wisdom of sending a man off by himself.”

  A tinge of surliness crept into Tybalt’s voice.

  “It was his idea. I thought it a good one. So did other members of the team. We were pressed for time; we wanted to cover as much territory as we could while we were there.”

  The Captain fell silent, absorbed in his slate.

  “I think I see,” he said at last. “Heron volunteered to explore the rim and you detached him for that purpose.” He glanced up at Tybalt, curious. “You said other members of the team thought it was a good idea. Who were they?”

  Tybalt looked unhappy.

  “Thrush, for one.”

  I snapped alert. I didn’t know how the pieces fit together, but now it was obvious that Thrush had known Heron’s intentions. Of course. Thrush always knew what Heron intended.

  “Perhaps Thrush should have been the team leader,” the Captain said wryly. Then: “Did you think the possibilities of alien life forms on Aquinas were very good?”

  Just as Ophelia had, Tybalt was sweating heavily.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But you still let Heron go off alone.”

  Tybalt’s voice was now thick with frustration as he tried to explain something he thought the Captain couldn’t or wouldn’t understand.

  “I considered him a scout. An exploration party can’t explore if they stay together. Tactically, it would have been just as dangerous if we’d split up. Heron volunteered to be a scout and I detached him as a scout.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” the Captain said sarcastically. “Detaching him as a scout was a good idea. Detaching him so he would be free to murder a fellow crew member was a very bad one.”

  Even from where I sat, I could see Tybalt start to tremble.

  “I didn’t know what he was going to do.”

  “Did you know how he was equipped?”

  “Standard equipment—plus a pellet gun. We all had one.”

  The Captain shook his head.

  “Did you know he had an RF detector as well as a gun? He could determine the location of crew members on the other team. He could tell who they were by the numbers on their suits. And he could see them more easily from above than they could see him from below.”

  From the moment we had set down on Aquinas II, Tybalt had conducted his part of the landing as if it were a military operation. Thrush and Heron had known he would and had played on that. Sending out a scout would have had a lot of appeal to Tybalt. So Heron had been granted permission to go hunting and the game he had tracked was me.

  “Did you know Heron and Sparrow were enemies?”

  Tybalt glanced at Heron with contempt.

  “Yes. But then Heron has no friends.”

  “Why?”

  An uncomfortable shrug. “I suppose because he doesn’t like anybody and as a result, nobody likes him.”

  The Captain looked annoyed.

  “That’s an inadequate answer. Everybody has at least one friend. Who was Heron’s?”

  Without any hesitation: “Thrush was the only one in the division who could tolerate him.”

  “Do you have any idea why Heron would want to kill Sparrow?”

  It was a crucial question
but Tybalt fumbled the answer. “They didn’t like each other. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

  The Captain sighed.

  “You’ve been team leader for both Heron and Sparrow but you have no real idea why Heron has so few friends or why he and Sparrow were enemies. You should know the people in your command better than that.” He tapped the slate. “You’re excused, Tybalt. For now.”

  It was unfair. Nobody on board, with the exception of the Captain, had made more than half a dozen landings. Landings were too infrequent to breed proficiency, to teach the details of command. Tybalt was the best we had, a man who worked hard and who believed in the mission and worshiped the Captain. At least until now. For reasons I didn’t understand, the Captain had humiliated him before the crew, questioning his decisions and his professionalism. Once again I felt uneasy.

  The next witness would probably be Thrush, Heron’s one and only friend and a man for whom Heron would do anything.

  I was curious to see what Thrush would do for Heron.

  ****

  The Captain called another recess and I returned to my shift in Exploration. It was strangely silent except for the whisper of machinery and the occasional murmur of a command. The crew spoke to each other in monosyllables, and when Tybalt entered they stopped talking altogether.

  Tybalt looked smaller and older than he had a few hours before. Strain had etched deep furrows in his forehead. He said nothing to anybody and showed no interest in what we were doing. He nodded briefly and disappeared into the headquarters compartment. I waited a moment, then followed him in.

  “There’s nothing I want to talk about,” he said in a low voice.

  “I wasn’t going to talk.” I felt around in my waistcloth and pulled out a small pipe. “Smoke?”

  He lit it and inhaled for a long moment, then let the smoke drift out so it made a haze around his face. I flicked on the exhaust fan, looped an arm through a bulkhead ring, and waited.

  “I don’t know what he wants,” Tybalt finally said, “but I don’t think Heron has much to do with it.”

  “He should have known the answers to most of the questions he asked.”