Dark Benediction

by Walter M. Miller

  "Sit down, Roki."

  The tall space commander sat at attention and waited, his face expressionless, his eyes coolly upon the colonel's forehead. Beth shuffled some papers on his desk, then spoke slowly.

  "Before we begin, I want you to understand something, commander."

  "Yes, sir."

  "You are not being tried. This is not a court-martial. There are no charges against you. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, sir."

  The colonel's pale eyes managed to look at Roki's face without showing any contempt. "This investigation is for the record, and for the public. The incident has already been investigated, as you know. But the people are aroused, and we have to make a show of some kind."

  "I understand, sir."

  "Then let's begin. Dela, take notes, please." The colonel glanced at the papers before him. "Space Commander Roki, will you please tell us in your own words what happened during patrol flight Sixty-one on fourday sixmonth, year eighty-seven?"

  There was a brief silence. The girl was staring at the back of Roki's neck as if she longed to attack it with a hatchet. Roki's thin face was a waxen mask as he framed his words. His voice came calm as a bell and clear.

  "The flight was a random patrol. We blasted off Jod VII at thirteen hours, Universal Patrol Time, switched on the high-C drive, and penetrated to the ten-thousandth level of the C'th component. We re-entered the continuum on the outer patrol radius at thirty-six degrees theta and two-hundred degrees psi. My navigator threw the dice to select a random course. We were to proceed to a point on the same co-ordinate shell at thirty theta and one-fifty psi. We began—"

  The colonel interrupted. "Were you aware at the time that your course would intersect that of the mercy ship?"

  The girl looked up again. Roki failed to wince at the question. "I was aware of it, sir."

  "Go on."

  "We proceeded along the randomly selected course until the warp detectors warned us of a ship. When we came in range, I told the engineer to jockey into a parallel course and to lock the automatics to keep us parallel. When that was accomplished, I called the unknown freighter with the standard challenge."

  "You saw its insignia?"

  "Yes, sir. The yellow mercy star."

  "Go on. Did they answer your challenge?"

  "Yes, sir. The reply, decoded, was: Mercy liner Sol-G-6, departure Sol III, destination Jod VI, cargo emergency surgi-bank supplies, Cluster Request A-4-J."

  Beth nodded and watched Roki with clinical curiosity. "You knew about the Jod VI disaster? That twenty thousand casualties were waiting in Suspendfreeze lockers for those supplies?"

  "Yes, sir. I'm sorry they died."

  "Go on with your account."

  "I ordered the navigator to throw the dice again, to determine whether or not the freighter should be boarded for random cargo inspection. He threw a twelve, the yes-number. I called the freighter again, ordered the outer locks opened. It failed to answer, or respond in any way."

  "One moment. You explained the reason for boarding? Sol is on the outer rim of the galaxy. It doesn't belong to any cluster system. Primitive place—or regressed. They wouldn't understand our ways."

  "I allowed for that, sir," continued the cold-faced Roki. "I explained the situation, even read them extracts of our patrol regs. They failed to acknowledge. I thought perhaps they were out of contact, so I had the message repeated to them by blinker. I know they got it, because the blinker-operator acknowledged the message. Evidently carried it to his superiors. Apparently they told him to ignore us, because when we blinked again, he failed to acknowledge. I then attempted to pull alongside and attach to their hull by magnetic grapples."

  "They resisted?"

  "Yes, sir. They tried to break away by driving to a higher C-level. Our warp was already at six-thousand C's. The mass-components of our star cluster at that level were just a collapsing gas cloud. Of course, with our automatic trackers, they just dragged us with them, stalled, and plunged the other way. They pulled us down to the quarter-C level; most of the galaxy was at the red-dwarf stage. I suppose they realized then that they couldn't get away from us like that. They came back to a sensible warp and continued on their previous course."

  "And you did what?"

  "We warned them by every means of communication at our disposal, read them the standard warning."

  "They acknowledge?"

  "Once, sir. They came back to say: This is an emergency shipment. We have orders not to stop. We are continuing on course, and will report you to authority upon arrival." Roki paused, eyeing the colonel doubtfully. "May I make a personal observation, sir?"

  Beth nodded tolerantly. "Go ahead."

  "They wasted more time dodging about in the C'th component than they would have lost if they had allowed us to board them. I regarded this behavior as highly suspicious."

  "Did it occur to you that it might be due to some peculiarity in Sol III's culture? Some stubbornness, or resentment of authority?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Did you ask opinions of your crew?"

  A slight frown creased Roki's high forehead. "No, sir."

  "Why not?"

  "Regulation does not require it, sir. My personal reason —the cultural peculiarities of my planet."

  The barb struck home. Colonel Beth knew the military culture of Roki's world—Coph IV. Military rank was inherited. On his own planet, Roki was a nobleman and an officer of the war-college. He had been taught to rely upon his own decisions and to expect crisp, quick obedience. The colonel frowned at his desk.

  "Let's put it this way: Did you know the opinions of the crew?"

  "Yes, sir. They thought that we should abandon the pursuit and allow the freighter to continue. I was forced to confine two of them to the brig for insubordination and attempted mutiny." He stopped and glanced at one of the majors. "All due apologies to you, sir."

  The major flushed. He ranked Roki, but he had been with the patrol as an observer, and despite his higher rank, he was subject to the ship commander's authority while in space. He had also been tossed in the brig. Now he glared at the Cophian space commander without speaking.

  "All right, commander, when they refused to halt, what did you do?"

  "I withdrew to a safe range and fired a warning charge ahead of them. It exploded in full view of their scopes, dead ahead. They ignored the warning and tried to flee again."

  "Go on."

  Roki's shoulders lifted in the suggestion of a shrug. "In accordance with Article Thirty of the Code; I shot them out of space."

  The girl made a choking sound. "And over ten thousand people died on Jod VI because you—"

  "That will do, Dalai" snapped Colonel Beth.

  There was a long silence. Roki waited calmly for further questioning. He seemed unaware of the girl's outburst. The colonel's voice came again with a forced softness.

  "You examined the debris of the destroyed vessel?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "What did you find?"

  "Fragments of quick-frozen bone, blood plasma, various bodily organs and tissues in cultured or frozen form, prepared for surgical use in transplanting operations; in other words, a complete stock of surgibank supplies, as was anticipated. We gathered up samples, but we had no facilities for preserving what was left."

  The colonel drummed his fingers. "You said 'anticipated.' Then you knew full well the nature of the cargo, and you did not suspect contraband material of any kind?"

  Roki paused. "I suspected contraband, colonel," he said quietly.

  Beth lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "You didn't say that before."

  "I was never asked."

  "Why didn't you say it anyway?"

  "I had no proof."

  "Ah, yes," murmured the colonel. "The culture of Coph IV again. Very well, but in examining the debris, you found no evidence of contraband?" The colonel's distasteful expression told the room that he knew the answer, but only wanted it on the record.

  But Roki paused
a long time. Finally, he said, "No evidence, sir."

  "Why do you hesitate?"

  "Because I still suspect an illegality—without proof, I'm afraid."

  This time, the colonel's personal feelings betrayed him in a snort of disgust. He shuffled his papers for a long time, then looked at the major who had accompanied the patrol. "Will you confirm Roki's testimony, major? Is it essentially truthful, as far as you know?"

  The embarrassed officer glared at Roki in undisguised hatred. "For the record, sir—I think the commander behaved disgracefully and insensibly. The results of the stoppage of vitally needed supplies prove—"

  "I didn't ask for a moral judgment!" Beth snapped. "I asked you to confirm what he has said here. Were the incidents as he described them?"

  The major swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

  The colonel nodded. "Very well. I'll ask your opinions, gentlemen. Was there an infraction of regulations? Did Commander Roki behave as required by Space Code, or did he not? Yes or no, please. Major Tuli?"

  "No direct infraction, sir, but—"

  "No buts! Major Go'an?"

  "Uh—no infraction, sir."

  "I find myself in agreement." The colonel spoke directly at Dela's note pad. "The ultimate results of the incident were disastrous, indeed. And, Roki's action was unfortunate, ill-advised, and not as the Sixty Star Patrol would approve. Laws, codes, regulations are made for men, not men for regulations. Roki observed the letter of the law, but was perhaps forgetful of its spirit. However, no charge can be found against him. This investigating body recommends that he be temporarily grounded without prejudice, and given thorough physical and mental examinations before being returned to duty. That brings us to an end, gentlemen. Dela, you may go."

  With another glare at the haughty Cophian, the girl stalked out of the room. Beth leaned back in his chair, while the majors saluted and excused themselves. His eyes kept Roki locked in his chair. When they were alone, Beth said:

  "You have anything to say to me off the record?"

  Roki nodded. "I can submit my resignation from the patrol through your office, can't I, sir?"

  Beth smiled coldly. "I thought you'd do that, Roki." He opened a desk drawer and brought out a single sheet of paper. "I took the liberty of having it prepared for your signature. Don't misunderstand. I'm not urging you to resign, but we're prepared to accept it if you choose to do so. If you don't like this standard from, you may prepare your own."

  The jet-eyed commander took the paper quickly and slashed his name quickly across the bottom. "Is this effective immediately, sir?"

  "In this case, we can make it so."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Don't regard it as a favor." The colonel witnessed the signature.

  The Cophian could not be stung. "May I go now?"

  Beth looked up, noticing with amusement that Roki—now a civilian—had suddenly dropped the "sir." And his eyes were no longer cold. They were angry, hurt, despairing.

  "What makes you Cophians tick anyway?" he murmured thoughtfully.

  Roki stood up. "I don't care to discuss it with you, colonel. I'll be going now."

  "Wait, Roki." Beth frowned ominously to cover whatever he felt.

  "I'm waiting."

  "Up until this incident, I liked you, Roki. In fact, I told the general that you were the most promising young officer in my force."

  "Kind of you," he replied tonelessly.

  "And you could have been sitting at this desk, in a few years. You hoped to, I believe."

  A curt nod, and a quick glance at Beth's shoulder insignia.

  "You chose your career, and now you don't have it. I know what it means to you."

  A tightening of the Cophian's jaw told the colonel that he wanted no sympathy, but Beth continued.

  "Since this is the oldest, most established, most static planet in the Cluster, you're out of a job in a place where there's no work."

  "That's none of your business, colonel," Roki said quietly.

  "According to my culture's ethics it is my business," he bellowed. "Of course you Cophians think differently. But we're not quite so cold. Now you listen: I'm prepared to help you a little, although you're probably too pig-headed to accept. God knows, you don't deserve it anyway."

  "Go on."

  "I'm prepared to have a patrol ship take you to any planet in the galaxy. Name it, and we'll take you there." He paused. "All right, go ahead and refuse. Then get out."

  Roki's thin face twitched for a moment. Then he nodded. "I'll accept. Take me to Sol III."

  The colonel got his breath again slowly. He reddened and chewed his lip. "I did say galaxy, didn't I? I meant . . . well . . . you know we can't send a military ship outside the Sixty-Star Cluster."

  Roki waited impassively, his dark eyes measuring the colonel.

  "Why do you want to go there?"

  "Personal reasons."

  "Connected with the mercy ship incident?"

  "The investigation is over."

  Beth pounded his desk. "It's crazy, man! Nobody's been to Sol for a thousand years. No reason to go. Sloppy, decadent place. I never suspected they'd answer Jod VI's plea for surgibank supplies!"

  "Why not? They were selling them."

  "Of course. But I doubted that Sol still had ships, especially C-drive ships. Only contribution Sol ever made to the galaxy was to spawn the race of Man—if you believe that story. It's way out of contact with any interstellar nation. I just don't get it."

  "Then you restrict your offer, colonel?" Roki's eyes mocked him.

  Beth sighed. "No, no—I said it. I'll do it. But I can't send a patrol ship that far. I'll have to pay your way on a private vessel. We can find some excuse—exploration maybe."

  Roki's eyes flickered sardonically. "Why not send a diplomatic delegation—to apologize to Sol for the blasting of their mercy ship."

  "Uk! With YOU aboard?"

  "Certainly. They won't know me.

  Beth just stared at Roki as if he were of a strange species.

  "You'll do it?" urged Roki.

  "I'll think it over. I'll see that you get there, if you insist on going. Now get out of here. I've had enough of you, Roki."

  The Cophian was not offended. He turned on his heel and left the office. The girl looked up from her filing cabinets as he came out. She darted ahead of him and blocked the doorway with her small tense body. Her face was a white mask of disgust, and she spoke between her teeth.

  "How does it feel to murder ten thousand people and get away with it?" she hissed.

  Roki looked at her face more closely and saw the racial characteristics of Jod VI—the slightly oversized irises of her yellow-brown eyes, the thin nose with flaring nostrils, the pointed jaw. Evidently some of her relatives had died in the disaster and she held him personally responsible. He had destroyed the help that was on its way to casualties.

  "How does it feel?" she demanded, her voice going higher, and her hands clenching into weapons.

  "Would you step aside please, Miss?"

  A quick hand slashed out to rake his cheek with sharp nails. Pain seared his face. He did not move. Two bright stripes of blood appeared from his eye to the corner of his mouth. A drop trickled to the point of his chin and splattered down upon the girl's shoe.

  "On my planet," he 'said, in a not unkindly tone, "when a woman insists on behaving like an animal, we assist her—by having her flogged naked in the public square. I see personal dignity is not so highly prizedhere. You do not regard it as a crime to behave like an alley cat?"

  Her breath gushed out of her in a sound of rage, and she tore at the wounds again. Then, when he did nothing but look at her coldly, she fled.

  Eli Roki, born to the nobility of Coph, dedicated to the service of the Sixty-Star Cluster, suddenly found himself something of an outcast. As he strode down the corridor away from Beth's office, he seemed to be walking into a thickening fog of desolation. He had no home now; for he had abdicated his hereditary rights on Coph in orde
r to accept a commission with the SSC Patrol. That, too, was gone; and with it his career.

  He had known from the moment he pressed the firing stud to blast the mercy freighter that unless the freighter proved to be a smuggler, his career would be forfeit. He was still morally certain that he had made no mistake. Had the freighter been carrying any other cargo, he would have been disciplined for not blasting it. And, if they had had nothing to hide, they would have stopped for inspection. Somewhere among Sol's planets lay the answer to the question—"What else was aboard besides the cargo of mercy?"

  Roki shivered and stiffened his shoulders as he rode homeward in a heliocab. If the answer to the question were "Nothing," then according to the code of his planet, there was only one course left to follow. "The Sword of Apology" it was called.

  He waited in his quarters for the colonel to fulfill his promise. On the following day, Beth called.

  "I've found a Dalethian ship, Roki. Privately owned. Pilot's willing to fly you out of the Cluster. It's going as an observation mission—gather data on the Sol System. The commissioners vetoed the idea of sending a diplomatic delegation until we try to contact Solarians by high-C radio."

  "When do I leave?"

  "Be at the spaceport tonight. And good luck, son. I'm sorry all this happened, and I hope—"

  "Yeah, thanks."

  "Well—"

  "Well?"

  The colonel grunted and hung up. Ex-Commander Roki gathered up his uniforms and went looking for a pawn shop. "Hock 'em, or sell 'em?" asked a bald man behind the counter. Then he peered more closely at Roki's face, and paused to glance at a picture on the front page of the paper. "Oh," he grunted, "you. You wanta sell 'em." With a slight sneer, he pulled two bills from his pocket and slapped them on the counter with a contemptuous take-it-or-leave-it stare. The clothing was worth at least twice as much. Roki took it after a moment's hesitation. The money just matched the price tag on a sleek, snub-nosed Multin automatic that lay in the display case.

  "And three hundred rounds of ammunition," he said quietly as he pocketed the weapon.