by E. C. Tubb
Space was immense-the distances between the stars im shy;possible to conceive by a human brain. The figures could be learned but they meant nothing; they were so vast as to be totally outside the limits of human comprehension. Light took years to travel between the stars; ships could do it faster but the distances remained the same. If anything could reduce a man's arrogance it was the cold indifference of the galaxy, the knowledge that in the universe he was less than a minute bacteria crawling on the face of creation.
Quietly he said, "Permission to use quicktime, captain?"
"What?" Sheyan jerked, his hands convulsive as they gripped the box. "Quicktime? Yes. Yes, by all means."
"A general issue?"
"Nimino has his own. I trust him to use it with discretion. You may give it to the rest."
"As you order, captain," said Dumarest. "And yourself?"
"No. I don't need it. That is, I don't want it." Again Sheyan's hands closed on the edges of his box. "That will be all, handler."
Alone, the captain relaxed in his chair, trying not to grip the box, to think of what it contained. Dumarest had an shy;noyed him, upset him rather, but how could the man even begin to guess? Like the rest he was closed in by walls of metal, protected, shielded from what lay without. Only Nimino could really begin to understand because, like him shy;self, the navigator stared with electronic eyes at the naked menace of the stars.
And they were menacing. They waited, confident in the knowledge that they must win, that they were greater than man and anything he could do. Let his ships probe among them, land on their worlds, diminish space by the magic of the Erhaft field, they would still conquer. They would always conquer because men were mortal and they were not. They could afford to wait and watch and, perhaps, glow a little brighter whenever a ship died.
As the Moray would die-and he with it.
He closed his eyes, trying to find in darkness the courage he seemed to lose each time they left a world. It was the in shy;action which caused it, he told himself. The necessity to do nothing but sit and wait for the one day that must surely come. A minor flaw in one of the instruments. A break in a component. A trifling error which would be magnified with distance until it became overwhelming. A little thing, any little thing, and he would be totally erased, killed, wiped out-his personal universe destroyed.
Extinction.
He gasped, shuddering, jerking open his eyes to look again at the shimmering splendor of the stars which hung in scattered profusion. Shining points, sheets, curtains and ha shy;loes of magnificent luminescence dulled, directly ahead, by the somber black cloud which held the Web. He stared at it, hating the darkness, knowing it to be a waiting trap for the unwary. Perhaps this time?
"No!" Sheyan reared up in his chair, sweat beading his face as he fought his own imagination. "No!"
The sound of his own voice was a comfort and he looked around, forcing himself to check the silent machines which filled the control room, the computers and sensors, the mechanical pilots with their programmed navigational tapes, the telltales which gave him information about the ship itself.
Tiny lights winked back at him, red and green, blue and yellow, dull orange and flaring white. A ripple of color and movement as vectors were checked, slight adjustments made, the currents of space ridden as a ship would ride a turbulent sea. And space was a sea, a three-dimensional ocean of electronic wind and magnetic storm, the dead residue of solar flares and vanished novae sweeping endless shy;ly through the gulf like wreckage and flotsam, antimatter and vicious gusts of killing radiation.
All met and neutralized by the silent efficiency of the machines among which he sat.
Ships don't need captains, he thought. Navigators, per shy;haps, and even engineers-but not captains. What could I do if something went wrong? What could anyone do? But ships were not always in space and someone had to be in command, to make the decisions and to give the orders and see they were carried out. A ship was more than just a hull and engines and a mass of complex equipment. A ship was all that and more. Men still had to serve and a man still had to be in charge.
But men were weak. Sometimes too weak and then, when alone, they began to break. Slowly, at first, but always in one direction. And once they cracked, they could never be repaired.
Sheyan straightened, grabbing the box as it threatened to fall from his lap, snatching a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the sweat from his face. Two days, he thought. Only two days and already you're going under. Make it three at least, four even, five if you can. Use quicktime like the others do and shorten the journey to a fraction of its real time. No man should be expected to stare needlessly at the stars.
Not unless he had aid.
His fingers trembled as he turned the dial of the combina shy;tion. It was a simple setting, three numbers only, and within seconds the lid rose with a soft click. Inside the box some shy;thing moved, sluggishly, then quickened to pulsing life as it felt the warmth of his hand.
The box, empty, fell to one side as Sheyan relaxed, breath shy;ing easily, lost in a cloud of euphoric dreams.
"The Web," said Yalung, smiling. "A fascinating place. You must know it well."
"No," said Dumarest. "I have never been there."
"Then you are new on this ship?"
"Yes." Dumarest was telling the man nothing he probably didn't already know or could easily find out. And he would find out. Yalung was a curious man. "Have you?"
"Once, many years ago; but it was a brief visit only and there was much that I did not see."
"In the Web," said Nimino, "there is much that no man has seen. Not even those who have lived their lives on one of its worlds. Am I not right, Lin?"
The steward nodded, pleased at having been brought in shy;to the conversation. The four were seated at the table in the salon, keeping the trader company as was the custom when passengers were few. All held cups of basic and a deck of cards lay between them. Idly, Dumarest stirred them with the tip of a finger.
"Tell me about it," he said. "There seems to be much that I should know."
"About the Web?" Lin shrugged, acting older than his years. "It's just a place like any other. Stars and planets and people who live on them. It seemed normal enough to me."
"You come from Laconis, which is near the edge," said Nimino. "And you joined us on our way out. Wait until we get deep into the system before you talk about it being normal. The Web is a cloud of primeval dust," he explained to Dumarest. "Within it, the stars are very close and each star has many worlds. For trading it is ideal for the journeys are short and the needs of the people great. At least it would be ideal if conditions were as they are in normal space. But the area within the cloud is not normal. The stars are too close. There are vicious gravitational crosscurrents, mag shy;netic storms of incredible violence, ionic displays, and other unpleasant phenomena. You have dealt with our caskets and you know what eddy currents can do. Imagine them on an interstellar scale. Imagine also, the sleeting radiation, the very warping of space which occurs in areas close to double stars and you will have some idea as to conditions facing ships which probe too deeply into the Web."
"They are bad," said Yalung softly. "Very bad. On my last trip I heard news of two vessels which had failed to complete their journeys. One, it was said, fell into a star. The other had been found, a mass of twisted wreckage, the fabric having been apparently turned inside out. No one chose to guess what had really happened."
"And yet you return," said Dumarest quietly. "Why do that if the area is so dangerous?"
"For the same reason this ship returns." Yalung's smile was bland. "For profit. I am a dealer in precious stones and my trade is not without competition. In the Web are many worlds and on them could be gems of price. With conditions being what they are, it should be simple for a man to buy low and later sell high."
"There are gems on Laconis," said Lin quickly. "I could introduce you to my uncle. He would give you a fair bar shy;gain."
Again Yalung gave hi
s bland smile. "I shall remember your offer if ever we land on the planet," he said. "But, meaning no disrespect, your knowledge of gems can hardly be large."
"It's larger than you think. Earl, show him your ring." Lin frowned as Dumarest made no move to obey. "Please, Earl. Show him your ring."
Slowly Dumarest lifted his left hand and rested it on the pack of cards. The overhead light caught the stone and turned it into the likeness of an oval of freshly spilled blood. His eyes were watchful as the boy touched the ring, fas shy;tened on the trader's face, alert to catch the slightest change of expression. Lin's foolish boasting might have an unexpected bonus.
"A fine stone," said Yalung casually. "Fine but hardly rare. Together with the mount it would be worth, perhaps, the cost of a short High passage."
"Think again," said Lin. "I know stones. This is worth double what you say."
"Perhaps." Yellow silk moved as the trader lifted his shoul shy;ders, the black glyphs with which it was decorated moving like slumbering serpents. "But you forget, my young friend, I am a trader and never enhance the price."
"But I am right?"
"You are right. The ring is worth what you say, and I must congratulate you on your knowledge. And now, per shy;haps, someone would care to indulge my pleasure in a game of cards?" Yalung looked from one to the other. "No? You are tired, perhaps? I hardly think that the crew of a ship like this would have moral objections to gambling."
"No," said Lin quickly. "I-"
"Will go to bed." Dumarest was curt in his interruption. "Take a cup of basic to the engineer, another to the captain, and then retire."
"But, Earl-"
"Do as I say." Dumarest watched as the boy drew a single cup of liquid from the spigot. "What about the cap shy;tain?"
"He doesn't need any. Am I right, Nimino?"
"That is correct." The navigator looked at Dumarest. "Sheyan takes care of himself during a flight and brooks no interruption. Take the cup to the engineer, Lin, and then retire." He watched as the steward left the salon. "You were hard on the boy," he said quietly. "He is young."
Dumarest agreed. "Too young to ape the man and far too young to gamble with those who would take all he owns."
"And too young, perhaps, to call attention to a ring?" Yalung's voice was a purr. "It was bad manners, I grant, and bad manners must be punished. But to shame the lad? It would not have hurt him to play a little. The stakes need not have been high,"
"If the stakes are low then it is not a gamble," said Nimino. "A man cannot lose what he doesn't care to keep. And you are mistaken as to Earl's motives. Why should he object to Lin showing you his ring?"
"Did I give that impression?" Yalung spread his hands, his smile deprecating. "My apologies if I did; it was uncon shy;scious, I assure you. But on Aarn there was talk about a man wearing a ring and another man found dead in a closet in his room. The dead man was a known thief and the assumption is that he died in pursuit of his trade. It is a rumor, you understand, a whisper in the taverns. You may have heard it?"
"No," said Dumarest tightly. "I did not."
"Then again I am mistaken. I thought that you were a little tender on the subject-no man likes to be associated with murder. But, of course, the association can be nothing but coincidence. Many men wear rings."
"I wear one myself," said Nimino thrusting forward his hand. The light shone from a golden snake coiled around his finger. "Would you care to value it, trader?"
"In terms of its true worth or its sentimental attachment?"
"Neither. In terms of its protective power." The navigator smiled as he lowered his hand. "You hesitate. Well, that is to be expected from one who deals in money, what could you know of the value of spiritual things? Yet you haven't the price of this ring should you want to buy it from me. It was given me by the Decal Ghengian himself and all he touched was holy."
Yalung's eyes held a gleam of amusement as he glanced at Dumarest. "Then the ring must be very valuable," he said gently. "For the Decal Ghengian will touch things no more."
"He has found the Way?" Nimino was excited. "He has found the realm beyond?"
"As well as any man can find it. He is dead. Killed by a fall from the roof of his hotel in Nagash on Jacellon. Some say that he was drunk and attempted to fly. Others that he was summoned. A few whisper that he was assassi shy;nated, but that is rumor and rumor always lies."
"Dead." Nimino looked down at his ring and touched it with loving fingers. "Had he lived what might not that man have accomplished. He could even have found the holy world from which all men originated."
"Now that, at least, you cannot believe," said Yalung. "It is the stuff of legend and as frail as gossamer. Forgive me if I lose patience but I have heard such legends too often to be tolerant. The mystery planets found and lost again: Jackpot, Bonanza, El Dorado, a dozen others. Worlds of dreams and imagination born of longing and dying hope. I have traveled the galaxy and have never heard more than a rumor of any of them."
Dumarest looked down at his hands, then at those of the trader. Quietly he said, "Have you ever heard of Earth?"
"Earth?" Yalung's hands remained immobile. His eyes were enigmatic as Dumarest raised his head to stare into the yellow face. "A strange name for a world. I know of Sand, an odd place of almost total desert. A species of insect lives beneath the surface and constructs balls of natural secre shy;tions which have a slight value when ground and polished. But Earth? No."
"And you, Nimino?"
The navigator hesitated. "There are so many worlds- how can one man know them all? The name is strange to me, Earl, yet I cannot say there is no such place."
"How about Terra? Is that name familiar?" Dumarest shrugged as both men shook their heads. "Well, never mind. It isn't important."
Not if a life had no value and years of searching were of no account. Not if home meant nothing to a man or a quest had no substance. The questions had been automatic, born of the hope that someone, somewhere, would be able to give a positive answer. It was a slim chance, but one which had to be tried. Their response was another disappointment to add to the rest.
Dumarest picked up the deck of cards. "Well, gentlemen," he said. "Shall we play?"
III
dumarest stood at the head of the loading ramp and looked over the landing field at Hendris. It was small and, aside from the Moray, deserted. An acre of gritty soil lacking the usual perimeter fence, the surface scarred and blotched with weed. To one side a huddle of shacks stood in the shadow of a gaunt warehouse, flimsy structures advertising their poverty. More substantial buildings rested further back in the town, a listless flag signaling the whereabouts of a tavern. Edging the field a squat tower held the administration of shy;fices, the flat roof surmounted by the elaborate antennae of a supraradio.
A flash of yellow moved from the building: Yalung, prob shy;ably on his way to search for precious gems. Thoughtfully
Dumarest looked at the sky. It was dark, almost indigo, the ball of the sun halfway towards the horizon. It was a dull, angry red, the wide corona limned with sooty markings, the surface writhing as it fed on the dust. From a few parsecs it would be invisible, all radiation absorbed by the cloud before it could escape from the Web.
"Hey there!"
Dumarest looked down. A field loader had come from behind the vessel riding an antigrav raft loaded high with crates. He stared upwards, squinting.
"You the handler?"
"That's right."
"What happened to Elgart? I thought he was Sheyan's man."
"He was."
"Like that, eh?" The field loader shrugged. "Well, it's none of my business. You ready to take delivery?"
"Just a minute." Dumarest walked down the ramp until he stood level with the man. "When did the last ship leave here?"
"Three days ago. Heading Inside."
"And before that?"
"Maybe two weeks. Heading Inside." The man grinned. "I know what you're after, a ship out. Well, mister, you're not the only one.
Sam Glegan at the hotel is getting fat on traders waiting to be carried out of the Web. It's been two months since the last ship headed that way and it could be as long again until the next."
Dumarest frowned. "Where's the next terminal?"
"Thermyle? That's in the next system. You could pick up a ship bound for there in maybe a month or so. Maybe less. They don't run much to schedule. Why the interest? You thinking of quitting the Moray?"
"Forget it." Dumarest looked at the crates. "Are they for us?"
"That's right. And there's three times as much waiting to be hauled. Where do you want it?"
"In the hold."
"Open up the hull and I'll oblige," said the field loader. "Failing that I can't do more than dump it. My job is to deliver it to the ship. How you get it inside is your problem." He guided the raft to the foot of the ramp and released the grapnels. Bobbing, the vehicle rose, an open frame be shy;hind the driver's seat. "Right," he said. "It's all yours."
The crates contained agricultural implements: hoes, ax heads, saw blades, scythes, plowshares, and rakes, together with rods and ingots of native iron. Each crate was heavier than the weight of a man. Dumarest lifted one and let it fall with a crash on the foot of the ramp. On normal vessels the loading ramp would have been powered, hooks and rollers carrying the cargo up to the hold where it could be stacked. On the Moray the power attachment refused to work.
The field loader delivered the second heap of crates as Dumarest walked from the vessel. He paused at the edge of the field looking to either side. Usually there would have been men looking for either work or passage but Hendris was a casual world and to wait for a ship was to starve. The edge of the field was deserted and Dumarest walked on to where the drooping flag hung over the tavern.
