The Black Sun

by Jack Williamson

  “Sir?” Glengarth looked inquiringly at Stecker. “I see no new risk in a cautious search.”

  “I do,” Stecker snapped. “Jonas speaks for me.” He belched again, hugged his belly, and swung to Cheng. “This puts us in a hell of a mess. Digging the pit, we’re digging for our lives. We’ll get the Beta busy, right here on the job. Push it with every man we’ve got.”

  “Okay, sir.” Cheng nodded without enthusiasm. “We’ll get right at it.”

  “Carry on, Mr. Glengarth.” Nodding for Roak to follow, Stecker stalked toward the elevator. “We’re leaving you in charge.”

  “Hah!” Glengarth grunted when they were gone. “Adiós.”

  Back at the telescope, Rima kept scouring the empty ice till Glengarth made her come down with him for breakfast. In the dining room, scattered groups sat huddled over their tables, anxious voices murmuring beneath a nervous hush. She was ordering soyamax toast with syncafe when the waiter came to Glengarth with a covered tray.

  “Real ham and eggs.” He uncovered it with a flourish. “Kona coffee, with real dairy cream. Stabilized for preservation. Compliments of the captain and Mr. Roak, from their private stock.”

  “Great friends!”

  Glengarth made a sardonic face and told the waiter to give his thanks to the captain. Moodily silent, he seemed to enjoy his ham and eggs, but Rima found no appetite, not even for the coffee. She drank a little of it, begged him to excuse her, and went back to the dome. On watch there, Sternberg laid his binoculars aside.

  “Still no heat lamp,” he told her. “No sign of anything.”

  She returned to the telescope. Mounted outside the hull, it projected its field of view on the holowall. At highest power, the fallen boulders along the peninsula looked close enough to touch. Once more she followed kilometer after kilometer of starlit frost and starry midnight as they crawled across the screens, all the way from the southward coast of the peninsula to the continental ice that walled the north.

  Nothing. A cold lump of dread ached in her stomach, but she kept at the search till Glengarth came back to relieve Sternberg and sent her down to rest. Her empty cabin offered no rest. In an hour, she was back again.

  “The lamp!” It was late afternoon when she called Glengarth to the telescope. “That red spark, just above the horizon.”

  “Nearly due south.” He read out the bearings. “They’ve gone down the peninsula the way Singh went. I hope they don’t—”

  He caught himself, but that was the direction of the temple at the peninsula tip, or whatever it was, where the amphibians had waded out of the sea to grow their wings and take to the sky. She shuddered, trying not to let her mind dwell on the naked bodies of Singh and her crew, frozen as they tried to climb the monstrous figures carved into the wall.

  “Don’t brood.” Hastily, he tried to cheer her. “We don’t know where they’re going. It is frightening, but we have to hope they’re still okay. Try the radio again.”

  She did, beaming the signal toward that far-off point of dull red light. Still all she heard was the surflike whisper of ceaseless cosmic energies.

  “I’ve got to know.” Baffled and desperate, she appealed to him. “Now that we’ve found which way they went, could you possibly get the captain to authorize a rescue party?”

  “Not a prayer.” He shook his head, with a small grim shrug.

  “Cheng and Mondragon are eager enough to go,” she told him. “And I’m learning to drive the spiders.”

  “I’ve spoken again to Roak and the captain. They won’t risk the Beta.”

  She tried the radio again and yet again. She watched that faint red spark sinking slowly toward the flat horizon until it flickered and vanished. Still she stayed at the telescope, searching that empty line between starlit ice and star-blazing blackness, till Glengarth’s watch was over.

  Roak came to relieve him.

  “You’ve done all you can,” Glengarth told her. “Let’s go down for dinner.”

  “Not yet. I want to speak to Mr. Roak.”

  Glengarth gave her a sharp look and stepped into the elevator.

  “Rima?” Roak turned expectantly to her. “What did you want to say?”

  Facing his ambiguous grin, she took a moment to gather her resolve.

  “We need to recover the Alpha. Mr. Glengarth says we’ll never get the launch facility built without Cruzet and Andersen.”

  “So what?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Won’t you—” Her voice broke. “Won’t you speak to the captain? Persuade him to let Cheng and Mondragon make a search?”

  “I might.” Relief took her breath. “Let’s talk it over.”

  Trembling, she listened.

  “I understand your concern for your kids.” His eyes narrowed shrewdly. “I’ve tried to tell the captain how hopeless our situation is. Perhaps I could get him to authorize a search—if you and I can make a deal?”

  “Yes?”

  He paused to study her.

  “I’m no total fool.” His half-smile chilled her. “I know you dislike me, but for better or worse we’re here on the ship for the rest of our lives. We have to get along, if you follow me?”

  “I’m afraid I do.”

  “So here’s my proposition.” She saw his sardonic shrug. “I can get Stecker to allow the expedition. With luck enough, it will return with the men and your kids. Most likely they’ll be found naked and frozen on the wall of that amphibian temple….”

  He saw her shudder.

  “Nothing nice to think about, but here’s what I want from you.”

  Swaying on her feet, she waited through another tormenting pause.

  “By all odds, Rima, you’re the most attractive woman on the ship. I’ve admired you since we left Earth. I want you with me for the rest of—”

  “No deal.”

  “Please, my dear, give me a chance.” He must have learned his oily surface charm back on Earth, she thought. “I respect your sense of the proprieties. I’ll get the captain to pronounce us man and wife, with whatever ceremony you like.”

  He paused for her response. A gold crown gleaming through an empty smile, his face looked cold and hard. She saw the thickness of his lips, the black hair in his nostrils, a thin blue scar across his forehead. Again she caught his rank body scent.

  “So what do you say?”

  “No!”

  “Don’t you love your children?”

  She was quivering, her fists clenched, but fury would get her nowhere. She tried to relax, to control herself, to slow her rapid breathing.

  “Of course I do.” Her voice came unsteady and shrill, but she kept on. “But if I give in and we find them dead, what have I gained?”

  “Don’t you want to know? Don’t you care?”

  “You know I do.” She gasped the words and stumbled toward the elevator. “And I know you don’t.” Huskily, she whispered at him, “You—you despicable monster!”

  “Rima, please!” he called after her, hands spread in a gesture of tolerant appeal. “Reality has given us some very bitter pills. We must learn to take them. I’m trying to sweeten your pill in the best way I can.”

  Weak and shaking, she clung to the doorway.

  “I’ll kill you!” she gasped. “If you make me.”

  “You’ll get to know me.” He shrugged, laughing at her. “I won’t press you now. I’ll need time to bring the captain around. The Beta will have to be checked out and refueled. Cheng and Mondragon have been at the pit. They’ll need rest. I see you’re exhausted. I’ll let you sleep on it.”

  “If you think I can sleep …”

  “You must rest.” He shook his head in a mockery of sympathy. “Sleep if you can. I’ll give you till breakfast. Think about it. Tell me then, yes or no.”

  His avid grin followed her into the elevator.

  In the dining room, she found Glengarth sitting with Sternberg. They beckoned, and she brought her tray to their table.

  “Joe’s briefing me.” Glengarth
dropped his voice. “On our situation.”

  “Which is scary.” Sternberg glanced around to see that nobody was near. “Stecker and his stooges have us sitting on a powder keg.”

  “With the fuse lit.” Glengarth nodded gloomily. “Since we lost the Alpha.”

  “Cheng took his work crew out to the pit.” Sternberg bent closer. “They’re just going through the motions, he says. There’s nothing useful for them to do. The ship’s ripe for mutiny. If Roak and Stecker didn’t have their bomb, they wouldn’t last another minute.”

  “I talked to Roak.” Rima’s bitterness burst out. “Begged him to let us send the Beta out. He promised …” Her voice quivered. “If I’d be his mistress.”

  “What a beast!” Glengarth muttered. “Don’t trust him.”

  “Never.” Sternberg looked again for listeners. “Stecker wouldn’t agree to anything. He’s sick with panic. Wants to keep the Beta here for escape, if things get too hot for him.”

  “Roak …”

  Her voice was gone. She caught the edges of the table to support herself for a moment until she could push herself to her feet.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry …”

  “Rima?” Glengarth stood up. “Can I help you?”

  “I—I’m okay.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s just—I feel used up. I’m going up to my cabin.”

  Still in her jumpsuit, she fell on her berth and tried to sleep. Roak’s gloating, gold-toothed grin still haunted her. She saw no escape from him, no hope for Day and Kip. She was used to listening for their sounds as they slept; the dead silence of the room ached in her mind.

  The night was endless, but at last she dozed. When near gunfire crashed, she thought she was dreaming till she heard shouted curses outside in the corridor. Groggily, she sat up on the side of the berth. Another gunshot echoed. She heard a piercing scream. Breathless voices shouted orders that made no sense. Hard-heeled boots tramped away and left a maddening stillness.

  Had a mutiny begun?

  Was Stecker desperate enough to detonate his suicidal bomb? And now did she really have to care? She turned on the holoscreen and found it blank. Listening, she heard rapid footfalls that stopped outside. Then she heard a muffled knock.

  Twenty-two

  Kip had gone to the gym that afternoon, hoping to work out with Carlos. Carlos wasn’t there. Probably still driving the Beta for Dr. Cheng, taking men and tools to the launch pit. Disappointed, he went back to the playroom where Day and a few other young kids sat listening to Mrs. Sternberg tell fairy tales. He didn’t care for the soyasweet cookies or soya milk. Day squirmed unhappily through another silly tale about Me Me, but he waited with her till story time was over.

  When they got back to the cabin, Rima sat staring at the dead holoscreen. She gave them a tired smile and asked if they’d had fun, but she didn’t seem to care how silly the fairy tale had been. They went down for dinner. It was more soya stuff. His mother had always eaten it, telling them cheerfully they must learn to like it because it had all the food elements they needed, but tonight she pushed her tray away without tasting anything. He wondered if some new trouble was on her mind, but decided not to ask. Anxious about her, he slept uneasily that night till a sobbing cry from Day brought him half awake.

  “Me Me?”

  Had he heard someone moving beyond the curtain around his berth? Or was it just a dream? He heard her curtain rustle, and her sleepy voice again.

  “Me Me? Wait for me!”

  He slid out of his berth in time to see her dart out of the open door. His mother still breathed softly inside her own curtain. She needed her sleep, and he didn’t want to wake her. The circular corridor around the elevator shaft was already empty. He started for the elevator door and remembered that service stopped at midnight. He ran around the shaft and caught another glimpse of Day in her red jumpsuit, vanishing down the spiral stair.

  “Daby!” The name he always called her when he felt vexed with her. “Wake up! Wait for me!”

  Of course she didn’t, but he could surely overtake her. He ran down the spiral, deck after deck, and never caught her. Panting hard, he came out into the bright lights on the main deck and found her at last. Cruzet and Andersen stood at the security desk across the room. She was with them.

  “Day!” he called across the room. “Come with me. Come back to Mom.”

  “Not yet.” She shook her head, smiling up at Andersen. “We’re going after Me Me.”

  “She’s okay, Kip.” Andersen turned to him. “We’ve just overhauled the Alpha. We’re taking it out for a short test run, and your mother thought you kids would like to come along.”

  Kip peered at him doubtfully. It was awfully early in the morning. He hadn’t heard about any test run, but maybe his mother had been too worried to remember. Andersen and Cruzet were quantum engineers and friends she knew and liked. This wasn’t the first time Day had frightened everybody, slipping out of the cabin in her sleep to look for Me Me. He looked hard at her. She did seem okay, hanging on to Andersen’s hand.

  “Mom never told us,” he said. “We don’t have our coats.”

  “No matter.” Andersen laughed. “We’ll keep the spider warm enough, and you’ll be back in time for breakfast.”

  Reba Washburn sat behind the desk. They had asked her to open the ship’s air lock.

  “Why so early?” she was asking. “Nobody’s up.”

  “We are.” Andersen gave her an easy grin. “And we do have the captain’s permission to test the Alpha, if you’ll just let us into the work balloon.”

  “I don’t know.” She frowned at the monitor on her desk. “Dr. Cheng has both spiders reserved for the pit.”

  “I know.” Andersen nodded. “Tony and I are on his crew. That’s why we have to make the run so early.”

  “Security should have been informed.”

  “The captain has a lot on his mind.” Andersen shrugged. “You can call him if you want a confirmation.”

  “He’d be asleep.”

  “The test is pretty urgent,” he said. “We don’t want the Alpha stalling on the job.”

  “Okay.” Still doubtful, she reached for her keys. “I guess it’s okay.”

  He followed them into the little anteroom beside the lock. Hanging there with the others was the airskin that Jim Cheng had cut down for him. Nodding at it, he caught the sleeve of Andersen’s yellow jumpsuit.

  “Can I bring it?” he begged. “My airskin?”

  “Why not?”

  Andersen didn’t seem to care. He was proud of the airskin, and the test drive would be more real if he had it with him. He pulled it off the hook and carried it with him the way Jim Cheng had carried his, slung over his shoulder.

  The lock opened with a soft thud, of metal on plastic foam. Day kept a tight grip on Andersen’s fingers, and Kip followed them into the balloon. It was a great dim cave, cooler than the ship. He shivered a little in the worn jumpsuit he had worn to bed, but the spiders were always exciting.

  His mother should have been told, but Andersen and Cruzet were men she trusted. With luck, he and Day would be back in their berths before she ever woke up. He followed the ramp up into the Alpha and hung his airskin with the others inside the lock.

  Pulses throbbing, he listened to the hums and thumps as the ramp lifted into place against the hull and the air lock sealed. He imagined he was going out on an interstellar mission with Captain Cometeer. Andersen let Day come with him to the controls in the nose of the machine. Cruzet stayed below to check the engine and the cycler. They were already rolling out of the balloon when he climbed into the lookout bubble.

  Andersen was driving fast down the beach to the frozen ocean. This was real! More exciting, he thought, than a flight in Captain Cometeer’s Conqueror Queen could ever be. The spider moved like a ship, he thought, or maybe a camel, swaying on its long legs as they crossed a boulder bed on the beach and a patch of rough ice near the old shore.

  The bubble ar
ound him was made of something clearer than glass, and the black planet seemed stranger and more wonderful than any world the Legion of the Lost had ever found. It was a world without clouds or haze or dust. Everything looked cold and clean and perfect. The sky was a great dome of many-colored stars blazing out of midnight blackness. The dead sun was a round black shadow that seemed never to move. Nothing here ever changed; nothing ever would. The planet almost frightened him, yet somehow he loved the icy splendor of it. He wanted to tell his mother how beautiful it was, if she wasn’t too angry when they got back.

  The heat lamp had made a pink glow on the frost when he went with his mother up the beach to Dr. Singh’s dig. He didn’t see it now. He knew heat was important, meant to keep the metal and the tires from getting too cold. He called on the interphone to warn Dr. Andersen that the lamp was out.

  “I know.” Andersen wasn’t bothered. “Probably a bad contact. That’s why we’re running the test, to make sure everything’s okay. We’ll be back in the balloon before the temperature gets to be a problem.”

  He drove them east, straight toward the low black sun. The ship and even the ice-capped cliffs behind it were soon lost in the starlight. Kip kept expecting them to turn back. When they never did, he called again.

  “Dr. Andersen, shouldn’t we go back? Mom will be anxious if we aren’t there before breakfast.”

  When he heard an answer, it came from Day.

  “Silly Willie, we’re not going back. Not till we find Me Me.”

  “Dr. Andersen!” he shouted into the intercom. “Listen to her! Talking in her sleep. Can’t you wake her up?”

  Andersen didn’t answer, but he heard Day again, speaking in a voice he had never heard, strange and hard, too old for her.

  “Turn south now.”

  “South?” Andersen asked, his voice suddenly as strange as hers. “Why?”

  “East is wrong way.” Her new voice seemed slow and hesitant, as if she had to search for words. “Right way is west. Me Me is calling from the ice cap west.”

  Waiting for Andersen, Kip heard nothing. Ventilator fans were whispering and the machine had grown warmer, but he shivered again.