The Dark Beyond the Stars

by Frank M. Robinson

  Thrush and I were in the middle range—not as good as the best but better than the worst. Tybalt watched both of us closely, especially when we were pitted against each other. The first time he raised an eyebrow, the second time he prefaced the bout with a warning. There was no third time. It was apparent to even the dullest that Thrush and I were perfectly willing to hurt each other, something other participants avoided at all costs.

  I might have anticipated the reaction of the crew. That somebody would deliberately hurt somebody else was appalling. Nobody had particularly liked Thrush; now they went out of their way to avoid him. And they avoided me as well. We were antagonists and our fellow crewmen gave us plenty of room in which to circle each other and maneuver. They made no attempt to hide the fact that they found the situation distasteful, that because Thrush and I were capable of a violence they abhorred, there was a gulf between them and us.

  Between most of them and us.

  ****

  But not all.

  Matters came to a head with the rape of Pipit. Crow and I had gone to Hydroponics after shift one time period, intent on sampling the new crops. We were halfway back in the huge compartment when we heard muffled sobbing three rows over. We glanced at each other in surprise, then hastily circled around the intervening nutrient troughs.

  Pipit was clinging to some vines, naked, her waistcloth stuffed in a nearby trough. The tears rolling down her cheeks emphasized the bruises on her face and breasts.

  I knew what had happened without even asking. I remembered what Snipe had told me. I remembered the first meal I had taken in Exploration, when Thrush had stared with hatred at Pipit and Crow. And I remembered Crow telling me that Thrush violated ship’s customs. Whatever beliefs the rest of the crew held, Thrush obviously didn’t share them.

  Crow held her in his arms, and I gently stroked her head and asked, “What happened?”

  “Thrush,” she confirmed, doing her best to hold back the sobs. Crow gripped her tightly, murmuring reassurances in her ear. “I refused… he had no right…”

  This time, Crow couldn’t deny that evil had been done—the evidence was at hand. The struggle was apparent on his suddenly pale face; he desperately wanted to hurt another human being but could barely bring himself to think about it. Doing anything about it was beyond him. His great strength was no help and I suspected Thrush had known that.

  For a moment it looked as if Crow would be sick.

  “Why did he do it?” Crow asked.

  He was staring at me when he asked it but he wasn’t seeing me at all: Nor was he talking to me—he was talking to somebody else, somebody he had known before. I felt helpless. I could give him no answers.

  “Take her to sick bay,” I said. “Give Abel something to do for a change.”

  “Thrush,” he whispered.

  “I’ll report it to the Captain,” I said. But I had a score to settle with Thrush first.

  Crow nodded and helped Pipit past the rows of nutrient tubing to the far hatch, holding her against his chest with one free arm while he used the other to propel himself along the bulkhead rings.

  I watched them go. Once they had left, I sped through the corridors to Exploration, glancing through the hatch just long enough to determine that Thrush wasn’t there. The next stop was the gymnasium. Thrush wasn’t among the sweating crew members. I shot through the hatch to the other side.

  Once outside the gym, I slowed down. Thrush couldn’t be that calm; I doubted even that the rape had been premeditated. He had probably run across Pipit in Hydroponics and hadn’t been able to resist taking what he wanted when he wanted it. As I had found out for myself, lust is the enemy of logical thought. Afterward, he would have gone someplace in the ship where he could plan what to do next, what story he might offer, whom he could go to for protection.

  He might go to the Captain, I thought. But I didn’t think even the Captain would help him and I suspected he knew that.

  I finally found him on the dimly lit hangar deck. Heron was with him, talking fast and low while Thrush listened with obvious contempt. I guessed that Heron was urging him to go immediately to the Captain with his own explanation of what had happened. I gave Thrush credit for realizing there was no explanation to offer.

  At first they didnt know I was there. Then Thrush noticed me standing inside the hatchway and said, “I thought it would be Crow.”

  “He’s taking Pipit to sick bay,” I said.

  “She isn’t hurt. Nothing happened to her that hasn’t happened before.”

  He was watching me, gauging my reactions. I was different from the rest of the crew and so was he. Nobody else would have anticipated violence but I knew he was prepared for it.

  “You left marks,” I said.

  He grinned. “She wasn’t as easy to persuade as you were.”

  I almost lost what little control I had left.

  “Why Pipit?” I asked. It was hard to keep my voice from shaking.

  For the first time since I had known him, his facade broke.

  “I love her,” he said fiercely. “Everybody knows that.” His face was pink with anger and the anger made him ugly. He was laying claim to property he considered his own and he couldn’t understand why anybody would dispute it.

  “You shouldn’t have touched her,” I said in a dead voice. I braced myself against a bulkhead, bent my knees, and sprang at him. He dodged easily, taking refuge in a corner where the tether lines were racked.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Sparrow?” There was no alarm in his voice; he knew what I intended.

  “Beat you,” I grunted.

  I couldn’t admit even to myself that I was thinking of something more than just a beating.

  I grabbed for Thrush again and he scrambled deeper into the tangle of tether lines and life-support cables. He showed no fear, though he had every reason to be afraid of me.

  Contemptuously: “You’ll have to come after me, Sparrow.”

  I burrowed into the nest of lines and he dodged farther back, hoping I would entangle myself in the ropes. I managed to grab his ankle but he shook me off and then was free, floating in the middle of the hangar deck, waiting for me as I struggled out of the snarl of rope. Heron danced beside him, shouting curses as I pushed through the last of the tether lines.

  A solitary glow tube illuminated the middle of the broad metal prairie, leaving in shadow the corners and the sides where the curving overhead met the deck. I sensed vague movements in the darkened recesses, evidence we had attracted an audience. Crow had probably left Pipit in Abel’s safekeeping and tracked us down, picking up Loon and others along the way.

  I pushed off from a deck ring but Thrush anticipated me, darting forward to butt his head into my stomach. I grabbed him and whirled him around, locking an arm around his neck.

  “You tried to kill me,” I said in a low voice, holding my wrist tight with my other hand so he couldn’t get away. “You used a faulty clamp on purpose.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” he gasped. “I’m the first one they’d suspect.”

  His logic distracted me and I didn’t expect it when he jammed an elbow in my ribs, knocking the wind out of me. I loosened my hold and we spiraled away from each other, then grabbed floor rings and came back to slowly circle each other again.

  “Thrush, catch!”

  The shrill voice belonged to Heron. Something flashed in the dim light and Thrush caught it. I felt a moment of panic then, wondering what Heron had thrown him. Thrush disappeared into the shadows and I slowly turned, not knowing where or when he would come at me. But he wouldn’t leave the hangar deck, he couldn’t afford to turn down a challenge—not from me…

  He suddenly sped out of the darkness, missing me by what seemed mere centimeters.

  It took a moment to realize that he hadn’t missed at all, that he had slashed me across the arm and chest with something sharp and blood was welling from the slits. I shook myself and small red droplets went flying through space. A collecti
ve gasp came from our frightened audience in the shadows.

  I twisted slowly in the air, too late to stop Thrush from gashing my right thigh. It wasn’t a knife, I thought, or I would be dead by now. It was probably a piece of metal or broken plastic, scavenged from a cannibalized Rover.

  Thrush had tasted victory and when next he flashed by, his eyes glittering in the dusk, he was careless. I caught him by the wrist and twisted hard, catching a sharp piece of metal when it flew from his hand.

  “My turn,” I murmured. I slashed his cheek and caught his upper arm with the metal, then wrapped my legs around his waist, slippery with sweat, and held the metal strip to his neck. I could feel his muscles relax; he knew if he made any movement at all I would cut his throat.

  “Tell me why,” I said in a low voice.

  “I told you.”

  “Not Pipit,” I said. “Me. All along, why me?”

  “You know why,” he whispered. “I’m the better man.”

  I didn’t have time to wonder what he meant. There were hurried movements in the shadows now, a scurrying, and then the remaining glow tubes started to flicker on.

  “Go ahead, cut it,” Thrush muttered. “It’s the last chance you’ll get.”

  I wanted him to whimper, to be afraid, to plead. But he wasn’t going to do any of those—and by not doing them, he was going to win once more. I fought with myself, then abruptly made up my mind. I couldn’t afford to lose again. I tensed my arm to pull the blade across his windpipe and only then did I catch any tremor of fear from him.

  For his sake and mine, it was enough.

  I held him a moment longer, then cursed and let him go, throwing away the bloody strip of metal. Suddenly Tybalt grabbed my arm and yanked me to one side while Banquo did the same to Thrush. The overhead glow tubes were all on now and I stared at the audience with surprise. It looked as if half the crew had assembled to watch the fight.

  “You’re a fool,” Tybalt grunted as he hustled me toward the hatch. “You never were before but for some reason I don’t understand, you’ve become one now.”

  ****

  Abel attended to both of us in sick bay, Banquo and little Quince standing by as guards. Quince was shy, unwilling to look directly at either me or Thrush. Both he and Banquo carried short rods of thick metal which I supposed were meant to be clubs. I wondered if they would actually use them and guessed that Quince definitely wouldn’t but that Banquo might. Thrush and I glared at each other but both of us knew better than to start the fight all over again.

  Abel worked quickly, carefully squeezing together the edges of the cut on my thigh and spraying it with an antiseptic adhesive. It stung and I winced, not afraid to show it. Thrush had made a face when Abel closed the wound on his arm, and that gave me permission to do the same, or so I felt.

  “You should have thought it might hurt before making idiots of yourselves,” Abel said. “But neither of you were thinking, were you?”

  “My face,” I said. “Will it scar?”

  He shrugged. “Both of you will probably scar. But nobody on board is going to feel sorry for you if you do.”

  I looked at Thrush only once and that to verify what my nose had told me. Some time during the fight, he had pissed in his waistcloth. I took grim satisfaction in that, then remembered he had challenged me to cut his throat even though he had been scared to death. A brave man and a dangerous one—I had humiliated him and he would never get over it.

  But the overwhelming hatred I felt for him had burned itself out. So had any attraction.

  Abel had just finished stitching up Thrush when there was a small commotion in the corridor and the Captain pushed in through the shadow screen. He nodded at Abel. “You can finish up later.”

  After the fat doctor had gone, the Captain sat on the magnetic counter top, gripping the edge so he wouldn’t float off.

  “I don’t suppose either of you has an explanation,” he said quietly.

  Thrush looked away and said nothing. Finally I said, “Did you talk to Pipit?” I was surprised by the antagonism in my voice.

  He nodded. “I saw her and talked to her. Right now I’m more interested in why the two of you tried to kill each other.”

  I glanced at Thrush. “He would have killed me,” I said.

  The Captain looked irritated. “And in all likelihood you would have killed him if you hadn’t been stopped.”

  “I stopped myself,” I said, sullen.

  His eyes were very bright and very thoughtful.

  “Answer my question, Sparrow. Why?”

  “I’m a friend of Pipit’s,” I said.

  “So was Thrush—at one time. ” My jaw dropped. He shot a contemptuous look at Thrush and said, “Not a very wise one or a very compassionate one. You were in love with her, weren’t you, Thrush? And when she didn’t return it, you began to hate her.”

  Thrush looked away, sullen, and didn’t answer. The Captain slipped off the counter and floated in silence for a moment while he devised a punishment. “Both of you are in Coventry until we arrive at Aquinas II. When not on station, you’re confined to quarters except by special permission. There’ll be no talking to each other or to anybody else except in the line of duty. All crew members are likewise forbidden to talk to you or have anything to do with you. If they do, the same punishment applies to them.”

  He turned to at Thrush. “You’re dismissed. Sparrow, I want to see you in my quarters—now.”

  I floated after him, trailed by a nervous Quince and Banquo. Once in the Captain’s office, they were excused and we were alone, the Captain lounging in his sling and I floating unhappily in front of him, the huge port with its view of Outside on my left and the array of peep screens with their subdued chatter on my right.

  “You fought for Pipit’s honor,” he mocked. “How noble.”

  “Crow couldn’t,” I said in a brittle voice.

  “You’re right, he couldn’t. I imagine he went through a very personal little hell when the two of you discovered Pipit. But that doesn’t mean that nobody else would have fought for her—or that the crew wouldn’t have thought of some suitable punishment for Thrush. You were a little too eager, Sparrow. Why?”

  Objections flooded my throat but I choked them off. Anything I said would only succeed in condemning me.

  “Pipit will recover, Sparrow. But if you hadn’t been interrupted, Thrush never would have.”

  “Thrush… violated ship’s custom,” I finally said, quoting Loon.

  “Ship’s custom.” The Captain thought about it for a moment. “Sparrow, we have our drills and our duties on board but we can’t work all the time. Sex is the great leveler, what people do to fill up the empty hours, the empty feelings. Nobody’s exempt from sharing themselves with their fellow crew members. At least once.”

  “Thrush had already been with her,” I said in a low voice. “It was her right to refuse him after that.”

  “You’re so sure she did?”

  “Yes,” I said. “She wouldn’t lie.”

  He looked in my eyes and I would have sworn he read my mind.

  “Tell me, Sparrow, were you thinking of Pipit when you were getting up the nerve to slit Thrush’s throat?”

  The hot words died on my tongue. He waved at the peep screens behind him. “There are no secrets, Sparrow. I thought you knew that.”

  I paled. The Captain had watched Thrush and me in Reduction.

  “So you know I had reason to hate him,” I said in a husky voice.

  “Before, during or after?” The Captain leaned forward in the sling. “Not before, you’d found a friend you empathized with. And not during, certainly. Only after. Why, Sparrow? A sense of betrayal when he said you’d been an easy conquest?”

  I stood there, white-faced and mute.

  “Well, why?” he roared. “Because you felt ashamed? Because you’d lost your pride? Thrush is the only real scientist we’ve got on board and you would’ve slit his throat like a pig at slaughter over something
schoolboys have done since time began!”

  “We were smoking—” I started.

  “—so you could lose the inhibitions you didn’t want anyway.” He looked at me in disgust and relaxed back in the sling, clasping his hands behind his head.

  “Were you hurt in the heart, Sparrow?”

  I could feel the color rise in my face, and shook my head.

  He smiled faintly. “I didn’t think so, you’re not the type. So it must have been your ego.” Sarcastically: “He hurt your feelings.”

  “He… humiliated me,” I said desperately.

  “I didn’t say he was wise, Sparrow, only valuable.”

  The silence gathered and I waited to be dismissed but he was in no hurry.

  “I don’t know why he did it, Sparrow.” He shrugged. “Maybe he wanted to know you better—that’s one way, especially if you’re lacking in empathy. For a young man, sex is the fool’s gold of the emotions.”

  He turned to look at the peep screens and I knew a quick scan told him everything he wanted to know about what was happening on board.

  “Two thousand years,” he said quietly. “I did everything there was to do in the first two hundred and then I got bored. I had sex with everybody in the crew, I found all the buttons you can push, all the possible movements and positions, all the phrases you can utter, all the promises you can make. I indulged in all of my fantasies and all of theirs. Then my interest turned clinical and I merely watched. Now I look away because it sickens me. Monkeys, masturbating in a zoo.”

  He looked back at where I stood sweaty and embarrassed.

  “That’s not cynicism, Sparrow, that’s reality—my reality at any rate. Unlike the rest of the crew, I can’t make permanent liaisons, I can’t take lovers or become attached. What’s a moment for me is a lifetime for others, and I have to watch them grow old and dry and feeble. It’s like a time-lapse film of a rose whose petals curl and brown and eventually drop off.” He paused and looked at me quizzically. “You don’t know what time-lapse photography is, do you? Or even a rose. Sorry, Sparrow, I forgot.”

  The meeting was over and I turned to leave.

  “I regret what happened to Pipit but she’ll get over it. So will you. Thrush won’t. He wants something very badly but he can’t have it.”