by Zach Hughes
He was touched, but he said, "I'm dead inside."
"Want me to go back to my own bunk?" sheasked. "I'm not especially trying to seduce you,Audrey, I just thought that, well, a little companionship, a little something. Maybe just a holding, ahugging, a touching. It's a damned big galaxy outthere, Audrey, and it dwarfs hell out of us sometimes, doesn't it? Sometimes I think we need tohave someone close, someone just to touch, or holdon to. What do you think?"
"I don't know," Pat said in a dead voice.
She took her arms from around him, sat on the side of the bed. "Audrey," she whispered.
"Don't—" He didn't finish. That was three timesshe'd called him Audrey and he couldn't even makea comeback. He was, she knew, hurting like hell.
"Audrey," she said, "I'd like to know just onething. I know those new Zede-built cruisers. One man, unless he's very, very fast and has four arms, would have a difficult time flying a ship and manning the arms-control console at the same time.Am I right?"
The sound he made was not a word.
She couldn't decide, for a moment, whether itwas best to pursue that line of thinking or to leavehim to his pain. She decided on the radical incision,the thrust to his heart.
"Pat, who was sitting at arms control when you boarded the ship?" She held her breath, fearing aviolent reaction from him. He answered her question in an indirect way. His hand closed over her wrist and pulled, and his grip was strong, almostpainful. She let him pull her down beside him,and as his arms closed around her, as she adjustedher warmth to his body, she knew.
"I'm going to say it, Pat," she whispered. "Iknow it hurts, but it has to be said. It was Corinnewho was on fire control, wasn't it? Pat, her last living act was to try to kill you."
He felt all twisted inside, felt as if somethingquite physical and terribly wrong was eating him.He clung to the soft warmth of another humanbeing, felt her breath in his face.
She knew that he was not deliberately trying to hurt her, but he held her so tightly that she had difficulty breathing. Then, after a long, long time, he relaxed his grip on her a bit, and she snuggledinto a more comfortable position. "All right?" sheasked him.
"Thanks, friend," he said.
He held her until she went to sleep, her breathsoft in his face, and he held her as if the woman'swarmth of her was all that kept him from slidingdown into a blackness deeper and more lonelythan the space around him.
EPILOGUE
As Jeanny had promised, X&A technicians andsocial scientists swarmed over the lonely Dorchlunt.A ship's tailor shop had outfitted Pat with severalcopies of the ancient Zede uniform which he'dtaken from the statue of Admiral Bluntz, and Patwas a busy man for weeks. Gorben was at his sideconstantly, and the young man surprised Pat by adapting to the totally different circumstances in which he found himself with a stoic acceptance.
A few of the older Dorchlunters, faced with cultural shock which negated all their beliefs, chosesuicide, clinging to one last hope of going to Zede.Pat sat in on the conference where it was determined that it would be best for the Dorchluntsurvivors to be settled on a thinly populated agricultural planet at several parsecs distance. Pat, inhis pose as the admiral, had the not too pleasantjob of telling Gorben and the others that theywould be moved away from the only planet they'dever known.
He was in his quarters alone that night whenGorben knocked politely and came in to stand atattention until Pat ordered him to sit.
"Sir," Gorben said, "we are sad."
"It's going to be Fine," Pat said. "You'll be livingon a fine world. There'll be rich soil. You will havean island to yourselves. You will be taught by thepeople of X&A to live in modern society."
"If you are there, perhaps we can cope," Gorben said.
Pat cleared his throat. He'd been on Dorchlunttoo long. He was constantly reminded of Corinne.The dead fleet still lay in near space, the bodiesstill aboard, for it would require a major effort toprovide burials, and it was more important at themoment to help the living. He felt guilty becausehe had not planned to accompany the Dorchluntersto the new planet, and he was the one who hadgiven the orders which resulted in the death ofmost of Dorchlunt's young men.
It was going to be a very difficult transition.X&A would provide tools and the basic living necessities, but the work ethic was still very muchalive in UP society. There'd be no free ride for theDorchlunters. There was nothing he could do.
Or was there?
He picked up the communicator. Jeanny was inconference with other X&A brass. "Jeanny," hesaid, "I need a little time to myself. I'm going totakeSkimmer and take a look around the area. I'llbe back in a few days." He closed the communicator before Jeanny could protest. "Come along, son,"he told Gorben; "let's take a little ride."
He found the Brenden's flagship quickly. The coordinates of that last battle were burned into hisbrain. He told Gorben to stay on theSkimmer,suited up, made the transfer to the dead ship.
Murphy's Stone sat in airless solitude in thecase which had been made for it, powerless lasersnout almost touching it. In Pat's light it sparkled inextravagant splendor.
It took three days to make the right contactsonceSkimmer had landed on Zede. He escorted Gorben for the boy's first glimpse of what wassupposed to be heaven, and Gorben was more thanready to leave once the transaction had beenconcluded.
"Will there be as many people in our new home?"Gorben asked, whenSkimmer was back in space.
"No. You'll have privacy."
And they'd have many other things. They'd havea corps of agricultural experts to teach them. They'd have the most advanced farming equipment, goodhomes, and as they learned the ways of modern society they'd have any of the luxuries that they wanted.
The old man who had found the huge diamond was dead, the first victim of the Brendens' ambition. The Brendens were dead. A peacekeeping forcewas occupying Taratwo. No one owned Murphy'sStone, and Pat, although he'd dreamed a fewdreams of what he could do with the money it hadbrought on Zede, didn't know of a better use forthe money than to assure a future for Gorben and the others.
There would be times, later, after he and Jeanny had made a leisurely and enjoyable trip home and he'd almost immediately accepted a new commission, that he'd kick himself. And there would betimes when he felt that he'd tried to buy off hisconscience by setting up the trust for the Dorchlunterswith the proceeds of the sale of Murphy'sStone; but the old man was as crisp and sharp as ayoung computer, the Skimmer had enjoyed a total overhaul, and there were new films in the library. He knew that there was a price to pay for everything, and he felt good about himself.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ZACH HUGHES is the pen-name of HughZachary, who, with his wife Elizabeth, runs a book factory in North Carolina. Hugh quit a timeclock job in 1963 andturned to writing full-time. He is theauthor of a number of well-received science fiction novels, and together with Elizabeth, he has turned out many fine historical romances, as well as books inhalf a dozen other fields.
Hugh Zachary has worked in radio andtv broadcasting and as a newspaper feature writer. He has also been a carpenter, run a charter fishing boat, donecommercial fishing, and served as a mateon an anchor-handling tugboat in theNorth Sea oil fields.
Hugh's science fiction novelsThe Dark-side, Sundrinker,andGold Star are available in Signet editions.
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