World without Stars

by Poul Anderson

“Look out!”

  An order bawled through the wind at the same instant Paddles stopped. Someone had observed something suspicious.

  “Let’s go!”

  I sprang to my feet. We were not so close that I could look into the drifting boat. I knew that the several bodies huddled in the hull should not look different from ordinary Niao. But perhaps— The wounded soldier had collapsed.

  Rorn snatched at me. My injured arm batted his hands aside, my good fist struck his face. The impact rammed back into my bones. A spear thrust at Valland. He sidestepped and dived overboard. I followed.

  The water was warm and murky-red. I held my breath and pumped arms and legs until it was no longer possible. When my head must go up into air, Rorn’s craft was still nearly on top of me.

  Arrows smote the waves. I went below again and swam blind.

  Now the Azkashi in the canoe revealed themselves, seized paddles and drove frantically to meet us. This had been Valland’s idea: precarious indeed, but any chance was worth taking to escape what had been done to Rorn.

  While the enemy was kept in the hut, bargaining, most of the captured Niao boats were taken off and hidden. A few were left, a number not so small as to be unlikely but small enough that they would be overburdened and slow. One went ahead, over the horizon, lightly manned with ya-Kela for captain.

  Our men ashore took a compass bearing on the Ai Chun course. Hastily instructed, ya-Kela likewise had such an instrument, and a radio. Bren, Galmer, and Urduga could get a fix on him and tell him where to go lie in wait. And … his folk took along a couple of torchguns.

  Their bolts flashed against a curtain of lightning as I reemerged. Water puffed in steam; those were inexperienced hands on the triggers. Nonetheless, the Ai Chun group backed off.

  Yet the enemy had not quit. Four huge forms sprang out and started swimming. Adapted to a watery planet, those soldiers could overhaul us well before ya-Kela arrived. They could drag us back—at the least, kill us. My strength was already going. I am not much of a swimmer.

  Valland was, by human standards. But when he saw the shapes churning after, he came about. His powerful crawl brought him to me in a couple of minutes. “Tread water,” he panted. “Conserve your energy. You’ll need it.”

  “We’re done,” I choked.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Better this way, anyhow.”

  The nearest soldier darted ahead. Valland got between me and him. They clinched and went under.

  A hand closed on me. I looked into the open muzzle, tried weakly to break loose, and was submerged myself. It roared in my head. I thought confusedly, Breathe water, you fool Drown and die free. But reflex was too strong, I gasped, spluttered, and whirled toward night.

  My face was back in the air. I was being towed. Valland came alongside. He had broken his opponent’s neck, down in the depths. He used his thumbnail, twice. The soldier ululated and let me go.

  Valland must support me. The remaining pair closed in, through the stained waves. He used his legs to move away from them. They swam around to his head. I saw a dagger lifted.

  Then the water was full of bodies and weapons.

  Ya-Kela’s were also good swimmers. Half a dozen of them had plunged the moment they’d seen our plight. Outpacing any canoe in their sprint, they got to us. Their comrades were not so far behind; and while the gunners dared not shoot near us, they could prevent any reinforcements from coming.

  I did not see the fight. Darkness took me once more.

  —Afterward I lay in the canoe, vomited, coughed, and wept. It wasn’t merely reaction. I was altogether sickened. Galaxy God—any God—must we kill through all time, until time ends when the disgusted universe collapses inward on us?

  Worse followed. I am glad I was only hazily aware. With yells of joy, the Azkashi gave chase to the Ai Chun. We were soon so close that a marksman like Valland could pick them off. One reached the water and went below, but he waited until the creature rose to breathe and shot him.

  The storm rolled upon us. Clouds drove black across the sun, lightning blazed, thunder crashed, the first rain whipped my bare skin. I looked across the gunwale to Yo Rorn’s boat, which we were now pursuing to reclaim our gear. My goggles still worked. I saw him stand up, screaming, such agony in him that it was almost good when a soldier’s ax broke open his skull.

  Valland hunkered beside me. Water ran over his cheeks, into his beard, like tears. “I never intended that,” he said dully. “They must’ve gone insane, seein’ me kill their gods. They had to strike back, and he was the handiest.” He watched the boats scatter and flee. The one we were after was abandoned by those left in it. “Thanks for that. No more slaughter needed. … You were one of us too, always, Yo.”

  “But why did you loll the Ai Chun?” I blubbered. “We were safe by then. Why?”

  “We’re not safe,” he answered. “Won’t be for a mighty long time. I reckoned it’d make a good lesson for everybody concerned, to see they can be struck down like anyone else. We’ll need everything we can get workin’ for us.”

  He shook himself. “No use in regrets,” he said. “We’ve got to be ruthless, or surrender right now. I suppose there are limits to what we can decently do, but I don’t think we’ve reached ’em yet. Come, skipper, you’ll feel more cheery after a good long sleep. Let’s get on home.”

  XVI

  DAY STOOD at afternoon. We had rested, repaired damage, started to organize ourselves afresh, and slept some more. Nonetheless, when we stepped out of our compound and saw the lake glow red in that purple twilight, we had a sunset feeling. A great hush lay on the land. Further down the shore twinkled the fires of ya-Kela’s people. Most Pack members had gone home after a skyhooting victory celebration for which many returned from the woods; but he stayed with some. We were to join them and lay plans.

  For a while, just beyond the gate, we paused. Valland, Bren, Galmer, Urduga, and me—we seemed terribly few.

  Galmer voiced what we thought. “Do you really believe we have a chance?”

  “Why sure,” Valland said. His gaiety was strange to hear in so big and dark a place. “We’ve got our camp back. Nothin’ was ruined that we can’t get along without. We have allies. Son, if we don’t get home again, we won’t deserve to!”

  “But the enemy, Hugh. The Ai Chun. They won’t take this like sportsmen. They’ll come against us. We can’t stand off a planet.”

  “We’ll have our problems, all right,” Valland admitted. “But think. We’ve shown the Packs you can beat the downdevils. So they’ll go with us through a supernova, if only we handle them right, and I reckon I know how.” His gaze went across the broad waters. “Distance makes a good defense. Any attackers’ line of communications will get stretched thin. Woodsrangers like ours can cut it in two. Though I don’t aim to sit and wait. I’m takin’ the offensive soon’s may be. We’ll burn Prasiyo, lay the countryside waste everywhere around, chase the Herd clear to the sea. The downdevils aren’t used to acting fast, I gather. So they’ll need some time to recover from that shock and mount a counterattack. By then we’ll be ready.”

  “Still,” I said, “a war— When can we do our work?”

  “Not our war,” Valland said. “Mainly the Packs are concerned. We’ll give them leadership, new kinds of weapons, sound tactics, a concept of strategy. I think that’ll suffice. Remember, there can’t be an awful lot of Herd soldiers. The downdevils never needed many, and won’t have time to breed a horde—which they couldn’t supply anyhow. No, for the most part we should be free to work, we and the ones we’re goin’ to train as helpers.”

  After a moment, reflectively, he added: “Won’t be a war of extermination anyhow. Our side’ll be content to hold this territory, maybe get back some of what was stolen before; but the Packs aren’t about to try conquerin’ the world. If the downdevils aren’t hopelessly stupid, they’ll make terms, once we’ve rubbed their noses a bit. Then we five can really buckle down to business.”

  Bren sighed. The weight of
his captivity was still heavy on him. “That’s assuming we’re not killed in some fracas,” he said. “More, it’s assuming we can stay with our purpose. I wonder if we won’t get so tired at last that we’ll simply quit.”

  Valland squared his shoulders. The light turned his shock head to copper. Huge against the sky, he said, “No, we won’t. We’ll keep ourselves reminded of what this is all about—what we’re goin’ back to.”

  He started toward the campfires, and striding, he keyed the omnisonor he bore to help him talk with the Pack, and his song arose.

  “So softly you hear it now, Mary O’Meara, but soon it comes joyful and clear.

  And soon in the shadow and dew of your hilltop a star-guided footfall rings near.

  My only beloved, I’m here.”

  We followed him. And we built our spaceboat and won to the help of the Yonderfolk. The job took four decades.

  XVII

  (Thus far the account published by Guild Captain Felip Argens in his autobiography. An additional tape was found among his effects by the redactor of the posthumous edition.)

  EARTH IS A QUIET WORLD.

  Oh, yes, wind soughs in the great forests that have come back, now that so few people live there; birds sing, cataracts brawl, the oceans rush on the moon’s trail around the globe. You can find ample enjoyment in the starport towns, and the educational centers are bright with youth from every part of the galaxy. Nor is this a museum planet by any means. The arts flourish. Science and scholarship are live enterprises.

  But there is too much of the past. One does not build new things there, one preserves the old. That isn’t bad. We need traditions. From a strictly practical standpoint, it’s good to know you can leave your Earthside property in charge of some robots, return in five hundred years, and find not only it but its surroundings unchanged. Nevertheless, when the adventurers come from the stars on a visit, they walk quietly.

  Hugh Valland and I parted in Niyork. Bren, Galmer, and Urduga had gone their separate ways. I had to report, however, and he had his girl, so we traveled together on the Luna Queen. Though he’d avoided discussing his plans in detail, I assumed he’d be met when the ferry set us down.

  “No,” he said. That’s not her way. How about one hell of a good so-long dinner tonight? I know a restaurant where the escargots consider themselves privileged to be cooked.”

  He was right. We put away a lot of wine too. Over brandy and cigars, in a fine comradely warmth, I asked if he meant to take as lengthy a vacation as I did.

  “Mmm—probably not,” he said. “We were stuck on that single planet for such a confounded chunk of time. I’ve got a universeful of places to go see again. And then new places, where nobody’s been yet.”

  “D’you mean to sign on for exploration?” I raised my eyebrows. “I hoped you’d ship with me.”

  His massive face crinkled in a smile. “Skipper,” he said, “you’re a fine chap, but don’t you think we need to split up for a century or two?”

  “Maybe.” I was disappointed. True, we’d lived in each other’s breath long enough to drive anyone who wasn’t immortal, who couldn’t set the years in perspective, to murder. But we’d fought and worked together, and laughed and sung and hoped: and he was the one who had kept us doing so. Having a war on our hands had been a help—broke the monotony, Valland used to say—but we wouldn’t have won it without his leadership. I didn’t want to lose touch.

  “You’ll be around for a while, anyway, won’t you?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “What’d you think was drivin’ me?”

  “Mary O’Meara,” I nodded. “What a girl she must be. When do I get an introduction?”

  “Well, now. …” For the first time I saw him evasive. “Uh, that won’t … won’t be so easy. I mean, I’d like to, but—well, she’s not keen on guests. Sorry. How about another cognac?”

  I didn’t press him. We had learned, out beyond the galaxy, not to intrude on a man’s final privacies. I speculated, of course. Every immortal develops at least one quirk. His was that fantastic monogamy which had saved us. What was hers?— Then Valland’s grin broke loose again and he related a couple of jokes he’d heard, bumming around in the rim-planet town where we waited for passage to Earth. We said goodnight in a hilarious mood.

  After that, for several days, I was busy at the universarium. The scientists wanted to know everything about the planet of our shipwreck. They’d be sending a mission there, to i operate out of the commercial base our company would establish. Before the unique Ai Chun culture died—before that race adapted to reality and became just another race—they meant to study it.

  When I finished, I must return to Niyork on business. The Guild had suddenly decided our employers owed us a bonus for our troubles. A rather disgruntled chief accountant told me the sum, which explained his disgruntlement, and put me through various formalities.

  “Payments are required to be made directly to the men” he said. With so many people on so many planets, the Guild no longer trusts the mails. “I’ve arranged about the others, but when I called Master Valland, he wasn’t at the address he had given. It was a hotel here in town, and he’d moved out with no forwarding code.”

  “Gone to see his girl, of course,” I said. “Hm. We plan to get together once more, but not for some while.”

  “Can’t you find him before then? Frankly, I’m tired of having your association ride me about this matter.”

  “And Hugh’d no doubt find good ways to spend the money. Won’t be so useful to him on the eve of shipping out.” I pondered. From time to time he had said things about Mary O’Meara, though now that I added them together they came to surprisingly little. “Well, I’m at loose ends for the moment. I’ll see if I can track him down.”

  That was for my own sake as well as his. To the company I wasn’t a hero, I was a captain who had lost his ship. I wanted to get back into favor, or they’d put me on some dreary shuttle run for the next fifty years.

  I walked into the street. Little traffic moved—an occasional groundcar, a few pedestrians. The tall towers that walled me in were mostly empty, ivy and lichen growing on their I facades. Though the sun was glorious, the sun of Manhome, light seemed only to drown in that stillness.

  Let’s marshal the facts, I told myself. She lives on, what’s the name, yes, the coast of Maine. A historic but microscopic residential community. He never did say which one, but can’t be many these days that fit. I’ll check with data service, then run up and inquire. Do me good to get out in the countryside anyway.

  As things developed, the search robot gave me just one possibility. I rented a flitter and headed north. The woods have swallowed this part of the continent, I flew above green kilometer after kilometer. Dusk fell before I reached my goal.

  That village was built when men first fared across the ocean which rolled at its feet. For a while it was a town, alive with lumberjacks and whalers. Then men moved west, and afterward they moved to the stars, and now a bare two hundred dwelt here: those curious, clannish folk who—even more than on places like Landomar—are not interested in worlds out yonder, who use their immortality to sink deeper roots into Earth.

  I parked on an otherwise deserted carfield and walked downhill into town. Behind me lifted a birch forest; white trunks gleamed in twilight, and the air was fragrant with their leaves. Before me lay the few houses, peak-roofed, shingle-walled, their windows shining yellow. And beyond them reached the sea, and the first stars of evening.

  A passerby directed me to the civil monitor’s house. His name, Tom Saltonstall, suggested how old he must be. I found him seated on the porch in a rocking chair, smoking a pipe, while his one wife prepared dinner. He greeted me with polite reserve. There was something about him— After a minute I recognized it. He looked as youthful as I did; but he had the manner of beings I have met who cannot be immortalized and have grown gray.

  “You want Hugh Valland?” he said. “Yes, sure, we know him.” He squinted at me thr
ough the dimness before adding, with each word chosen beforehand: “A very decent fellow.”

  “I ought to realize that!” I exclaimed. “I was his captain this last trip. Hasn’t he told you what happened?”

  “Yes. A little.” Saltonstall looked relieved. “Then you understand about— Sure. I’m sorry I didn’t identify your name, Captain Argens. I’m overdue for mnemonic treatment. He’s spoken fine of you, sir. An honor to meet you.” He made the archaic handclasp with me. “Would you pleasure us by staying to eat?”

  “Well, thanks, but I ought to find Hugh. Where is he?”

  “He owns a house, next street down, third from the left corner. You won’t find him there, though. He’ll not be back till late, on a night like this.”

  Ah-ha! I grinned to myself; for the full moon was casting her foreglow into the eastern sky.

  I wish I had stayed, and talked with the monitor and his wife. But I only expected the gossip of the Earthbound, which was tedious to me. Pleading weariness, I returned to my flitter. It had bunk, bath, and food facilities. I’d call on Valland tomorrow.

  But after dinner I got restless. The multisense programs that I tuned in were not for a spaceman. The moon was up, throwing a broken bridge across the waters and turning the birches to silver. Crickets chirred, almost the only sound beneath those few stars that weren’t hidden by moon-haze. This was Manhome. No matter how far we range, the salt and the rhythm of her tides will always be in our blood. I decided to go for a walk.

  A graveled road wound further uphill, and scrunched softly under my feet. As I neared the forest, the live green smell strengthened. Dew glittered on long grass. Beyond the Village, now dark, the sea murmured.

  And then another tone lifted. For a moment, blindingly, I was back in a sinister red-lit crepuscule where nothing but those chords and that voice gave me the will to fight on. “Hugh!” I cried, and broke into a run.

  He didn’t hear me. I rounded a copse and saw where I was bound, just as he finished. The last stanza he had never sung to us.