The Dark Beyond the Stars : A Novel (17 page)

“You’re not listening,” Crow said, suddenly worried.

“Who was in the lock?” I asked.

He looked surprised. “You know who.Snipe, myself and Loon, you, Thrush, Heron, Tybalt , and Ophelia.”

It was so obvious, I thought.

“I want to go back there.”

I slipped out through the shadow screen, Crow and Loon following in silence. There was nobody around the lock area and the tether lines had been returned to Exploration. I ducked back into the corridor, not caring whether Crow and Loon followed or not.

It was between shifts and Exploration was deserted. All the drums of tether line were stowed against the far bulkhead—all except one which had been left out for repair.

“We’ll have to unwind it,” I said.

Crow looked uncertain and Loon said slowly, “Why do you want to see it, Sparrow?”

“It was a faulty tether,” I said. “I want to see just how faulty.”

Crow shrugged and they set the drum on the cable spindle with an empty at the other end. I watched it intently as the cable slowly unwound. It would be at the very beginning, I thought, where it had snaked back into the ship and attached to a ringbolt just beyond the lock.

Grow was still uneasy. “The shift will come by soon, Sparrow”

“I don’t care.”

He shot a glance at Loon. Both of them looked unhappy.

I slowed the tether when it was nearly unwound and let it run through my hands, then held onto it when the end finally slipped off the drum.

Crow examined it and said carefully, “There’s nothing wrong with it, Sparrow.”

The end, where it had been secured to the ringbolt, was wrapped, as were all tether lines, with no indication of fraying or cutting. Crow was right; there was nothing wrong with it. I rocked back on my heels, frustrated,then grabbed the end for a closer look. The tether line would have been threaded through aringbolt, and the end then whipped back on itself and damped to the main portion of the line that ran out through the open hatch.

The line would have been squeezed by the clamp and I should have been able to feel and see where the clamp had been—it would have taken more than a few hours for that part of the line to “recover.” But the line was supple and there was no difference in thickness where a clamp might have bit into it. I knew without even asking that Thrush or Heron had been in charge of securing the line, that they had threaded the end of it through the clamp but had never tightened down on it. Any slight pull and the line would have run freely through the clamp and out the hatch.

“Somebody tried to kill me,” I said.

Both Crow and Loon struggled with the idea but it was too novel a concept for them, even when I carefully explained what must have happened. If the line had been cut or frayed, maybe it would have been easier for them to believe.

I read the doubt on their faces, but all I could think of was Seti IV and the time in sick bay when somebody had murmured, “Down the hatch,” and held a drinking tube to my lips. Crow shook his head, the sweat flying off his nose in little droplets.

“You’re wrong, Sparrow,” he said earnestly. “Nobody tried to kill you, nobody could.” Loon nodded in hasty agreement, though neither of them offered an alternative explanation of why the line had pulled free. They couldn’t accept the conclusion I had so eagerly jumped to. But I was convinced I was right. Somebody was trying to kill me. And on board the
Astron,
where life was revered above all else, that should have been impossible.

N obodyon the exploration team agreed with me, but I remained convinced that somebody on board had tried to murder me. Even Ophelia struggled with the idea and couldn’t accept it. To her, as to the others, it was impossible. She was the first to suggest that I had become obsessed with Thrush. In the back of my mind, there was the growing belief that perhaps she was right. She pointed out that the fault might he with the clampitself, that perhaps the threads had been stripped and it wouldn’t tighten down. I couldn’t prove it either way; the clamp had been tossed on a small heap of other clamps, some of which had stripped threads. Thrush could have deliberately chosen a faulty one, I said, at which point Ophelia lost her temper.

Even when it was proven that other crew members could have had access to the clamp and the tether, I persisted.

“It was Thrush,” I said bitterly to Crow when we were alone in his compartment. “He was on the inspection team.”

Crow wasn’t sure whether to humor me or be realistic. “So were others.” Then, cautiously: “Why Thrush? What motivation?”

“He hates me. You know that,”

Crow looked blank and for once, even Loon struck me as slow-witted.“Enough to kill you?”

I nodded.

“Because of the time the two of you were alone in Reduction?” Crow struggled with his disbelief. “You hated him for that; I don’t think hatred was what he felt for you.”

I opened my mouth to reply,then changed my mind. Thrush had disliked me when I had first seen him on board the Lander and had gone out of his way to humiliate me, at least to myself if not to the crew. But murder…

In the end I had nothing more than my own convictions, but my hatred of him was strong enough that I didn’t want to question them.

After that, Thrush and I exchanged hard looks whenever we met. I was close to being out of control and he sensed my inner violence and avoided me. He didn’t come around to practice with the computer and was usually early or late for meals so we spent a minimum amount of time glaring at each other over our food trays.

It was different in the gymnasium. Thrush would have lost face if he had left upon my arrival. We competed in the gym,he and I , no matter what apparatus was in play. And then Tybalt introduced physical contact drills on a just-in-case basis, to the great distaste of most of the members of the exploration teams.

Oddly, it wasn’t Crow who was the best at tumbling or putting-your-partner-on-the-mat. He was afraid of his own strength, with the result that he tended to be too slow and cautious. Hawk and Eagle, the youngest members of our team, were easily the most skilled. They were evenly matched, and probably because they were young, relatively small, and unafraid of each other, their matches were quick and almost a pleasure to watch. Heron was good, which surprised me, and so was Snipe. 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 collective 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.