Sverdlov lumbered toward him. In a shimmery wisp of tunic, the Earthling looked muscular enough, but he probably massed ten kilos less, and lacked several centimeters of the Krasnanтs height and reach. A few swift blows would disable him, and it might still not be too late to stop Nakamura.
уPut up your fists,ф said Sverdlov hoarsely.
Maclaren unfolded his arms. A sleepy smile crossed his face. Sverdlov came in, swinging at the eagle beak. Maclarenтs head moved aside. His hands came up, took Sverdlovтs arm, and applied a cruel leverage. Sverdlov gasped, broke free by sheer strength, and threw a blow to the ribs. Maclaren stopped that fist with an edge-on chop at the wrist behind it; almost, Sverdlov thought he felt the bones crack. They stood toe to toe. Sverdlov drew back the other fist. Maclaren punched him in the groin. The Krasnan doubled over in a jag of anguish. Maclaren rabbit-punched him. Sverdlov went to one knee. Maclaren kicked him in the solar plexus. Sverdlov fell over and struck the floor with three gravities to help.
Through a wobbling, ringing darkness, he heard the Earthling: уHelp me with this beef, Dave.ф And he felt himself
dragged across the floor, somehow manhandled into a bunk and harnessed.
His mind returned. Pain stabbed and flickered through him. He struggled to sit up. уThat was an Earthman way to fight,ф he pushed out through a swelling mouth.
уI donтt enjoy fighting,ф said Maclaren from his own bunk, уso I got it over with as soon as possible.ф
уYouўф the Krasnan lifted grotesquely heavy hands and fumbled with his harness. уIтm going to the control turret. If you try to stop me this timeўф
уYouтre already too late, brother Sverdlov,ф said Maclaren coolly. уWhatever you were setting out to forestall has gone irrevocably far toward happening.ф
The words were a physical blow.
уItтs . . . yes,ф said the engineer. уIтm too late.ф The shout burst from him: уWeтre all too late, now!ф
уEase back,ф said Maclaren. уFrankly, your behavior doesnтt give me much confidence in your judgment about anything.ф
It rumbled through the ship. That shouldnтt be, thought Sverdlovтs training; even full blast ought to be nearly noiseless, and this was only fractional. Sweat prickled his skin. For the first time in a violent life, he totally realized that he could die.
уIтm sorry for what I called you,ф said Maclaren. уI had to stop you, but now I apologize.ф
Sverdlov made no answer. He stared up at a blank ceiling. Oddly, his first emotion, as rage ebbed, was an overwhelming sorrow. Now he would never see Krasna made free.
VIII.
SILENCE and no-weight were dreamlike. For a reason obscure to himself, Maclaren had dimmed the fluoros
around the observation deck, so that twilight filled it and the scientific apparatus crouched in racks and on benches seemed to be a herd of long-necked monsters. Thus there was nothing to drown the steely brilliance of the stars, when you looked out an unshuttered port.
The star hurtled across his field of view. Her eccentric orbit took the Cross around it in thirty-seven minutes. Here, at closest approach, they were only half a million kilometers
away. The thing had the visual diameter of three full Moons. It was curiously vague of outline: a central ab~olute blackness, fading toward deep gray near the edges where starlight caught an atmosphere more savagely compressed than Earthтs ocean abyss. Through the telescope, there seemed to be changeable streaks and mottlings, bands, spots, a hint of color too faint for the eye to tell . . . as if the ghosts of burned-out fires still walked.
Quite oblate, Maclaren reminded himself. That would have given us a hint, if weтd known. Or the radio spectrum; now I realize, when itтs too late, that the lines really are triplets, and their broadening is Doppler shift.
The silence was smothering.
Nakamura drifted in. He poised himself in the air and waited quietly.
уWell?ф said Maclaren.
уSverdlov is still outside, looking at the accelerators and web,ф said Nakamura. уHe will not admit there is no hope.ф
уNeither will I,ф said Maclaren.
уVirtually the whole system is destroyed. Fifty meters of it have vanished. The rest is fused, twisted, short-circuited .
a miracle it continued to give some feeble kind of blast, so I could at least find an orbit.ф Nakamura laughed. Maclaren thought that that high-pitched, apologetic giggle was going to be hard to live with, if one hadnтt been raised among such symbols. уWe carry a few spare parts, but not that many.ф
уPerhaps we can make some,ф said Maclaren.
уPerhaps,ф said Nakamura. уBut of course the accelerators are of no importance in themselves, the reconstruction of the web is the only way to get home . . . What has the young man Ryerson to say about that?ф
уDonтt know. I sent him off to check the manifest and then look over the stuff the ship actually carries. Heтs been gone a long time, butўф
уI understand,ф said Nakamura. уIt is not easy to face a death sentence when one is young.ф
Maclaren nodded absently and returned his gaze to the scribbled data sheets in one hand. After a moment, Nakamura cleared his throat and said awkwardly: уAh . . . I beg your pardon . . . about the affair of Engineer Sverdlovўф
уWell?ф Maclaren didnтt glance up from the figures. He had a lot of composure of his own to win back.
The fact is, he thought through a hammer-beat in his temples, I am the man afraid. Now that there is nothing I can do, only a cold waiting until word is given me whether I can live or must die . . . I find that Terangi Maclaren is a coward.
Sickness was a doubled fist inside his gullet.
уI am not certain what, er, happened,ф stumbled Nakamura, уand I do not wish to know. If you will be so kind . . . I hope you were not unduly inconveniencedўф
уNo. Itтs all right.ф
уIf we could tacitly ignore it. As I think he has tried to do. Even the best men have a breaking point.ф
I always knew that there must one day be an end to white sails above green water, and to wine, and No masks, and a womanтs laughter. I had not expected it yet.
уAfter all,ф said Nakamura, уwe must work together now.ф
уYes.ф
I had not expected it a light-century from the home of my fathers. My life was spent in having fun, and now I find that the black star has no interest at all in amusing me.
уDo you know yet what happened?ф asked Nakamura. уI would not press you for an answer, butўф
уOh, yes,ф said Maclaren. уI know.ф
BENEATH a scrapheap of songs and keels, loves and jokes and victories, which mattered no longer but would not leave him, Maclaren found his brain working with a startling dry clarity. уIтm not sure how much we can admit to the others,ф he said. уBecause this could have been averted, if weтd proceeded with more caution.ф
уI wondered a little at the time.ф Nakamura laughed again. уBut who would look for danger around a . . . a corpse?ф
