* * * * *
Beauclaire was given his first ship at Sirius. He was called up before
the Commandant in the slow heat of the afternoon, and stood shuffling
with awkward delight upon the shaggy carpet. He was twenty-five years
old, and two months out of the Academy. It was a wonderful day.
The Commandant told Beauclaire to sit down, and sat looking at him for
a long while. The Commandant was an old man with a face of many lines.
He was old, was hot, was tired. He was also very irritated. He had
reached that point of oldness when talking to a young man is an
irritation because they are so bright and certain and don't know
anything and there is nothing you can do about it.
"All right," the Commandant said, "there are a few things I have to
tell you. Do you know where you are going?"
"No, sir," Beauclaire said cheerfully.
"All right," the Commandant said again, "I'll tell you. You are going
to the Hole in Cygnus. You've heard of it, I hope? Good. Then you know
that the Hole is a large dust cloud--estimated diameter, ten
light-years. We have never gone into the Hole, for a number of
reasons. It's too thick for light speeds, it's too big, and Mapping
Command ships are being spread thin. Also, until now, we never thought
there was anything in the Hole worth looking at. So we have never gone
into the Hole. Your ship will be the first."
"Yes, _sir_," Beauclaire said, eyes shining.
"A few weeks ago," the Commandant said, "one of our amateurs had a
lens on the Hole, just looking. He saw a glow. He reported to us; we
checked and saw the same thing. There is a faint light coming out of
the Hole--obviously, a sun, a star inside the cloud, just far enough
in to be almost invisible. God knows how long it's been there, but we
do know that there's never been a record of a light in the Hole.
Apparently this star orbited in some time ago, and is now on its way
out. It is just approaching the edge of the cloud. Do you follow me?"
"Yes, sir," Beauclaire said.
"Your job is this: You will investigate that sun for livable planets
and alien life. If you find anything--which is highly unlikely--you
are to decipher the language and come right back. A Psych team will go
out and determine the effects of a starless sky upon the alien
culture--obviously, these people will never have seen the stars."
* * * * *
The Commandant leaned forward, intent now for the first time.
"Now, this is an important job. There were no other linguists
available, so we passed over a lot of good men to pick you. Make no
mistake about your qualifications. You are nothing spectacular. But
the ship will be yours from now on, permanently. Have you got that?"
The young man nodded, grinning from ear to ear.
"There is something else," the Commandant said, and abruptly he
paused.
He gazed silently at Beauclaire--at the crisp gray uniform, the
baby-slick cheek--and he thought fleetingly and bitterly of the Hole
in Cygnus which he, an old man, would never see. Then he told himself
sternly to leave off self-pity. The important thing was coming up, and
he would have to say it well.
"Listen," he said. The tone of his voice was very strong and
Beauclaire blinked. "You are replacing one of our oldest men. One of
our best men. His name is Billy Wyatt. He--he has been with us a long
time." The Commandant paused again, his fingers toying with the
blotter on his desk. "They have told you a lot of stuff at the
Academy, which is all very important. But I want you to understand
something else: This Mapping Command is a weary business--few men last
for any length of time, and those that do aren't much good in the end.
You know that. Well, I want you to be very careful when you talk to
Billy Wyatt; and I want you to listen to him, because he's been around
longer than anybody. We're relieving him, yes, because he is breaking
down. He's no good for us any more; he has no more nerve. He's lost
the feeling a man has to have to do his job right."
The Commandant got up slowly and walked around in front of Beauclaire,
looking into his eyes.
"When you relieve Wyatt, treat him with respect. He's been farther and
seen more than any man you will ever meet. I want no cracks and no
pity for that man. Because, listen, boy, sooner or later the same
thing will happen to you. Why? Because it's too big--" the Commandant
gestured helplessly with spread hands--"it's all just too damn big.
Space is never so big that it can't get bigger. If you fly long
enough, it will finally get too big to make any sense, and you'll
start thinking. You'll start thinking that it doesn't make sense. On
that day, we'll bring you back and put you into an office somewhere.
If we leave you alone, you lose ships and get good men killed--there's
nothing we can do when space gets too big. That is what happened to
Wyatt. That is what will happen, eventually, to you. Do you
understand?"
The young man nodded uncertainly.
"And that," the Commandant said sadly, "is the lesson for today. Take
your ship. Wyatt will go with you on this one trip, to break you in.
Pay attention to what he has to say--it will mean something. There's
one other crewman, a man named Cooper. You'll be flying with him now.
Keep your ears open and your mouth shut, except for questions. And
don't take any chances. That's all."
Beauclaire saluted and rose to go.
"When you see Wyatt," the Commandant said, "tell him I won't be able
to make it down before you leave. Too busy. Got papers to sign. Got
more damn papers than the chief has ulcers."
The young man waited.
"That, God help you, is all," said the Commandant.
* * * * *
Wyatt saw the letter when the young man was still a long way off. The
white caught his eye, and he watched idly for a moment. And then he
saw the fresh green gear on the man's back and the look on his face as
he came up the ladder, and Wyatt stopped breathing.