Part 1 (1/2)

The Book.

by Michael Shaara.

Beauclaire was given his first s.h.i.+p at Sirius. He was called up before the Commandant in the slow heat of the afternoon, and stood shuffling with awkward delight upon the s.h.a.ggy 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+p will be the first.”

”Yes, _sir_,” Beauclaire said, eyes s.h.i.+ning.

”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. G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed over a lot of good men to pick you. Make no mistake about your qualifications. You are nothing spectacular. But the s.h.i.+p 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 d.a.m.n big.

s.p.a.ce 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 s.h.i.+ps and get good men killed--there's nothing we can do when s.p.a.ce 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 s.h.i.+p. Wyatt will go with you on this one trip, to break you in.