The Book

  Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction November 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

  THE BOOK

  ]

  _A weird world--cut off from the Universe, it had universal wisdom; facing death at every moment, it had the secret of peace!_

  By MICHAEL SHAARA

  Illustrated by Mel Hunter

  * * * * *

  Beauclaire was given his first ship at Sirius. He was called up beforethe Commandant in the slow heat of the afternoon, and stood shufflingwith awkward delight upon the shaggy carpet. He was twenty-five yearsold, and two months out of the Academy. It was a wonderful day.

  The Commandant told Beauclaire to sit down, and sat looking at him fora 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 hadreached that point of oldness when talking to a young man is anirritation because they are so bright and certain and don't knowanything and there is nothing you can do about it.

  "All right," the Commandant said, "there are a few things I have totell 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 goingto the Hole in Cygnus. You've heard of it, I hope? Good. Then you knowthat the Hole is a large dust cloud--estimated diameter, tenlight-years. We have never gone into the Hole, for a number ofreasons. It's too thick for light speeds, it's too big, and MappingCommand ships are being spread thin. Also, until now, we never thoughtthere was anything in the Hole worth looking at. So we have never goneinto 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 alens on the Hole, just looking. He saw a glow. He reported to us; wechecked and saw the same thing. There is a faint light coming out ofthe Hole--obviously, a sun, a star inside the cloud, just far enoughin to be almost invisible. God knows how long it's been there, but wedo 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 wayout. 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 planetsand alien life. If you find anything--which is highly unlikely--youare to decipher the language and come right back. A Psych team will goout and determine the effects of a starless sky upon the alienculture--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 linguistsavailable, so we passed over a lot of good men to pick you. Make nomistake about your qualifications. You are nothing spectacular. Butthe 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 hepaused.

  He gazed silently at Beauclaire--at the crisp gray uniform, thebaby-slick cheek--and he thought fleetingly and bitterly of the Holein Cygnus which he, an old man, would never see. Then he told himselfsternly to leave off self-pity. The important thing was coming up, andhe would have to say it well.

  "Listen," he said. The tone of his voice was very strong andBeauclaire blinked. "You are replacing one of our oldest men. One ofour best men. His name is Billy Wyatt. He--he has been with us a longtime." The Commandant paused again, his fingers toying with theblotter on his desk. "They have told you a lot of stuff at theAcademy, which is all very important. But I want you to understandsomething else: This Mapping Command is a weary business--few men lastfor 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 toBilly Wyatt; and I want you to listen to him, because he's been aroundlonger than anybody. We're relieving him, yes, because he is breakingdown. He's no good for us any more; he has no more nerve. He's lostthe 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 andseen more than any man you will ever meet. I want no cracks and nopity for that man. Because, listen, boy, sooner or later the samething will happen to you. Why? Because it's too big--" the Commandantgestured 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 longenough, it will finally get too big to make any sense, and you'llstart thinking. You'll start thinking that it doesn't make sense. Onthat 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'snothing we can do when space gets too big. That is what happened toWyatt. That is what will happen, eventually, to you. Do youunderstand?"

  The young man nodded uncertainly.

  "And that," the Commandant said sadly, "is the lesson for today. Takeyour 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'sone other crewman, a man named Cooper. You'll be flying with him now.Keep your ears open and your mouth shut, except for questions. Anddon'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 ableto make it down before you leave. Too busy. Got papers to sign. Gotmore 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. Thewhite caught his eye, and he watched idly for a moment. And then hesaw the fresh green gear on the man's back and the look on his face ashe came up the ladder, and Wyatt stopped breathing.

  He stood for a moment blinking in the sun. _Me?_ he thought ... _me?_

  Beauclaire reached the platform and threw down his gear, thinking thatthis was one hell of a way to begin a career.

  Wyatt nodded to him, but didn't say anything. He accepted the letter,opened it and read it. He was a short man, thick and dark and verypowerful. The lines of his face did not change as he read the letter.

  "Well," he said when he was done, "thank you."

  There was a long wait, and Wyatt said at last: "Is the Commandantcoming down?"

  "No, sir. He said he was tied up. He said to give you his best."

  "That's nice," Wyatt said.

  After that, neither of them spoke. Wyatt showed the new man to hisroom and wished him good luck. Then he went back to his cabin and satdown to think.

  After 28 years in the Mapping Command, he had become necessarilyimmune to surprise; he could understand this at once, but it would besome time before he would react. _Well, well_, he said to himself; buthe did not feel it.

  Vaguely, flicking cigarettes onto the floor, he wondered _why_. Theletter had not given a reason. He had probably flunked a physical. Ora mental. One or the other, each good enough reason. He was 47 yearsold, and this was a rough business. Still, he felt strong andcautious, and he knew he was not afraid. He felt good for a long whileyet ... but obviously he was not.

  _Well, then_, he thought, _where now_?

&
nbsp; He considered that with interest. There was no particular place forhim to go. Really no place. He had come into the business easily andnaturally, knowing what he wanted--which was simply to move and listenand see. When he was young, it had been adventure alone that drew him;now it was something else he could not define, but a thing he knew heneeded badly. He had to see, to watch ... and _understand_.

  It was ending, the long time was ending. It didn't matter what waswrong with him. The point was that he was through. The point was thathe was going home, to nowhere in particular.

  When evening came, he was still in his room. Eventually he'd been ableto accept it all and examine it clearly, and had decided that therewas nothing to do. If there was anything out in space which he had notyet found, he would not be likely to need it.

  He left off sitting, and went up to the control room.

  * * * * *

  Cooper was waiting for him. Cooper was a tall, bearded, scrawny manwith a great temper and a great heart and a small capacity for liquor.He was sitting all alone in the room when Wyatt entered.

  Except for the pearl-green glow of dashlights from the panel, the roomwas dark. Cooper was lying far back in the pilot's seat, his feetpropped up on the panel. One shoe was off, and he was carefullypressing buttons with his huge bare toes. The first thing Wyatt sawwhen he entered was the foot glowing luridly in the green light of thepanel. Deep within the ship he could hear the hum of the dynamosstarting and stopping.

  Wyatt grinned. From the play of Coop's toes, and the attitude, and thelimp, forgotten pole of an arm which hung down loosely from the chair,it was obvious that Coop was drunk. In port, he was usually drunk. Hewas a lean, likable man with very few cares and no manners at all,which was typical of men in that Command.

  "What say, Billy?" Coop mumbled from deep in the seat.

  Wyatt sat down. "Where you been?"

  "In the port. Been drinkin' in the goddam port. Hot!"

  "Bring back any?"

  Coop waved an arm floppily in no particular direction. "Look around."

  The flasks lay in a heap by the door. Wyatt took one and sat downagain. The room was warm and green and silent. The two men had beentogether long enough to be able to sit without speaking, and in thegreen glow they waited, thinking. The first pull Wyatt took was longand numbing; he closed his eyes.

  Coop did not move at all. Not even his toes. When Wyatt had begun tothink he was asleep, he said suddenly:

  "Heard about the replacement."

  Wyatt looked at him.

  "Found out this afternoon," Coop said, "from the goddam Commandant."

  Wyatt closed his eyes again.

  "Where you goin'?" Coop asked.

  Wyatt shrugged. "Plush job."

  "You got any plans?"

  Wyatt shook his head.

  Coop swore moodily. "Never let you alone," he muttered. "Miserablebastards." He rose up suddenly in the chair, pointing a longmatchstick finger into Wyatt's face. "Listen, Billy," he said withdetermination, "you was a good man, you know that? You was one hell ofa good goddam man."

  Wyatt took another long pull and nodded, smiling.

  "You said it," he said.

  "I sailed with some good men, some _good_ men," Coop insisted,stabbing shakily but emphatically with his finger, "but you don't takenothin' from nobody."

  "Here's to me, I'm true blue," Wyatt grinned.

  * * * * *

  Coop sank back in the chair, satisfied. "I just wanted you shouldknow. You been a good man."

  "Betcher sweet life," Wyatt said.

  "So they throw you out. _Me_ they keep. _You_ they throw out. They gotno brains."

  Wyatt lay back, letting the liquor take hold, receding without paininto a quiet world. The ship was good to feel around him, dark andthrobbing like a living womb. _Just like a womb_, he thought. _It's alot like a womb._

  "Listen," Coop said thickly, rising from his chair. "I think I'll quitthis racket. What the hell I wanna stay in this racket for?"

  Wyatt looked up, startled. When Coop was drunk, he was never a littledrunk. He was always far gone, and he could be very mean. Wyatt sawnow that he was down deep and sinking; that the replacement was a bigthing to him, bigger than Wyatt had expected. In this team, Wyatt hadbeen the leader, and it had seldom occurred to him that Coop reallyneeded him. He had never really thought about it. But now he lethimself realize that, alone, Coop could be very bad. Unless this newman was worth anything and learned quickly, Coop would very likely gethimself killed.

  Now, more than ever, this replacement thing was ridiculous; but forCoop's sake, Wyatt said quickly:

  "Drop that, man. You'll be on this ship in the boneyard. You even looklike this ship--you got a bright red bow."

  When the tall man was dark and silent, Wyatt said gently, "Coop. Easy.We leave at midnight. Want me to take her up?"

  "Naw." Coop turned away abruptly, shaking his head. "T'hell with you.Go die." He sank back deeply in the seat, his gaunt face reflectingthe green glow from the panel. His next words were sad, and, to Wyatt,very touching.

  "Hell, Billy," Coop said wearily, "this ain' no fun."

  Wyatt let him take the ship up alone. There was no reason to argueabout it. Coop was drunk; his mind was unreachable.

  At midnight, the ship bucked and heaved and leaped up into the sky.Wyatt hung tenuously to a stanchion by a port, watched the nightlights recede and the stars begin blooming. In a few moments the lastclouds were past, and they were out in the long night, and the millionmillion speckled points of glittering blue and red and silver burnedonce more with the mighty light which was, to Wyatt, all that was realor had ever meant living. In the great glare and the black he stood,as always, waiting for something to happen, for the huge lonely beautyto resolve itself to a pattern and descend and be understood.

  It did not. It was just space, an area in which things existed, inwhich mechanized substance moved. Wondering, waiting, Wyatt regardedthe Universe. The stars looked icily back.

  At last, almost completely broken, Wyatt went to bed.

  * * * * *

  Beauclaire's first days passed very quickly. He spent them in combingthe ship, seeking her out in her deepest layers, watching and touchingand loving. The ship was to him like a woman; the first few days werehis honeymoon. Because there is no lonelier job that a man can have,it was nearly always this way with men in the Command.

  Wyatt and Cooper left him pretty much alone. They did not come lookingfor him, and the few times that he did see them he could not help butfeel their surprise and resentment. Wyatt was always polite. Cooperwas not. Neither seemed to have anything to say to Beauclaire, and hewas wise enough to stay by himself. Most of Beauclaire's life untilnow had been spent among books and dust and dead, ancient languages.He was by nature a solitary man, and therefore it was not difficultfor him to be alone.

  On a morning some weeks after the trip began, Wyatt came looking forhim. His eyes twinkling, Wyatt fished him up, grease-coated andembarrassed, out of a shaft between the main dynamos. Together theywent up toward the astrogation dome. And under the great dome, beneaththe massive crystal sheet on the other side of which there was nothingfor ever and ever, Beauclaire saw a beauty which he was to remember aslong as he lived.

  They were nearing the Hole in Cygnus. On the side which faces thecenter of the Galaxy the Hole is almost flat, from top to bottom, likea wall. They were moving in on the flat side now, floating along somedistance from the wall, which was so huge and incredible thatBeauclaire was struck dumb.

  It began above him, light-years high. It came down in a black,folding, rushing silence, fell away beneath him for millions uponmillions of miles, passed down beyond sight so far away, sounbelievably far away and so vast, that there could be nothing as bigas this, and if he had not seen the stars still blazing on either sidehe would have had to believe that the wall was just outside the glass,so close he could touch it. From all over the
wall a haze reflectedfaintly, so that the wall stood out in ridges and folds from the greatblack of space. Beauclaire looked up and then down, and then stood andgazed.

  After a while, Wyatt pointed silently down. Beauclaire looked in amongthe folds and saw it, the tiny yellow gleam toward which they weremoving. It was so small against the massive cloud that he lost iteasily.

  Each time he took his eyes away, he lost it, and had to search for itagain.

  "It's not too far in," Wyatt said at last, breaking the silence."We'll move down the cloud to the nearest point, then we'll slow downand move in. Should take a couple of days."

  Beauclaire nodded.

  "Thought you'd like to see," Wyatt said.

  "Thanks." Beauclaire was sincerely grateful. And then, unable tocontain himself, he shook his head with wonder. "My God!" he said.

  Wyatt smiled. "It's a big show."

  Later, much later, Beauclaire began to remember what the Commandanthad said about Wyatt. But he could not understand it at all. Sure,something like the Hole was incomprehensible. It did not make anysense--but so what? A thing as beautiful as that, Beauclaire thought,did not _have_ to make sense.

  * * * * *

  They reached the sun slowly. The gas was not thick by any Earthlystandards--approximately one atom to every cubic mile of space--butfor a starship, any matter at all is too much. At normal speeds, theship would hit the gas like a wall. So they came in slowly, swung inand around the large yellow sun.

  They saw one planet almost immediately. While