The Stars, Like Dust Read online

  “Maybe you would have done it, but I couldn’t afford to experiment. I maneuvered you into doing it without your knowledge. It was hard, I’ll grant you. Still, I had no choice. I thought you might not survive; I tell you that frankly. But you were expendable; and I tell you that frankly. As it turned out, you did survive, and I am pleased with that.

  “And there was one more thing, a matter of a document——”

  Biron said, “What document?”

  “You jump quickly. I said your father was working for me. So I know what he knew. You were to obtain that document and you were a good choice, at first. You were on Earth legitimately. You were young and not likely to be suspected. I say, at first!

  “But then, with your father arrested, you became dangerous. You would be an object of prime suspicion to the Tyranni; and we could not allow the document to fall into your possession, since it would then almost inevitably fall into theirs. We had to get you off Earth before you could complete your mission. You see, it all hangs together.”

  “Then you have it now?” asked Biron.

  The Autarch said, “No, I have not. A document which might have been the right one has been missing from Earth for years. If it is the right one, I don’t know who has it. May I put away the blaster now? It grows heavy.”

  Biron said, “Put it away.”

  The Autarch did so. He said, “What has your father told you about the document?”

  “Nothing that you don’t know, since he worked for you.” The Autarch smiled. “Quite so!” but the smile had little of real amusement in it.

  “Are you quite through with your explanation now?”

  “Quite through.”

  “Then,” said Biron, “get off the ship.”

  Gillbret said, “Now wait, Biron. There’s more than private pique to be considered here. There’s Artemisia and myself, too, you know. We have something to say. As far as I’m concerned, what the Autarch says makes sense. I’ll remind you that on Rhodia I saved your life, so I think my views are to be considered.”

  “All right. You saved my life,” shouted Biron. He pointed a finger toward the air-lock. “Go with him, then. Go on. You get out of here too. You wanted to find the Autarch. There he is! I agreed to pilot you to him, and my responsibility is over. Don’t try to tell me what to do.”

  He turned to Artemisia, some of his anger still brimming over. “And what about you? You saved my life too. Everyone went around saving my life. Do you want to go with him too?”

  She said calmly, “Don’t put words into my mouth, Biron. If I wanted to go with him, I’d say so.”

  “Don’t feel any obligations. You can leave any time.”

  She looked hurt and he turned away. As usual, some cooler part of himself knew that he was acting childishly. He had been made to look foolish by Jonti and he was helpless in the face of the resentment he felt. And besides, why should they all take so calmly the thesis that it was perfectly right to have Biron Farrill thrown to the Tyranni, like a bone to the dogs, in order to keep them off Jonti’s neck. Damn it, what did they think he was?

  He thought of the dud bomb, the Rhodian liner, the Tyranni, the wild night on Rhodia, and he could feel the stinging of self-pity inside himself.

  The Autarch said, “Well, Farrill?”

  And Gillbret said, “Well, Biron?”

  Biron turned to Artemisia. “What do you think?”

  Artemisia said calmly, “I think he has three ships out there still, and is Autarch of Lingane, besides. I don’t think you really have a choice.”

  The Autarch looked at her, and he nodded his admiration. “You are an intelligent girl, my lady. It is good that such a mind should be in such a pleasant exterior.” For a measurable moment his eyes lingered.

  Biron said, “What’s the deal?”

  “Lend me the use of your names and your abilities, and I will take you to what my Lord Gillbret called the rebellion world.”

  Biron said sourly, “You think there is one?”

  And Gillbret said simultaneously, “Then it is yours.”

  The Autarch smiled. “I think there is a world such as my lord described, but it is not mine.”

  “It’s not yours,” said Gillbret despondently.

  “Does that matter, if I can find it?”

  “How?” demanded Biron.

  The Autarch said, “It is not so difficult as you might think. If we accept the story as it has been told us, we must believe that there exists a world in rebellion against the Tyranni. We must believe that it is located somewhere in the Nebular Sector and that in twenty years it has remained undiscovered by the Tyranni. If such a situation is to remain possible, there is only one place in the Sector where such a planet can exist.”

  “And where is that?”

  “You do not find the solution obvious? Doesn’t it seem inevitable that the world could exist only within the Nebula itself?”

  “Inside the Nebula!”

  Gillbret said, “Great Galaxy, of course.”

  And, at the moment, the solution did indeed seem obvious and inescapable.

  Artemisia said timidly, “Can people live on worlds inside the Nebula?”

  “Why not?” said the Autarch. “Don’t mistake the Nebula. It is a dark mist in space, but it is not a poison gas. It is an incredibly attenuated mass of dust that absorbs and obscures the light of the stars within it, and, of course, those on the side directly opposite the observer. Otherwise, it is harmless, and, in the direct neighborhood of a star, virtually undetectable.

  “I apologize if I seem pedantic, but I have spent the last several months at the University of Earth collecting astronomical data on the Nebula.”

  “Why there?” said Biron. “It is a matter of little importance, but I met you there and I am curious.”

  “There’s no mystery to it. I left Lingane originally on my own business. The exact nature is of no importance. About six months ago I visited Rhodia. My agent, Widemos—your father, Biron—had been unsuccessful in his negotiations with the Director, whom we had hoped to swing to our side. I tried to improve matters and failed, since Hinrik, with apologies to the lady, is not the type of material for our sort of work.”

  “Hear, hear,” muttered Biron.

  The Autarch continued. “But I did meet Gillbret, as he may have told you. So I went to Earth, because Earth is the original home of humanity. It was from Earth that most of the original explorations of the Galaxy set out. It is upon Earth that most of the records exist. The Horsehead Nebula was explored quite thoroughly; at least, it was passed through a number of times. It was never settled, since the difficulties of traveling through a volume of space where stellar observations could not be made were too great. The explorations themselves, however, were all I needed.

  “Now listen carefully. The Tyrannian ship upon which my Lord Gillbret was marooned was struck by a meteor after its first Jump. Assuming that the trip from Tyrann to Rhodia was along the usual trade route—and there is no reason to suppose anything else—the point in space at which the ship left its route is established. It would scarcely have traveled more than half a million miles in ordinary space between the first two Jumps. We can consider such a length as a point in space.

  “It is possible to make another assumption. In damaging the control panels, it was quite possible that the meteor might have altered the direction of the Jumps, since that would require only an interference with the motion of the ship’s gyroscope. This would be difficult but not impossible. To change the power of the hyperatomic thrusts, however, would require complete smashing of the engines, which, of course, were not touched by the meteor.

  “With unchanged power of thrust, the length of the four remaining Jumps would not be changed, nor, for that matter, would their relative directions. It would be analogous to having a long, crooked wire bent at a single point in an unknown direction through an unknown angle. The final position of the ship would lie somewhere on the surface of an imaginary sphere, the center of which
would be that point in space where the meteor struck, and the radius of which would be the vector sum of the remaining Jumps.

  “I plotted such a sphere, and that surface intersects a thick extension of the Horsehead Nebula. Some six thousand square degrees of the sphere’s surface, one fourth of the total surface, lies in the Nebula. It remains, therefore, only to find a star lying within the Nebula and within one million miles or so of the imaginary surface we are discussing. You will remember that when Gillbret’s ship came to rest, it was within reach of a star.

  “Now how many stars within the Nebula do you suppose we can find that close to the sphere’s surface? Remember there are one hundred billion radiating stars in the Galaxy.”

  Biron found himself absorbed in the matter almost against his will. “Hundreds, I suppose.”

  “Five!” replied the Autarch. “Just five. Don’t be fooled by the one hundred billion figure. The Galaxy is about seven trillion cubic light-years in volume, so that there are seventy cubic light-years per star on the average. It is a pity that I do not know which of those five have habitable planets. We might reduce the number of possibles to one. Unfortunately, the early explorers had no time for detailed observations. They plotted the positions of the stars, the proper motions, and the spectral types.”

  “So that in one of those five stellar systems,” said Biron, “is located the rebellion world?”

  “Only that conclusion would fit the facts we know.”

  “Assuming Gil’s story can be accepted.”

  “I make that assumption.”

  “My story is true,” interrupted Gillbret intensely. “I swear it.”

  “I am about to leave,” said the Autarch, “to investigate each of the five worlds. My motives in doing so are obvious. As Autarch of Lingane I can take an equal part in their efforts.”

  “And with two Hinriads and a Widemos on your side, your bid for an equal part, and, presumably, a strong and secure position in the new, free worlds to come, would be so much the better,” said Biron.

  “Your cynicism doesn’t frighten me, Farrill. The answer is obviously yes. If there is to be a successful rebellion, it would, again obviously, be desirable to have your fist on the winning side.”

  “Otherwise some successful privateer or rebel captain might be rewarded with the Autarchy of Lingane.”

  “Or the Ranchy of Widemos. Exactly.”

  “And if the rebellion is not successful?”

  “There will be time to judge of that when we find what we look for.”

  Biron said slowly, “I’ll go with you.”

  “Good! Then suppose we make arrangements for your transfer from this ship.”

  “Why that?”

  “It would be better for you. This ship is a toy.”

  “It is a Tyrannian warship. We would be wrong in abandoning it.”

  “As a Tyrannian warship, it would be dangerously conspicuous.”

  “Not in the Nebula. I’m sorry, Jonti. I’m joining you out of expedience. I can be frank too. I want to find the rebellion world. But there’s no friendship between us. I stay at my own controls.”

  “Biron,” said Artemisia gently, “the ship is too small for the three of us.”

  “As it stands, yes, Arta. But it can be fitted with a trailer. Jonti knows that as well as I do. We’d have all the space we needed then, and still be masters at our own controls. And, for that matter, it would effectively disguise the nature of the ship.”

  The Autarch considered. “If there is to be neither friendship nor trust, Farrill, I must protect myself. You may have your own ship and a trailer to boot, outfitted as you may wish. But I must have some guarantee for your proper behavior. The Lady Artemisia, at least, must come with me.”

  “No!” said Biron.

  The Autarch lifted his eyebrows. “No? Let the lady speak.”

  He turned toward Artemisia, and his nostrils flared slightly. “I dare say you would find the situation very comfortable, my lady.”

  “You, at least, would not find it comfortable, my lord. Be assured of that,” she retorted. “I would spare you the discomfort and remain here.”

  “I think you might reconsider if——” began the Autarch, as two little wrinkles at the bridge of his nose marred the serenity of his expression.

  “I think not,” interrupted Biron. “The Lady Artemisia has made her choice.”

  “And you back her choice then, Farrill?” The Autarch was smiling again.

  “Entirely! All three of us will remain on the Remorseless. There will be no compromise on that.”

  “You choose your company oddly.”

  “Do I?”

  “I think so.” The Autarch seemed idly absorbed in his fingernails. “You seem so annoyed with me because I deceived you and placed your life in danger. It is strange, then, is it not, that you should seem on such friendly terms with the daughter of a man such as Hinrik, who in deception is certainly my master.”

  “I know Hinrik. Your opinions of him change nothing.”

  “You know everything about Hinrik?”

  “I know enough.”

  “Do you know that he killed your father?” The Autarch’s finger stabbed toward Artemisia. “Do you know that the girl you are so deeply concerned to keep under your protection is the daughter of your father’s murderer?”

  14. THE AUTARCH LEAVES

  The tableau remained unbroken for a moment. The Autarch had lit another cigarette. He was quite relaxed, his face untroubled. Gillbret had folded into the pilot’s seat, his face screwed up as though he were going to burst into tears. The limp straps of the pilot’s stress-absorbing outfit dangled about him and increased the lugubrious effect.

  Biron, paper-white, fists clenched, faced the Autarch. Artemisia, her thin nostrils flaring, kept her eyes not on the Autarch, but on Biron only.

  The radio signaled, the soft clickings crashing with the effect of cymbals in the small pilot room.

  Gillbret jerked upright, then whirled on the seat.

  The Autarch said lazily, “I’m afraid we’ve been more talkative than I’d anticipated. I told Rizzett to come get me if I had not returned in an hour.”

  The visual screen was alive now with Rizzett’s grizzled head.

  And then Gillbret said to the Autarch, “He would like to speak to you.” He made room.

  The Autarch rose from his chair and advanced so that his own head was within the zone of visual transmission.

  He said, “I am perfectly safe, Rizzett.”

  The other’s question was heard clearly: “Who are the crew members on the cruiser, sir?”

  And suddenly Biron stood next to the Autarch. “I am Rancher of Widemos,” he said proudly.

  Rizzett smiled gladly and broadly. A hand appeared on the screen in sharp salute. “Greetings, sir.”

  The Autarch interrupted. “I will be returning soon with a young lady. Prepare to maneuver for contact air-locks.” And he broke the visual connection between the two ships.

  He turned to Biron. “I assured them it was you on board ship. There was some objection to my coming here alone otherwise. Your father was extremely popular with my men.”

  “Which is why you can use my name.”

  The Autarch shrugged.

  Biron said, “It is all you can use. Your last statement to your officer was inaccurate.”

  “In what way?”

  “Artemisia oth Hinriad stays with me.”

  “Still? After what I have told you?”

  Biron said sharply, “You have told me nothing. You have made a bare statement, but I am not likely to take your unsupported word for anything. I tell you this without any attempt at tact. I hope you understand me.”

  “Is your knowledge of Hinrik such that my statement seems inherently implausible to you?”

  Biron was staggered. Visibly and apparently, the remark had struck home. He made no answer.

  Artemisia said, “I say it’s not so. Do you have proof?”

  “No
direct proof, of course. I was not present at any conferences between your father and the Tyranni. But I can present certain known facts and allow you to make your own inferences. First, the old Rancher of Widemos visited Hinrik six months ago. I’ve said that already. I can add here that he was somewhat overenthusiastic in his efforts, or perhaps he overestimated Hinrik’s discretion. At any rate, he talked more than he should have. My Lord Gillbret can verify that.”

  Gillbret nodded miserably. He turned to Artemisia, who had turned to him with moist and angry eyes. “I’m sorry, Arta, but it’s true. I’ve told you this. It was from Widemos that I heard about the Autarch.”

  The Autarch said, “And it was fortunate for myself that my lord had developed such long mechanical ears with which to sate his lively curiosity concerning the Director’s meetings of state. I was warned of the danger, quite unwittingly, by Gillbret when he first approached me. I left as soon as I could, but the damage, of course, had been done.

  “Now, to our knowledge, it was Widemos’s only slip, and Hinrik, certainly, has no enviable reputation as a man of any great independence and courage. Your father, Farrill, was arrested within half a year. If not through Hinrik, through this girl’s father, then how?”

  Biron said, “You did not warn him?”

  “In our business we take our chances, Farrill, but he was warned. After that he made no contact, however indirect, with any of us, and destroyed whatever proof he had of connection with us. Some among us believed that he should leave the Sector, or, at the very least, go into hiding. He refused to do this.

  “I think I can understand why. To alter his way of life would prove the truth of what the Tyranni must have learned, endanger the entire movement. He decided to risk his own life only. He remained in the open.

  “For nearly half a year the Tyranni waited for a betraying gesture. They are patient, the Tyranni. None came, so that when they could wait no longer, they found nothing in their net but him.”

  “It’s a lie,” cried Artemisia. “It’s all a lie. It’s a smug, sanctimonious, lying story with no truth in it. If all you said were true, they would be watching you too. You would be in danger yourself. You wouldn’t be sitting here, smiling and wasting time.”