Nightfall and Other Stories

  Stuart said, “Shut up. There isn’t enough chlorine in the air to make a mosquito sneeze, and what there is will be swept out in two minutes. Besides, a little chlorine is good for you. It may kill your cold virus.”

  Windham coughed and said, “Stuart, I feel that you might have said something to your Kloro friend about releasing us. You are scarcely as bold in their presence, dash it, as you are once they are gone.”

  “You heard what the creature said, Colonel. We’re prisoners of war, and prisoner exchanges are negotiated by diplomats. We’ll just have to wait.”

  Leblanc, who had turned pasty white at the entrance of the Kloro, rose and hurried into the privy. There was the sound of retching.

  An uncomfortable silence fell while Stuart tried to think of something to say to cover the unpleasant sound. Mullen filled in. He had rummaged through a little box he had taken from under his pillow.

  He said, “Perhaps Mr. Leblanc had better take a sedative before retiring. I have a few. I’d be glad to give him one.” He explained his generosity immediately, “Otherwise he may keep the rest of us awake, you see.”

  “Very logical,” said Stuart, dryly. “You’d better save one for Sir Launcelot here; save half a dozen.” He walked to where Polyorketes still sprawled and knelt at his side. “Comfortable, baby?”

  Windham said, “Deuced poor taste speaking like that, Stuart.”

  “Well, if you’re so concerned about him, why don’t you and Porter hoist him onto his cot?”

  He helped them do so. Polyorketes’ arms were trembling erratically now. From what Stuart knew of the Kloro’s nerve weapons, the man should be in an agony of pins and needles about now.

  Stuart said, “And don’t be too gentle with him, either. The damned fool might have gotten us all killed. And for what?”

  He pushed Polyorketes’ stiff carcass to one side and sat at the edge of the cot. He said, “Can you hear me, Polyorketes?”

  Polyorketes’ eyes gleamed. An arm lifted abortively and fell back.

  “Okay then, listen. Don’t try anything like that again. The next time it may be the finish for all of us. If you had been a Kloro and he had been an Earthman, we’d be dead now. So just get one thing through your skull. We’re sorry about your brother and it’s a rotten shame, but it was his own fault.”

  Polyorketes tried to heave and Stuart pushed him back.

  “No, you keep on listening,” he said. “Maybe this is the only time I’ll get to talk to you when you have to listen. Your brother had no right leaving passenger’s quarters. There was no place for him to go. He just got in the way of our own men. We don’t even know for certain that it was a Kloro gun that killed him. It might have been one of our own.”

  “Oh, I say, Stuart,” objected Windham.

  Stuart whirled at him. “Do you have proof it wasn’t? Did you see the shot? Could you tell from what was left of the body whether it was Kloro energy or Earth energy?”

  Polyorketes found his voice, driving his unwilling tongue into a fuzzy verbal snarl. “Damned stinking greenie bastard.”

  “Me?” said Stuart. “I know what’s going on in your mind, Polyorketes. You think that1 when the paralysis wears off, you’ll ease your feelings by slamming me around. Well, if you do, it will probably be curtains for all of us.”

  He rose, put his back against the wall. For the moment, he was fighting all of them. “None of you know the Kloros the way I do. The physical differences you see are not important. The differences in their temperament are. They don’t understand our views on sex, for instance. To them, it’s just a biological reflex like breathing. They attach no importance to it. But they do attach importance to social groupings. Remember, their evolutionary ancestors had lots in common with our insects. They always assume that any group of Earthmen they find together makes up a social unit.

  “That means just about everything to them. I don’t understand exactly what it means. No Earthman can. But the result is that they never break up a group, just as we don’t separate a mother and her children if we can help it. One of the reasons they may be treating us with kid gloves right now is that they imagine we’re all broken up over the fact that they killed one of us, and they feel guilt about it.

  “But this is what you’ll have to remember. We’re going to be interned together and kept together for duration. I don’t like the thought. I wouldn’t have picked any of you for co-internees and I’m pretty sure none of you would have picked me. But there it is. The Kloros could never understand that our being together on the ship is only accidental.

  “That means we’ve got to get along somehow. That’s not just goodie-goodie talk about birds in their little nest agreeing. What do you think would have happened if the Kloros had come in earlier and found Polyorketes and myself trying to kill each other? You don’t know? Well, what do you suppose you would think of a mother you caught trying to kill her children?

  “That’s it, then. They would have killed every one of us as a bunch of Kloro-type perverts and monsters. Got that? How about you, Polyorketes? Have you got it? So let’s call names if we have to, but let’s keep our hands to ourselves. And now, if none of you mind, I’ll massage my hands back into shape--these synthetic hands that I got from the Kloros and that one of my own kind tried to mangle again.”

  For Claude Leblanc, the worst was over. He had been sick enough; sick with many things; but sick most of all over having ever left Earth. It had been a great thing to go to college off Earth. It had been an adventure and had taken him away from his mother. Somehow, he had been sneakingly glad to make that escape after the first month of frightened adjustment.

  And then on the summer holidays, he had been no longer Claude, the shy-spoken scholar, but Leblanc, space traveler. He had swaggered the fact for all it was worth. It made him feel such a man to talk of stars and Jumps and the customs and environments of other worlds; it had given him corkage with Margaret. She had loved him for the dangers he had undergone--

  Except that this had been the first one, really, and he had not done so well. He knew it and was ashamed and wished he were like Stuart.

  He used the excuse of mealtime to approach. He said, “Mr. Stuart.”

  Stuart looked up and said shortly, “How do you feel?”

  Leblanc felt himself blush. He blushed easily and the effort not to blush only made it worse. He said, “Much better, thank you. We are eating. I thought I’d bring you your ration,”

  Stuart took the offered can, It was standard space ration; thoroughly synthetic, concentrated, nourishing and, somehow, unsatisfying. It heated automatically when the can was opened, but could be eaten cold, if necessary. Though a combined fork-spoon utensil was enclosed, the ration was of a consistency that made the use of fingers practical and not particularly messy.

  Stuart said, “Did you hear my little speech?”

  “Yes, sir. I want you to know you can count on me.”

  “Well, good. Now go and eat.”

  “May I eat here?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  For a moment, they ate in silence, and then Leblanc burst out, “You are so sure of yourself, Mr. Stuart! It must be very wonderful to be like that!”

  “Sure of myself? Thanks, but there’s your self-assured one.”

  Leblanc followed the direction of the nod in surprise. “Mr. Mullen? That little man? Oh, no!”

  “You don’t think he’s self-assured?”

  Leblanc shook his head. He looked at Stuart intently to see if he could detect humor in his expression. “That one is just cold. He has no emotion in him. He’s like a little machine. I find him repulsive. You’re different, Mr. Stuart. You have it all inside, but you control it. I would like to be like that.”

  And as though attracted by the magnetism of the mention, even though unheard, of his name, Mullen joined them. His can of ration was barely touched. It was still steaming gently as he squatted opposite them.

  His voice ha
d its usual quality of furtively rustling underbrush. “How long, Mr. Stuart, do you think the trip will take?”

  “Can’t say, Mullen. They’ll undoubtedly be avoiding the usual trade routes and they’ll be making more Jumps through hyper-space than usual to throw off possible pursuit. I wouldn’t be surprised if it took as long as a week. Why do you ask? I presume you have a very practical and logical reason?”

  “Why, yes. Certainly.” He seemed quite shellbacked to sarcasm. He said, “It occurred to me that it might be wise to ration the rations, so to speak.”

  “We’ve got enough food and water for a month. I checked on that first thing.”

  “I see. In that case, I will finish the can.” He did, using the all-purpose utensil daintily and patting a handkerchief against his unstained lips from time to time.

  Polyorketes struggled to his feet some two hours later. He swayed a bit, looking like the Spirit of Hangover. He did not try to come closer to Stuart, but spoke from where he stood.

  He said, “You stinking greenie spy, you watch yourself.”

  “You heard what I said before, Polyorketes.”

  “I heard. But I also heard what you said about Aristides. I won’t bother with you, because you’re a bag of nothing but noisy air. But wait, someday you’ll blow your air in one face too many and it will be let out of you.”

  “I’ll wait,” said Stuart.

  Windham hobbled over, leaning heavily on his cane. “Now, now,” he called with a wheezing joviality that overkid his sweating anxiety so thinly as to emphasize it. “We’re all Earthmen, dash it. Got to remember that; keep it as a glowing light of inspiration. Never let down before the blasted Kloros. We’ve got to forget private feuds and remember only that we are Earthmen united against alien blighters.”

  Stuart’s comment was unprintable.

  Porter was right behind Windham. He had been in a close conference with the shaven-headed colonel for an hour, and now he said with indignation, “It doesn’t help to be a wiseguy, Stuart. You listen to the colonel. We’ve been doing some hard thinking about the situation.”

  He had washed some of the grease off his face, wet his hair and slicked it back. It did not remove the little tic on his right cheek just at the point where his lips ended, or make his hangnail hands more attractive in appearance.

  “All right, Colonel,” said Stuart. “What’s on your mind?”

  Windham said, “I’d prefer to have all the men together.”

  “Okay, call them.”

  Leblanc hurried over; Mullen approached with greater deliberation.

  Stuart said, “You want that fellow?” He jerked his head at Polyorketes.

  “Why, yes. Mr. Polyorketes, may we have you, old fella?”

  “Ah, leave me alone.”

  “Go ahead,” said Stuart, “leave him alone. I don’t want him.”

  “No, no,” said Windham. “This is a matter for all Earthmen. Mr. Polyorketes, we must have you.”

  Polyorketes rolled off one side of his cot. “I’m close enough, I can hear you.”

  Windham said to Stuart, “Would they--the Kloros, I mean--have this room wired?”

  “No,” said Stuart. “Why should they?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. They didn’t know what happened when Polyorketes jumped me. They just heard the thumping when it started rattling the ship.”

  “Maybe they were trying to give us the impression the room wasn’t wired.”

  “Listen, Colonel, I’ve never known a Kloro to tell a deliberate lie--”

  Polyorketes interrupted calmly, “That lump of noise just loves the Kloros.”

  Windham said hastily, “Let’s not begin that. Look, Stuart, Porter and I have been discussing matters and we have decided that you know the Kloros well enough to think of some way of getting us back to Earth.”

  “It happens that you’re wrong. I can’t think of any way.”

  “Maybe there is some way we can take the ship back from the blasted green fellas,” suggested Windham. “Some weakness they may have. Dash it, you know what I mean.”

  “Tell me, Colonel, what are you after? Your own skin or Earth’s welfare?”

  “I resent that question. I’ll have you know that while I’m as careful of my own life as anyone has a right to be, I’m thinking of Earth primarily. And I think that’s true of all of us.”

  “Damn right,” said Porter, instantly. Leblanc looked anxious, Polyorketes resentful; and Mullen had no expression at all.

  “Good,” said Stuart. “Of course, I don’t think we can take the ship. They’re armed and we aren’t. But there’s this. You know why the Kloros took this ship intact. It’s because they need ships. They may be better chemists than Earthmen are, but Earthmen are better astronautical engineers. We have bigger, better and more ships. In fact, if our crew had had a proper respect for military axioms in the first place, they would have blown the ship up as soon as it looked as though the Kloros were going to board.”

  Leblanc looked horrified. “And kill the passengers?”

  “Why not? You heard what the good colonel said. Every one of us puts his own lousy little life after Earth’s interests. What good are we to Earth alive right now? None at all. What harm will this ship do in Kloro hands? A hell of a lot, probably.”

  “Just why,” asked Mullen, “did our men refuse to blow up the ship? They must have had a reason.”

  “They did. It’s the firmest tradition of Earth’s military men that there must never be an unfavorable ratio of casualties. If we had blown ourselves up, twenty fighting men and seven civilians of Earth would be dead as compared with an enemy casualty total of zero. So what happens? We let them board, kill twenty-eight--I’m sure we killed at least that many--and let them have the ship.”

  “Talk, talk, talk,” jeered Polyorketes.

  “There’s a moral to this,” said Stuart. “We can’t take the ship away from the Kloros. We might be able to rush them, though, and keep them busy long enough to allow one of us enough time to short the engines.”

  “What?” yelled Porter, and Windham shushed him in fright.

  “Short the engines,” Stuart repeated. “That would destroy the ship, of course, which is what we want to do, isn’t it?”

  Leblanc’s lips were white. “I don’t think that would work.”

  “We can’t be sure till we try. But what have we to lose by trying?”

  “Our lives, damn it!” cried Porter. “You insane maniac, you’re crazy!”

  “If I’m a maniac,” said Stuart, “and insane to boot, then naturally I’m crazy. But just remember that if we lose our lives, which is overwhelmingly probable, we lose nothing of value to Earth; whereas if we destroy the ship, as we just barely might, we do Earth a lot of good. What patriot would hesitate? Who here would put himself ahead of his world?” He looked about in the silence. “Surely not you, Colonel Windham.”

  Windham coughed tremendously. “My dear man, that is not the question. There must be a way to save the ship for Earth without losing our lives, eh?”

  “All right. You name it.”

  “Let’s all think about it. Now there are only two of the Kloros aboard ship. If one of us could sneak up on them and--”

  “How? The rest of the ship’s all filled with chlorine. We’d have to wear a spacesuit. Gravity in their part of the ship is hopped up to Kloro level, so whoever is patsy in the deal would be clumping around, metal on metal, slow and heavy. Oh, he could sneak up on them, sure--like a skunk trying to sneak downwind.”

  “Then we’ll drop it all,” Porter’s voice shook. “Listen, Windham, there’s not going to be any destroying the ship. My life means plenty to me and if any of you try anything like that, I’ll call the Kloros. I mean it.”

  “Well,” said Stuart, “there’s hero number one.”

  Leblanc said, “I want to go back to Earth, but I--”

  Mullen interrupte
d, “I don’t think our chances of destroying the ship are good enough unless--”

  “Heroes number two and three. What about you, Polyorketes, You would have the chance of killing two Kloros.”

  “I want to kill them with my bare hands,” growled the farmer, his heavy fists writhing. “On their planet, I will kill dozens.”

  “That’s a nice safe promise for now. What about you, Colonel? Don’t you want to march to death and glory with me?”

  “Your attitude is very cynical and unbecoming, Stuart. It’s obvious that if the rest are unwilling, then your plan will fall through.”

  “Unless I do it myself, huh?”

  “You won’t, do you hear?” said Porter, instantly.

  “Damn right I won’t,” agreed Stuart. “I don’t claim to be a hero. I’m just an average patriot, perfectly willing to head for any planet they take me to and sit out the war.”

  Mullen said, thoughtfully, “Of course, there is a way we could surprise the Kloros.”

  The statement would have dropped flat except for Polyorketes. He pointed a black-nailed, stubby forefinger and laughed harshly. “Mr. Bookkeeper!” he said. “Mr. Bookkeeper is a big shot talker like this damned greenie spy, Stuart. All right, Mr. Bookkeeper, go ahead. You make big speeches also. Let the words roll like an empty barrel.”

  He turned to Stuart and repeated venomously, “Empty barrel! Cripple-hand empty barrel. No good for anything but talk.”

  Mullen’s soft voice could make no headway until Polyorketes was through, but then he said, speaking directly to Stuart, “We might be able to reach them from outside. This room has a C-chute I’m sure.”

  “What’s a C-chute?” asked Leblanc.

  “Well--” began Mullen, and then stopped, at a loss.

  Stuart said, mockingly, “It’s a euphemism, my boy. Its full name is ‘casualty chute.’ It doesn’t get talked about, but the main rooms on any ship would have them. They’re just little airlocks down which you slide a corpse. Burial at space. Always lots of sentiment and bowed heads, with the captain making a rolling speech of the type Polyorketes here wouldn’t like.”