Dark Benediction

Relke glanced down the road toward the rolling construction camp. “You going to call in, Joe? Ought to be able to reach their antenna from here.”

“If I do, Brodanovitch is sure to say ‘haul ass on back to camp.’”

“Never mind, then! Forget I said it!”

The pusher chuckled. “Getting interested, Relke?”

“I don’t know. I guess I am.” He looked quickly toward the towering rocket.

“Mostly you want to know how close you are to being rid of her, maybe?”

“I guess—Hey, they’re letting him in.”

“That lucky ole bastuhd!” Bama moaned.

The airlock opened as Lije scaled the ladder. A helmet containing a head of unidentifiable gender looked out and down, watching the man climb. Lije paused to wave. After a moment’s hesitancy, the space-suited figure waved back.

“Hey, up theah, y’all mind a little company?”

The party who watched him made no answer. Lije shook his head and climbed on. When he reached the lock, he held out a glove for an assist, but the figure stepped back quickly. Lije stared inside. The figure was holding a gun. Lije stepped down a rung. The gun beckoned impatiently for him to get inside. Reluctantly Lije obeyed.

The hatch closed. A valve spat a jet of frost, and they watched the pressure dial slowly creep to ten psi. Lije watched the stranger unfasten his helmet, then undid his own. The stranger was male, and the white goggle marks about his eyes betrayed him as a spacer. His thin dark features suggested Semitic or Arabic origins.

“Parlez-vous francais?”

“Naw,” said Lije. “Sho’ don’t. Sorry.”

The man tossed his head and gave a knowing snort. “It is necessaire that we find out who you are,” he explained, and brandished the weapon under Lije’s nose. He grinned a flash of white teeth. “Who send you here?”

“Nobody send me. I come unduh my own steam. Some fell as in my moonjeep pulled cands, and I—”

“Whup! You are—ah ein Unteroffizier? Mais non, wrong sprach—you l’officiale? Officer? Company man?”

“Who, me? Land, no. I’m juss a hot-stick man on B-shif’. You muss be lookin’ fo’ Suds Brodanovitch.”

“Why you come to this ship?”

“Well, the fellas ,and I heard tell theah was some gals, and we—”

The man waved the gun impatiently and pressed a button near the inner hatch. A red indicator light went on.

“Yes?” A woman’s voice, rather hoarse. Lije’s chest heaved with sudden emotion, and his sigh came out a bleat…

The man spoke in a flood of French. The woman did not reply at once. Lije noticed the movement of a viewing lens beside the hatch; it was scanning him from head to toe.

The woman’s voice shifted to an intimate contralto. “OK, dearie, you come right in here where it’s nice and warm.”

The inner hatch slid open. It took Lije a few seconds to realize that she had been talking to him. She stood there smiling at him like a middle-aged schoolmarm. “Why don’t you come on in and meet the girls?” Eyes popping, Lije Henderson stumbled inside.

He was gone a long time.

When he finally came out, the men in Novotny’s runabout took turns cursing at him over the suit frequency. “Fa chrissake, Henderson, we’ve been sitting here using up oxy for over an hour while you been horsing around…” They waited for him with the runabout, cabin depressurized.

Lije was panting wildly as he ran toward them. “Lissen to the bahstud giggle,” Bama said disgustedly.

“Y’all juss don’ know, y’all juss don’ KNOW!” Lije was chanting between pants.

“Get in here, you damn traitor!”

“Hones’, I couldn’ help myself. I juss couldn’.”

“Well, do the rest of us get aboard her, or not?” Joe snapped.

“Hell, go ahead, man! It’s wide open. Evahthing’s wide open.”

“Girls?” Relke grunted.

“Girls, God yes! Girls.”

“You coming with us?” Joe asked.

Lije shook his head and fell back on the seat, still panting. “Lawd, no! I couldn’t stand it. I juss want to lie heah and look up at ole Mamma Earth and feel like a human again.” He grinned beatifically. “Y’all go on.”

Braxton was staring at his crony with curious suspicion.

“Man, those must be some entuhtainuhs! Whass the mattah with you, Lije?”

Henderson whooped and pounded his leg. “Woo hoo! Hooeee! You mean y’all still don’ know what that ship is?”

They had already climbed out of the tractor. Novotny glared back in at Lije. “We’ve been waiting to hear it from you, Henderson,” he snapped.

Lije sat up grinning. “That’s no stage show troupe! That ship, so help me Hannah, is a—hoo hoo hooee—is a goddam flyin’ HO-house.” He rolled over on the seat and surrendered to laughter.

Novotny looked around for his men and found himself standing alone. Braxton was already on the ladder, and Relke was just starting up behind.

“Hey, you guys come back here!”

“Drop dead, Joe.”

Novotny stared after them until they disappeared through the lock. He glanced back at Lije. Henderson was in a grinning beatific trance. The pusher shrugged and left him lying there, still wearing his pressure suit in the open cabin. The pusher trotted after his men toward the ship.

Before he was halfway there, a voice broke into his headsets. “Where the devil are you going, Novotny? I want a talk with you!”

He stopped to glance back. The voice belonged to Brodanovitch, and it sounded sore. The engineer’s runabout had nosed in beside Novotny’s; Suds sat in the cab and beckoned at him angrily. Joe trudged on back and climbed in through the vehicle’s coffin-sized airlock. Brodanovitch glared at him while the pusher removed his helmet.

“What the devil’s going on over there?”

“At the ship?” Joe paused. Suds was livid. “I don’t know exactly.”

“I’ve been calling Safety and Rescue for an hour and a half. Where are they?”

“In the ship, I guess.”

“You guess!”

“Hell, chief, take it easy. We just got here. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Where are your men?”

Novotny jerked his thumb at the other runabout. “Henderson’s in there. Relke and Brax went to the ship.”

“And that’s where you were going just now, I take it,” Suds snarled.

“Take that tone of voice and shove it, Suds! You, know where you told me to go. I went. Now I’m off. We’re on our own time unless you tell us different.”

The engineer spent a few seconds swallowing his fury. “All right,” he grunted. “But every man on that rescue squad is going to face a Space Court, and if I have any say about it, they’ll get decomped.”

Novotny’s jaw dropped. “Slow down, Suds. Explosive decompression is for mutiny or murder. What’re you talking about?”

“Murder.”