The Dark Beyond the Stars by Frank M. Robinson

Author:Frank M. Robinson [Robinson, Frank M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780812513837
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 1992-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Whatever doubts Tybalt may have had, he resolved—but at a cost. Ophelia and he grew distant and barely spoke. Tybalt took it out on the rest of us by staging drills on the hangar deck. It was hand-to-hand combat no matter how green our faces or how reluctant most of us were to hurt each other. Outside of his training zone, we could believe whatever we wanted, but when we were taking orders from him, we would believe as he did. Somewhere in the universe there were enemy aliens and if we ever met them, we would be prepared.

In his enthusiasm and devotion to what he considered his duty, Tybalt made the one mistake a commanding officer should never make: He lost touch with his troops. From hand-to-hand we went to simple weapons—pellet guns. It was Tybalt’s idea to have some of the programmers create projections of alien life forms to use as target practice. When struck by the laser-aiming aid on the gun, the aliens promptly died in various realistic ways, all of them excessively gory.

Hawk, Loon, and I, plus Tern and Falcon, both from Maintenance, were scheduled to try out the new forms of target practice that Tybalt had developed. Tern was first. He turned out to be an excellent marksman, hitting the spidery alien directly in its lumpy forehead.

The head and face instantly disappeared in an explosion of shattered bone and a spray of red mist. A second later Tern’s stomach self-destructed and for minutes afterward the rest of us devoted ourselves to cleaning up the area with whatever wipes we could find.

Tybalt stared at Tern with an amazement that quickly turned to anger and disgust.

“You’re on report!” he snapped. Then: “You’re up next, Loon.”

“I think Tern killed it,” Loon said, straight-faced. He made no move toward the firing position and the rest of us tried to smother our laughter.

Tybalt fingered the palm terminal and another alien suddenly appeared on top of a dune a hundred feet away.

“He didn’t kill this one.”

“If he saw what happened to his friend, maybe he’ll go away.” Loon suddenly sounded timid and a little frightened. He had realized his jokes weren’t going to make the projection disappear.

“Get into position, Loon.”

“No.” This time Loon’s voice had more strength to it, though his face was white with strain.

“Now!” Tybalt bellowed.

Loon threw the pellet gun away and we watched, astonished, as it drifted toward the far bulkhead.

“I won’t destroy anything living,” Loon said flatly.

Tybalt looked uncertain of what to do.

“All right, stand down, Loon—you’re on report to the Captain. Hawk, you’re next.”

Hawk had to clear his throat twice before he finally managed to squeak: “I won’t do it.” Another pellet gun sailed toward the bulkhead.

Tybalt placed his hands on his hips and glared. “Any of the rest of you have the courage?”

None of us moved.

“What if it shot at you first?” Tybalt asked slowly.

There was more puzzlement than anger in his voice and I felt sorry for him. He had failed to see what was coming even though he had been getting signals ever since the drill started.

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