Vandals of the Void by Jack Vance

Author:Jack Vance [Vance, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-02-08T14:50:02+00:00

Trusting no one, Dick reported Sam’s death as an accident. Sam, he said, had incautiously pried loose the boulder which had flung him back into the chasm. Professor Dexter, not completely satisfied, questioned Dick keenly, and under the thrust of the brilliant black eyes, Dick had stammered and stumbled. He was not naturally a good liar, and Professor Dexter’s evident suspicion made deception even more difficult.

At the end of the inquisition, Professor Dexter became a trifle sarcastic, and stared at Dick with his fine black eyebrows in a dissatisfied line. “Your father will be home in a few days; I’ll make a report to him and I’m sure he’ll want to make a thorough investigation.” Dick nodded, blushing.

“That’s all, then,” Dexter said rather sharply.

Dick left the office and went up to his room. Professor Dexter’s suspicion weighed on him a great deal less than the knowledge that somewhere among the personnel of the observatory was a heartless murderer, an ally of the pirates and a traitor to civilized humanity. The idea had developed in Dick’s mind to near-certainty. In theory it was possible that the stealthy radio message had been broadcast elsewhere, that a pirate spy had followed Crazy Sam’s boat to the Baxter Mesa and there, from sheer malevolence, dropped a boulder—but it was highly unlikely.

Where was the chart? Sam may have been cantankerous, outspoken and queer, but a streak of common sense seemed to lie underneath. If he had snatched the chart out from under Dick’s eyes, Dick felt sure that the chart had significance.

But nothing was certain. The chart might mean nothing, or it might be highly important; at any rate, its absence gnawed at Dick’s nerves. He paced up and down his room, stopping at the window every two or three trips. Off to the side lay Sam’s old raft, forlorn and neglected. And every time Dick came to the window he looked longer at the raft.

Conflicting impulses worked at Dick’s brain. His nerves were jangling, and he was frightened.

Close by was his enemy, a person who would kill him with satisfaction. Any footstep outside his door might well be this enemy…. Almost with the thought, he fancied he heard a footstep; he paused in his pacing and listened. The sound was not repeated. Quietly he crossed the room and locked the door.

Dick looked at the bed; he was tired, but he knew he could not sleep. He wanted to act, strike out, fight back. It was humiliating to be forced to stand and numbly take punishment; he walked back and forth with quicker strides. Sam’s raft beckoned him; the sky was bright with blazing stars, clearer than any sky of Earth. Once on the raft, and on his guard, he could detect anyone who might try to follow him a second time. Of course, Professor Dexter had definitely instructed him to go nowhere alone; but if he were caught, he could suffer no more than a sharp lecture, and if worse came to worst he could explain his actions.

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