Extinction.
He gasped, shuddering, jerking open his eyes to look again at the shimmering splendor of the stars which hung in scattered profusion. Shining points, sheets, curtains and ha shy;loes of magnificent luminescence dulled, directly ahead, by the somber black cloud which held the Web. He stared at it, hating the darkness, knowing it to be a waiting trap for the unwary. Perhaps this time?
"No!" Sheyan reared up in his chair, sweat beading his face as he fought his own imagination. "No!"
The sound of his own voice was a comfort and he looked around, forcing himself to check the silent machines which filled the control room, the computers and sensors, the mechanical pilots with their programmed navigational tapes, the telltales which gave him information about the ship itself.
Tiny lights winked back at him, red and green, blue and yellow, dull orange and flaring white. A ripple of color and movement as vectors were checked, slight adjustments made, the currents of space ridden as a ship would ride a turbulent sea. And space was a sea, a three-dimensional ocean of electronic wind and magnetic storm, the dead residue of solar flares and vanished novae sweeping endless shy;ly through the gulf like wreckage and flotsam, antimatter and vicious gusts of killing radiation.
All met and neutralized by the silent efficiency of the machines among which he sat.
Ships don't need captains, he thought. Navigators, per shy;haps, and even engineers-but not captains. What could I do if something went wrong? What could anyone do? But ships were not always in space and someone had to be in command, to make the decisions and to give the orders and see they were carried out. A ship was more than just a hull and engines and a mass of complex equipment. A ship was all that and more. Men still had to serve and a man still had to be in charge.
But men were weak. Sometimes too weak and then, when alone, they began to break. Slowly, at first, but always in one direction. And once they cracked, they could never be repaired.
Sheyan straightened, grabbing the box as it threatened to fall from his lap, snatching a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the sweat from his face. Two days, he thought. Only two days and already you're going under. Make it three at least, four even, five if you can. Use quicktime like the others do and shorten the journey to a fraction of its real time. No man should be expected to stare needlessly at the stars.
Not unless he had aid.
His fingers trembled as he turned the dial of the combina shy;tion. It was a simple setting, three numbers only, and within seconds the lid rose with a soft click. Inside the box some shy;thing moved, sluggishly, then quickened to pulsing life as it felt the warmth of his hand.
The box, empty, fell to one side as Sheyan relaxed, breath shy;ing easily, lost in a cloud of euphoric dreams.
"The Web," said Yalung, smiling. "A fascinating place. You must know it well."
"No," said Dumarest. "I have never been there."
"Then you are new on this ship?"
"Yes." Dumarest was telling the man nothing he probably didn't already know or could easily find out. And he would find out. Yalung was a curious man. "Have you?"
"Once, many years ago; but it was a brief visit only and there was much that I did not see."
"In the Web," said Nimino, "there is much that no man has seen. Not even those who have lived their lives on one of its worlds. Am I not right, Lin?"
The steward nodded, pleased at having been brought in shy;to the conversation. The four were seated at the table in the salon, keeping the trader company as was the custom when passengers were few. All held cups of basic and a deck of cards lay between them. Idly, Dumarest stirred them with the tip of a finger.
"Tell me about it," he said. "There seems to be much that I should know."
"About the Web?" Lin shrugged, acting older than his years. "It's just a place like any other. Stars and planets and people who live on them. It seemed normal enough to me."
"You come from Laconis, which is near the edge," said Nimino. "And you joined us on our way out. Wait until we get deep into the system before you talk about it being normal. The Web is a cloud of primeval dust," he explained to Dumarest. "Within it, the stars are very close and each star has many worlds. For trading it is ideal for the journeys are short and the needs of the people great. At least it would be ideal if conditions were as they are in normal space. But the area within the cloud is not normal. The stars are too close. There are vicious gravitational crosscurrents, mag shy;netic storms of incredible violence, ionic displays, and other unpleasant phenomena. You have dealt with our caskets and you know what eddy currents can do. Imagine them on an interstellar scale. Imagine also, the sleeting radiation, the very warping of space which occurs in areas close to double stars and you will have some idea as to conditions facing ships which probe too deeply into the Web."
"They are bad," said Yalung softly. "Very bad. On my last trip I heard news of two vessels which had failed to complete their journeys. One, it was said, fell into a star. The other had been found, a mass of twisted wreckage, the fabric having been apparently turned inside out. No one chose to guess what had really happened."
"And yet you return," said Dumarest quietly. "Why do that if the area is so dangerous?"
"For the same reason this ship returns." Yalung's smile was bland. "For profit. I am a dealer in precious stones and my trade is not without competition. In the Web are many worlds and on them could be gems of price. With conditions being what they are, it should be simple for a man to buy low and later sell high."
"There are gems on Laconis," said Lin quickly. "I could introduce you to my uncle. He would give you a fair bar shy;gain."
Again Yalung gave his bland smile. "I shall remember your offer if ever we land on the planet," he said. "But, meaning no disrespect, your knowledge of gems can hardly be large."
"It's larger than you think. Earl, show him your ring." Lin frowned as Dumarest made no move to obey. "Please, Earl. Show him your ring."
Slowly Dumarest lifted his left hand and rested it on the pack of cards. The overhead light caught the stone and turned it into the likeness of an oval of freshly spilled blood. His eyes were watchful as the boy touched the ring, fas shy;tened on the trader's face, alert to catch the slightest change of expression. Lin's foolish boasting might have an unexpected bonus.
"A fine stone," said Yalung casually. "Fine but hardly rare. Together with the mount it would be worth, perhaps, the cost of a short High passage."
"Think again," said Lin. "I know stones. This is worth double what you say."
"Perhaps." Yellow silk moved as the trader lifted his shoul shy;ders, the black glyphs with which it was decorated moving like slumbering serpents. "But you forget, my young friend, I am a trader and never enhance the price."
"But I am right?"
"You are right. The ring is worth what you say, and I must congratulate you on your knowledge. And now, per shy;haps, someone would care to indulge my pleasure in a game of cards?" Yalung looked from one to the other. "No? You are tired, perhaps? I hardly think that the crew of a ship like this would have moral objections to gambling."
"No," said Lin quickly. "I-"
"Will go to bed." Dumarest was curt in his interruption. "Take a cup of basic to the engineer, another to the captain, and then retire."
"But, Earl-"
"Do as I say." Dumarest watched as the boy drew a single cup of liquid from the spigot. "What about the cap shy;tain?"
"He doesn't need any. Am I right, Nimino?"
"That is correct." The navigator looked at Dumarest. "Sheyan takes care of himself during a flight and brooks no interruption. Take the cup to the engineer, Lin, and then retire." He watched as the steward left the salon. "You were hard on the boy," he said quietly. "He is young."