To The Stars

The momentary spell ended. The Proctors pushed Jan forward suddenly so that he stumbled against the lowest step and almost fell. It angered him; he did not want to be thought a coward at this moment. He pushed back hard against them, shrugging their hands from his arms. Free for the instant, he started up the steps by himself so that they had to hurry after him. The crowd saw this and responded with a gentle murmur, almost a sigh.

“Come forward. Sit there,” Chun Taekeng ordered. “Don’t I get to speak any last words?”

“What? Of course not! It is not ordered that way. Sit!” Jan strode toward the chair of the garrote, arms

firmly gripped again by the Proctors. He saw only Chun Taekeng, The Hradil, the other judges, and an immense loathing welled up within him, forcing out the words.

“How I hate you all, with your stupid little criminal minds. How you destroy people’s lives, waste them, subjugate them. You should be dying, not me…”

“Kill him!” The Hradil ordered, raw hatred in her face for the first time. “Kill him now, I want to see him die.”

The Proctors pulled at Jan, forcing him toward the garrote, while he pulled back, trying to get to the judges, to somehow break free and wreak vengeance upon them. Every eye was upon this silent struggle.

No one noticed the man in the dark uniform who pushed through the crowd. They made way for him, closed ranks behind him, staring at the platform. He struggled through the jammed front ranks and climbed the steps, until he was standing on the platform itself.

“Release that man,” he said. “This affair is now concluded.”

He walked slowly across the platform and took the microphone from Chun Taekeng’s limp fingers and repeated the words so that everyone could hear them.

No one moved. There was absolute silence.

The man was a stranger. They had never seen him before.

The fact was an impossibility. On a planet where no one arrived, where no one left, every person was known by sight, if not by name. There could be no strangers. Yet this man was a stranger.

Whether he meant to fire or not, Proctor Captain Scheer started to raise his gun. The newcomer saw the motion and turned toward him, a small and sinister weapon ready in his hand.

“If you don’t drop that gun I will kill you instantly,” he said. There was cold resolve in his voice and Scheer’s fingers opened and the gun dropped. “You others as well. Put your weapons down.” They did as ordered. Only when the guns were safely out of their reach did he raise the microphone and speak into it again.

“You other Proctors out there. I want you to know that there are men on all sides aiming weapons at you. If you attempt to resist you will be killed at once. Turn and see.”

They did, everyone in the crowd, as well as the Proctors, noticing for the first time the armed men who silently appeared on the tops of the buildings along the Central Way. They held long and deadly weapons equipped with telescopic sights, aimed downward. There was no doubt that they would use them efficiently and quickly.

“Proctors, bring your weapons up here,” the echoing voice ordered.

Jan stepped forward and looked at the man, at the two other armed strangers who joined him on the platform, and felt an immense relief surge through him. Just for an instant. His execution might only have been postponed.

“You’re from the ships,” he said.

The stranger put the microphone down and turned toward him, a gray-haired man with dark skin and burning blue eyes.

“Yes, we’re from the ships. My name is Debhu. Release Kulozik at once,” he snapped at the Proctors who hurried to obey. “We landed out on the Road about twenty hours ago. I’m sorry we had to wait until now to show up but we wanted everyone in one place at the same time. You would have been killed if they knew we were coming. There could have been fighting, more deaths. I’m sorry you had to go through this, with the death sentence hanging over you.

“You’re with the ship, but you’re not Earth Commonwealth men!”

The words were torn from Jan in an explosion of hope. Something tremendous, incredible had happened. Debhu nodded slow agreement.

“You are correct. There have been… changes…”

“What are you doing here? Clear this platform!” Chun Taekeng’s anger cut through the paralysis that had gripped them all. “Give me that microphone and leave! This is not to be tolerated—”

“Guards. Move the judges back. Watch them closely.” Burly men with ready guns moved swiftly at Debhu’s order, pushing the shocked Elders into a group, facing them with weapons ready. Debhu nodded approval and spoke through the microphone again.