To The Stars

“Get back down,” the policeman ordered. “That’s where you’re going. Don’t look so bad from here.” He laughed, not humorously but more of an ironic comment. “Going through a checkpoint now. But all the guys there know me and they’ll just wave. I’ll give him a blast so they’ll think that it’s a call.”

The car surged forward and the siren began to wail. They turned, picked up speed, and bumped over something hard in the road, then went on. After a bit the siren was killed and their headlong pace slowed.

“Get ready,” the policeman said. “I’m going to go along real easy, but not stop all the way. You bail out when I tell you to. You’ll be next to a kind of little back alley between some yards. Walk down it nice and slow and you’ll be met.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t thank me until you see what you got into. Now!”

Jan pulled the handle and pushed the door open. He stepped out and it was torn from his hand as the car accelerated, the sudden motion slamming the door shut. The police car spun around the next corner and vanished from sight. Jan looked at the wooden, rickety fences stretched away on both sides of a packed dirt lane. He followed instructions and walked down it, feeling that he was being watched, but seeing no one. There were doors let into the fencing and as he passed one it swung open.

“Get in here,” a rough voice said.

Jan turned to look at the man, at the two others with him. All three carried pistols, pointing at him. All three of them had coal-black skins.

Eight

“Are you the one they say come in the starship?” the nearest man asked. Jan nodded and the man waved the gun. “Then come on in so’s you can tell us all about it.”

They crowded around him, pushing him into the house and down a dank corridor to an interior room. Behind him, he heard bolts rattling shut. The room had sealed windows and was airless, unfurnished except for a round wooden table surrounded by ramshackle chairs.

One of the men pulled him by the arm, dragging him to a chair, then waved his long and well-worn pistol in Jan’s face.

“You a spy,” he said angrily, grating the words through his clamped teeth. “You ofay spy…”

“Come away now, nuf of dat,” an older man said, pulling gently at the angry man’s shoulder. He moved away reluctantly and the older man sat down across from Jan.

“Trouble is the bolly dogs brung you here, he don’ like it. Who does? I’m Willy. You called Jan, saw your picture on television.”

Jan nodded, straining to understand the other man’s words. He was speaking in dialect, as thick and incomprehensible to him as Glaswegian.

“The teevee say you from the stars. If that true, you tell us what happening out there.”

Once again Jan told about the success of the rebellion, and while he spoke the man leaned forward, listening intensely, making him repeat things; apparently his accent was equally difficult for them to understand. Fatigue began to catch up with him again and his throat grew dry. When he asked for some water, Willy signaled to one of the men.

“You hungry too?” he asked. Jan nodded and Willy called instructions through the open door.

The food was unfamiliar but filling. Boiled greens of some kind, white beans with black spots on them, and a slab of some sort of highly seasoned meat substitute. The men watched him while he ate and talked excitedly among themselves.

“What they wants to know,” Willy asked. “Is they any brothers in the star people?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Black. Black people like us. Or is this more whitey fightin’ an killin’ each one the other.”

This was the important question and the room was silent as Jan finished his meal and pushed the dish away.

“Thank you, I was very hungry.” He thought for a moment. “First, just one question myself. Is everyone here in, what’s the name? New Watts? Are they all black.”

“You better believe it!”

“That’s not the way on the planets. I mean I have never before seen people separated by their skin color. Here on Earth, yes, there are different skin colors among the indigenous populations of Africa and Asia. That is, there are divisions by racial types on a purely geographical basis. But once people have been transported to the planets these separations break down. They don’t matter. There are enough other things to worry about…”

“You talking a little fast,” Willy said. “Do I catch you saying they all color blind out there? All kind of skins mix together?”

“Yes. Of course. Skin color doesn’t matter, you see.”

“Sure matter here!” Willy said and slapped his knee and all of the men laughed aloud at this. Jan smiled, not quite sure what the joke was.

“Just hope you is tellin’ the truth,” Willy said, and one of the men shouted “Amen!” very loud. “Jes hard to believe, that’s all. I think you better talk to the Preacher. He kinda talk your language. He’ll tell us what is what.”