Space Opera (15 page)

Captain Gondar gave an uninterested nod. “A short while ago I mentioned a civilized and cultured planet —”

“Yes, I remember distinctly. To visit the planet would entail an onerous detour.”

“Some small distance, perhaps,” Gondar conceded. “A matter of veering off into Hydra. You quite properly pointed out that if our ultimate destination were in Cetus — and I am not completely convinced as to the wisdom of this —”

“What!” exclaimed Dame Isabel. “This is the principal motive for the tour, our visit to Rlaru! We must never for an instant think otherwise!”

Captain Gondar massaged his forehead. “Of course. But this planet in Hydra is no less advanced than Rlaru. The people might even agree to send a troupe of musicians to Earth, on the order of the Ninth Company.”

Dame Isabel glanced toward Bernard Bickel, who gave his head a skeptical shake. She spoke in an even voice. “Captain, this planet no doubt merits a visit. But we have a schedule judiciously, even laboriously, arrived at, and we simply cannot pursue every will-o-the-wisp that offers itself.” She held up her hand as Captain Gondar started to speak. “There is another completely compelling reason why we cannot make this side-trip. Our immediate destination is Skylark. If we can bring a single sparkle of gayety to the unfortunates confined there, all the effort and expense of the tour will be justified. Skylark is in Eridanus, and only a slight change of course will take us into Cetus, so you can see that a detour is out of the question.”

Captain Gondar stared at her, his face hollow and desolate. “If I were you,” said Dame Isabel, not unkindly, “I would consult Dr. Shand and ask him for a tonic; I feel you must be driving yourself too hard.”

Captain Gondar made a harsh inarticulate noise. He jumped to his feet and left the saloon.

“What a strange fellow!” said Dame Isabel. “Whatever can be his trouble?”

Bernard Bickel smiled. “In my opinion Captain Gondar’s little
affaire de coeur
is not proceeding with ‘rose-petal felicity’, as Carveth puts it.”

Dame Isabel shook her head indignantly. “What a heartless little wretch she is! First poor Roger and now Captain Gondar!” Resolutely she reached for the notes Bernard Bickel had assembled on Eridanus BG12-IV, popularly known as ‘Skylark’. “I suppose we cannot interfere in these matters.” She gave her attention to the notes, but almost immediately looked up in wry reproach. “Bernard — aren’t you a trifle severe?”

Bickel leaned forward in surprise. “How so?”

“After noting the physical characteristics of the planet you state, ‘Skylark derives its interest mainly from the fact that during the last two hundred years it has served as a penal colony for the most depraved, unregenerate and callous criminals of the human universe’.”

Bickel shrugged. “Skylark is notoriously the end of the line.”

“I refuse to think in those terms,” said Dame Isabel. “Many of these ‘criminals’ are quite simply victims of destiny.” And she glanced sharply at Roger, who had wandered into the saloon.

“This is true of us all, to some extent,” Bernard Bickel pointed out.

“Exactly my point! In a small way I regard the
Phoebus
as an aspect of destiny — but a beneficent aspect. If we can convince even a dozen of the convicts that they are not forgotten, not totally abandoned; if we can stimulate this dozen to make a fresh appraisal of themselves, the visit to Skylark will be a success.”

“The sentiment does you credit,” said Bernard Bickel, and he added, rather ruefully, “naturally I have no theoretical objection to humanitarianism.”

“Of course not; please don’t take me seriously. To tell the truth, I am just a bit out of sorts. Problems pile up; we have not achieved a half of our expectations, and in fact the entire company seems a trifle flat.”

“The performances on Zade took a great deal out of everyone,” said Bernard Bickel. “But a success or two will do a world of good.”

“Captain Gondar has been acting so strangely,” Dame Isabel complained. “This planet in Hydra seems almost an obsession with him. And I’ve had complaints that the crew has started up that awful racket again, with their tin cans and mouth-organs.”

“Oh yes. ‘The Tough Luck Jug Band’.” Bernard Bickel shook his head in sad disparagement. “I’ll have a word with the Chief Steward.”

“Please be quite definite, Bernard. We can’t have everyone upset just because of the thoughtless horseplay of two or three individuals … Roger, I suppose you are well along with your book?” Dame Isabel spoke the last with a sardonic edge to her voice.

“I’m taking notes,” said Roger sullenly. “It’s a big project.”

“I must point out that the woman you brought aboard has caused no end of trouble, and I hold you strictly accountable … What did you say, Roger?”

“I said ‘fantastic’!”

“‘Fantastic’? What is fantastic?”

“I was thinking of your benevolence in regard to the criminals of Skylark.”

Dame Isabel opened her mouth, shut it again — for once at a loss for words. Finally she said, “My ethical doctrine, Roger, is based upon the principles of responsibility and self-respect, for those who are capable of exemplifying these principles. One more matter, since we are approaching Skylark. For all my ‘benevolence’ as you term it, I am still a realist, and I plan to enjoin everyone aboard to the utmost discretion. Under no circumstances will we fraternize with the prisoners, invite them aboard the ship, offer them liquor or use anything other than the most impersonal courtesy.”

“I never intended otherwise,” said Roger with dignity.

“The Skylark authorities will probably issue similar regulations,” said Bernard Bickel. “Skylark is not precisely a fortress or a row of dungeons, and the prisoners have a certain degree of freedom; we don’t want them running off with the ship.”

“Definitely not,” said Dame Isabel. “But I am sure that if we use the most basic elementary caution, all will go well.”

Skylark looked large in the sky; from an orbit thirty thousand miles above the planet, the
Phoebus
radioed down for landing clearance. A patrol boat eased alongside; four officials came aboard, inspected the ship, conferred for several hours with Dame Isabel and Captain Gondar. “You must realize,” said the Senior Inspector, a thin gray-haired man with drooping mustaches and darting black eyes, “that Skylark bears no resemblance to the usual prison. The convicts are allowed the freedom of almost ten square miles, the full extent of the Table.”

“How do you enforce discipline?” asked Dame Isabel. “It would seem that fourteen thousand desperate men, if they felt so inclined, could easily overwhelm a comparative handful of administrative personnel.”

“We have our methods, never fear. I assure you they are effective. We use a great deal of electronic surveillance, and our little electric hornets are never trifled with. No, we worry more about boredom than disorder. Life here is absolutely placid.”

“I should think our visit would do a great deal to raise morale,” said Dame Isabel. “The prisoners must be absolutely starved for music.”

The Senior Inspector chuckled. “We are not such barbarians as all that; we have several good orchestras of our own. Our population, after all, is derived from all walks of life. We have convict carpenters, plumbers, farmers and musicians. Our architects are convicts, our hospital is staffed by convicts, our chemists and agronomists are convicts. We comprise a self-contained community — a criminal civilization, one might put it. Still, we are grateful for an occasional breath of fresh air, something to distract us from our troubles, and this you have been kind enough to offer.”

“Not at all,” said Dame Isabel. “We are pleased to be of service. Now as to program, I propose
Turandot
,
Der Rosenkavalier
,
Cosi Fan Tutte
— a generally cheerful and amusing group.
Turandot
is a trifle macabre, but in such an extravagant fashion that no one could possibly be adversely influenced.”

The Senior Inspector assured her that there need be no worries on this account. “A number of very macabre folk live among us; we are not likely to be shocked by a few theatrical extravagances.”

“Excellent. Now precisely what restrictions or regulations do you wish to impose upon us?”

“Very few, really. No weapons, drugs or liquor for the prisoners, naturally. Guards will control access to the ship, and we’ll want all your personnel aboard ship before dark. The prisoners are generally well-behaved, but there are erratic and undisciplined persons among us, it goes without saying. For instance, it would be highly unadvisable for any attractive young woman to wander off by herself: she might find far more hospitality than she bargained for.”

Dame Isabel said stiffly, “I will post a set of specific warnings, although I doubt if anyone aboard would be so foolish.”

“One last matter: We will require an exact manifest of all your personnel, so that if you land with say, a hundred and one persons, we can be assured that exactly a hundred and one persons depart.”

Captain Gondar provided the necessary list; the officials departed; the
Phoebus
swerved down to a landing.

Skylark, barely seven thousand miles in diameter, was the smallest planet yet visited by the
Phoebus
. From the vantage of the orbit the surface seemed smooth and homogeneous, mossy green in color, with a barely perceptible darkening at the poles. The green proved to be a pulsing and purulent swamp, with the penal colony on an enormous volcanic plug rearing two thousand feet into the relatively cool upper air. On the plateau the original ecology had been modified and now Earth-type vegetation dominated.

At first sight the colony seemed a rather pleasant little community; indeed the only structure with an institutional look — a four-story block of concrete with impenetrex windows — was that occupied by the Governor and his staff.

Elsewhere were four neat villages, a manufacturing facility, various commissaries, offices and depots, entirely manned by the convicts. Their comings and goings seemed their own; they carried themselves without overt furtiveness, though never could they be mistaken for free men. The distinction was hard to define — possibly because the quality, blended of melancholy, obsequiousness, withdrawal, smouldering bitterness, a lack of spontaneity, manifested itself differently in each case.

Another, even more subtle characteristic might have gone unnoticed, except for the fact that all convicts wore the prison uniform: gray trousers and blue jackets. Dame Isabel, inspecting the crowd who had come to stare at the
Phoebus
, was the first to put this quality into words. “Strange,” she told Bernard Bickel, “I had somehow expected a less personable group of men: repellent brutes and thugs, obvious morons, and the like. But not one of these men would attract a second glance at the most fashionable function. In fact, there is a curious uniformity to their appearance.”

Bernard Bickel acknowledged the validity of the observation, but was at a loss for an explanation. “The fact that they all wear prison issue may emphasize the similarity,” was his best guess.

During a second consultation with the Senior Inspector Dame Isabel raised the point again. “Is it my imagination, and no more, or is it a fact that the convicts seem to resemble one another?”

The Senior Inspector, himself a rather handsome man of medium physique with fine regular features, was somewhat surprised. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes, though it’s an elusive resemblance. I notice all complexions here and all somatic types; still in some manner …” She paused, searching for the exact words to express the half-intuitive conviction.

The inspector suddenly chuckled. “I think I can explain. What you observe is negative rather than positive, a lack rather than a presence, which is much more difficult to define.”

“This may well be true. What puzzles me is that I observe no ‘criminal types’, though I will not defend the scientific validity of the term.”

“Exactly. And this is a matter of which we are strongly conscious. We do not want ‘criminal types’ here at Skylark.”

“But how in the world do you avoid them? At a penal colony for the utterly unregenerate, I would think ‘criminal types’ would abound!”