Straying From the Path

I could have left it at that. I’d already convinced myself of the excuse. But—I was supposed to trust Alvy. We’d been living out here for three months. We’d developed the project together, and Command had approved it and assigned us to Benjamin because we worked well together.

If I was going crazy, Alvy had a right to know.

“I saw something. Outside, through the viewport.”

She put her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling well?”

Not really. My lungs still hurt from yesterday’s episode. “I’m well enough to go out. Just for a little while, for a walk around the probe. I just want to check things out.”

“What did you see?”

“A shadow. Something moving. Like something was trying to get in.” It sounded silly now, explaining it aloud. I was sure I didn’t remember it right.

“And what did you see yesterday?”

I probably didn’t remember that right, either. “Flashes. Light. All around me, sparkling. I thought I was drowning in it.”

Alvy frowned and tried to get me to look at her, but I stared at my bulky, gloved hands in my lap.

“The Mercury astronauts reported seeing flashing specks of light outside their capsules. Fireflies, they called them. Total mystery. People have been seeing things outside their spacecraft for over a hundred years, Barrie.”

No one ever saw a woman, a woman of starlight come to seduce them to their deaths. That is, they never said they saw a woman.

“Humor me, Alvy. I just want to look around.”

“All right. But I’m going to be on the radio talking to you the whole time. Keep your tether tight.”

She sealed my helmet, I entered the airlock, it emptied, and I was out.

I heard the same noise, a purposeful scratching on the hull, which was impossible. Not unless the sound was transmitting through Alvy’s radio.

“How you doing, Barrie?”

I didn’t answer, straining to hear the background noise.

“Barrie?”

“Do you hear that?”

“I don’t hear anything.”

Slowly, I made my way around Benjamin. The probe was an elongated cylinder, marred by protrusion of instruments, solar collectors, ports, and hatches. I paused a moment at the transmitter to make sure the repairs I’d made held up. I didn’t see anything unusual. The scratching sounded distant, maybe just around the ship’s curve—but always just around the curve.

Then I heard something else. Singing, heavenly singing, a sound as pure as crystal. I recognized the voice, the voice of starlight. I could feel her watching me. Any moment, she would touch me on the arm, the shoulder, the face . . .

I shook my head. If the monitor showed my vital signs fluctuate, Alvy would call me in. The voice paused its singing a moment to laugh at me, then continued, more beautiful than before. I wanted to close my eyes, to listen with all my mind.

I didn’t. I struggled to focus on the radio hiss on my helmet inset.

“Alvy, is that you?”

“Me what?”

“Singing.”

“Barrie, get back in here right now.”

If I didn’t go back, I’d follow the voice to the stars. Reaching for handhold after handhold, my tether retracting automatically, I returned to the airlock.