Makepeace took third watch that night. Nursing a cup of coffee, he stared up at the empty void of the sky. There was no moon; even worse, he couldn't make out any stars. Any that might be out there were too dim for human eyes to recognize. It was also eerily quiet, without even a single insect chirp to break the silence.
Before the last vestiges of gray twilight had deepened to Stygian black, Makepeace had never truly realized just how much he took the stars for granted. It was pitch black without them, like an overcast night in the middle of winter. If not for the single lantern on the ground next to him, he might have been completely blind.
The lantern was a necessary compromise. The planetary dusk had been brief, and when it ended the Marines found themselves plunged into profound darkness. They were almost certain they were alone, but there remained a trace of doubt. What if this planet's inhabitants were nocturnal? The light from the lantern would certainly give SG-3 away, but when night fell it became obvious that some illumination was necessary. Without moons, planets, or stars to lighten it, the darkness was impenetrable, and evoked a primal fear almost impossible to stifle.
The last planet SG-3 had visited had been the exact opposite. That world's night had been crowded with stars, so gloriously bright that they had cast a multitude of faint shadows. It had been spectacular.
Makepeace sipped his coffee. They had been warned. The SGC had tracked the MALP's passage through the wormhole and determined that this planet was located out on the galaxy's Outer Arm, near the void between the spiral arms. In addition to the low star density, this region of space was thick with ancient dust lanes and absorption nebulae. SG-3 had been briefed that any starlight that got through all that and the planet's atmosphere would be too faint to see with naked eyes. At the time, it hadn't mattered. No one had thought SG-3 would get out of the Stargate building, anyway.
Surprise, surprise. Now, Makepeace looked up and remembered that briefing with resignation. No amount of advance knowledge could have prepared them for the shocking reality of the barren sky.
He heard a scuffing noise behind him, and turned his head sharply at the sound. His fingers tightened on his rifle and thumbed off the safety. A small disk of light flickered over the ground, coming closer. It joined the lantern's lonely glow, a familiar figure came into view, and Makepeace exhaled as he put the safety back on. Instead of some weird alien monster, only Sergeant Andrews had come visiting.
"Damn, it's dark," the sergeant said as he plunked down next to Makepeace. He turned off his flashlight. "Quiet, too."
"What are you doing out here?" Makepeace snapped, irritated by the start Andrews had given him. "It's not your watch for another hour yet."
"A little jumpy there, Colonel?"
"Just startled," Makepeace corrected.
"Don't blame you, sir. I can't see a damn thing out here. Crap." Andrews reached over to the camp stove and poured himself some coffee. "I am not looking forward to sitting out here by my lonesome."
"So you decided to come out and inflict it on yourself early? Sure, that makes loads of sense."
"Actually, yeah. Henderson came in all spooked after you relieved him, you know. Thought I'd acclimate myself a bit before I had to go it alone. Thought maybe you could use some company, too."
"Yeah, I could." Makepeace blew steam off his mug. "Johnson also got twitchy on his watch. Now I can see why."
"It was bad enough when all four of us were out here. This is downright creepy."
"Gee, thanks."
"Sorry, sir," Andrews said. "Didn't mean it that way."
"Yeah, I know. It's just been getting to me. I'm feeling a bit persnickety."
Andrews made an amused noise, but kept whatever rejoinder he'd thought of to himself. Just as well. Makepeace knew it had to be uncomplimentary.
The two men sat in companionable silence. After a while, Andrews murmured the oblique remark, "I just can't imagine it."
Makepeace figured the gunnery sergeant was simply muttering to himself, but asked anyway, "Can't imagine what?"
Andrews looked at him. "What the civilization that evolved here was like."
"We can't know, unless we find something more interesting than domes and spheres. Maybe what we bring back'll be interesting enough for the SGC to send some archeologists—"
"That's not what I mean, sir." Andrews gestured out at the infinite emptiness. "Look at that. Any species that evolved here, evolved under that."
"So? They'd be used to it. Wouldn't they?" Makepeace frowned, wondering what Andrews was getting at.
"Yeah, but they'd be so damn different. I mean, humans wonder if they're alone in the Universe—"
"Some do, at any rate. Not all," Makepeace interjected.
Andrews nodded. "But even before the Stargate, we could look up at the stars and wonder, you know? We couldn't really know for sure, except for maybe some religious extremists or something. These people here, they don't have stars. None of them would ever wonder, right?"
"I don't know." Makepeace stared into his cup.
"I mean, why bother pointing a telescope out there? And even if they did, what would they see, except their own sun?"
"What are you getting at?"
"I'm not sure." Andrews slurped his coffee. The noise seemed unbearably loud in the unnatural silence surrounding their camp. "Just thinking out loud. I was wondering what kind of civilization would develop on a world where people wouldn't even know that the rest of the Universe existed. Talk about Flat Earth Societies."
"Huh." Makepeace thought about that. "Well, they were pretty advanced to build that road system. They would have known that their planet orbits their sun."
"Their technological interests would be focused more locally, I think. I bet they never developed much in the way of space travel," Andrews said speculatively. "Beyond local satellites, I mean. They don't seem to have any near neighbors, so where would they go? No small stepping stones to work from. Why would they care?"
"They've got a Stargate," Makepeace pointed out. "They even built a way station around it. They knew they weren't all alone. They didn't need to develop their own space exploration program."
"I guess."
"You don't sound convinced."
"I dunno. I just have a bad feeling about this place."
"You and me both," Makepeace muttered.
"I just think these people would have evolved a radically different psychology. They might not even have been sane, at least by our standards. Who knows what kind of tech they would have developed?"
"Just because of the sky?"
"Why not?" said Andrews. "It affects us."
Makepeace thought about that. Theoretical psychology held little interest for him—he was far more oriented toward more pragmatic pursuits—but he knew that environment played a big role in human behavior patterns. Why not aliens, too? "I suppose they might have been naturally xenophobic, but beyond that..." He shrugged. "Not that it matters now," he said slowly. "Looks like they've been gone a long time."
Andrews grunted agreement at that statement.
"God, I hate third watch," Makepeace said. "And I hate that sky. Look at us, contemplating our navels and scaring ourselves just because this place is weird." He poured himself some more coffee. "Look, Mike, we'll be careful, just like always. We'll explore a bit, pick up some neat-looking stuff, and let the scientists back home have at it. The SGC can always send another team back. Assuming, of course, we find anything here they'll think is worth the trouble."
"You don't think they'll be interested in the things we've found?"
"Not if they turn out to be alien sex toys, like someone here suggested."
"Shows what you know about scientists," Andrews retorted. "They only act like prudes in public."
Makepeace laughed softly. They continued to speculate, rather pointlessly, about how an empty night sky might affect a developing culture. With no concrete facts to draw upon, much of the conversation was downright silly. Eventually, they realized they were repeating themselves and their ideas petered out. Partway into the last watch, Makepeace bid Andrews good night and went to bed, feeling a little guilty about leaving the gunnery sergeant to the oppressive night, but too tired to spend the rest of the watch with him. At least Andrews would have the consolation of seeing the sun rise.