The Godmen and The Stars, My Brothers

by Edmond Hamilton

  "I always felt that bringing you back was a mistake,” she said, with a sharpness in her voice. “Let me go."

  She wrenched away from him and before he could stop her she had got to the door and slid it open. He woke up in time to lurch after her and he got his shoulder into the door-opening before she could slide it shut.

  "Oh, very well, since you insist I'm not going to worry about you,” she said rapidly, and turned and hurried away.

  Kieran wanted to follow her but his knees were buckling under him. He hung to the side of the door-opening. He felt angry, and anger was all that kept him from falling over. He would not faint, he told himself. He was not a child, and would not be treated like one.

  He got his head outside the door. There was a long and very narrow corridor out there, blank metal with a few closed doors along it. One door, away down toward the end of the corridor, was just sliding shut.

  * * * *

  He started down the corridor, steadying himself with his hand against the smooth wall. Before he had gone more than a few steps, the anger that pushed him began to ebb away. Of a sudden, the mountainous and incredible fact of his being here, in this place, this time, this ship, came down on him like an avalanche from which the hypnopedic pre-conditioning would no longer protect him.

  I am touching a starship, I am in a starship, I, Reed Kieran of Midland Springs, Ohio. I ought to be back there, teaching my classes, stepping at Hartnett's Drug Store for a soft drink on the way home, but I am here in a ship fleeing through the stars.

  His head was spinning and he was afraid that he was going to go out again. He found himself at the door and slid it open and fell rather than walked inside. He heard a startled voice.

  This was a bigger room. There was a table whose top was translucent and which showed a bewildering mass of fleeting symbols in bright light, ever changing. There was a screen on one wall of the room and that showed nothing, a blank, dark surface.

  Vaillant and Paula Ray and a tall, tough-looking man of middle age were around the table and had looked up, surprised.

  Vaillant's face flashed irritation. “Paula, you were supposed to keep him in his cabin!"

  "I didn't think he was strong enough to follow,” she said.

  "I'm not,” said Kieran, and pitched over.

  The tall middle-aged man reached and caught him before he hit the floor, and eased him into a chair.

  He heard, as though from a great distance, Vaillant's voice saying irritatedly, “Let Paula take care of him, Webber. Look at this—we're going to cross another rift—"

  There were a few minutes then when everything was very jumbled up in Kieran's mind. The woman was talking to him. She was telling him that they had prepared him physically, as well as psychologically, for the shock of revival, and that he would be quite all right but had to take things more slowly.

  He heard her voice but paid little attention. He sat in the chair and blankly watched the two men who hung over the table and its flow of brilliant symbols. Vaillant seemed to tighten up more and more as the moments passed, and there was still about him the look of a coiled spring but now the spring seemed to be wound to the breaking-point. Webber, the tall man with the tough face, watched the fleeting symbols and his face was stony.

  "Here we go,” he muttered, and both he and Vaillant looked up at the blank black screen on the wall.

  Kieran looked too. There was nothing. Then, in an instant, the blackness vanished from the screen and it framed a vista of such cosmic, stunning splendor that Kieran could not grasp it.

  Stars blazed like high fires across the screen, loops and chains and shining clots of them. This was not too different from the way they had looked from Wheel Five. But what was different was that the starry firmament was partly blotted out by vast rifted ramparts of blackness, ebon cliffs that went up to infinity. Kieran had seen astronomical photography like this and knew what the blackness was.

  Dust. A dust so fine that its percentage of particles in space would be a vacuum, on Earth. But, here where it extended over parsecs of space, it formed a barrier to light. There was a narrow rift here between the titan cliffs of darkness and he—the ship he was in—was fleeing across that rift.

  The screen abruptly went black again. Kieran remained sitting and staring at it. That incredible fleeting vision had finally impressed the utter reality of all this upon his mind. They, this ship, were far from Earth—very far, in one of the dust-clouds in which they were trying to lose pursuers. This was real.

  "-will have got another fix on us as we crossed, for sure,” Vaillant was saying, in a bitter voice. “They'll have the net out for us—the pattern will be shaping now and we can't slip through it."

  "We can't,” said Webber. “The ship can't. But the flitter can. With luck."

  They both looked at Kieran. “He's the important one,” Webber said. “If a couple of us could get him through—"

  "No,” said Paula. “We couldn't. As soon as they caught the ship and found the flitter gone, they'd be after him."

  "Not to Sako,” said Webber. “They'd never figure that we'd take him to Sako."

  "Do I have a word in this?” asked Kieran, between his teeth. “What?” asked Vaillant.

  "This. The hell with you all. I'll go no place with you or for you."

  He got a savage satisfaction from saying it, he was tired of sitting there like a booby while they discussed him, but he did not get the reaction from them he had expected. The two men merely continued to look thoughtfully at him. The woman sighed, “You see? There wasn't time enough to explain it to him. It's natural for him to react with hostility."

  "Put him out, and take him along,” said Webber.

  "No,” said Paula sharply. “If he goes out right now he's liable to stay out. I won't answer for it."

  "Meanwhile,” said Vaillant with an edge to his voice, “the pattern is forming up. Have you any suggestions, Paula?"

  She nodded. “This."

  She suddenly squeezed something under Kieran's nose, a small thing that she had produced from her pocket without his noticing it, in his angry preoccupation with the two men. He smelled a sweet, refreshing odor and he struck her arm away.

  "Oh, no, you're not giving me any more dopes—” Then he stopped, for suddenly it all seemed wryly humorous to him. “A bunch of bloody incompetents,” he said, and laughed. “This is the one thing I would never have dreamed—that a man could sleep, and wake up in a starship, and find the starship manned by blunderers."

  "Euphoric,” said Paula, to the two men.

  "At that,” said Webber sourly, “there may be something in what he says about us."

  Vaillant turned on him and said fiercely, “If that's what you think—” Then he controlled himself and said tightly, “Quarrelling's no good. We're in a box but we can maybe still put it over if we get this man to Sako. Webber, you and Paula take him in the flitter."

  Kieran rose to his feet. “Fine,” he said gaily. “Let us go in the flitter, whatever that is. I am already bored with starships."

  He felt good, very good. He felt a little drunk, not enough to impede his mental processes but enough to give him a fine devil-may-care indifference to what happened next. So it was only the spray Paula had given him—it still made his body feel better and removed his shock and worry and made everything seem suddenly rather amusing.

  "Let us to Sako in the flitter,” he said. “After all, I'm living on velvet, I might as well see the whole show. I'm sure that Sako, wherever it is, will be just as full of human folly as Earth was."

  "He's euphoric,” Paula said again, but her face was stricken.

  "Of all the people in that space cemetery, we had to pick one who thinks like that,” said Vaillant, with a sort of restrained fury.

  "You said yourself that the oldest one would be the best,” said Webber. “Sako will change him."

  Kieran walked down the corridor with Webber and Paula and he laughed as he walked. They had brought him back from nothingness witho
ut his consent, violating the privacy of death or near-death, and now something that he had just said had bitterly disappointed them.

  "Come along,” he said buoyantly to the two. “Let us not lag. Once aboard the flitter and the girl is mine."

  "Oh for God's sake shut up,” said Webber.

  CHAPTER IV

  It was ridiculous to be flying the stars with a bad hangover, but Kieran had one. His head ached dully, he had an unpleasant metallic taste in his mouth, and his former ebullience had given way to a dull depression. He looked sourly around.

  He sat in a confined little metal coop of a cabin, hardly enough in which to stand erect. Paula Ray, in a chair a few feet away was sleeping, her head on her breast. Webber sat forward, in what appeared to be a pilot chair with a number of crowded control banks in front of it. He was not doing anything to the controls. He looked as though he might be sleeping, too.

  That was all—a tiny metal room, blank metal walls, silence. They were, presumably, flying between the stars at incredible speeds but there was nothing to show it. There were no screens such as the one he had seen in the ship, to show by artful scanning devices what vista of suns and darknesses lay outside.

  "A flitter,” Webber had informed him, “just doesn't have room for the complicated apparatus that such scanners require. Seeing is a luxury you dispense with in a flitter. We'll see when we get to Sako."

  After a moment he had added. “If we get to Sako."

  Kieran had merely laughed then, and had promptly gone to sleep. When he had awakened, it had been with the euphoria all gone and with his present hangover.

  "At least,” he told himself, “I can truthfully say that this one wasn't my fault. That blasted spray—"

  He looked resentfully at the sleeping woman in the chair. Then he reached and roughly shook her shoulder.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him, first sleepily and then with resentment.

  "You had no right to wake me up,” she said.

  Then, before Kieran could retort, she seemed to realize the monumental irony of what she had just said, and she burst into laughter.

  "I'm sorry,” she said. “Go ahead and say it. I had no right to wake you up."

  "Let's come back to that,” said Kieran after a moment. “Why did you?"

  Paula looked at him ruefully. “What I need now is a ten-volume history of the last century, and time enough for you to read it. But since we don't have either—” She broke off, then after a pause asked, “Your date was 1981, wasn't it? It and your name were on the tag of your pressure-suit."

  "That's right."

  "Well, then. Back in 1981, it was expected that men would spread out to the stars, wasn't it?"

  Kieran nodded. “As soon is they had a workable high-speed drive. Several drives were being experimented with even then."

  "One of them—the Flournoy principle—was finally made workable,” she said. She frowned. “I'm trying to give you this briefly and I keep straying into details."

  "Just tell me why you woke me up."

  "I'm trying to tell you.” She asked candidly, “Were you always so damned hateful or did the revivification process do this to you?"

  Kieran grinned. “All right. Go ahead."

  "Things happened pretty much as people foresaw back in 1981,” she said. “The drive was perfected. The ships went out to the nearer stars. They found worlds. They established colonies from the overflowing population of Earth. They found human indigenous races on a few worlds, all of them at a rather low technical level, and they taught them.

  "There was a determination from the beginning to make it one universe. No separate nationalistic groups, no chance of wars. The governing council was set up at Altair Two. Every world was represented. There are twenty-nine of them, now. It's expected to go on like that, till there are twenty-nine hundred starworlds represented there, twenty-nine thousand—any number. But—"

  Kieran had been listening closely. “But what? What upset this particular utopia?"

  "Sako."

  "This world we're going to?"

  "Yes,” she said soberly. “Men found something different about this world when they reached it. It had people—human people—on it, very low in the scale of civilization."

  "Well, what was the problem? Couldn't you start teaching them as you had others?"

  She shook her head. “It would take a long while. But that wasn't the real problem. It was. You see, there's another race on Sako beside the human ones, and it's a fairly civilized race. The Sakae. The trouble is—the Sakae aren't human."

  Kieran stared at her. “So what? If they're intelligent—"

  "You talk as though it was the simplest thing in the world,” she flashed.

  "Isn't it? If your Sakae are intelligent and the humans of Sako aren't, then the Sakae have the rights on that world, don't they?"

  She looked at him, not saying anything, and again she had that stricken look of one who has tried and failed. Then from up forward, without turning, Webber spoke.

  "What do you think now of Vaillant's fine idea, Paula?"

  "It can still work,” she said, but there was no conviction in her voice.

  "If you don't mind,” said Kieran, with an edge to his voice, “I'd still like to know what this Sako business has to do with reviving me."

  "The Sakae rule the humans on that world,” Paula answered. “There are some of us who don't believe they should. In the Council, we're known as the Humanity Party, because we believe that humans should not be ruled by non-humans."

  Again, Kieran was distracted from his immediate question—this time by the phrase “Nonhuman."

  "These Sakae—what are they like?"

  "They're not monsters, if that's what you're thinking of,” Paula said. “They're bipeds—lizardoid rather than humanoid—and are a fairly intelligent and law-abiding lot."

  "If they're all that, and higher in development than the humans, why shouldn't they rule their own world?” demanded Kieran.

  Webber uttered a sardonic laugh. Without turning he asked, “Shall I change course and go to Altair?"

  "No!” she said. Her eyes flashed at Kieran and she spoke almost breathlessly. “You're very sure about things you just heard about, aren't you? You know what's right and you know what's wrong, even though you've only been in this time, this universe, for a few hours!"

  Kieran looked at her closely, he thought he was beginning to get a glimmer of the shape of things now.

  "You—all you who woke me up illegally—you belong to this Humanity Party, don't you? You did it for some reason connected with that?"

  "Yes,” she answered defiantly. “We need a symbol in this political struggle. We thought that one of the old-time space pioneers, one of the humans who began the conquest of the stars, would be it. We—"

  Kieran interrupted. “I think I get it. It was really considerate of you. You drag a man back from what amounts to death, for a party rally. ‘Old-time space hero condemns non-humans'—it would go something like that, wouldn't it?"

  "Listen—” she began.

  "Listen, hell,” he said. He was hot with rage, shaking with it. “I am glad to say that you could not possibly have picked a worse symbol than me. I have no more use for the idea of the innate sacred superiority of one species over another than I had for that of one kind of man over another."

  Her face changed. From an angry woman, she suddenly became a professional psychologist, coolly observing reactions.

  "It's not the political question you really resent,” she said. “You've wakened to a strange world and you're afraid of it, in spite of all the pre-awakening preparation we gave your subconscious. You're afraid, and so you're angry."

  Kieran got a grip on himself. He shrugged. “What you say may be true. But it doesn't change the way I feel. I will not help you one damned bit."

  Webber got up from his seat and came back toward them, his tall form stooping. He looked at Kieran and then at the woman.

  "We have to settle
this right now,” he said. “We're getting near enough to Sako to go out of drive. Are we going to land or aren't we?"

  "Yes,” said Paula steadily. “We're landing."

  Webber glanced again at Kieran's face. “But if that's the way he feels—"

  "Go ahead and land,” she said.

  CHAPTER V

  It was nothing like landing in a rocket. First there was the business referred to as “going out of drive.” Paula made Kieran strap in and she said, “You may find this unpleasant, but just sit tight. It doesn't last long.” Kieran sat stiff and glowering, prepared for anything and determined not to show it no matter how he felt. Then Webber did something to the control board and the universe fell apart. Kieran's stomach came up and stuck in his throat. He was falling—Up? Down? Sideways? He didn't know, but whichever it was not all the parts of him were falling at the same rate, or perhaps it was not all in the same direction, he didn't know that either, but it was an exceptionally hideous feeling. He opened his mouth to protest, and all of a sudden he was sitting normally in the chair in the normal cabin and screaming at the top of his lungs.

  He shut up.

  Paula said, “I told you it would be unpleasant."

  "So you did,” said Kieran. He sat, sweating. His hands and feet were cold.

  Now for the first time he became aware of motion. The flitter seemed to hurtle forward at comet-like speed. Kieran knew that this was merely an ironic little joke, because now they were proceeding at something in the range of normal velocity, whereas before their speed had been quite beyond his comprehension. But he could comprehend this. He could feel it. They were going like a bat out of hell, and somewhere ahead of them was a planet, and he was closed in, blind, a mouse in a nose-cone. His insides writhed with helplessness and the imminence of a crash. He wanted very much to start screaming again, but Paula was watching him.

  In a few moments that desire became academic. A whistling shriek began faintly outside the hull and built swiftly to a point where nothing could have been heard above it. Atmosphere. And somewhere under the blind wall of the flitter a rock-hard world face reeling and rushing, leaping to meet them—