The Edmond Hamilton Megapack: 16 Classic Science Fiction Tales

by Edmond Hamilton

  “I see now,” she whispered, “that in spite of all we have gained since your day, we have lost something, too. A courage, a blind, brave something—I’m glad I stayed!” Arnol drew a sharp and painful breath. “It is done,” he said.

  For a long, eternal moment, the dead Earth lay unstirring. Then Kenniston felt the ridge leap under his feet—once, twice, four times. The sharp grinding shocks of the capper bombs, sealing the great shaft.

  Arnol watched the quivering needles of the dials. He had ceased his trembling now. It was too late for anything, even emotion.

  Deep, deep within the buried core of the Earth a trembling was born, a dilating shudder that came slowly upward to the barren rocks and touched them and was gone.

  It was as though a dead heart had suddenly started to beat again. To beat strongly, exultantly, a planet reborn…

  The pointers on the panel of dials had gone quite mad. Gradually they quivered back to normal. All but one row of them, at which Arnol and his crew stared with intensity.

  Kenniston could bear the terrible silence no longer.

  “Has it…” His voice trailed away into hoarseness.

  Arnol turned very slowly toward him. He said, as though it was difficult for him to speak. “Yes. The reaction is begun. There is a great flame of warmth and life inside Earth now. It will take weeks for that warmth and life to creep up to the surface, but it will come.”

  He turned his back then, on Kenniston, on all of them. What he had to say was for the tired, waiting young men who had labored with him so long.

  He said to them, “Here on this little Earth, long ago, one of our savage ancestors kindled a world. And there are all the others, all the cold, dying worlds out there…”

  Kenniston heard no more. A babel had broken loose. Varn Allan was clinging to him, and Gorr Holl was shouting deafeningly, and he heard the stammering questions of Mayor Garris and Hubble’s shaking voice.

  Over all came the surge of thousands of feet The thousands of Middletown were coming up the slope, scrambling, running, a life-or-death question on their white faces.

  “Tell them, Ken,” said Hubble, his voice thick.

  Kenniston stood upon the ridge, and the crowd below froze tensely silent as he shouted down to them. “It has succeeded! All danger is over, and in weeks the heat of the core will begin to reach the surface…”

  He stopped. These were not the words that could reach their hearts. Then he found those words, and called them to the thousands.

  “It has been chill winter on Earth, for a million years. But now, soon, spring is coming back to Earth. Spring!”

  They could understand that. They began to laugh, and to weep, and then to shout and shout.

  They were still shouting when the great Control cruisers came humming swiftly down from the sky.

  CHAPTER 21

  Waking World

  Slowly, slowly, during all these weeks, the spring had come. It was not the spring of old Earth, but every day the wind blew a little more softly and now at last the first blades of grass were pushing upward, touching the ocher plains with green.

  But only by hearsay did Kenniston know of that. Confined with the others in a building of New Middletown, it had seemed to him that the time would never end. The weeks of waiting for the special Committee of Governors to come from Vega, the weeks of the hearing itself, the slow gathering of testimony and careful sifting of motives. And now, the days they had waited for the final verdict.

  Arnol was not worried. He was a happy man. He said very little, but he had had a triumph in his eyes all through the hearing. His lifework was justified, and he was content.

  Nor were Gorr Holl and Magro worried. The big Capellan, even now when they awaited the decision, was still jubilant.

  “Hell, what can they do?” he said to Kenniston, for the twentieth time. “The thing’s done. The Arnol process is proved practicable, and by now the whole galaxy knows of it. They can’t refuse now to let the humanoids’ dying worlds make use of it. They wouldn’t dare!”

  Magro added, “Nor can they force your people to evacuate Earth now that it is getting warmer. It wouldn’t make sense.”

  Kenniston said, “They can keep us locked up for the rest of our lives, and I wouldn’t enjoy that.”

  Gorr Holl grinned widely at him. “Remember, man, we’re only emotional primitives, and they’ll have to make allowances for that.”

  When they were led back into the big room for the verdict, Kenniston’s eyes swung, not to the group of three men and a humanoid that sat behind the table, but to Varn Allan. He knew that her own career was at stake in this hearing. She did not look upset, and she met his gaze with a grave little smile.

  Lund, beside her, looked alert and faintly worried now. He shot a hard glance at Kenniston, but Kenniston had to turn his gaze as the reading of the verdict began.

  The aging man who read it, the oldest of the four Governors, had no friendliness in his face. He spoke as one who reluctantly performs an unpleasant duty.

  “You, the ringleaders in this thing, have rendered yourselves liable to the extremest penalties of Federation law by your direct defiance of the Governors,” he said. “It would be quite in order to direct a sentence of life imprisonment.”

  He looked down at them coldly. Gorr Holl whispered, “Just trying to scare us—” but he did not sound very confident now.

  The old Governor continued. “But in this case it is quite impossible to reach a verdict on purely legalistic grounds. We must admit that your fait accompli has created a new situation. The Board of Governors has now given approval to the use of the Arnol process on certain other planets—”

  Kenniston found it hard, hard, to realize that a long, great battle for the survival of worlds was ending in these phrases.

  “—on certain other planets, and that presents us with a legal impasse. To punish you now for your use of it here would be, morally if not legally, punishing you for infraction of a no-longer-existing law.”

  Gorr Holl uttered such a long and noisy exhalation of relief that he was promptly glared into silence.

  “We are unable, therefore, to do other than dismiss you with the official reprimand of the Board of Governors for your behavior.”

  Now that the moment had come, now that it was over, Kenniston found that he felt very little emotion, after all. The issues had been so vast that they had dwarfed his personal fate. He knew that that feeling would pass, that later he would be glad and thankful, but now—

  The Governor, though, had not finished. He was speaking directly now to Varn Allan.

  “Over and above the main issue, there remains the conduct of the responsible officials in dealing with it We are forced to express official censure of what appears to be inexcusable bungling of a psychological problem by the Administrator in charge, and—” here he looked toward Norden Lund—“and on the part of the Sub-Administrator, obvious attempts to hamper his superior for selfish reasons.”

  The cold voice ended with the brief, hard phrases,

  “We recommend, for Administrator Allan: Demotion one grade. For Sub-Administrator Lund: Demotion one grade. This hearing is concluded.”

  Kenniston looked across the big room at Varn Allan. Her face had not changed, and silently she turned to go.

  Gorr Holl was slapping him mightily on the back, Magro was saying something excitedly, but he wrenched away from them and went after her. She saw him coming, and waited. But Norden Lund was between them.

  Lund’s face was white with controlled rage, and his voice was thick as he told Kenniston, “So you primitives have ruined my career?”

  Varn Allan cut in contemptuously. “You ruined it yourself, Norden, with your ambitious plotting.”

  He turned and strode away from them. Varn Allan, looking after him, sighed and said, “You have made a deadly enemy.”

  He was not thinking of that. He waited until she turned back toward him, and he asked, “Are you my enemy too, for what I’ve done to you?”<
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  She shook her head gravely. “No. That was not your doing. In a new and confused situation, I failed. That is all.”

  “The hell it is!” he burst out. “They were unfair to you! You did your best, and—”

  “And it wasn’t quite good enough,” she finished. And then she smiled a little at him. “It’s not a tragedy. An Administrator’s burden is not easy. I shall not be entirely sorry.”

  He had never admired her courage so much as now. He wanted to say so, he wanted so say many things, but she turned away from him a little, and said, “This is a great day for you, Kenniston. For this is the day when they are allowing those of your people who wish to, to return to your old town.”

  “Yes, I heard that it was today.”

  “And you will be going back there, with your Carol. She will be very happy.”

  He said, “Varn—”

  But she would not face him. She said, “This is not goodbye. You’ll come back before we leave Earth.”

  He stood, oppressed by emotions he could not define, and finally he said, “Yes. Yes, I’ll come back before then.”

  She left, and he looked after her until she was gone. Then, slowly, he went back through the big, empty hall and out through the building into the street.

  A tremendous, brassy clamor and uproar hit him in the face. The plaza was crowded, but a wide lane was open through the crowd to the boulevard that led to the portal. And the Middletown High School Band, brave for the occasion in its retrieved scarlet uniforms, with its drum majorettes prancing and horns blatting, and cymbals banging and big drums booming, was marching through the lane toward the portal.

  Behind it came a glistening, open green convertible, with Mayor Garris standing up on the back seat, hatless, his plump face beaming sunlike, waving his hat joyfully to the cheering throngs. And behind his car rolled a long line of other cars—the ancient jalopies, the shining station wagons, the family sedans, crowded with excited men and sobbing women, the first of the long caravan forming up to go back to old Middletown.

  Kenniston saw the cheering people who surrounded Jon Arnol, and Hubble, and Gorr Holl and Magro, nearby. He knew that he would be drawn into that group, and he went back and circled around the plaza, going by temporarily abandoned streets to the quarters of Carol and her aunt.

  Carol leaped up with a glad cry when he entered. “Oh, Ken, then you’re free! They said it would be today, and I was waiting and hoping—”

  “Yes, it’s all done with,” he said. He stood, not knowing quite what to say to her, until Mrs. Adams came up.

  “Then we can leave here now, like the others?” Mrs. Adams said anxiously. “We can go back to Middletown now?”

  “Just as soon as you can pack up and I can get the jeep,” he said.

  “I’ve been packed for days,” she told him. “I wouldn’t stay in this unearthly place for one minute longer than I have to! Just imagine, they tell me a lot of the young people are going to stay here from choice! They say they like it better than Middletown, now!”

  Kenniston felt a curious sense of unreality as he got the jeep, and packed their things into it, and then joined the slow, bottlenecked traffic that was now steadily rolling out of the domed city.

  Could it all be ending like this? Could it be true that he was going back to the old town, the old life, after all that he had done and seen?

  Down the wide boulevard, between the lofty white towers, through the portal, out from underneath the dome—The red Sun still shone dully, but a softer wind than Earth had felt for a million years was blowing across the plain, stirring the timid little shoots of new grass, bringing a breath of warm new life.

  Cars ahead of them and cars behind them, rolling toward the ridge, eager for sight of the old city. And now they were passing Jon Arnol’s small cruiser, and then the titan black bulks of the great starships, brooding upon the plain, wrapped in the majesty of giants who knew the secrets of infinity. He looked back at the great ships, and he thought of the vast, star-shot spaces whither they would go, and then he looked on ahead.

  And at last the eager cars topped the ridge and went hurrying joyously down into old Middletown.

  All along the familiar streets, houses were already beginning to come to life. Shutters flung open, storm windows raised, doors standing wide to the soft wind, women busy with brooms on dust-drifted porches. The shrill voices of children and barking of dogs mingled with the noisy impatience of the auto horns.

  Down Mill Street to Main Street, and on. And finally, the old grey house, just as they had left it.

  Kenniston stopped the jeep at the curb. Mrs. Adams got out. She went slowly up the steps and unlocked the door. She stood for a moment, looking in.

  “Nothing is changed,” she whispered. But all this dust. I’ll have to clean—”

  Suddenly she sat down in her chair by the window and began to cry.

  Carol did not go in at once. Feeling an odd sense of strain, Kenniston asked, “Are you happy too, Carol?”

  She nodded, half smiling, looking out along the awakening street. “Yes, Ken.”

  He said, “Well—I want to return to New Middletown to see Gorr and the others before they leave. But I’ll be back soon.”

  She looked at him now, and she said, “No, Ken. Don’t come back to me.”

  He stared at her, astonished. “Carol, what do you mean?”

  Her soft face was quite steady. “I mean that you don’t altogether belong here now, Ken. You changed when you went out there. You’ll change more in the days ahead—will turn more and more toward the strange new life.” She added, “And I can’t change. Not like that. You’d be miserable with me, clinging to the old things.”

  He knew she spoke truth, and yet he must protest. “But the plans we made together, Carol—”

  She shook her head. “I made those plans with another man, a man who isn’t quite here any more, and won’t ever be here again.”

  She reached up and kissed him, and then she went inside and closed the door.

  Kenniston stood a moment, hesitating. Then, slowly, he climbed back into the jeep and drove out of Middletown.

  From the ridge he could see again the starships that rested on the plain by the domed city. And the city itself still lived. It was the younger folk of Middletown who had chosen to stay in it—the young in mind who could still look forward to the new.

  The starships would continue to come, now the Earth was habitable again. The people of far stars would mingle with the people of Middletown, and the young men here would go out to other Suns, and gradually the whole strange story of Middletown would be absorbed into the stream of history.

  Kenniston sent the jeep speeding toward the domed city. He felt now a sense of new freedom, and a deep gratitude toward Carol, who had not tried to hold him back. But he felt, too, an uncertainty, a shrinking. Vast new horizons stretched before him now, the boundless horizons of space, the endless avenues of new thought. He was still a child of older Earth, and it would be strange and lonely.

  He found the others still in the plaza, talking together—Gorr Holl and Magro and Arnol. And with them, Varn Allan. They saw him, Gorr waved and bawled to him. As he drove toward them, he saw Varn Allan’s eager eyes awaiting him, and he knew suddenly that he was wrong and that in all the strangeness of the years to come, he would not be alone.

  THE WORLD WITH A THOUSAND MOONS

  CHAPTER 1

  Thrill Cruise

  Lance Kenniston felt the cold realization of failure as he came out of the building into the sharp chill of the Martian night. He stood for a moment, his lean, drawn face haggard in the light of the two hurtling moons.

  He looked hopelessly across the dark spaceport. It was a large one, for this ancient town of Syrtis was the main port of Mars. The forked light of the flying moons showed many ships docked on the tarmac—a big liner, several freighters, a small, shining cruiser and other small craft. And for lack of one of those ships, his hopes were ruined!

  A sq
uat, brawny figure in shapeless space-jacket came to Kenniston’s side. It was Holk Or, the Jovian who had been waiting for him.

  “What luck?” asked the Jovian in a rumbling whisper.

  “It’s hopeless,” Kenniston answered heavily. “There isn’t a small cruiser to be had at any price. The meteor-miners buy up all small ships here.”

  “The devil!” muttered Holk Or, dismayed. “What are we going to do? Go on to Earth and get a cruiser there?”

  “We can’t do that,” Kenniston answered. “You know we’ve got to get back to that asteroid within two weeks. We’ve got to get a ship here.”

  Desperation made Kenniston’s voice taut. His lean, hard face was bleak with knowledge of disastrous failure.

  The big Jovian scratched his head. In the shifting moonslight his battered green face expressed ignorant perplexity as he stared across the busy spaceport.

  “That shiny little cruiser there would be just the thing,” Holk Or muttered, looking at the gleaming, torpedo-shaped craft nearby. “It would hold all the stuff we’ve got to take; and with robot controls we two could run it.”

  “We haven’t a chance to get that craft,” Kenniston told him. “I found out that it’s under charter to a bunch of rich Earth youngsters who came out here in it for a pleasure cruise. A girl named Loring, heiress to Loring Radium, is the head of the party.”

  The Jovian swore. “Just the ship we need, and a lot of spoiled kids are using it for thrill-hunting!”

  Kenniston had an idea. “It might be,” he said slowly, “that they’re tired of the cruise by this time and would sell us the craft. I think I’ll go up to the Terra Hotel and see this Loring girl.”

  “Sure, let’s try it anyway,” Holk Or agreed.

  The Earthman looked at him anxiously. “Oughtn’t you to keep under cover, Holk? The Planet Patrol has had your record on file for a long time. If you happened to be recognized—”

  “Bah, they think I’m dead, don’t they?” scoffed the Jovian. “There’s no danger of us getting picked up.”