by Isaac Asimov
I sometimes got the uncomfortable notion» however, that this attitude reflected Campbell’s feelings on the smaller, Earth scale. He seemed to me to accept the natural superiority of Americans over non-Americans, and he seemed automatically to assume the picture of an American as one who was of northwest European origin.
I cannot say that Campbell was racist in any evil sense of the term. I cannot recall any act of his that could be construed as unkind, and certainly he never, not once , made me feel uncomfortable over the fact that I was Jewish. Nevertheless, he did seem to take for granted, somehow, the stereotype of the Nordic white as the true representative of Man the Explorer, Man the Darer, Man the Victor,
I argued with him strenuously on the subject, or as violently as I dared, and in years to come our relationship was to be as nearly strained as it could be (considering our mutual affection, and all that I owed him) over the civil rights issue. I was on the liberal side of the issue, he on the conservative, and our minds never met on that subject.
All this had an important bearing on my science fiction work. I did not like Campbell’s attitude concerning humanity vis-a-vis other intelligences and it took two revisions of “Homo Sol” before Campbell could move me close enough to what he wanted. Even then, he inserted several paragraphs, here and there, without consulting me, in the final version.
I tried to avoid such a situation in future. One way out was to depart from the traditions of those writers who wove plots against the gigantic web of entire galaxies containing many intelligences-notably those of E. E. Smith and of Campbell himself. Instead, I began to think of stories involving a galaxy populated by human intelligences only.
This came to fruit, soon enough, in. the “Foundation” series. Undoubtedly the Smith-Campbell view makes more sense. It is almost certain that among the hundreds of billions of worlds in a large galaxy there ought to be hundreds or even thousands of different intelligent species. That there should be only one, ourselves, as I postulated, is most unlikely.
Some science fiction critics (notably Sam Moskowitz) have given me credit for inventing the human-only galaxy, as though it were some kind of literary advance. Others may have thought privately (I have never heard it stated openly) that I had only human intelligences in my galaxy because I lacked the imagination to think up extraterrestrials.
But the fact is that I was only trying to avoid a collision with Campbell’s views; I did not want to set up a situation in which I would be forced to face the alternatives of adopting Campbell’s views when I found them repugnant and failing to sell a story (which I also found repugnant).
On March 25, 1940, the day I put through my final submission of “Homo Sol,” I went on to visit Fred Pohl at his office. He told me that the response to “Half-Breed” had been such that he felt justified in asking for a sequel. It was the first time I had ever been requested to write a specific story with acceptance virtually guaranteed in advance.
I spent April and May working on the sequel, “Half-Breeds on Venus,” and submitted it to Pohl on June 3. On June 14, he accepted it. The story was ten thousand words long, the longest I had ever sold up to that time. What’s more, Pohl’s magazines were doing so well that his budget had been increased and he was able to pay me five eighths of a cent a word for it-$62.50.
It appeared in the issue of Astonishing that reached the stands on October 24, 1940, two years almost to a day since my first sale. This was a red-letter day for me, too, since it was the first time that the cover painting on a magazine was ever taken from one of my stories. I had “made the cover.”
The title of the story and my name were on the cover in bold letters. It was a flattering indication that my name could be counted on to sell magazines by this time.
Half-Breeds on Venus
The damp, somnolent atmosphere stirred violently and shrieked aside. The bare plateau shook three times as the heavy egg-shaped projectiles shot down from outer space. The sound of the landing reverberated from the mountains on one side to the lush forest on the other, and then all was silent again.
One by one, three doors clanged open, and human figures stepped out in hesitant single file. First slowly, and then with impatient turbulence, they set first foot upon the new world, until the space surrounding the ships was crowded.
A thousand pairs of eyes gazed upon the prospect and a thousand mouths chattered excitedly. And in the other-world wind, a thousand crests of foot-high white hair swayed gracefully.
The Tweenies had landed on Venus!
Max Scanlon sighed wearily, “Here we are!”
He turned from the porthole and slumped into his own special arm-chair. “They’re as happy as children-and I don’t blame them. We’ve got a new world-one all for ourselves- and that’s a great thing. But just the same, there are hard days ahead.of us. I am almost afraid! It is a project so lightly embarked upon, but one so hard to carry out to completion.”
A gentle arm stole about his shoulder and he grasped it tightly, smiling into the soft, blue eyes that met his. “But you’re not afraid, are you, Madeline?”
“Certainly not!” And then her expression grew sadder, “If only father had come with us. You-you know that he meant more to us than to the others. We were the-the first he took under his wing, weren’t we?”
There was a long silence after that as each fell into deep thought.
Max sighed, “I remember him that day forty years ago- old suit, pipe, everything. He took me in. Me, a despised half-breed! And-and he found you for me, Madeline!”
“I know,” there were tears in her eyes. “But he’s still with us, Max, and always will be-here, and there.” Her hand crept first to her own heart and then to Max’s.
“Hey, there, Dad, catch her, catch her!”
Max whirled at the sound of his elder son’s voice, just in time to catch up the little bundle of flying arms and legs that catapulted into him.
He held her gravely up before him, “Shall I give you to your papa, Elsie? He wants you.”
The little girl kicked her legs ecstatically. “No, no. I want you, grand-daddy. I want you to give me a piggy-back and come out with grandmamma to see how nice everything is.”
Max turned to his son, and motioned him sternly away, “Depart, despised father, and let old grand-dad have a chance.”
Arthur laughed and mopped a red face, “Keep her, for Heaven’s sake. She’s been leading me and the wife a merry chase outside. We had to drag her back by the dress to keep her from running off into the forest. Didn’t we, Elsie?”
Elsie, thus appealed to, suddenly recalled a past grievance. “Grand-daddy, tell him to let me see the pretty trees. He doesn’t want me to.” She wriggled from Max’s grasp and ran to the porthole. “See them, grand-daddy, see them. It’s all trees outside. It’s not black anymore. I hated it when it was black, didn’t you?”
Max leaned over and ruffled the child’s soft, white hair gravely, “Yes, Elsie, I hated it when it was black. But it isn’t black anymore, and it won’t ever be black again. Now go run to grandmamma. She’ll get some cake specially for you. Go ahead, run!”
He followed the departing forms of his wife and granddaughter with smiling eyes, and then, as they turned to his son, they became serious once more.
“Well, Arthur?”
“Well, dad, what now?”
“There’s no time to waste, son. We’ve got to start building immediately-underground!”
Arthur snapped into an attentive attitude, “Underground!” He frowned his dismay.
“I know, I know. I said nothing of this previously, but it’s got to be done. At all costs we must vanish from the face of the System. There are Earthmen on Venus-purebloods. There aren’t many, it’s true, but there are some. They mustn’t find us-at least, not until we are prepared for whatever may follow. That will take years.”
“But father, underground! To live like moles, hidden from light and air. I don’t like that.”
“Oh, nonsense. Don’t overdramat
ize. Well live on the surface-but the city; the power-stations, the food and water reserves, the laboratories-all that must be below and impregnable.”
The old Tweenie gestured the subject away with impatience, “Forget that, anyway. I want to talk about something else- something we’ve discussed already.”
Arthur’s eyes hardened and he shifted his glance to the ceiling. Max rose and placed his bands upon his son’s brawny shoulders.
“I’m past sixty, Arthur. How long I have yet to live, I don’t know. In any case, the best of me belongs to the past and it is better that I yield the leadership to a younger, more vigorous person.”
“Dad, that’s sentimental bosh and you know it. There isn’t one of us that’s fit to wipe your shoes and no one is going to listen for a second to any plan of appointing a successor while you’re still alive.”
“I’m not going to ask them to listen. It’s done-and you’re the new leader.”
The younger man shook his head firmly, “You can’t make me serve against my will.”
Max smiled whimsically, “I’m afraid you’re dodging responsibility, son. You’re leaving your poor old father to the strains and hardships of a job beyond his aged strength.”
“Dad!” came the shocked retort. “That’s not so. You know it isn’t. You-”
“Then prove it. Look at it this way. Our race needs active leadership, and I can’t supply it. I’ll always be here-while I live-to advise you and help you as best I can, but from now on, you must take the initiative.”
Arthur frowned and the words came from him reluctantly, “All right, then. I take the job of field commander. But remember, you’re commander-in-chief.”
“Good! And now let’s celebrate the occasion.” Max opened a cupboard and withdrew a box, from which he abstracted a pair of cigars. He sighed, “The supply of tobacco is down to the vanishing point and we won’t have any more until we grow our own, but- we’ll smoke to the new leader.”
Blue smoke curled upwards and Max frowned through it at his son, “Where’s Henry?”
Arthur grinned, “Dunno! I haven’t seen him since we landed. I can tell you with whom he is, though.”
Max grunted, “I know that, too.”
“The kid’s making hay while the sun shines. It won’t be many years now. Dad, before you’ll be spoiling a second set of grandchildren.”
“If they’re as good as the three of my first set, I only hope I live to see the day.”
And father and son smiled affectionately at each other and listened in silence to the muted sound of happy laughter from the hundreds of Tweenies outside.
Henry Scanlon cocked his head to one side, and raised his hand for silence, “Do you hear running water, Irene?”
The girl at his side nodded, “Over in that direction.”
“Let’s go there, then. A river flashed by just before we landed and maybe that’s it.”
“All right, if you say so, but I think we ought to be getting back to the ships.”
“What for?” Henry stopped and stared. “I should think you’d be glad to stretch your legs after weeks on a crowded ship.”
“Well, it might be dangerous.”
“Not here in the highlands, Irene. Venusian highlands are practically a second Earth. You can see this is forest and not jungle. Now if we were in the coastal regions-” He broke off short, as if he had just remembered something. “Besides, what’s there to be afraid of? I’m with you, aren’t I?” And he patted the Tonite gun at his hip.
Irene repressed a sudden smile and shot an arch glance at her strutting companion, “I’m quite aware that you’re with me. That’s the danger.”
Henry’s chest deflated with an audible gasp. He frowned. “ Very funny-And I on my best behavior, too.” He drifted away, brooded sulkily awhile, and then addressed the trees in a distant manner, “Which reminds me that tomorrow is Daphne’s birthday. I’ve promised her a present.”
“Get her a reducing belt,” came the quick retort. “Fat thing!”
“Who’s fat? Daphne? Oh-I wouldn’t say so.” He considered matters carefully, one thoughtful eye upon the young girl at his side. “Now my description of her would be-shall we say-’pleasingly plump,’ or, maybe, ‘comfortably upholstered.’ “
“She’s fat ,” Irene’s voice was suddenly a hiss, and something very like a frown wrinkled her lovely face, “and her eyes are green.” She swung on ahead, chin high, and superbly conscious of her own little figure.
Henry hastened his steps and caught up, “Of course, I prefer skinny girls any day.
Irene whirled on him and her little fists clenched, “I’m not skinny, you incredibly stupid ape.”
“But Irene, who said I meant you?” His voice was solemn, but his eyes were laughing,
The girl reddened to the ears and turned away, lower lip trembling. The smile faded from Henry’s eyes and was replaced by a look of concern. His arm shot out hesitantly and slipped about her shoulder.
“Angry, Irene?”
The smile that lit her face of a sudden was as brilliant as the sparkling sheen of her silvery hair in the bright sun.
“No,” she said.
Their eyes met and, for a moment, Henry hesitated-and found that he who hesitates is lost; for with a sudden twist and a smothered laugh, Irene was free once more.
Pointing through a break in the trees, she cried, “Look, a lake!” and was off at a run.
Henry scowled, muttered something under his breath, and ran after.
The scene was truly Earthly. A rapids-broken stream wound its way through banks of slender-trunked trees and then spread into a placid lake some miles in width. The brooding quiet was unbroken save by the muffled beat that issued from the throat-bags of the frilled lizards that nested in the upper reaches of the trees.
The two Tweenies-boy and girl-stood hand in hand upon the bank and drank in the beauty of the scene.
Then there was a muffled splash near by and Irene shrank into the encircling arms of her companion.
“What’s the matter?”
“N-nothing. Something moved in the water, I think.”
“Oh, imagination, Irene.”
“No. I did see something. It came up and-oh, goodness, Henry, don’t squeeze so tightly-”
She almost lost her balance as Henry suddenly dropped her altogether and jerked at his Tonite gun.
Immediately before them, a dripping green head lifted out of the water and regarded them out of wide-set, staring goggle-eyes. Its broad lipless mouth opened and closed rapidly, but not a sound issued forth.
Max Scanlon stared thoughtfully at the rugged foot-hills ahead and clasped his hands behind his back.
“You think so, do you?”
“Certainly, Dad,” insisted Arthur, enthusiastically. “If we burrow under these piles of granite, all Earth couldn’t get at us. It wouldn’t take two months to form the entire cavern, with our unlimited power.”
“Hmph! It will require care!”
“It will get it!”
“Mountainous regions are quake regions.”
“We can rig up enough stat-rays to hold up all Venus, quakes or no quakes.”
“Stat-rays eat up energy wholesale, and a breakdown that will leave us energyless would mean the end.”
“We can hook up five separate power-houses,-as foolproof as we can make them. All five won’t break down at once.”
The old Tweenie smiled, “All right, son. I see you’ve got it planned thoroughly. Go ahead! Start whenever you want-and remember, it’s all up to you.”
“Good! Let’s get back to the ships.” They picked their way gingerly down the rocky, slope.
“You know, Arthur,” said Max, stopping suddenly, “I’ve been thinking about those stat-beams.”
“Yes?” Arthur offered his arm, and the two resumed their walk.
“It’s occurred to me that if we could make them two-dimensional in extent and curve them, we’d have the perfect defense, as long as our energy lasted-a
stat-field.”
“You need four-dimensional radiation for that. Dad-nice to think about but can’t be done.”
“Oh, is that so? Well, listen to this-”
What Arthur was to listen to remained hidden, however- for that day at least. A piercing shout ahead jerked both their heads upward. Up towards them came the bounding form of Henry Scanlon, and following him, at a goodly distance and a much more leisurely pace, came Irene.
“Say, Dad, I had a devil of a time finding you. Where were you?”
“Right here, son. Where were you?”
“Oh, just around. Listen, Dad. You know those amphibians the explorers talk about as inhabiting the highland lakes of Venus, don’t you? Well, we’ve located them, lots of them, a regular convoy of them. Haven’t we, Irene?”
Irene paused to catch her breath and nodded her head, “They’re the cutest things, Mr. Scanlon. All green.” She wrinkled her nose laughingly.
Arthur and his father exchanged glances of doubt. The former shrugged. “Are you sure you haven’t been seeing things? I remember once. Henry, when you sighted a meteor in space, scared us all to death, and then had it turn out to be your own reflection in the port glass.”
Henry, painfully aware of Irene’s snicker, thrust out a belligerent lower lip, “Say, Art, I guess you’re looking for a shove in the face. And I’m old enough to give it to you, too.”
“Whoa there, quiet down,” came the peremptory voice of the elder Scanlon, “and you, Arthur, had better leam to respect your younger brother’s dignity. Now here. Henry, all Arthur meant was that these amphibians are as shy as rabbits. No one’s ever caught more than a glimpse of them.”
“Well, we have. Dad. Lots of them. I guess they were attracted by Irene. No one can resist her.”
“I know you can’t,” and Arthur laughed loudly.
Henry stiffened once more, but his father stepped between. “Grow up, you two. Let’s go and see these amphibians.”
