Giant Series 01 - Inherit the Stars

by Inherit the Stars [lit]

  pattern of evolution on Earth. Now we see where it came from: It

  appeared as a mutation among the evolving primates that were

  isolated on Minerva. It was transmitted through the population

  there until it became a racial characteristic. It proved to be such

  a devastating weapon in the survival struggle there that effective

  opposition ceased to exist. The inner driving force that it pro

  duced was such that the Lunarians were flying spaceships while

  their contemporaries on Earth were still playing with pieces of

  stone.

  "That same driving force we see in man today. Man has proved

  invincible in every challenge that the Universe has thrown at him.

  Perhaps this force has been diluted somewhat in the time that has

  elapsed since it first appeared on Minerva; we reached the brink of

  that same precipice of self-destruction but stepped back. The

  Lunarians hurled themselves in regardless. It could be that this

  was why they did not seek a solution by cooperation-their in-built

  tendency to violence made them simply incapable of conceiving such

  a formula.

  "But this is typical of the way in which evolution works. The

  forces of natural selection will always operate in such a way as to

  bend and shape a new mutation, and to preserve a variation of it

  that offers the best prospects of survival for the species as a

  whole. The raw mutation that made the Lunarians what they were was

  too extreme and resulted in their downfall. Improvement has taken

  the form of a dilution, which results in a greater psychological

  stability of the race. Thus, we survive where they perished."

  Danchekker paused to finish his drink. The statues remained

  statues.

  "What an incredible race they must have been," he said. "Consider

  in particular the handful who were destined to become the

  forefathers of mankind. They had endured a holocaust unlike

  anything we can even begin to imagine. They had watched their world

  and everything that was familiar explode in the skies above their

  heads. After this, abandoned in an airless, waterless, lifeless,

  radioactive desert, they were slaughtered beneath the billions of

  tons of Minervan debris that crashed down from the skies to

  complete the ruin of all their hopes and the total destruction of

  all they had achieved.

  "A few survived to emerge onto the surface after the bombardment.

  They knew that they could live only for as long as their supplies

  and their machines lasted. There was nowhere they could go, nothing

  they could plan for. They did not give in. They did not know how to

  give in. They must have existed for months before they realized

  that, by a quirk of fate, a slim chance of survival existed.

  "Can you imagine the feelings of that last tiny band of Lunarians

  as they stood amid the Lunar desolation, gazing up at the new world

  that shone in the sky above their heads, with nothing else alive

  around them and, for all they knew, nothing else alive in the

  Universe? What did it take to attempt that one-way journey into the

  unknown? We can try to imagine, but we will never know. Whatever it

  took, they grasped at the straw that was offered and set off on

  that journey.

  "Even this was only the beginning. When they stepped out of their

  ships onto the alien world, they found themselves in the midst of

  one of the most ruthless periods of competition and extinction in

  the history of the Earth. Nature ruled with an uncompromising hand.

  Savage beasts roamed the planet; the climate was in turmoil

  following the gravitational upheavals caused by the arrival of the

  Moon; possibly they were decimated by unknown diseases. It was an

  environment that none of their experience had prepared them for.

  Still they refused to yield. They learned the ways of the new

  world: They learned to feed by hunting and trapping, to fight with

  spear and club; they learned how to shelter from the elements, to

  read and interpret the language of the wild. And as they became

  proficient in these new arts they grew stronger and ventured

  farther afield. The spark that they had brought with them and which

  had carried them through on the very edge of extinction began to

  glow bright once again. Finally that glow erupted into the flame

  that had swept all before it on Minerva; they emerged as an

  adversary more fearsome and more formidable than anything the Earth

  had ever known. The Neanderthals never stood a chance-they were

  doomed the moment the first Lunarian foot made contact with the

  soil of Earth.

  "The outcome you see all around you today. We stand undisputed

  masters of the Solar System and poised on the edge of interstellar

  space itself, just as they did fifty thousand years ago."

  Danchekker placed his glass carefully on the table and moved slowly

  toward the center of the room. His sober gaze shifted from eye to

  eye. He concluded: "And so, gentlemen, we inherit the stars.

  "Let us go out, then, and claim our inheritance. We belong to a

  tradition in which the concept of defeat has no meaning. Today the

  stars and tomorrow the galaxies. No force exists in the Universe

  that can stop us."

  epilogue

  Professor Hans Jacob Zeiblemann, of the Department of Paleontology

  of the University of Geneva, finished his entry for the day in his

  diary, closed the book with a grunt, and returned it to its place

  in the tin box underneath his bed. He hoisted his twohundred-pound

  bulk to its feet and, drawing his pipe from the breast pocket of

  his bush shirt, moved a pace across the tent to knock out the ash

  on the metal pole by the~ door. As he stood packing a new fill of

  tobacco into the bowl, he gazed out over the arid landscape of

  northern Sudan.

  The Sun had turned into a deep gash just above the horizon, oozing

  blood-red liquid rays that drenched the naked rock for miles

  around. The tent was one of three that stood crowded together on a

  narrow sandy shelf. The shelf was formed near the bottom of a

  steep-sided rocky valley, dotted with clumps of coarse bush and

  desert scrub that clustered together along the valley floor and

  petered out rapidly, without gaining the slopes on either side. On

  a wider shelf beneath stood the more numerous tents of the native

  laborers. Obscure odors wafting upward from this direction signaled

  that preparation of the evening meals had begun. From farther below

  came the perpetual sound of the stream, rushing and clattering and

  jostling on its way to join the waters of the distant Nile.

  The crunch of boots on gravel sounded nearby. A few seconds later

  Zeiblemann's assistant, Jorg Hutfauer, appeared, his shirt dark and

  streaked with perspiration and grime.

  "Phew!" The newcomer halted to mop his brow with something that had

  once been a handkerchief. "I'm whacked. A beer, a bath, dinner,

  then bed-that's my program for tonight."

  Zeiblemann grinned. "Busy day?"

  "Haven't stopped. We've extended sector five to the lower terrace.

  The subsoil isn't too bad there at
all. We've made quite a bit of

  progress."

  "Anything new?"

  "I brought these up-thought you might be interested. There's more

  below, but it'll keep till you come down tomorrow." Hutfauer passed

  across the objects he had been carrying and continued on into the

  tent to retrieve a can of beer from the pile of boxes and cartons

  under the table.

  "Mmm . . ." Zeiblemann turned the bone over in his hand. "Human

  femur . . . heavy." He studied the unusual curve and measured the

  proportions with his eye. "Neanderthal, I'd say.

  or very near related."

  "That's what I thought."

  The professor placed the fossil carefully in a tray, covered it

  with a cloth, and laid the tray on the chest standing just inside

  the tent doorway. He picked up a hand-sized blade of ifint, simply

  but effectively worked by the removal of long, thin flakes.

  "What did you make of this?" he asked.

  Hutfauer moved forward out of the shadow and paused to take a

  prolonged and grateful drink from the can.

  "Well, the bed seems to be late Pleistocene, so I'd expect upper

  Paleolithic indications-which fits in with the way it's been

  worked. Probably a scraper for skinning. There are areas of

  microliths on the handle and also around the end of the blade.

  Bearing in mind the location, I'd put it at something related

  fairly closely to the Capsian culture." He lowered the can and

  cocked an inquiring eye at Zeiblemann.

  "Not bad," said the professor, nodding. He laid the flint in a tray

  beside the first and added the identification sheet that Hutfauer

  had written out. "We'll have a closer look tomorrow when the

  light's a little better."

  Hutfauer joined him at the door. The sound of jabbering and

  shouting from the level below told them that another of the

  natives' endless minor domestic disputes had broken out over

  something.

  "Tea's up if anyone's interested," a voice called out from behind

  the next tent.

  Zeiblemann raised his eyebrows and licked his lips. "What a

  splendid idea," he said. "Come on, Jorg."

  They walked around to the makeshift kitchen, where Ruddi Magendorf

  was sitting on a rock, shoveling spoonfuls of tea leaves out of a

  tin by his side and into a large bubbling pot of water.

  "Hi, Prof-hi, Jorg," he greeted as the two joined him. "It'll be

  brewed in a minute or two."

  Zeiblemann wiped his palms on the front of his shirt. "Good. Just

  what I could do with." He cast his eye about automatically and

  noted the trays, covered by cloths, laid out on the trestle table

  by the side of Magendorf's tent.

  "Ah, I see you've been busy as well," he observed. "What do we have

  there?"

  Magendorf followed his gaze.

  "Jomatto brought them up about half an hour ago. They're from the

  upper terrace of sector two-east end. Take a look."

  Zeiblemann walked over to the table and uncovered one of the trays

  to inspect the neatly arrayed collection, at the same time mumbling

  absently to himself.

  "More ifint scrapers, I see . . . Mmmm . . . That could be a hand

  ax. Yes, I believe it is . . . Bits of jawbone, human .

  looks as if they might well match up. Skull cap. . . Bone spearhead

  . . . Mmm . . ." He lifted the cloth from the second tray and began

  running his eye casually over the contents. Suddenly the movement

  of his head stopped abruptly as he stared hard at something at one

  end. His face contorted into a scowl of disbelief.

  "What the hell is this supposed to be?" he bellowed. He

  straightened up and walked back toward the stove, holding the

  offending object out in front of him.

  Magendorf shrugged and pulled a face.

  "I thought you'd better see it," he offered, then added: "Jomatto

  says it was with the rest of that set."

  "Jomatto says what?" Zeiblemann's voice rose in pitch as he

  glowered first at Magendorf and then back at the object in his

  hand. "Oh, for God's sake! The man's supposed to have a bit of

  sense. This is a serious scientific expedition. . ." He regarded

  the object again, his nostrils quivering with indignation.

  "Obviously one of the boys has been playing a silly joke or

  something."

  It was about the size of a large cigarette pack, not including the

  wrist bracelet, and carried on its upper face four windows that

  could have been meant for miniature electronic displays. It

  suggested a chronometer or calculating aid, or maybe it was both

  and other things besides. The back and contents were missing, and

  all that was left was the metal casing, somewhat battered and

  dented, but still surprisingly unaffected very much by corrosion.

  "There's a funny inscription on the bracelet," Magenclorf said,

  rubbing his nose dubiously. "I've never seen characters like it

  before."

  Zeiblemann sniffed and peered briefly at the lettering.

  "Pah! Russian or something." His face had taken on a pinker shade

  than even that imparted by the Sudan sun. "Wasting valuable time

  with-with dime-store trinkets!" He drew back his arm and hurled the

  wrist set high out over the stream. It flashed momentarily in the

  sunlight before plummeting down into the mud by the water's edge.

  The professor stared after it for a few seconds and then turned

  back to Magendorf, his breathing once again normal. Magendorf

  extended a mug full of steaming brown liquid.

  "Ah, splendid," Zeiblemann said in a suddenly agreeable voice.

  "Just the thing." He settled himself into a folding canvas chair

  and accepted the proffered mug eagerly. "I'll tell you one thing

  that does look interesting, Ruddi," he went on, nodding toward the

  table. "That piece of skull in the first tray-number nineteen. Have

  you noticed the formation of the brow ridges? Now, it could well be

  an example of. .

  In the mud by the side of the stream below, the wrist unit rocked

  back and forth to the pulsing ripples that every few seconds rose

  to disturb the delicate equilibrium of the position into which it

  had fallen. After a while, a rib of sand beneath it was washed away

  and it tumbled over into a hollow, where it lodged among the

  swirling, muddy water. By nightfall, the lower half of the casing

  was already embedded in silt. By the following morning, the hollow

  had disappeared. Just one arm of the bracelet remained, standing up

  out of the sand below the rippling surface. The arm bore an

  inscription, which, if translated, would have read: KORIEL.

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