by Tubb, E. C.
The Dumarest books continued to be as lucrative for DAW as they had been for Ace and the rights were sold internationally for foreign language editions in France, Germany, the Netherlands, Italy, Sweden and Japan. Wollheim encouraged Tubb to provide him with two new Dumarest novels every year for the next decade and Tubb was happy to oblige. Interviewed about the saga in Sense of Wonder magazine in 1985, Wollheim was asked how long the novels would go on for. He replied, “Obviously, as long as I’ll buy them and as long as people will keep buying them. I’m sure that E.C. Tubb is not planning to end it because it’s too profitable. They have a nice following. As far as I’m concerned they can go on indefinitely.”
Unfortunately, Wollheim’s health had begun to fail and in 1985 he turned over editorial control of DAW to his daughter Elizabeth. For reasons that remain unclear, the new regime at DAW decided to call time on Dumarest’s adventures. In The Temple of Truth, the 31st book, Tubb allowed Dumarest to discover the coordinates of Earth inscribed in gold on the walls of the Holy Place in the Temple of Cerevox on Raniang, and for readers on both sides of the Atlantic this was apparently where the series ended. This was a severe blow to Tubb: he had already completed the manuscript for the next book, Figures of Earth, when he learned that DAW would not be publishing any more Dumarest novels.
On the other side of the Atlantic, Arrow had kickstarted their publication of the series again in 1976 with new editions of the first four books and then a simultaneous release of the next four novels early the following year. These were issued under the umbrella title of The Dumarest Saga and this collective name stuck with the series for all subsequent British editions. With the popularity of the series finally established in the UK, Arrow went on to issue the remaining 24 books on a regular basis until 1989, always about four years behind DAW. After publishing DAW’s last four books as two paired omnibus editions (titled Melome and Angado [1988], and Symbol of Terra and The Temple of Truth [1989]) under the company’s Legend imprint, the option to premiere Figures of Earth was available to Arrow, yet they too declined to continue with the saga. Instead, the 32nd Dumarest novel made its debut in a French language edition published by Presses de la Cité/GCEP of Paris, France, retitled The Return (1992).
Following DAW’s cancellation of the Dumarest books and then the retirement of his dynamic agent Les Flood, Tubb’s career appeared to come to a premature end. He stopped writing in 1985 and after Arrow’s publication of Symbol of Terra and The Temple of Truth, none of his books or stories were reprinted in either America or Britain for seven years. However, when Philip Harbottle, a long time fan and friend of the author, went on holiday to New York in 1995, he promoted Tubb’s backlist and unpublished work to fledgling publisher Gary Lovisi, who had recently launched his Gryphon Books imprint. Lovisi asked Harbottle to edit a new science fiction line for them, Tubb agreed to Harbottle becoming his agent, and thereafter Gryphon issued a steady stream of classic Tubb novels, including a couple of unpublished early manuscripts. Most significantly, they published the first English edition of The Return in 1997.
The following year, Tubb’s profile and career received a further boost with the publication of The Tall Adventurer (Beccon, 1998). Written by Philip Harbottle and Sean Wallace, this was the first-ever complete E.C. Tubb bibliography, revealing his vast output and all his pseudonyms, fully annotated, and with much critical and biographical detail. This remarkable work led to Tubb being picked up by other American publishers, resulting in two important collections, The Best Science Fiction of E. C. Tubb (2003) and Mirror of the Night (2003). In addition, Dumarest’s loyal following was rewarded with two new short stories which appeared in the anthologies Fantasy Adventures #1 (2002) and Fantasy Adventures #2 (2003), compiled and edited by Harbottle and published by Wildside Press of Holicong, Pennsylvania. Both stories fleshed out some of the details of Dumarest’s early life, ‘Child of Earth’ describing how he came to stow away on the ship which ferried him away from his homeworld, and ‘Figona’ relating his first encounter with the Cyclan and how he ended up a lone traveller while still a teenager. Although readers were unaware of it at the time, these stories were actually extracts from a longer work in progress, a completely new Dumarest novel entitled Child of Earth.
One of the most curious anomalies of Tubb’s Dumarest of Terra is that not a single book has been adapted for film or television, despite being optioned for American television in 1998. Indeed, only two of Tubb’s works have ever made that transition—The Space-Born was dramatised for French television in 1962 by RTF (Radio-Television Française) and a 1955 short story entitled ‘Little Girl Lost’ was faithfully adapted as an episode of Rod Serling’s Night Gallery in 1972. But if there’s one thing that Tubb’s readers agree on, it’s that the Dumarest books are ripe with all the elements that any film or television producer could wish for in an exciting, action-oriented SF drama, and that Dumarest’s adventures would be ideal for a long-running TV series or a blockbuster film franchise.
Tubb himself isn’t so sure. “I used to laugh at the different covers that would appear on my Dumarest books, so I can’t begin to imagine how I would feel if somebody was making a film or television series of one of my stories. I think it must be difficult for people like Stephen King who create these characters and then a film-maker changes this, that and the other. I suppose the financial rewards ease things a little.”
Some would argue that television, in particular, has already plundered Tubb’s work for ideas. For Dumarest’s fans, there was something familiar about the format of ABC’s Battlestar Galactica when the original series made its debut in 1978. Not only were the protagonists searching for their lost homeworld of Earth, but they were also constantly pursued by emotionless robotic creatures called Cylons. There were more notable similarities in Farscape, a Sci-Fi Channel television series produced by the Jim Henson Company, which debuted in 1999. Farscape followed the adventures (and misadventures) of American astronaut John Crichton who accidentally travelled through a wormhole to a distant part of the universe where none of the alien lifeforms he meets have ever heard of Earth. Crichton’s search for his home planet was hindered when mysterious omnipotent beings implanted wormhole technology equations in his subconscious, equations that were coveted initially by the villainous hybrid Scorpius and then, later, by the power-hungry Scarrans as part of their plans for the domination of the universe. Crichton’s search for Earth and his pursuit by an evil totalitarian race hellbent on retrieving the equations locked in his mind clearly paralleled Dumarest’s quest for Earth and his knowledge of the affinity twin sequence that is vital to the Cyclan’s plans for universal domination.
However, as with Battlestar Galactica, Farscape’s conceptual similarities to Dumarest of Terra appear to have been coincidental—certainly the execution of the common ideas was entirely different, as Tubb himself recognises. “In both cases, the Cylons in Battlestar Galactica and my characters, the Cyclan in the Dumarest books, are the villains and are sort of robot-like. The heroes in Galactica and Farscape are searching for Earth and so is Earl Dumarest, my hero. However, I wouldn’t say that I was ripped off or anything because we all use different ideas and influences that we pick up on our way. I remember an old saying we used to have which was, ‘Science fiction is a pool in which you dip.’ A great many fantasy stories are about a search or a quest to find something or someone – or in this case, somewhere—so I can’t claim to have created that idea. The Cylons were actually robots but my characters, the Cyclan, are only robot-like because they are based on the law of pure reasoning. In fact, they’re much more like the Vulcans in Star Trek really.”
Perhaps one reason why film-makers have overlooked Dumarest of Terra has been the lack of a definitive ‘origin’ story for Earl Dumarest. When embarking on what they hope will be a long-running film franchise or television series, film-makers are often keen to start with a presentation of their lead character’s formative years, revealing upfront the events that have shaped that character�
�s personality, skills and physical and emotional constitution – as in Superman the Movie (1978), Conan the Barbarian (1982), Young Sherlock Holmes (1985) and The Saint (1997) among many others. The trend even extends to ‘re-booting’ existing franchises with ‘origin’ installments, as seen with Star Wars: The Phantom Menace (1999), Batman Begins (2005) and Casino Royale (2006).
In The Winds of Gath our hero has already begun his quest for Earth with many years of travel and numerous adventures behind him. We learn almost nothing of his earlier life until later in the series, and then only in fragmentary form. The most significant revelations of Dumarest’s youth came in Melome (1983) as terrifying memories of his childhood on Earth were conjured by the strange song of an adolescent girl. But why were the people of Earth living such a primitive impoverished existence? What had become of Dumarest’s parents? Why did he stow away on a visiting freighter, and what was the freighter doing there anyway? Why did the freighter captain take him on as crew? Why did he eventually leave the ship? When did he first encounter the Cyclan and what gave him cause to distrust them? Why is he so charitable to the monks from the Church of the Universal Brotherhood, the self-sacrificing members of a religious order whom he has encountered and helped again and again on his travels? How did he learn his skills as a gambler and a fighter, where and when did he become so familiar with the workings of the gladiatorial arena, and how did he come to acquire the nine-inch blade that has been his only constant companion throughout his quest? And what event led him to the decision to take up that quest, abandon the life he had been leading and attempt to retrace his steps back to Earth? Readers could only speculate—until now.
Even more frustrating for film-makers and readers alike has been the lack of a proper conclusion to the saga. The cover of the English-language edition of The Return announced itself as ‘the long awaited final novel’, but even though Dumarest did indeed finally locate Earth and arrive in the orbit of the planet in the final pages, there were still unresolved plotlines and loose ends that left many readers disappointed. Clearly Ted Tubb had written the 32nd Dumarest novel with the intention of continuing the story to a satisfying conclusion in one further volume.
In The Return, Dumarest makes his way to the planet Kaldar in the Lonagar Drift, armed with the coordinates of Earth that he has discovered in the Temple of Cerevox on Raniang. Still pursued by the Cyclan, he charters a ship, the Geniat, captained by one Leif Chapman and crewed by Kaldari who believe that they will find indescribable wealth on Earth. But the final leg of Dumarest’s journey is long and fraught with danger, and just to complicate matters, he is torn between two lovers, raider scout Zehava Postel and Kaldari administrator Nadine Cavallo, one of whom, it transpires, is working for the Cyclan. Evading the Cyclan’s trap, the Geniat finally arrives at Earth to be confronted by a Cyclan ship and the cyber Tryne, a new form of cyber, one genetically engineered in the Cyclan laboratories with a sponge-metal alloy brain. Dumarest brings about the destruction of Tryne’s ship but the Geniat is badly damaged in the conflict and Captain Chapman realises he must make an emergency landing on the planet below.
As the book ends, Dumarest has completed his quest, but his immediate future and survival is unknown, and many questions are left unanswered. Assuming he survives the crash-landing, what will Dumarest find on his return to Earth? What is the meaning of the creed of the Original People: ‘From terror they fled to find new places on which to expiate their sins’? Why have the Cyclan gone to so much trouble to keep the planet hidden, not just from Dumarest but from the entire universal population? Why are they still so desperate to get their hands on the secret of the affinity twin when they have already developed a method of transferring memories and knowledge from a human brain to a cybernetic surrogate, a creature whose outward appearance can be altered as required?
At long last, the answers to these questions—as well as those relating to Dumarest’s early life—are here.
Chris Bentley
October 2008
CHAPTER ONE
Somewhere a woman screamed in torment her voice rising in a shriek of savage hatred at the forces of the universe that had devastated her life; a cry of helpless frustration, anger and seething despair. To soar in a long, nerve-scraping ululation then to break, to drop into a moaning susurration as she cradled the ravaged body of her child, to stare bleakly at the ruin of her home, the slumped corpses of her slaughtered dead, the end of a familiar life.
Sounds Dumarest had heard before on a scatter of worlds that had fallen victim to the arrogance and ambition of petty rulers. The burning, bloodshed and butchery dispensed by mercenary forces interested in nothing but victory, reward and self-preservation.
He moved and the screaming vanished. There had been no woman only the impact of wind transmitted through the hull against which his head had rested. The sounds inducing memories and latent images conjured from the recesses of his mind. Near-dreams of other places, other times. Reminders of things best forgotten. Of events impossible to forget.
Another rose to dominate his vision.
A face, hard, mad, bearing the stamp of corrupt degeneration. One still young yet seared with the acid of sadistic indulgence. The hair was a thick roach adorned with flecks of ribbon, scraps of filigree, the gleam of gems. The eyebrows were thick, the mouth a gash, the teeth filed into points. All carmine with blood smeared over the writhing curlicues of paint that masked and distorted the visage beneath. Only the eyes seemed alive, ringed with darkness, usually narrowed; now wide with terror as the blade rose before him to rest its point against his cheek.
He writhed, fighting the hand clamped around his throat, the fingers digging against nerve and artery. A grip his clawing fingers failed to break as the desperate violence of an up-thrusting knee wasted itself on air and the column of a thigh. Things Dumarest ignored as he guided the knife up and over the cheek the skin parting beneath the edge to form a long, shallow wound. One welling blood as the blade halted with the point pressed against the inner corner of the eye.
Before him the lips parted, the man fighting to talk, to plead or beg, but the grip on his throat kept him silent.
Only his eyes could speak and they showed nothing but the horror of knowing what was to come. A horror which lasted a long moment then the knife thrust forward, twisting, the eye spurting from its socket to lie on the bloodied cheek, the blade driving on and into the brain, to twist, to drag free coated with grey and red as the dead man fell from the opened hand.
Air, gusting from his lungs, made a sound like the agonized sighing of wind.
Dumarest reared upright on the cot, feeling the sweat dewing his face, the heat prickling his skin. The air vas thick, tainted, various sounds blending to form a teasing susurration. But there was no painted visage with a snarling mouth and eyes belonging to something less than human. That was a memory from his distant past. An act that had needed to be done. He had no regret but wished the dying sigh had sounded less like the sough of wind. He’d had enough of wind.
Enough of fighting and killing and the need to do both. He looked at the cabin he was in, the soiled surface, the dirt and mess. The common elements of Lowtown, but while this was not a normal refuge for the poverty-stricken, other things made it a true comparison. Those within it were lost, sick, stranded, desperate and, above all, dangerous.
Dumarest swung his legs over the edge of the cot and sat, elbows on his knees, face cradled in his hands. For too long he had walked the razor-edge of danger, surrounded by those who hated him and wanted him dead. He was tense, jumpy, tired, mind and muscles clogged with the poisons of fatigue.
His skin burned with the prickling of danger and, no matter which way he turned, he could see no escape from the trap that held him close.
He tensed as a scrabbling sound came from the external passage. He rose as something scraped at the door of the cabin, reaching it, tearing it open with his left hand, grabbing at the shape standing outside as his right hand lifted the knife snatched from h
is boot.
“Earl! For God’s sake!”
It was Chagal, his face old, lined, sagging with fatigue in the light outside. Fatigue and more than a little fear as he recoiled from the weapon threatening his life. The diffused glow caught the blade and haloed it with a nacreous brilliance. One that vanished as Dumarest lowered the knife and slipped it into his boot. Had Chagal been an assailant he would have died.
“Earl—”
“What is it?”
“There’s something you should see.” Chagal entered the cabin and slumped down on the cot. He touched his throat, looking at his fingers, the smear of blood from a tiny wound.
“A hell of a greeting.”
“I had a bad dream.”
“And reacted instinctively to anticipated danger.” Chagal nodded. “Your nerves are too tense. You’re too much on edge. You could have killed me.”
“I recognized you.”
“I was lucky. But what if I had been someone else? A woman seeking a little consolation, perhaps, or a man bringing a suggestion or a warning? You would have killed without hesitation.” Chagal looked at his smeared fingers. “I can’t blame you. You’re in a hell of a situation, but I’ve got something which should help.” He produced a small bottle, “I haven’t forgotten everything I’ve learned.” He undid the cap, filled it with the contents of the phial. “Here!” He proffered it, shrugged as Dumarest made no effort to take it, swallowed it himself. “Just a mixture of a few things to reduce toxic levels and give a temporary boost. The equivalent of a good sleep and rest. It will do you no harm. I swear it.”
