“The universe—or rather, that level of the universe which we all perceive—began some 12 billion years ago, it is true. But it will remain in existence far beyond the point at which we expect to meet the Worthy Ones.”
“Ok, chew on that one, Robot,” Will said, grinning. “I guess he told you!”
“I have the feeling we are talking around the point,” Robinson said. “Can you explain more clearly just what is going on here—who you are, why you have done what you have done, and the rest of it?”
“It is a very long story indeed, Professor Robinson,” said Gil’mish. “Perhaps if we seat ourselves, we will not tire in the telling.”
And before anyone could mention that there were no seats to be seen, Gil’mish flicked a finger and seats appeared.
“I won’t say anything. I won’t. I won’t,” muttered Don under his breath, and sat down with the rest of them.
“I will not bore you with undue details,” Gil’mish stated. “In essence it is a simple story—but I warn you that you may find aspects of it profoundly disturbing. My reading of your personality patterns assures me you can all of you sustain the information, but please understand.”
“This is partly your story.”
When the Home Galaxy of the Giandhu coalesced out of the inchoate random swirls of matter after the creation of the universe, the Gia sun was the first whose planets spawned life that survived to develop intelligence. That was almost ten billion years ago.
The Giandhu thus were the first race also to develop sufficient intelligence to construct star-traveling devices—though they were not space ships in the Earth sense of the terminology.
And for a billion years they were the only race to do so; for there were few races indeed at that dawn of time and space.
Because of this, the Giandhu steadily became masters of a greater and greater volume of space, until they spanned the entire galaxy and spread out to the next, and to the next after that, until, two and a half billion years after they began to conquer space, the Giandhu held five galaxies.
Alone in this gigantic multitude of stars and planets they held the key to space—intelligence.
Alone.
Like the present-day Ambarene they had their telepathic linkages; but time palled on them at last, and loneliness for something beyond the limits of their own intelligence began to tug destructively at the fabric of their fives.
And like the present-day Central Complex of the planet Voyd’azh, they made, at last, their attempts at directly forming another race of equal stature for themselves.
And failed.
Time after time they attempted to create directly another race of Worthy Ones, with whom they could live as equals, not as superiors.
And failed, time after time.
Intelligence, they could create; greatness, they could not.
At length a weariness, beyond their strength to resist, infected the Giandhu,
The Giandhu became weary imto death.
Some left for the trackless nameless galaxies beyond and were never heard from.
But many more simply allowed themselves to die.
Some elders debated pushing forward, deeper, all the race together, into the endless universe of galaxies to find a race of Worthy Ones.
Others counselled doing as a race what so many were doing individually—allowing themselves simply to die as they reached the end of their natural span by foregoing the treatments that kept them virtually immortal . . . without a purpose they could care about.
And a few counselled sleep—sleep in Giandahar, but with a purpose at last.
In the end, something over a million of them drew together at Giandahar—after seeding the Five Galaxies with life spores based on their own fundamental biochemical structure. But the spores were nondirected, so that what resulted would not simply be more Giandhu.
Then they made Giandahar a pleasure and delight for themselves, and a mystery and a puzzle, as they lived out their final era before sleep. And they directed the city to live on in peace after its long service to the race, maintaining itself only, and directing it simply to awaken one of them in turn, as races developed to the point where they could travel to the stars—and arrived thereafter at the Gia system.
Weaker races were not to trigger the awakening, however. These would be allowed to land, to test themselves involuntarily among the treasures and delectations of Giandahar; but if they failed, the city was to make them leave—gently, safely, and with no record and with no memory of what had been.
Many races, in spite of this, were advanced enough to trigger the city into awakening one of the sleepers, that he might judge more closely whether the visitors were truly Worthy Ones. Thirty thousand sleepers awakened one by one to judge such races, and thirty thousand times returned to sleep, the task again unsuccessful.
And again the failed ones left—gently, safely, and with no memory of the city or their actions.
But from that point on special monitors observed that race, and kept its ships in subtle ways from ever returning to the Gia system until such time as the race should grow in stature past the point where it was found wanting.
So far, no race had ever returned; while most went on to wreck themselves in futile wars and combats, losing forever their one chance for true immortality and power...
The ha-Grebst failed the city’s basic tests; the Earthmen caused Gil’mish to wake.
And now the time of judgment was at hand . . .
“Judgment!” whispered Maureen.
“Immortality!” whispered Don, even lower, transfixed with the sudden brilliant dream.
“Boy,” said Will in low tones, “I’ll bet Dr. Smith will kick himself for not being here. All that talk about power—that’s right up his alley!”
John Robinson looked at his hands abstractedly as he held them before his face; then he put them down again, and wondered why he’d done that.
“Do you realize,” he started to say, and realized he had not spoken aloud.
“Do you realize,” he said aloud, “the meaning of what Gil’mish has told us?” The sound of his voice irritated him; it was shaking, as if he were afraid. He shut his eyes and made one brief futile attempt to convince himself he hadnt heard what Gil’mish had said.
The others were looking at him, rather startledly, more struck by the sound of his voice than by his words.
“He’s . . . he’s just told us . . . that the Giandhu was responsible for . . . for life on Earth. I mean . . .
His voice broke in the confusion of his thought.
The full impact of it was too much for the others, he realized.
“Now wait,” said Don. “Just a second. It’s been estimated that life on Earth started about four billion years ago, right? And that back seven billion years ago, when the Giandhu went into hibernation, the Earth wasn’t fit to support life. Therefore,” he said, an incongruous note of pride in his voice, that means life on Earth probably developed independently!”
Gil’mish stared at the rapidly-moving squiggles on the wall.
Then he spoke.
“The main banks have located your star as of the time of our . . . withdrawal. Nine planets. Second, third, fourth, and fifth from the sun were seeded. Hm, the fifth planet no longer exists as such.
“No, it is clear that you are directly descended from the original Giandhu spores.”
Don worked his lips a couple of times, then gave up and accepted the concept.
“Whewl” Robinson said. “I guess that lays it on the line.”
“No Adam and Eve?” Will asked Gil’mish, and the giant shook his head.
“No Adam and Eve, son,” his father said, patting his shoulder with absent-minded affection while his eyes remained on the figure of Gilmish. He felt vaguely disappointed that the others were not, apparently, anywhere nearly as deeply stirred by what had been said.
“But,” he thought to himself, “it’s really too much for me too. It’s too much; I’ll have to have more tim
e to sort it out.”
Aloud, he asked Gil’mish, “What I want to know is, what do we have to do now? Or rather, what do you intend to do?”
“First I must see your shipmates,” Gil’mish answered with his slow deliberation. “My mind remains unduly sluggish; perhaps some slight dysfunction in the nutrient solution . . . ”
“Well, I should think so, after all that time,” said Maureen, with a surge of maternal instinct she was fully aware was quite misplaced.
“The seeds of a race’s self-destruction are often buried deep within its members,” Gil’mish said as he arose stiffly. “Let us proceed to the surface while I ponder.”
And he vanished.
“Yipes!” said Will, and the rest of them caught their breaths.
‘Well,” said Don presently, and his tone was bitter, “I’ll bet you one thing. If anything is wrong with humans, Gil’mish will find it in good old Dr. Zachary Smith. I’ll tell you right now, though, if he does mess everything up I’ll make him wish he—”
Robinson’s face twisted with a wry smile.
“Don,” he said softly, “try grading yourself on what you just said . . . ”
Don looked at Professor Robinson blankly for a moment.
Then his face fell into a grimace of self-disgust. ‘Well, maybe it’s just being around him that makes me think like that.”
Will started to speak—and the room dissolved around them.
A moment later they were all standing on the familiar ground floor of the Central Tower, and Gil’mish was turning from one of the colored, animated wall-maps.
“My apologies,” Gil’mish said slowly. “I forgot to bring you along.”
He gestured at the wall-map; squiggles raced rapidly across it. “It seems we shall be in for a visit presently.”
They looked blankly at the squiggles.
“Your Dr. Smith is leading the failed ones here,” explained Gil’mish. “And your daughter is with him.”
Don shook his head dubiously. “I don’t think any good is going to come of this . . . ”
“Aha!” said Smith, as he stood outside the Central Tower. “The immeasurable powers of this magnificent headset become more and more accessible to my mighty mind. My dear Judy, I can now sense with the aid of this marvelous gadget that the rest of the Jupiter II crew stands within these walls. Today the Jupiter II—tomorrow the galaxy!”
“Yes, master,” said Judy tonelessly.
“Oh, stop that,” Smith said testily. “Here . . . ”
He squeezed his brows and concentrated on releasing Judy from the headset’s control.
Judy staggered for a moment when his control ceased, then caught herself and drew up proudly.
“Dr. Smith,” she said icily, “that was hardly the action of a gentleman. Or of a scholar, since it wasn’t very smart of you.”
“Child, you touch my pride,” said Smith with warm indignation. “What better way to acquire an empress than to acquire one who will be in all things subservient to my wishes? Much the happiest way for any married man to enjoy his life . . . ”
“You might just as well be married to the ship’s robot,” she retorted angrily. “And if I’m going to be an empress, at least I want to know about it. I felt like I was locked up tightly in a little room, bound and gagged.”
“Ah!” Smith brightened. “Then you do still wish to become my empress! Wonderful! I shall—”
“You shall nothing. I meant you’re not doing anybody any good by controlling them with that thing. It was like being in prison. Or worse. As for being your empress . . . well, that’s out. You can always use your gadget, of course.”
“Hmphh,” Smith said. “If you feel that strongly about it, perhaps we’d better just forget the whole thing.”
“Perhaps,” she said, and looked away disinterestedly.
“Bah,” Smith muttered, and scowled at the front of the Central Tower. “All right, open up, confound it. I haven’t got all day. There’s a universe out there waiting for me.”
The wall dutifully opened up.
“Come along, then, my lovelies, step lively. You too, Judy. I don’t want to lose track of you.”
They followed him inside, the ha-Grebst docilely, Judy defiant.
Instinctively as the aliens entered the Robinsons and Don started to reach for their laser pistols, but Maureen rushed towards her daughter, meeting her halfway as they sobbed with relief in each other’s arms.
“Ah, there,” Smith began cheerfully, waving the weapons aside, “the Robinsons and Dr. West. How nice to see you once again and—awk! What’s that?” He pointed at Gil’mish, who observed him calmly.
“That is Gil’mish,” said Robinson. “It turns out that this is his city, not that of the ha-Grebst. We were hoping that he would help us rescue Judy from them, but you seem to have handled the matter adequately without us.”
“Adequatelyl Oh, ho, ho, yes, oh, quite adequately indeed, I assure you!” Smith was highly elated. “Things are working out beautifully!”
“I’m glad you think so,” Don said sourly. “I have a feeling you don’t know what you’re up against.”
“Nonsense, my boy, I know exactly what I’m doing. First, I am going to send the ha-Grebst to their ship. Second, you will all proceed to the Jupiter II—along with this splendid-looking specimen. We will then fly in close formation to the home planet of the ha-Grebst, wherever it is, and I shall take it over. Time then to pause and consider the details of the next step.”
“You are kidding,” said Don. “I for one wouldn’t so much as turn around for you.”
Smith’s smile was beautifully malicious. “Ah, but you most certainly would, dear boy . . . ”
There was a slight pause.
Then Professor Don West, late of Cal Tech, threw his arms up in the air and began spinning around and around . . .
“Stop that,” said Gil’mish.
“Pooh,” said Smith. “You put your arms up and spin about too.”
A weary smile creased Gil’mish’s face. One arm went up, pointed at Smith—and the silvery headset vanished.
Smith screamed with horror as, his control over the ha-Grebst now gone, twelve rat-faced monstrosities shook themselves slowly and slowly looked at him and slowly advanced upon him . . .
“Oh, dear,” said Judy, “they liked it even less than I did—poor Dr. Smith—save him!”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes,” shrieked Smith, falling to his knees and squeezing his eyes shut. “Save me! Save me! Oh, please, dear Mr. Gil’mish, don’t let them get to me! Don’t let them get me! Oh, woe, woe, mercyl” And he howled piteously.
Ignoring everyone else in the room, the ha-Grebst one by one shook off their stunned, dazed expressions and continued a relentless advance on the being who had dared to take their minds and bodies prisoner against their will—such an insult could only be wiped out in blood.
Rethog extended one clawlike hand for Smith’s throat . . .
Gilmish waved his hand.
The twelve ha-Grebst vanished.
His eyes firmly shut, Smith continued to beg and howl for his life.
One by one, the Robinsons began to laugh in spite of themselves, with relief.
Smith opened his eyes. It took a moment for him to realize what had happened.
Then he moaned piteously, the last drop of arrogance temporarily squeezed out of him.
“Well, you don’t have to tell us, Gil’mish,” Don said with a sigh. ‘We don’t make the grade either, right?”
Gil’mish nodded his head sadly. “Dr. Smith is what he is; weak, easily tempted. Here the temptation was too great, and hence he has in a way failed for all of you. But do not judge him too harshly among yourselves, for I tell you that the seeds of his actions are in all of you.”
“Your race is strong and has much wisdom, and few races that have visited here have come closer. Humanity has a rare gift of genetic differentiation, so that your good and evil is distributed unevenly. The ha-Grebst, on the o
ther hand, are, like the greatest number of races that have come here, more of a piece. Within another hundred years they will have destroyed themselves.”
“We’ll be lucky if we make it through the next hundred years,” said Robinson. “Earth’s history isn’t one to delight the optimists.”
“On the contrary,” Gil’mish stated. “I perceive that many times you have had men of wisdom who led the way through dangers many other races would have succumbed to. Do not forget, also, that there is much good even in Dr. Smith. He is—”
Will could not contain himself. “He is good. He’s kind and warm-hearted and he’s my friend. He just . . . he just gets carried away some times.”
Gil’mish gestured at the boy. “There is much good in any man who can win the heart of a child. I do not mean to tell you that evil does not exist, or that you need not fight it, however.”
“And do not forget one other thing. All men everywhere carry within them their own punishments and their own rewards—for each man can be and must be . . . only what he is.”
There was silence.
Will took a step forward, hesitated, then went to Dr. Smith and helped him to his feet, the Robot following as they walked slowly and silently to the building wall, which opened before them.
Gil’mish resumed.
“I see one last question that I can answer, in your mind, Penny. Yes, if the Ambroline came here, it would be quite possible that they would prove to be the Worthy Ones.”
“But—the Ambroline have not come here. Nor do I think they ever will. They have found their way of life, the overmind, and it is theirs. We could perhaps by subtle means encourage them to develop space travel and make the journey here, and they might thank us for it—but such is not our way. We tried to influence other, long before, and in the long run it did not ever work.”
“Your instruments are repaired, your fuel tanks are full. Sufficient stocks of food, water, and oxygen are now aboard the Jupiter II.”
“I shall return to sleep once more, and you must leave before I do. I grant you our last age-old gift, of forgetfulness, once you are safely off the planet and have set your course.”
Lost In Space Page 14
