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C:\Users\John\Downloads\J\John W. Campbell - The Invaders.pdb
PDB Name: John W. Campbell - The Invaders
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Creation Date: 30/12/2007
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The Invaders jan and meg had wandered off a bit from the others. They lay on a
bank now, the soft grass feeling cool and somewhat tickly on their bronzed
skins. Meg was eating an orange slowly, and every now and then sitting up to
wash her fingers of the sticky juice in the clear little stream flowing from
the spring, a quarter of a mile up the valley. Jan watched her every move,
every graceful bend of her arms and back and neck with an interest and a
strange tenseness he could not understand, and which vaguely bothered him.
"Meg," he said softly. Meg did not turn her head all the way round to him, but
looked sidewise, her eyes dancing, still smih'ng and sucking at the sweet,
bright fruit. "Meg," he said again softly. She made a face and began to turn
her back on him.
He laughed suddenly and held her close. "Meg "
For a moment she held him, too, then suddenly she was strug-gling wildly,
trying to say something, her mouth smothered by his kisses. It was several
seconds before Jan realized she meant it. Then abruptly he released her and
looked in the direction her startled eyes followed straight up.
There was a patch of sky, blue as a sapphire, deep and so clear it seemed some
perfectly transparent crystal, not the milky blue of the sky over a city, as
we know it.
And it was framed in a ragged, wavering frame of deep, clear, green leaves,
and fronds. There were palms, and orange and other fruit trees.
And far, far above there was something gleaming, gleaming with the hard sheen
that those rare bits of mirror-metal which they found in the Ancient Places
had. It was something big, Jan knew, by the way it moved slowly and yet gave
an impression of speed. He did not reason it out but he knew it was huge.
And it was shaped like a banana, only a straight banana, and more rounded.
Jan helped Meg to her feet, and both stood watching the strange thing. It came
down, very slowly, and very gently, like a bird cir-cling to earth. It seemed
headed straight for them, settling slowly. Hastily, Jan and Meg moved over,
out of its way, till the great thing floated gently down. First the palm
fronds and tree leaves wavered, and sank, and the grass all below seemed to be
pressed down. Jan and Meg felt a strange pressure that made them
unac-countably uneasy as they watched it. They stepped even farther back,
among the trees.
The thing was huge. The clearing was nearly half a mile across, and a mile and
a quarter long, yet the great thing made even that vast place seem none too
large. At last it settled below the trees, and halted, then dropped quite
softly to the grass.
For minutes it remained motionless, and, the strange pressure gone, Jan and
Meg came out slowly, hand in hand, straight and slim, their bodies bronzed by
the semitropic sunlight. Slowly they advanced, looking curiously at the
shining metal bulk.
Abruptly they started as a great section in the wall swung out-ward. Five
strange things came out, warily, watchfully. They were tall, taller than Jan,
nearly seven feet tall, and their bodies were small in the abdomen, and large
in the chest. Their limbs were long and straight, and seemed more jointed than
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human limbs, but they were covered with cloths, as the Gaht-men covered
themselves in the ceremonies, only these were finer cloths.
Their heads were large, rounded, they had no nose, and their ears were cup
shaped, flexible and moving constantly. They had no covering on hands or feet,
and both were prehensile. As the leader turned somewhat, Jan saw, wonderingly,
that he had a long, thin tail, as prehensile and useful as the tail of a
monkey. He was carry-ing something in it. Faintly, Jan envied him.
And Jan saw further, that he had three eyes! One eye on every side, so that he
could see in all directions at once. A very strange creature, Jan thought.
Meg was curious; she wanted to see them more closely. She was pulling at his
hand now, and Jan followed, somewhat cautiously, feeling a peculiar emotion,
something like the way he felt when he fell, as though he were going to be
bumped.
The five strange beings watched them intently, two eyes of each focused on
them, and curious little sticks raised in the prehensile hands, pointing at
them.
"Who are you?" asked Meg, her voice soft and silvery in Jan's ears. The five
made no direct answer. Only the leader said some-thing in a strange way, like
the
Mez-kahns the brown men from the south something Jan could not understand.
"You aren't Mez-kahns?" asked Meg doubtfully.
The leader said something more. The five started toward Jan and Meg. Jan felt
more acutely the falling feeling, and pulled Meg back. Reluctantly Meg came
back a step. Jan pulled harder as the swift-striding strange people came
toward them. Meg held back. And finally, they were in the midst of the five.
The leader seemed interested, observing them closely. Jan looked at them
curiously, reaching out toward the bright-colored girdle one wore. Abruptly
the leader snapped something and Jan felt two strong hands grip his arms, two
powerful feet grip his feet, and two living ropes wrapped abruptly about him.
Acutely the fall-feeling came. He fought desperately. Meg was caught too, and
fighting as hard as he.
Somewhere he heard others fighting their way through the brush. The leader was
calling out something, and from the corner of his eye, he saw dozens of the
strangers darting out of the ship, and flying off into the air, like birds;
but they had no wings.
Suddenly a tingling struck Jan, the light faded, and only Meg's cry lingered
in his ears as the darkness closed in about him.
The light was strange when Jan awoke. It was very blue, and his skin looked
peculiar. It was a cool room, too, and the air smelled peculiar. He shivered
slightly, and rose suddenly as the memory of Meg's cry came to him.
He was in a room like those in the Ancient Places, but this room was not
fallen in, and it was made of stout metal. There were others in the room too;
Kal, Too, Pahl, half a dozen others, and old fat-bellied Tup, the Gaht-man.
Tup was still sleeping. Kal and Pahl were moving restlessly now, the others
twitching slightly.
But Meg wasn't here! "Meg!" he called suddenly. There was no answer. The sound
seemed to rattle down the metal corridor, and Jan went to the barred wall.
There was a long corridor. At one end it opened into a large blue-lighted
white room. The other end was out of his range of vision. But across the way
he could see another room like that he was in. It, too, was barred. There were
women there; some girls, one very old woman. But he could not see Meg. - He
called again.
Suddenly one of the strange creatures came. It looked at him with two of its
eyes, and barked a command. Jan felt the fall-
feeling and stopped calling. He whimpered Meg's name softly, then his
attention was attracted down the corridor to the white room. There were
several strange creatures there now. And a little table that slid across the
floor on funny round feet like a slice of an or-ange. Then he saw Meg.
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Meg was on the table, sleeping. He called her name and the crea-ture outside
barked at him again angrily.
Something hot stabbed at his chest. He cried out softly, but stopped calling
Meg's name, and watched her.
Suddenly he was angry. Meg was his girl, but these strange crea-tures had
taken her. He started to call out, but stopped in memory of the hot flash of
light that came from the strange creature's little stick. He whimpered Meg's
name softly.
Meg's eyes were closed, and she seemed to be sleeping very soundly or in a
faint. Jan watched, and called her name softly to himself. The fall-feeling
came over him again, till his stomach was all tight in his body, and his
throat hurt him.
One of the strangers had something in his hand, something bright like the
mirror-metal, and he was bending over
Meg now. He made a swift movement, and even the fear of the guard's tube could
not quiet Jan as he cried out desperately. For suddenly he saw Meg's smooth
warm skin split open all along her abdomen, and the car-mine-red of her blood
welled out suddenly. Her body changed in an instant from something slim and
beautiful and bronzed to a hor-rible thing of red.
The lurid flashes of the tube did not silence Jan till they sent him back, far
in a corner, quivering, his eyes blank, exhausted, fearful. He was muttering
Meg's name softly and shaking all over.
It was nearly an hour later that he ventured again to look into the white room
under the blue lights. There was something awful and red on the table with the
funny feet now, but he couldn't know that it was Meg, so he thought she was
gone somewhere else.
There were others who went to that white room with the blue lights. Jan only
knew they had gone. Old fat Tup, the
Gaht-man, went, and Theel, Yal's woman, and his child, but Jan sat in one
corner, very quiet now, nursing his chest and back, which were raw and
blistered from the ultraviolet burns of the guard's little stick. He was very
quiet, and he moved very slowly. His stomach felt tight in him, and his throat
hurt all the time, and with all of him he felt a great emptiness, because Meg
wasn't coming back. The second day they brought fruits and some things which
were not good to eat, because they hadn't learned yet all they must know about
this strange world and its inhabitants.
The others in the cell ate the fruit, and because the guards were not so
strict now, since they were not afraid of these humans, the men were allowed
to call to the women across the way.
That day they brought in more humans and Yal was among them. The guards had to
remove him because when he heard what had happened to Theel and the child he
tore murderously at a guard who came close to the bars, and crouched back
craftily in his corner and laughed and chuckled till the men in the cell edged
away from him and his strange, roving eyes.
The fifth day each of the men was fed separately, and the strange creatures,
who called themselves Tharoo, watched them. Jan would not eat much, but the
little he ate made him horribly sick; so sick he did not struggle when
one of the Tharoo carried him out, tested him carefully, and gave him
something else. In an hour he was feel-ing well.
But one of the others was in a cramped ball of agony, the death he had
suffered still frozen on his face.
The seventh day a change was made. Jan had learned a few of the words of the
Tharoo. A guard came in and the seven in the cell were herded out, through the
long passage of the ship. Outside, Jan looked about in some surprise.
Nothing affected him much only the emptiness within him. But he must be
somewhere else. The clearing was gone.
There were metal houses now, and a great thing of whirling, moving parts.
There were Tharoo flying through the air, towing behind them great masses of
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the metal they had taken from the Ancient Places.
A Tharoo led the group to one side of the clearing, where raw earth had been
turned up by the moving machine.
With a flat thing he dug a hole, first breaking up the clotted lumps of earth,
and then into the hole he stuck a dead bit of wood, scarcely an inch long.
Then he covered it up and stepped on the place.
"Do," he commanded, and handed the flat thing and some of the bits of wood to
Jan. Jan looked at the flat thing, clumsily stuck it in the earth, and did as
the Tharoo had done. He did it twice, but it was uninteresting. He wanted to
go into the shade of the trees and lie on the bank where he and Meg had lain,
and think about Meg. He dropped the flat thing and turned away.
A searing flash in his side made him leap and cry out. The Tharoo was glaring
at him angrily. "Do!" he roared, motioning to the flat thing and the bits of
wood.
Jan learned to plant in three lessons. And beside him, in seven rows, seven
others learned to plant. Jan had never planted, nor had any of his fathers for
nearly sixty generations. Nature had tended to that, and Jan had merely picked
the fruits. Now he worked under the semitropic sun, and he worked stooped
over. Presently his back ached, so he laid the flat thing down to go among the
trees and rest. In an instant a guard was on him. Again the searing flash,
again the roared command. Jan "did."
At night there were fruits, and many more humans had been brought in. The next
day Jan and the others planted. At noon they stopped. Jan's back ached
horribly and the emptiness within him grew. In the afternoon they were set at
a new task. There were strange, long, flat things, and they were taught to
saw.
Great trees came down hardwood trees that produced no fruit, no flower.
Another whirring, shrieking thing of metal clamored all after-noon. A heap of
boards grew raw, green boards and Jan and the others learned the art of
hammering in the strange cleats of the Tharoo. At sundown a row of twenty
rough shanties had been built.
The next day they were furnished with simple chairs and beds. The Tharoo
covered the beds with an elastic sheeting that held Jan's weary back
comfortably as he rested at noon and ate the fruit other humans had been sent
to gather. That night Jan was put in one of the shanties, and on a high metal
tower a Tharoo sat with one of the strange little sticks that made a man
unconscious when it glowed, and watched over the shanties.
Jan was a powerful young man. Some twenty-five times he had seen the rains, as
the sun swung north, then south again. He stood six feet tall, a good four
inches above the average, and his muscles were smooth and lithe with the easy
but active life of his people. His intelligence was moderate for his race and
time. For two thou-sand years no human being had had to think, or work, or
escape danger. Two thousand five hundred years ago the Machine had left Earth,
and the paradise it had left the planet remained, free of in-jurious creatures
or disease. Man had had no need of intelligence. The witless lived as well as
the shrewd. There was nothing to drive man, so he had fallen easily, gently
down. Jan was fairly intelligent for his race but he was not intelligent.
He did not understand when Wan was brought to his cabin. She looked at him for
a moment in fear, then her big dark eyes opened wider in relief. "Jan," she
said and went in.
"Stay," said the guard, and left.
"Wan," said Jan dully. He wondered vaguely why she was not with little Tahn,
where she belonged. Wan was a big girl, tall, and well-muscled, with keen,
bright eyes and a not-too-beautiful face. She was larger than many men, larger
even than the average man, and a good six inches taller than Tahn. Though she
did not know it, nor did Jan, she was exceptionally intelligent
Jan ate the fruit that was brought them, lay down, and thought of Meg, and
went to sleep. Wan watched him for some time. Then she, too, went to sleep.
For a week Jan worked at the building of the cabins. Then he learned to string
wires between metal posts around the whole camp, and because he was growing
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used to work, his muscles hard-ened and gradually work became easier.
There were more in the camp now, many more. All the tribe Jan had known, and
more. They came, and gradually they were forced to work, and to live in the
cabins. There were two big ones for many men in one, and many women in the
other. And perhaps a hundred small ones.
Then one day Jan was transferred, and on a strange, flat boat with rounded,
upturned edges he floated away, high across the for-ests, to one of the
Ancient Places. Under the directions of the Tharoo, he dug,
and turned stones and worked all day, and his back ached badly that night.
Wan watched him as he turned and twisted that night. Then she went over to
him. "Jan, I will help," she said. Jan listened to her voice, deep and clear,
and thought of Meg's silvery voice. He groaned again, then sighed as Wan found
the stiff muscles with powerful fingers and soothed them expertly. He fell
asleep as
Wan kneaded the stiffness from him.
He thanked her when morning came, and thanked her again that night when she
rubbed the stiffness from his muscles, and won-dered vaguely why Wan was not
small and slim like Meg, but like a man in her strength.
A Tharoo in clothes of a different cut came to the cabin that day when Jan was
gone and took a sample of Wan's blood and ex-amined it, while Wan watched with
keen, dark eyes. A slow, half understanding came to them, and she looked
intently into one of the Tharoo's eyes, and the Tharoo looked at her, and a
strange pas-sage of mutual estimation took place. Wan understood something of
the Tharoo scientist, and the Tharoo felt a strange sympathy and understanding
within him. This woman of a race once as great as his own, a lone specimen
behind whose strange double eyes shone a still-living intelligence and keen
understanding.
Those men of the Tharoo were not such as their descendants be-came. These were
men great and bold, men of fine ideals and high courage. Across twenty-seven
light-years of space the ship of Tharoo had come, and the four other ships
with her. Picked ships they were, with picked people; people picked for
courage and stamina and fine character. They looked at man and saw in him the
fallen remnants, the scattered blocks of his character and attain-ments tossed
down and jumbled as the great stone and metal blocks of his great cities were
scattered and tossed down.
They were all there still. All the parts of the vast edifices man had reared
were there scattered jumbled. All the parts of man's high intelligence and
character were still there in his descendants-scattered jumbled.
With tender hands and keen minds they reconstructed from these scattered,
jumbled blocks the great buildings that once were. And now, from the
scattered, jumbled remnants of man's character they were trying to re-erect
his character and intelligence.
Wan perhaps sensed something of this. At least she grasped something of the
message which that drop of red on the slip of glass had told the Tharoo as he
peered at it through his strange tube. She craned her neck, and the doctor
bent aside. She looked through the tube, and saw in it a sea, filled with
strange yellow fish, round and sunken in the middle, and other creatures
swimming slowly, and changing always. And a bit of something black that
strange, colorless, jellylike things were tearing at savagely. Wan stepped
back and looked. Only the slip of glass and the tiny drop of carmine.
She shrugged her shoulders, and slowly turned away to her work. All that day
she worked with a curious half smile. Perhaps she won-dered what the Tharoo
would do about whatever message the little tube had brought. She watched him
as he tested one after another of the women of the cabins, and none of those
in the great lodge.
Jan found fruit and a new liquid waiting when he returned that night. It was
deep blue, and smelled enticing. He tasted it gingerly. It was good, and he
drank it. And somehow, that night, when Wan rubbed his back, he did not think
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of Meg, but of Wan, and Wan looked different. He decided perhaps it was Wan he
loved instead of Meg
For chemistry was far more powerful than Jan's not-too-able mind.
TO THE COUNCIL OF CHIEFS OF THAR, Greetings:
I, Tarwan Rorn, Commander of the First Detachment of the First Expedition of
Colonization, make report on this, the third month of our stay on the planet
Artd, as the inhabitants know it, and the thirty-seventh day of the
forty-fourth year of the expedi-tion.
This represents the last message cylinder in our possession.
With its sending, our last ties with Thar will be forever severed, for it will
be many years before we will be able to again find a stock of fuel sufficient
to power a message cylinder capable of reaching Thar, and, we fear, long ere
then, Thar will be no more.
We were able to reach this sun and its habitable planet with the very dregs of
our fuel. The system consists of nine major planets and an infinitude of tiny
meteorlike bodies. But two planets were directly habitable, and two ships have
landed on each planet. The flagship, under my command, landed on the third
planet in order from this sun, as the enclosed report of the astronomers will
show. The remainder of the flight landed on the second planet.
The other eight ships of the First Expedition left us shortly after the last
message cylinder was sent,
seeking in other directions for places suitable for colonization. I fear that
they will have been un-successful.
We were forced to visit a vast number of stars before this was chosen, by the
greatest of good fortune.
Let it be as it may, we send this word that though Thar must be destroyed in
the coming disruption of her sun, the Tharoo shall not perish from the
Universe, though necessarily so many millions must die. This fragment of the
race lives to start up anew.
We are not the first race to live on this planet. There was once a great race
here. Many ages ago they built their great buildings of stone and metal, stone
white as salt and red as bromine, metals blue and golden and silvery. They
built towers then that stretched thousands of feet into their sky, as blue as
copper sulphate, and their gardens covered the ground below, green and crimson
and blue. They had machines that flew effortlessly through the air, repulsing
gravity, machines completely automatic that thought for themselves. Machines
made their food and their clothes, and they needed almost no direction from
the race.
They were great, greater perhaps than our race. And in all their cities we
find no trace of weapons save as museum pieces. There is in all this world no
dan-gerous animal, and apparently no disease.
They fell. There are descendants of this race of the rainbow cities and the
thousand-foot towers outside the ports as I inscribe this record. They are a
strange race, with a mop of close-curled hair on the top of their heads, but
two eyes, working always in unison. Their feet are not prehensile, nor have
they tails. They use only their hands. They are shorter than we, but more
powerful, their compact bodies sturdy to resist the somewhat higher gravity of
this planet.
But in their eyes there is not the intelligence that built the rainbow cities,
nor planned the gardens. Nature makes the gardens of this world now, and the
sun warms them. They wear no clothes, for the air is warm. It is fragrant to
them, with the perfumes of the myriad flowers of their garden plants, run wild
now. The forests that cover the planet from north polar cap to south are thick
with the fruits that feed them. They never work in this paradise.
We are too few to do the vast labor that must be done. So they are working for
us and in return we shall attempt to do something for them. They do not know;
did they, they would not desire it. We are trying to resurrect the race that
built the thousand-foot towers of white and garnet and gold; we are trying to
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breed them back to what they must have been. We cannot see how so great a race
could have fallen so suddenly. And for a time, it seems, so low. We have found
the bones of these people in and about their cities, and the bones are charred
with fire, and gnawed by teeth. At one time, shortly after the fall, they must
have become cannibalistic.
They are not now. They are peaceful, a strange gentle race. We have made them
do much work about the cities, the
"Ancient Places" as they call them. They are very strange in their reactions
to us. They do not hate us, nor do they try to fight against work. They merely
prefer the cool shade, and hunting the fruits of the forests.
And it is a strange sight to watch them among the cities. The Tharoo stand
about, and the archaeologists instruct them, and guide them, and they look up
with their strange paired eyes in curi-osity and wonderment. They grub among
the ruins of their rainbow cities and do not know their ancestors built them,
nor appreciate the magnificence that once was there and that still is.
The thousand-foot towers Me in jumbled masses, their salt-white surface blocks
cracked and powdered by the fall, their pure color distorted by the rust-red
streaks where the steel frames have melted away in the rains. Most of the tall
buildings have fallen as the slow etching of time destroyed their bones. The
great girders of steel and the walls cracked, and caved, and fell to the
ground.
But here and there one remains, perhaps with portions of its gleaming-white
walls fallen, and the glistening frame showing, for many have framework of
steel as uncorroded as the day it was rolled out in the presses that have long
since decayed. It is stain-less. And in others the framework remains whole and
unrusted, but it is twisted and ruined.
The metal is soft and silvery. The archa3ologists, in testing it, exclaimed
that the buildings could ever be built of such stuff. A metallurgist found the
answer. It will be of interest to us.
The metal is nearly as soft as annealed copper, yet once it was hard and
strong as steel. It is an aluminum alloy, like our alloy duraluminum. The
metallurgist has restored its strength by heat treatment, and it is even
stronger than our best alloy. It seems to re-tain its strength permanently and
to increase in strength with time, as does ours. But in the long time that has
passed, the strength leaked out of the metal and, as it softened, the building
crumbled.
Some buildings still stand whole. Low and beautiful, and once set amid
gardens, they are now almost covered by the semitropic forests. They stand
white amid deep green, their airy columns seeming to float the buildings. They
are more beautiful than any ever built on Thar.
And the Mauns, as the race calls itself, look at them, and wonder perhaps at
them, and aid the archaiologists in clearing the rubbish from their doorways,
and removing the debris of their own oc-cupancy.
There are certain respected ones among the Mauns god-Maun they are called who
object, for these things seem to have some meaning to them. Bits of wheels,
bits of gears, bits of drive chains. They seem to have some reverence for
machinery. They will polish our machines, these god-Maun, with a strange air
of reverence, though they do not understand more than the simplest bits, such
as the interworking of gears.
The Eugenists are working with the best members of this race. Many have been
chosen for their remnant of the once-great intelli-gence the race must have
had. Others for their magnificent and beautiful physique. For they are
beautiful animals, their flesh smooth and firm, the muscles working in swift
curves beneath their brownish, hairless skin.
But they are meeting with some difficulty, for these people are not mere
animals, to be bred at the choice of the
Eugenists. They still have intelligence, and with intelligence comes will and
choice. Certain couples, poorly matched, have chosen each other, and remain
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inconsolable and unhappy when separated, and refuse to mate with other and
fitter mates.
They are separated for a bit, and chemistry plays a part, and gradually we
hope to restore to this race the heritage they have lost. But it is hard, too,
to select good stock. We know nothing of their past. The doctors and the
psychologists are devising tests, and working very hard at the problem of
calibrating them.
They are as engrossed in the task as any, for two reasons. The strange history
of this race has caught their imagination. The mys-tery of their fall the
sight of these strange, unknowing people grubbing among the ruins of their
greatness without the faintest recognition of their ancestors' achievements.
And never was such a problem given to physicians the task of raising a race to
intelli-gence!
It will not be a matter of years, but of generations. Arthal Shorul, the
Assistant Chief Eugenist, feels that the best answer lies in the inbreeding of
pure strains, and a final outbreeding to the desired qualities. Waorn
Urntol, his superior, feels that this is a quicker, a more scientific way,
perhaps, but one less desirable because of the intermediate results of
cripples and monsters.
I agree with Waorn Urntol, yet I fear that Arthal Shorul may win in the end,
for he is younger, by half a century, and this is a matter of generations, in
any case.
It is hard to decide which is the better way these friendly, gen-tle creatures
are so pleasant, so likable
Jan-i looked up slowly at the young Tharoo entering the room. He stood tall
and slim in his white cloak of the Medical against the sil-very gray of the
metal wall. The young Tharoo looked down at old Jan-i with a pleasant smile.
"Greetings, Jan-i. Feel better today?"
Jan shook his head slowly. "No, master, I do not. All my muscles hurt. It is
the rains. I will feel better only when the summer comes. Even under the
lights it is no good. They used to help." Jan-i looked up at the blue-white
glow of the room light. "But" he shook his head "they are no good. Wan used to
rub the pain out of me," he said sadly, and smiled softly at the Tharoo, "but
all your learning will not do so much." He stopped a moment before he went on.
"But that was twelve years ago now. Jan-12 was a little boy then.
He has his house now."
"I was speaking to Jan-12 this morning about you. You will have another
grandchild soon, Jan-i."
Wan-4 looked in at the doorway for a moment at the sound of voices, and bowed
slightly to the Tharoo.
"He is no better this morning, master?" she said.
"Your father will feel better soon, I am sure, Wan-4," replied the doctor.
Wane's face altered slightly as she retreated. Jan-i shook his head slightly,
sighing.
"No, you are wrong. Only the summer can help my old muscles. I have known this
longer than you, master." He smiled with wrin-kled old lips. "I can remember
the Landing, and that was nearly fifty summers ago. You were not, then."
Rannor Trinol laughed. "No, but it may be I have learned more still. And," he
said gently, "here is something that will relieve you of that ache, Jan-i. It
is evening now. Take it, and you will feel no more ache, I promise you."
Doubtfully, Jan-i drank the pleasant-smelling liquid. "I doubt it," he
persisted, shaking his head. But almost at once a pleasant lethargy came over
him. In five minutes the ache was gone.
Fifteen minutes later his ten living sons and eight daughters came into the
little room, with four of his grandchildren. Silently they helped to arrange
the tired old body for the final disposition. Rannor Trinol stepped out then,
and reported to the Directing Council of Maun Eugenics that he had carried out
their recom-mendation.
Waorn Urntol, Chief of the Eugenists, died. It had been inevitable, as
inevitable as death always is. It was sixty-three years after the Landing when
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he died, an old, old Tharoo.
Arthal Shorul, formerly second in command of the Eugenists' di-vision, took
over his post. Arthal Shorul was highly efficient, a trained scientist, his
whole mind and energies bent toward the most rapid advance possible in his
fields. There was an immediate reor-ganization of the Eugenists' Department.
Waorn Urntol had hoped to establish a tradition in his work with the strange
Maun race, a tradition that would continue. For sixty-three years he had made
the course of his efforts smooth and the efforts of the others had been
carefully directed in the same smooth channel, till, even at his death, he
believed the smooth, well-worn groove would be followed. For withal that he
was a great scientist, he had been a kindly being, a being understanding of
emotions as well as of results.
There had been two courses open to him in his great work of raising again the
light of intelligence in the Maun race. He could work as did evolution,
breeding always
among different strains, em-phasizing the best strains, slowly breeding up to
the best in each generation, and with each little advance over the best of the
last generation, breeding to the new peak.
Or he could work harshly, swiftly, as only artificial breeding ex-periments
can. Root out the evils, let weakness kill weakness by combining in one
individual till the very concentration of weaknesses killed.
Inbreeding, brother to sister and son with mother till every slight
characteristic was distorted, and by its dis-tortion, magnified into
detectability. So that a slight tendency to nervous instability became stark
lunacy, till a tendency to short life became certain death as an infant and
killed the tendency to short life along with the infant.
Waorn Urntol, being influenced somewhat by emotions, had mated one strong man
to one strong woman, and hoped for stronger children, and repeated with other
couples.
Arthal Shorul, being a scientist of pure fiber, went over the care-fully
written notes of Waorn Urntol, and looked through the grow-ing card index, and
marked certain cards with blue and certain others with red, till, when he was
through, there was a file of some two thousand five hundred cards, edged in
blue, and over eight thousand edged with red.
Two thousand five hundred Mauns, just maturing, or only recently matured and
mated, were picked.
There was a new camp built off to one side of the old Maun Settlement, to the
west of the rising metal spires of Landing City. There brother would be mated
with sister. Progress would be swift and scientific now.
There were those Tharoo Eugenists who did not like this chang-ing of well-worn
grooves, and they worked with the eight thousand or so who still lived in the
original settlement.
The younger of the Tharoo Eugenists welcomed the change, and were transferred
to the new group.
And, in general, life went on the same. For the majority of the Tharoo, all
Eugenics was concentrated in the care and raising of many infant Tharoo.
Centuries before the Tharoo came, a human scientist had said, "Nature abhors a
vacuum." There was a vacuum of Tharoo on Earth, and nature was remedying this
condition.
Landing City grew steadily, the metal needle-spires of the city creeping
outward rapidly. But in time a new city was founded; then other cities. The
labor of city building was great, and because the Tharoo were few, the Mauns
were taken along, that they might help.
Fifty years after the landing, in commemorating the event, Waorn Urntol had
said: "It is our greatest task, and our first duty to this planet which has
furnished us a new chance for life, to raise again the intelligence of this
race which has so strangely, so suddenly, fallen to abysmal ignorance. What
mystery lies behind this fall? Perhaps, in raising them again, we may find the
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secret. But first we must aid them not merely to solve the mystery, not merely
because they belong to the planet, but because here is an intelligent fel-low
creature whose mind has been beclouded. We must aid and strengthen the sick
brother. Can a race do less for a race than an in-dividual would do for
another individual?"
One hundred years after the Landing, in the ceremony of com-memoration, and
the dedication of the great Central Shrine that housed the Ship which had
brought them across the inconceivable distances, Tagrath Keld said: "We have
already made progress, we Eugenists, in raising Maun's intelligence. Certain
of our specimens show distinctly good intelligence. The great experiment is
progress-ing slowly, to be sure, but steadily. The original Mauns were almost
totally unable to cooperate, but already great advances have been made, and
their abilities to aid, and obey directions are increasing rapidly. There are
many lines of investigation opening to us con-stantly. So great is the
problem, that still many years must pass be-fore the details of the research
can be properly laid down. A prob-lem of such scope has never before been
encountered by any Tharoo scientists in their research."
Two centuries after the Landing, one Tagrath Randlun was the Maun Eugenist in
command. In part, he said at the Commemo-ration of the Landing: "Every year we
are getting better control over the Maun
Eugenics problem. The original group of two thou-sand five hundred has been
multiplied to more than fifty thousand, while the other, once larger, group
which was not actively con-trolled by us has almost died out.
Every year sees a more perfect approach to the attainment of the ideal the
ability to predict definitely what type of Maun will result from a given
cross-mating of our purified strains. We are attaining, also, greater and
greater diversification of types. The usefulness of the Mauns is increasing
rapidly."
In the celebration of the Third Century, the Mauns were referred to only
briefly, by one of the orators.
"Had we not found, on this planet, a semisavage race capable of direct
utilization in the mighty labors of our forefathers, who might say what ages
must have passed before our conquest of the planet was so complete?
"Let us give thanks, then, to Great Mahgron that he, in his infinite wisdom,
caused this strange race of
Mauns to be created on this far, far distant planet eons before our
forefathers landed."
As the messenger left him, Hol-57-R-3i trembled slightly. He looked again at
the brief line of symbols which called him to the Tharoo Head.
Silently, but swiftly, he packed his apparatus back into place, swinging the
microprojector into its case, running his hands over it with a caressing
movement. Finally he locked the bench cabinet and jerked abruptly toward the
doorway. The yielding, spun-metal flooring muffled the tread of his heels,
irregularly betraying his nerv-ousness, his hesitancy.
Finally he reached the outer door, crossed the Eugenists' Court and entered
the Tharoo Eugenist
Bureau.
Then, for one instant, the slight slip the Tharoo Eugenics Depart-ment workers
had made some generations before betrayed itself again. Almost, history
changed its course.
For a brief instant Hol-57 stiffened, turned abruptly, rigidly, and took two
powerful strides toward the door. A magnificent specimen of humanity; six foot
two in height; his bare torso muscular, browned and lithe with muscles; bis
carriage erect, forceful; his keen, intelligent face stern and determined,
held high on a graceful, muscular neck above broad shoulders; a powerful,
dominating figure.
Then, in an instant, some subtle thing escaped. The body was still powerful,
lithely muscled, still a magnificent specimen but suddenly it was a
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magnificent specimen of Maun Type R-31. It was not dominating, nor forceful.
It was fearful.
Hol-Sy of Type R-3i, turned slowly, and went on toward the office of the
Tharoo Head.
A Maun female, of the secretarial type, M-n, looked up at him, glanced at the
tattooed identification, and pressed a button. A musi-cal hum sounded in the
inner office, echoing a moment later in the lower hum of an enunciator in the
front office. The secretary nod-ded, and Hol-57 went on in.
He folded his arms in salute as he entered the Tharoo's office, and lowered
his head.
"Tharoo," he said softly.
Grath Muni looked at him keenly with two eyes.
"Hol-57, I have a communication from you here. Did you not re-ceive my veto?"
he asked sharply.
"Aye, Tharoo."
"You did!" roared the Tharoo Head of the Eugenists. "Then what in the name of
Great Mahgron is the meaning of this? Did you actually send this second
outline of your plan? I vetoed it it would mean the breeding of a Maun type
undesirably ambitious and possessing initiative to a degree I do not care for.
"I vetoed this. What defect in you caused this unheard-of action  questioning
my actions, arguing with me?"
"Because I have been trained to seek ways of increasing the eco-nomic value of
the Maun types.
Because I have studied the statis-tics and learned that scarcely a score of
new, useful ideas, inven-tions, have been produced this year. Because I saw a
need for a class capable of original, different thought. I
presumed to send a second recommendation of my plan because I did not think
you had fully comprehended the reasons for my suggestion, and the need the
economic need of such a type."
Grath Muni swung his third eye into position, by inclining his head and looked
at Hol-57 very coldly and very long. ""You thought,'" he quoted very softly.
"You thought I might not have comprehended and took a most unwarranted,
undesirable step and showed altogether too high a degree of initiative."
He paused for a moment, raised his head and looked at Hol-57 again with but
two eyes. Then he continued coldly. "R-3i is an as-signed research problem
type, and in research types we have been forced to permit a rather high degree
of initiative. Evidently your type is particularly undesirable. Fortunately
you represent a fairly new type of scarcely seventy individuals, male and
female, adult and young.
"The type shall be discontinued. The existent members shall be destroyed. At
once. Report at once to
Gar-46-N-3."
For a single instant Hol-5/s great body stiffened again. He remained rigid,
undecided. But just for an instant.
Then, slowly, he relaxed as Grath Muni turned away and pressed a tiny stud.
"Aye Tharoo," he said softly as the huge Gar-46 entered, a giant seven feet
and a half tall, muscled as
Hercules never was.
"Aye Tharoo," he repeated even more softly. In the vocabulary of the Mauns,
"Tharoo" meant
"Master."
For the Tharoo were the masters. They were the intelligent race for which the
planet had been created.
They had always been the masters. They always would be. The Maun knew no other
time.
Gar-46 took Hol-57 in his charge, and with him, in effect, type R-3i, which
had shown an undesirable degree of initiative.
Page 11


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