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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/32785-h.zip b/32785-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5eac15e --- /dev/null +++ b/32785-h.zip diff --git a/32785-h/32785-h.htm b/32785-h/32785-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8827db --- /dev/null +++ b/32785-h/32785-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1304 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Once Upon A Planet, by J. J. Allerton. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Once Upon A Planet, by J. J. Allerton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Once Upon A Planet + +Author: J. J. Allerton + +Release Date: June 12, 2010 [EBook #32785] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONCE UPON A PLANET *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + +<h1>ONCE UPON A PLANET</h1> + +<h2>By J. J. ALLERTON</h2> + +<p>[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories December +1948. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="sidenote">The mighty King Miotis came down to Earth to recapture his +lost desire for war. But what he saw on this planet, caused him to feel +differently.</div> + + +<p>Once upon a planet there was a mighty warlord. The warlord's name was +Miotis. Some might think it an odd name, but then it is entirely +probable that the people of this planet would think the name of Smith or +Jenkovitz odd. Be that as it may, however, the important thing is that +Miotis was the name of this warlord, whatever one may feel about his +name.</p> + +<p>Now, Miotis was not just a mighty warrior, he was the <i>mightiest</i> +warrior on the planet. As such, he controlled the life of every person +there. For isn't it a truism that war bends men's destiny in the +strangest fashions? So Miotis, with his entire life devoted to the art +of destruction, was able to direct the lives of his subjects.</p> + +<p>But one day, to his consternation and amazement, he found that the +peoples of his planet had wearied of the sport of war. In the middle of +his last campaign, his men as well as his enemies had laid down their +arms and had refused to carry on as was their wont. And no amount of +threat or punishment could make them change.</p> + +<p>On this particular day when our story starts, Miotis was in his palace, +his massive head leaning against a muscular palm, and his gaze intent on +the face of his vizier, Kannot. It was not the sort of face Miotis was +especially fond of seeing, for it was old, wrinkled, full of cunning and +wisdom.</p> + +<p>The vizier was, as always, full of words, and as he spoke one blunt +finger tapped the side of his rather bulbous nose: "So you think it +strange, mighty Miotis, to find that life is boring?"</p> + +<p>"I do not find that <i>life</i> is boring," Miotis replied. "Life is never +boring. It is <i>I</i> who am bored. That is the reason I called you here. I +could have called any one of my nine hundred concubines for enjoyment, +or had my warders drag forth some of my prisoners and found sport in +torturing them. Yet, I did not, and I wonder why. In the past, these +diversions made pleasant the passing of time. Now, I feel an ennui too +great to even want to bother to summon one of these which used to give +me so much pleasurable excitement.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, vizier, have I become so full of war that I cannot live +without it?"</p> + +<p>Kannot clasped his hands behind him and rocked back and forth for +several seconds, the while he bent a thoughtful and appraising eye upon +his King. For Kannot knew the vagaries of the man before him and knew +that a single word, a single gesture which would displease the great +Miotis, would make fewer Kannot's days. Therefore, when he spoke again, +it was with care, weighing his words so that he could give his opinion +and yet not endanger his life.</p> + +<p>"Methinks, oh greatest and wisest of Kings," Kannot said, "that since +war has but a single end, something phenomenal in the universe must have +occurred to make that end seem less reasonable."</p> + +<p>He lowered his eyes, yet made sure he could peer beneath the hooded lids +to see how his words were affecting Miotis. There was no sign on the +other's face to show how he felt.</p> + +<p>Kannot continued, "By that, I mean death may have become less attractive +as a means of immortality. Is it not true, also, that you, the greatest +and most noble of warriors, has yourself felt this same reluctance +recently to even plan a war?"</p> + +<p>The warlord's head nodded slightly in agreement.</p> + +<p>"Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that some force of which we +have no knowledge has made its presence felt—"</p> + +<p>"Now you have presented the problem," Miotis interrupted. "But it is not +enough. I want a solution. Already I am weary of this do-nothing life, +though it is but a week since we have laid down arms."</p> + +<p>Kannot made a sign of obeisance.</p> + +<p>"Now go," Miotis said, "and seek out the cause and the solution. One +week, vizier, I give you. No more! Your head shall roll, otherwise...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The trumpets announced the arrival of the vizier, and at the sound the +players stopped their tune and the dancers their dance. Miotis, looking +as though he hadn't stirred from the position Kannot had left him in the +week before, lifted his eyes to the bent figure making its way across +the immense length of the hall.</p> + +<p>"Mighty Miotis," Kannot began, his head bent and his eyes lowered in the +correct attitude of court procedure.</p> + +<p>"I bid you speak," Miotis said.</p> + +<p>"My Lord, the words I have to say are for your ears alone," Kannot +continued.</p> + +<p>The warlord waved a hand, and as if by magic the court was emptied but +for the guards who never left their posts.</p> + +<p>"Speak, old one," Miotis commanded.</p> + +<p>"I have found the cause, mighty one," Kannot said. "A surprising one, +however, and perhaps an unbelievable one...."</p> + +<p>The vizier did not look up, and his face betrayed nothing of what he +felt. Yet, his aged heart was beating as if it wanted to escape the +flesh in which it was imprisoned. The next words he would utter could +spell his doom.</p> + +<p>"I sent couriers in every direction, to all the courts of all the lands, +to our friends as well as to our enemies. And on their return I +discovered one fact in common: Not a single nation was interested in +war. Something happened to each—"</p> + +<p>"Old one," Miotis broke in, "you weary me with these boresome details. +Come to the point! I know we are all tired dealing death. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because anger has fled from our minds and hearts," Kannot said, and his +head lifted. He had spoken the words which had lain in him, the terrible +words which could mean his death. And now the die was cast. The proof of +his assertion would soon be shown.</p> + +<p>An oddly bitter smile broke on the face of the man on the throne. It was +the smile of a man who had learned the taste of utter defeat.</p> + +<p>"So you have told me that which I knew in my heart," Miotis said. +"Strange, that I, who loved nothing better than the sound of a sword's +blow against armor, should even find the touch of steel repugnant now. +Yet, it is so. I cannot carry a knife without having my flesh crawl, +even though a scabbard protects me against its touch. Shall we all +become a nation of shepherds? Shall we never again know the glory of +battle? Tell me, vizier. Perhaps age has lent you an inner wisdom?"</p> + +<p>"Wisdom's words are for the historian," Kannot replied. "I, Kannot, have +no time for talk. The planning of deeds is my way. And I have a plan.</p> + +<p>"Anger must be found again!" Kannot's voice rose shrilly. "It is our +only salvation. But, mighty Miotis, we must look elsewhere than on this +planet. There is a planet called Earth...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Miotis' brow knit in thought. A planet called Earth, he thought. H'mm! +But how were they to get to it? And having got there, did Kannot want +them to invade? No, that couldn't be it. Already, the very thought of +invading for purposes of conquest went against him.</p> + +<p>"... On that planet," Kannot continued, "wars and death by violence are +commonplace. There is never a day or week that does not pass but that +somewhere men fight men. What better goal do we need?"</p> + +<p>"You have done well," Miotis said. "I could ask for no more. Yet a +question persists in my mind. How can you arrange for anger to come to +the breasts of us here from the planet beyond the grey mists of outer +space? We have no space ships, nor for that matter, the means of making +them."</p> + +<p>"I speak not of space ships or of men using them," Kannot responded, +"for in that matter we have no choice. My thought was in another +direction and using another means. I have discovered the way to make a +soul-transfer. To put it into words you will better understand, I can do +what death does, hold a soul in suspense."</p> + +<p>"Which is supposed to have what meaning to me?" Miotis asked.</p> + +<p>"Simply this," Kannot said, "I can make a single soul fly through the +vast boundaries of space and into another human body which will be +waiting for it. There is but a single man I know who can serve as +vehicle—you, mighty Chieftain."</p> + +<p>For the first time, Miotis' features showed change from the set +expression he wore as a sign of his Kingship. Amazement made him blink, +and the hand holding his chin fell to the side of the throne, the +fingers tapping against the rich cloth. But after a minute, his face +cleared and he looked with brighter interest at his vizier.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said. "Who else should go? And already I have a plan of +action. Now tell me what must be done and how soon...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Bly Stanton rolled over and groaned aloud. His hand shook as he lifted +it to feel a throbbing temple. His fingers felt a sticky wetness, and +memory returned to him—the raiding party of Himlo men, his discovery of +them, and the alarm he had sounded, the fight, and then the blow which +had felled him.</p> + +<p>He rolled onto his stomach, shoved his hands under him and heaved +himself erect. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Except for the buzzing +in his brain, he felt all right.</p> + +<p>Stanton looked down at his dust-covered clothes, and his fingers brushed +at the dirt and mud, but when they came to his shirt they halted. There +was a hole in his shirt, high up, near the heart. It was not a hole +exactly, but rather a slit which could have been made either with a +knife or sword. There was a dried welt of blood surrounding the skin. A +shudder passed through his tall, strong frame, as he realized that it +was a miracle he was alive. For whatever had done the damage had +penetrated deep into the flesh.</p> + +<p>The moon was full, and after a few seconds had passed, Stanton bent and +searched for his weapon which, he was sure, would be close at hand. But +as he found and picked up the long, double-edged sword, a shudder of +distaste went through him, and he dropped his weapon and let it lay +there.</p> + +<p>Once more his fingers brushed at the wetness on his temple. He wondered +why the blood was still coming from his head wound, while the cut in his +chest had dried up.</p> + +<p>He peered around to see if his attackers were anywhere in the vicinity, +and decided that his immediate location was clear of danger. Another +instant of orientation, and Bly Stanton bent low and scurried from one +patch of cover to another until he reached his goal, the tunnel mouth. +Here he would be safe for the present. The Himlo would not dare to +follow him here.</p> + +<p>His eyes, long accustomed to the sight of the broken arch, passed over +the inscription worn deeply and almost illegibly on the green-with-age +metal—<i>Chicago Greater Subway</i>, 2107 A.D. He was interested only in +knowing whether or not danger lurked in the shadows. Again he sniffed. A +small smile stole across his mouth. Then the lips tightened in their +wonted thin slit, and he started forward at a long lope into the +darkness.</p> + +<p>Here and there were offshoots, darker passages which disappeared into +the Stygian gloom. But his path led straight ahead. Then he was before a +barricade of rocks, the barrier which his men had placed against the +coming of their enemies.</p> + +<p>"Ho, John!" Stanton shouted.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The walls echoed the sound, which was followed by a dying whimper of a +voice. "Hi ... Hi! Who goes ...?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis I, Bly Stanton," Stanton yelled.</p> + +<p>There was a short interval of silence, then a concerted roar of glee, +and a dozen men clambered over the rock pile. They shouted his name as +they all tried to touch him at once, and there was adoration in their +welcome as they pulled and hauled at him.</p> + +<p>At length he managed to free himself of their embraces, and as he stood +apart, he asked: "What happened? Did I manage to warn enough of our +men?"</p> + +<p>"Warn us and knock their ambush into a cocked hat. They fell to pieces +and ran like scared rabbits when we hit them from all sides. But Mark +Smith saw you fall, and he said that the sword which was thrust into you +went all the way in to the hilt," one of them said.</p> + +<p>"I guess Mark was looking from the wrong angle," Stanton explained. "For +sure I'm all in one piece. Got a bloody knock on the head, though. Well, +let's get back to quarters. I've got a piece I want to talk over with +you all."</p> + +<p>A hundred torches made a smoky light of the pitch which otherwise would +have been in the vast cavern-like room. Three hundred and ten men stood +about in various attitudes of attention, all listening to the tall man +perched on a flat piece of concrete, facing them.</p> + +<p>"I cannot explain why I feel this way," Bly Stanton was saying. "But +this I know, and for sure! No more killing for me. No more hiding in +stinking places like this, waiting for the sun to go down so a man can +venture out and be a man. No, sirs! Bly Stanton is going out, and in +broad daylight. Bly Stanton is going out and bloody well away from this +place, out to where the sun hits hills and trees and open spaces. And +Bly Stanton is going alone if he has to...."</p> + +<p>It was an ultimatum, they knew.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Mark Smith, a short, swarthy-faced man in breeches clipped short at the +knees and a leather jerkin for a shirt, stepped forward and waved a +casual hand to get his leader's attention.</p> + +<p>"I take it, Bly," he said, "that you are bound to leave. Well, that part +may be all right. Surely you have a right to leave if you want to. But +by the same token you must grant us the right to ask why. We have been +together too long for so abrupt a leave-taking."</p> + +<p>"And right you are, Mark," Bly replied. "I owe that and more to each and +every one of you. Three hundred odd of us, all who are left of millions. +And against us, as they have been for a hundred years, the Himlo. And +how many of them are left, would you say? A thousand? Not many more, +surely. Think, men, some thirteen hundred men, perhaps a few more. No +children, no women, just men.</p> + +<p>"I don't have to tell you what happened three hundred years ago. History +has no meaning to us any more. For are we not eternal? Death can only +come to us by violence. Well, not any more for me. Bly Stanton has come +to life. That is how I felt when I came to back there in the ruins, that +a new life had been granted me. Well, I intend to live it fully, at +peace. I tell you, Mark, and you, John, and Abel and all the rest of +you, when I picked up the weapon which I had dropped to the ground, it +was as if I had picked up a live coal. I could not wear it, the brand of +murder. For we are all murderers, we and the Himlo——"</p> + +<p>"Again," Mark Smith interrupted, "I agree with you. We and our enemies +are murderers. Thirteen hundred and some odd murderers. And before we +are done, there will be less. But that is how we have lived for too many +years. So many, we can no longer change our ways. Peace is a lost word +with us."</p> + +<p>"With you!" Stanton said sharply. "But not with me! I have found it +again. And I do not intend losing it quickly. I say I leave these scenes +and these ways. Tonight. Who will leave with me?"</p> + +<p>He looked about with expectant eyes, but the light in them died as his +gaze swept the cavernous depths and looked into face after face and saw +not a single one which agreed with him. It was not so much a sign of +revolt, but an acceptance of a fact three hundred years old.</p> + +<p>"Then I go alone," he said with finality. "This has become a bitter +world, a world without woman or child, but it is the only world we will +ever know. And I am going to live peacefully in it. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>They opened their ranks to let him pass. Until the last of them was +reached, Bly Stanton thought there would be no answer to his farewell. +Then a tall, thin man stepped in front of him. He was Grant Hays, one of +the four with Smith, John and Abel, who formed the inner leaders under +Stanton. Grant and Bly had always been the closest of friends.</p> + +<p>"Bly," Hays said, his eyes steadfast and warm. "Wait. Before you go.... +There is more than man to meet out there. The Himlo are one thing, +nature another. You must take weapons."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Stanton shook his head hard. "No!" his voice thundered, and sent echoes +answering from the walls. "No! I will never draw a blade against even a +rat. The old races had their sayings—one I remember well—'Live and let +live.'"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, then, Bly Stanton," Hays said. "And good luck."</p> + +<p>Bly Stanton did not turn as he clambered over the rock ramparts. And +after a while the night hid him in its sable fold.</p> + +<p>The man climbed the last ridge of the giant sand dune and looked down at +a setting moon sending a long slanting fan of silver over an immense +lake. He had seen the lake many years before, had almost forgotten its +existence so long ago had it been.</p> + +<p>He turned and looked at the ruins, rising pyramid-like from the tree +line to the north. Chicago had been the name of a vast city which had +existed here. There had been other cities as large, and some larger. +From the deepest recesses of his mind, Stanton remembered an almost +forgotten fact. There had been more than three <i>billion</i> people on the +Earth at one time. Then, on an afternoon long gone, a bomb was dropped +on one of the cities. It had been called an atom bomb. The name of the +destroyed city was soon forgotten, as were the other cities which were +soon wiped off the face of the Earth. For man had discovered in the atom +bomb a weapon which proved to be the agency of his destruction. It led +to bigger bombs, better bombs, more efficient bombs, and at the last a +bomb which by chain reaction killed almost all the people on Earth. And +those whom it did not kill it made sterile.</p> + +<p>That was the beginning of the end. For in the new way of life, the force +of creation died. Men thought of nothing but hatred of other men. So +they fought, first with weapons of complex design. Then, as the creative +desire was stifled, the weapons became more simple, until at the last +man went back to a sword and a knife blade for his murderous tasks.</p> + +<p>But it was in the death of woman that man suffered his worst loss. With +sterility, woman felt their reason for existence was no longer +justified. And so they died, one by one, until now there was no record +of any.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>These were the thoughts of Bly Stanton as he plodded over the ridge of +another dune. Then, all thoughts were wiped from his mind. He dropped to +his knees at the sight of the blaze in the hollow between two dunes +directly below.</p> + +<p>Their proximity to the fire and the light of the moon combined to make +their features readily discernible. There was no mistaking the Mongoloid +features of Himlo men. And if that was not enough, two of them were +dressed in garments of fur which would have identified them immediately. +The wind was coming from their direction, so Bly was safe for the +moment. They had keen senses of smell, and had the wind been otherwise, +Bly would have been discovered.</p> + +<p>He retreated like some huge beetle, on all fours, backward, as if he had +been suddenly confronted by a larger beetle. When he had traveled some +few yards and saw only the serrated ridge of sand interposed between him +and the sky, he rose, turned, and started for the edge of the water.</p> + +<p>Though he felt no fear of these men, Bly found it the better part of +discretion to move swiftly from their path. He ran at a trot, a long +lope which covered ground with a minimum of effort. The whole of the +night went by, and still Bly Stanton moved in the easy pace he had set +himself. The dawn found his lean figure bounding along the edge of the +sand.</p> + +<p>Hunger forced him to pause, then, and seek food. There was wild fruit on +trees a half mile inland. He ate some apples, and washed down the meager +meal with water from a spring. Then he found shelter and lay down to +sleep. Travel by night, he reasoned, was the best way.</p> + +<p>The sound of voices awakened him. They were voices the timbre of which +he had never heard before. He parted the brush under which he had lain +through the day, and peered out cautiously. His eyes widened at the +sight they saw. Strange creatures, a tribe of which he knew nothing, +squatted in the sand a hundred feet from the water. They wore +tight-fitting garments which hugged their bodies so tightly that every +curve was clearly outlined. And they had figures which were not familiar +to Stanton.</p> + +<p>It was not strange, for these were women.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Had Bly Stanton been less interested in what he was seeing and more +alert to what was closer at hand, he would perhaps have escaped the +noose which suddenly slipped over his shoulders and pinioned his arms +neatly to his side. Bodies encased in metal jackets leaped upon him and +made useless his struggles. He was jerked to his feet, and voices +shouted to others below to come forward. He understood the words, for +they were speaking in the same tongue that was his.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>They flung themselves upon him from all sides and bound +him hand and foot</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>There was a Naila, a Valis, another called simply She, and a tall strong +woman, older than the rest, called Mary. Mary seemed to be the leader, +or at least the one with the most authority. It was to her Bly was +brought.</p> + +<p>"Mary," one of the guards said, "the first of what we hoped to find."</p> + +<p>The woman looked at the man appraisingly. He was the first she had ever +seen. He seemed of good stock. She was quick to note he wore no weapons. +It surprised her, for even if he had no enemies, there would be wild +animals about.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mary said softly, "the first. Then the book was true. There <i>are</i> +men in this world." She made a sound of laughter deep in her throat, +stopped, then said to Bly, "We have come a long way. Do you talk? Can +you tell me whether there are others like you?"</p> + +<p>"Like me and different," Bly replied.</p> + +<p>The women exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>Mary spoke again: "How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>It did not take long for Bly Stanton to tell the history of the three +hundred men of his group, and that of the Mongoloid Himlo men, the last +of the invaders who were the remnants of those who came across from +Asia. All the while he spoke, his senses were full of these women. There +was a long silence when he finished his tale.</p> + +<p>"The books did not lie then," the one called Naila said. "And what about +children...?" her voice faded.</p> + +<p>"The last of the great bombs did irreparable damage," Mary said. "But we +will talk of that later. You have told us that there is a battle to the +death between you and these Himlos. Then why are you unarmed? Where are +your weapons?"</p> + +<p>It was the first time Bly had been asked the question directly. And it +was the first time he had to think about it. He let his mind assemble +the facts in their proper order, and after a while he spoke:</p> + +<p>"I do not <i>know</i> why, except that I no longer want to know either the +touch or feel of a sword or knife. I do not want to harm anyone. Nor can +I explain why I feel this way."</p> + +<p>Suddenly one of the women made a sound of horror. They turned to her and +saw she was staring in fascination at the torn part of Stanton's shirt +where the sword blade had entered. Mary and several others gathered +closer, and Mary parted the fabric to see the wound better.</p> + +<p>"Look!" she exclaimed in wonder. "How deep it is."</p> + +<p>For the first time, then, Bly Stanton saw the wound for what it was, a +death wound. He wondered—had he become immortal?—not in the sense he +knew, but in actuality, where death even by violence was not the end.</p> + +<p>He put out his hand and said: "Let me have a blade."</p> + +<p>Without hesitation, Mary handed him the blade which hung at her right +side. Placing the point against the flesh, he put both hands about the +hilt and plunged it deep into him with all his strength, until only the +hilt was to be seen.</p> + +<p>Miraculously, he felt no pain. The blade when Stanton withdrew the steel +showed virgin as it had entered, and not a drop of crimson dyed the +entrance it had made in the flesh.</p> + +<p>One of the women put into words what they all felt: "This is magic. +Death is gone forever now."</p> + +<p><i>It was in that very instant that the soul of Miotis entered into the +body of Bly Stanton.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Stanton felt a sudden elation. More, a consciousness of vast powers. He +was immune to death. But were his companions? He looked Mary full in the +eyes as he said: "It seems that nothing can kill me now, even violence. +What of you?"</p> + +<p>She knew what he meant. And with as little hesitation as he had shown, +did what he did with the blade in her fingers. Her face in an instant +became a grotesque mask of pain and horror. A fountain of blood poured +from the self-inflicted wound. She tried to say something as she sank to +her knees, but nothing came out.</p> + +<p>"Only he is immortal," Naila said, awed. "For look! Mary is already +gone. Hail immortal...."</p> + +<p>It was the acknowledgement of his supremacy.</p> + +<p>He took advantage of it on the instant. "Good. I can use you all. We +must first rid ourselves of these men, my enemies. Come, call the others +of your tribe and I will lead you to them."</p> + +<p>He knew without being told that there were many more of these women. For +surely not so few would have come, armed as they were, into a strange +land. At his words, several of them sped around a headland which hid the +cove beyond. Naila took his arm and led him forward. His eyes widened +when he saw the four sailing ships in the large bay beyond the headland.</p> + +<p>There were five hundred women all armed and all ready and willing, when +they heard the situation, to do his bidding. Nor did he take long to +give his commands.</p> + +<p>Daylight was breaking when they came to the tunnel which was the +headquarters for the tribe from which Bly Stanton had come. He deployed +his forces with the greatest of care, making sure the surprise would be +complete when he came out. Then he entered. He knew at this hour that +his men would be asleep. He was right. There were two hundred of the +women with him, and these he placed all along the tunnel length, telling +them to hide in the recesses along the walls.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>His voice awakened his men. They crowded round him when he clambered +over the barricade, and at the sight of the sword in the place where he +usually carried it smiles broke on their lips.</p> + +<p>"Bly! We have you with us again," Mark exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"But of course," Bly said. "It must have been the knock on the head I +got in the fight with the Himlos. But now it's clear. And I have news +for you. We can get rid of our enemies in one fell swoop. They are as +foolish as we. They too sleep in the daytime. Does that mean anything to +you?"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" Mark asked.</p> + +<p>"Certain. I have seen them."</p> + +<p>"Then let us wait no longer. By the time they come to their senses, it +will be too late."</p> + +<p>And it was. Only not as Mark had thought. For the immortal Stanton had +become battle-crazed, and whether loyal comrade or enemy, he knew only +to kill violently. It was Stanton himself who delivered the death blow +to his good friend. The rest of his group fell easy prey to the women, +who were even more savage than Stanton. It wasn't until it was all over +that Bly noticed what his women companions had done. Each and every one +of them carried a trophy hung in her belt, a horrible thing which leaked +blood. They had cut the heads from those they killed.</p> + +<p>All that day and the next and until the last of the Mongoloids had been +eliminated, they hunted. They were no longer five hundred women when +they were finished. But there were no more men, either. Each of the +women carried a single head on her belt when they went back to the ships +which had brought them. And Bly, also, carried one.</p> + +<p>Bly Stanton was no longer the same man as the one whom they had +discovered. The blood bath he had been in had done something to him. His +nose had become pinched, and his whole face had changed, so that his +eyes were narrowed now and his forehead, for some reason, lower. He no +longer walked erect, but stooped and shambled oddly as he moved. His jaw +jutted forward, and his teeth showed because of it. Little by little, he +had found it more comfortable to be without clothes, until by the time +they returned to the ships, the only article of clothing he wore was the +belt on which hung his sword and knife.</p> + +<p>Naila had taken Mary's place in the scheme of things. Still, she found +she had to call Bly her superior. During the long days of slaughter, +there had been little need of talk. Muttered directions had done for +them.</p> + +<p>But as they stood at the edge of the gangplank leading aboard, she said: +"Come immortal! There is nothing left for you here."</p> + +<p>"Nothing?" he asked, somewhat blankly. "Nothing...?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," she said. "In all of this world not another like you is +left alive."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Through the brain of Bly Stanton shot a thought that was like an +arrow—he, alone, of all the males in the world. What sort of world +could it be? What was he to do in this world where there was nothing but +woman, and man had no place? He peered at these women and saw them for +what they were—beasts, cruel and vicious, shaped as humans. There was +no compromising with nature. If one did not serve the purpose for which +one was intended, then one served another purpose. He looked at these +women who were the rulers of this planet and knew they had an empty +rule, and a losing fight. For immortality, in the sense in which he had +achieved it, was lost to them.</p> + +<p>He shook his head from side to side, and slowly turning, started off +without a word of farewell.</p> + +<p>But Naila was not as Mary. There was a cunning in her which the other +had never possessed. Before Stanton had taken more than ten steps, she +was at his side. Her sword flashed in a blinding arc as it sped toward +the man. There was a sickening sound as the steel met the flesh of the +throat. And a bloody geyser bloomed where the head had been. A vicious +grin leaped to her lips as she stooped and lifted the head.</p> + +<p>But the grin changed to a howl of fear as the eyes suddenly opened and +the lips parted and words came from them: "You forgot, Naila. Death +comes not to me. Remember?"</p> + +<p>She dropped the head and sped for the ship. The others, witness to what +happened, followed as quickly as possible. What they did not see, of +course, was that the eyes and lips had closed forever on the instant of +their departure.</p> + +<p><i>For it was then that the soul of Miotis left the body of Bly Stanton.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Kannot removed the mask from Miotis' face. The soul-globe lay to one +side. Slowly the eyelids of the warlord raised. For a few seconds his +eyes were blank. Then reason came to them.</p> + +<p>"Did you ..." Kannot began, and wet his suddenly dry lips. "Did you get +to where I sent you?" he finished.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the man on the table blinked as though in signal. The lips +moved but feebly.</p> + +<p>"Can you talk?" Kannot asked.</p> + +<p>"Later," Miotis whispered.</p> + +<p>Kannot nodded in understanding. He had an idea of the ordeal his King +had been through. The telling of what had happened to him could wait for +a while.</p> + +<p>Hours went by, and the man on the table slowly gained strength. But it +was a long time later before he could talk.</p> + +<p>"You sent my soul into the body of a mighty warrior," Miotis said. "Aye. +A mighty warrior. I saw and learned many strange things. But of all the +things I saw, only one stood out...."</p> + +<p>"And what was that?" Kannot asked.</p> + +<p>"War must die!" Miotis said.</p> + +<p>"But war is already dead," Kannot said. "Remember, sire, it is the +reason why you allowed the experiment—to seek ways of bringing war back +to life."</p> + +<p>"No! I saw what war can do to a planet, to man and to woman. It must +never come back. From this day forward, the sinews of war will be +removed. Look closely at me, Kannot. What do you see?"</p> + +<p>It was then Kannot understood. He had transferred the souls of Miotis +and of Bly Stanton. But the unforeseen had taken place. He had not +merely transferred the two souls. He had done so permanently. And Bly +Stanton, in the body of Miotis, had come to do what he realized now too +late should have been done on the Earth long ago—abolish war forever.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Once Upon A Planet, by J. J. 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J. Allerton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Once Upon A Planet + +Author: J. J. Allerton + +Release Date: June 12, 2010 [EBook #32785] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONCE UPON A PLANET *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + ONCE UPON A PLANET + + By J. J. ALLERTON + +[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories December +1948. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +[Sidenote: The mighty King Miotis came down to Earth to recapture his +lost desire for war. But what he saw on this planet, caused him to feel +differently.] + + +Once upon a planet there was a mighty warlord. The warlord's name was +Miotis. Some might think it an odd name, but then it is entirely +probable that the people of this planet would think the name of Smith or +Jenkovitz odd. Be that as it may, however, the important thing is that +Miotis was the name of this warlord, whatever one may feel about his +name. + +Now, Miotis was not just a mighty warrior, he was the _mightiest_ +warrior on the planet. As such, he controlled the life of every person +there. For isn't it a truism that war bends men's destiny in the +strangest fashions? So Miotis, with his entire life devoted to the art +of destruction, was able to direct the lives of his subjects. + +But one day, to his consternation and amazement, he found that the +peoples of his planet had wearied of the sport of war. In the middle of +his last campaign, his men as well as his enemies had laid down their +arms and had refused to carry on as was their wont. And no amount of +threat or punishment could make them change. + +On this particular day when our story starts, Miotis was in his palace, +his massive head leaning against a muscular palm, and his gaze intent on +the face of his vizier, Kannot. It was not the sort of face Miotis was +especially fond of seeing, for it was old, wrinkled, full of cunning and +wisdom. + +The vizier was, as always, full of words, and as he spoke one blunt +finger tapped the side of his rather bulbous nose: "So you think it +strange, mighty Miotis, to find that life is boring?" + +"I do not find that _life_ is boring," Miotis replied. "Life is never +boring. It is _I_ who am bored. That is the reason I called you here. I +could have called any one of my nine hundred concubines for enjoyment, +or had my warders drag forth some of my prisoners and found sport in +torturing them. Yet, I did not, and I wonder why. In the past, these +diversions made pleasant the passing of time. Now, I feel an ennui too +great to even want to bother to summon one of these which used to give +me so much pleasurable excitement. + +"Tell me, vizier, have I become so full of war that I cannot live +without it?" + +Kannot clasped his hands behind him and rocked back and forth for +several seconds, the while he bent a thoughtful and appraising eye upon +his King. For Kannot knew the vagaries of the man before him and knew +that a single word, a single gesture which would displease the great +Miotis, would make fewer Kannot's days. Therefore, when he spoke again, +it was with care, weighing his words so that he could give his opinion +and yet not endanger his life. + +"Methinks, oh greatest and wisest of Kings," Kannot said, "that since +war has but a single end, something phenomenal in the universe must have +occurred to make that end seem less reasonable." + +He lowered his eyes, yet made sure he could peer beneath the hooded lids +to see how his words were affecting Miotis. There was no sign on the +other's face to show how he felt. + +Kannot continued, "By that, I mean death may have become less attractive +as a means of immortality. Is it not true, also, that you, the greatest +and most noble of warriors, has yourself felt this same reluctance +recently to even plan a war?" + +The warlord's head nodded slightly in agreement. + +"Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that some force of which we +have no knowledge has made its presence felt--" + +"Now you have presented the problem," Miotis interrupted. "But it is not +enough. I want a solution. Already I am weary of this do-nothing life, +though it is but a week since we have laid down arms." + +Kannot made a sign of obeisance. + +"Now go," Miotis said, "and seek out the cause and the solution. One +week, vizier, I give you. No more! Your head shall roll, otherwise...." + + * * * * * + +The trumpets announced the arrival of the vizier, and at the sound the +players stopped their tune and the dancers their dance. Miotis, looking +as though he hadn't stirred from the position Kannot had left him in the +week before, lifted his eyes to the bent figure making its way across +the immense length of the hall. + +"Mighty Miotis," Kannot began, his head bent and his eyes lowered in the +correct attitude of court procedure. + +"I bid you speak," Miotis said. + +"My Lord, the words I have to say are for your ears alone," Kannot +continued. + +The warlord waved a hand, and as if by magic the court was emptied but +for the guards who never left their posts. + +"Speak, old one," Miotis commanded. + +"I have found the cause, mighty one," Kannot said. "A surprising one, +however, and perhaps an unbelievable one...." + +The vizier did not look up, and his face betrayed nothing of what he +felt. Yet, his aged heart was beating as if it wanted to escape the +flesh in which it was imprisoned. The next words he would utter could +spell his doom. + +"I sent couriers in every direction, to all the courts of all the lands, +to our friends as well as to our enemies. And on their return I +discovered one fact in common: Not a single nation was interested in +war. Something happened to each--" + +"Old one," Miotis broke in, "you weary me with these boresome details. +Come to the point! I know we are all tired dealing death. Why?" + +"Because anger has fled from our minds and hearts," Kannot said, and his +head lifted. He had spoken the words which had lain in him, the terrible +words which could mean his death. And now the die was cast. The proof of +his assertion would soon be shown. + +An oddly bitter smile broke on the face of the man on the throne. It was +the smile of a man who had learned the taste of utter defeat. + +"So you have told me that which I knew in my heart," Miotis said. +"Strange, that I, who loved nothing better than the sound of a sword's +blow against armor, should even find the touch of steel repugnant now. +Yet, it is so. I cannot carry a knife without having my flesh crawl, +even though a scabbard protects me against its touch. Shall we all +become a nation of shepherds? Shall we never again know the glory of +battle? Tell me, vizier. Perhaps age has lent you an inner wisdom?" + +"Wisdom's words are for the historian," Kannot replied. "I, Kannot, have +no time for talk. The planning of deeds is my way. And I have a plan. + +"Anger must be found again!" Kannot's voice rose shrilly. "It is our +only salvation. But, mighty Miotis, we must look elsewhere than on this +planet. There is a planet called Earth...." + + * * * * * + +Miotis' brow knit in thought. A planet called Earth, he thought. H'mm! +But how were they to get to it? And having got there, did Kannot want +them to invade? No, that couldn't be it. Already, the very thought of +invading for purposes of conquest went against him. + +"... On that planet," Kannot continued, "wars and death by violence are +commonplace. There is never a day or week that does not pass but that +somewhere men fight men. What better goal do we need?" + +"You have done well," Miotis said. "I could ask for no more. Yet a +question persists in my mind. How can you arrange for anger to come to +the breasts of us here from the planet beyond the grey mists of outer +space? We have no space ships, nor for that matter, the means of making +them." + +"I speak not of space ships or of men using them," Kannot responded, +"for in that matter we have no choice. My thought was in another +direction and using another means. I have discovered the way to make a +soul-transfer. To put it into words you will better understand, I can do +what death does, hold a soul in suspense." + +"Which is supposed to have what meaning to me?" Miotis asked. + +"Simply this," Kannot said, "I can make a single soul fly through the +vast boundaries of space and into another human body which will be +waiting for it. There is but a single man I know who can serve as +vehicle--you, mighty Chieftain." + +For the first time, Miotis' features showed change from the set +expression he wore as a sign of his Kingship. Amazement made him blink, +and the hand holding his chin fell to the side of the throne, the +fingers tapping against the rich cloth. But after a minute, his face +cleared and he looked with brighter interest at his vizier. + +"Of course," he said. "Who else should go? And already I have a plan of +action. Now tell me what must be done and how soon...." + + * * * * * + +Bly Stanton rolled over and groaned aloud. His hand shook as he lifted +it to feel a throbbing temple. His fingers felt a sticky wetness, and +memory returned to him--the raiding party of Himlo men, his discovery of +them, and the alarm he had sounded, the fight, and then the blow which +had felled him. + +He rolled onto his stomach, shoved his hands under him and heaved +himself erect. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Except for the buzzing +in his brain, he felt all right. + +Stanton looked down at his dust-covered clothes, and his fingers brushed +at the dirt and mud, but when they came to his shirt they halted. There +was a hole in his shirt, high up, near the heart. It was not a hole +exactly, but rather a slit which could have been made either with a +knife or sword. There was a dried welt of blood surrounding the skin. A +shudder passed through his tall, strong frame, as he realized that it +was a miracle he was alive. For whatever had done the damage had +penetrated deep into the flesh. + +The moon was full, and after a few seconds had passed, Stanton bent and +searched for his weapon which, he was sure, would be close at hand. But +as he found and picked up the long, double-edged sword, a shudder of +distaste went through him, and he dropped his weapon and let it lay +there. + +Once more his fingers brushed at the wetness on his temple. He wondered +why the blood was still coming from his head wound, while the cut in his +chest had dried up. + +He peered around to see if his attackers were anywhere in the vicinity, +and decided that his immediate location was clear of danger. Another +instant of orientation, and Bly Stanton bent low and scurried from one +patch of cover to another until he reached his goal, the tunnel mouth. +Here he would be safe for the present. The Himlo would not dare to +follow him here. + +His eyes, long accustomed to the sight of the broken arch, passed over +the inscription worn deeply and almost illegibly on the green-with-age +metal--_Chicago Greater Subway_, 2107 A.D. He was interested only in +knowing whether or not danger lurked in the shadows. Again he sniffed. A +small smile stole across his mouth. Then the lips tightened in their +wonted thin slit, and he started forward at a long lope into the +darkness. + +Here and there were offshoots, darker passages which disappeared into +the Stygian gloom. But his path led straight ahead. Then he was before a +barricade of rocks, the barrier which his men had placed against the +coming of their enemies. + +"Ho, John!" Stanton shouted. + + * * * * * + +The walls echoed the sound, which was followed by a dying whimper of a +voice. "Hi ... Hi! Who goes ...?" + +"'Tis I, Bly Stanton," Stanton yelled. + +There was a short interval of silence, then a concerted roar of glee, +and a dozen men clambered over the rock pile. They shouted his name as +they all tried to touch him at once, and there was adoration in their +welcome as they pulled and hauled at him. + +At length he managed to free himself of their embraces, and as he stood +apart, he asked: "What happened? Did I manage to warn enough of our +men?" + +"Warn us and knock their ambush into a cocked hat. They fell to pieces +and ran like scared rabbits when we hit them from all sides. But Mark +Smith saw you fall, and he said that the sword which was thrust into you +went all the way in to the hilt," one of them said. + +"I guess Mark was looking from the wrong angle," Stanton explained. "For +sure I'm all in one piece. Got a bloody knock on the head, though. Well, +let's get back to quarters. I've got a piece I want to talk over with +you all." + +A hundred torches made a smoky light of the pitch which otherwise would +have been in the vast cavern-like room. Three hundred and ten men stood +about in various attitudes of attention, all listening to the tall man +perched on a flat piece of concrete, facing them. + +"I cannot explain why I feel this way," Bly Stanton was saying. "But +this I know, and for sure! No more killing for me. No more hiding in +stinking places like this, waiting for the sun to go down so a man can +venture out and be a man. No, sirs! Bly Stanton is going out, and in +broad daylight. Bly Stanton is going out and bloody well away from this +place, out to where the sun hits hills and trees and open spaces. And +Bly Stanton is going alone if he has to...." + +It was an ultimatum, they knew. + + * * * * * + +Mark Smith, a short, swarthy-faced man in breeches clipped short at the +knees and a leather jerkin for a shirt, stepped forward and waved a +casual hand to get his leader's attention. + +"I take it, Bly," he said, "that you are bound to leave. Well, that part +may be all right. Surely you have a right to leave if you want to. But +by the same token you must grant us the right to ask why. We have been +together too long for so abrupt a leave-taking." + +"And right you are, Mark," Bly replied. "I owe that and more to each and +every one of you. Three hundred odd of us, all who are left of millions. +And against us, as they have been for a hundred years, the Himlo. And +how many of them are left, would you say? A thousand? Not many more, +surely. Think, men, some thirteen hundred men, perhaps a few more. No +children, no women, just men. + +"I don't have to tell you what happened three hundred years ago. History +has no meaning to us any more. For are we not eternal? Death can only +come to us by violence. Well, not any more for me. Bly Stanton has come +to life. That is how I felt when I came to back there in the ruins, that +a new life had been granted me. Well, I intend to live it fully, at +peace. I tell you, Mark, and you, John, and Abel and all the rest of +you, when I picked up the weapon which I had dropped to the ground, it +was as if I had picked up a live coal. I could not wear it, the brand of +murder. For we are all murderers, we and the Himlo----" + +"Again," Mark Smith interrupted, "I agree with you. We and our enemies +are murderers. Thirteen hundred and some odd murderers. And before we +are done, there will be less. But that is how we have lived for too many +years. So many, we can no longer change our ways. Peace is a lost word +with us." + +"With you!" Stanton said sharply. "But not with me! I have found it +again. And I do not intend losing it quickly. I say I leave these scenes +and these ways. Tonight. Who will leave with me?" + +He looked about with expectant eyes, but the light in them died as his +gaze swept the cavernous depths and looked into face after face and saw +not a single one which agreed with him. It was not so much a sign of +revolt, but an acceptance of a fact three hundred years old. + +"Then I go alone," he said with finality. "This has become a bitter +world, a world without woman or child, but it is the only world we will +ever know. And I am going to live peacefully in it. Good-bye." + +They opened their ranks to let him pass. Until the last of them was +reached, Bly Stanton thought there would be no answer to his farewell. +Then a tall, thin man stepped in front of him. He was Grant Hays, one of +the four with Smith, John and Abel, who formed the inner leaders under +Stanton. Grant and Bly had always been the closest of friends. + +"Bly," Hays said, his eyes steadfast and warm. "Wait. Before you go.... +There is more than man to meet out there. The Himlo are one thing, +nature another. You must take weapons." + + * * * * * + +Stanton shook his head hard. "No!" his voice thundered, and sent echoes +answering from the walls. "No! I will never draw a blade against even a +rat. The old races had their sayings--one I remember well--'Live and let +live.'" + +"Good-bye, then, Bly Stanton," Hays said. "And good luck." + +Bly Stanton did not turn as he clambered over the rock ramparts. And +after a while the night hid him in its sable fold. + +The man climbed the last ridge of the giant sand dune and looked down at +a setting moon sending a long slanting fan of silver over an immense +lake. He had seen the lake many years before, had almost forgotten its +existence so long ago had it been. + +He turned and looked at the ruins, rising pyramid-like from the tree +line to the north. Chicago had been the name of a vast city which had +existed here. There had been other cities as large, and some larger. +From the deepest recesses of his mind, Stanton remembered an almost +forgotten fact. There had been more than three _billion_ people on the +Earth at one time. Then, on an afternoon long gone, a bomb was dropped +on one of the cities. It had been called an atom bomb. The name of the +destroyed city was soon forgotten, as were the other cities which were +soon wiped off the face of the Earth. For man had discovered in the atom +bomb a weapon which proved to be the agency of his destruction. It led +to bigger bombs, better bombs, more efficient bombs, and at the last a +bomb which by chain reaction killed almost all the people on Earth. And +those whom it did not kill it made sterile. + +That was the beginning of the end. For in the new way of life, the force +of creation died. Men thought of nothing but hatred of other men. So +they fought, first with weapons of complex design. Then, as the creative +desire was stifled, the weapons became more simple, until at the last +man went back to a sword and a knife blade for his murderous tasks. + +But it was in the death of woman that man suffered his worst loss. With +sterility, woman felt their reason for existence was no longer +justified. And so they died, one by one, until now there was no record +of any. + + * * * * * + +These were the thoughts of Bly Stanton as he plodded over the ridge of +another dune. Then, all thoughts were wiped from his mind. He dropped to +his knees at the sight of the blaze in the hollow between two dunes +directly below. + +Their proximity to the fire and the light of the moon combined to make +their features readily discernible. There was no mistaking the Mongoloid +features of Himlo men. And if that was not enough, two of them were +dressed in garments of fur which would have identified them immediately. +The wind was coming from their direction, so Bly was safe for the +moment. They had keen senses of smell, and had the wind been otherwise, +Bly would have been discovered. + +He retreated like some huge beetle, on all fours, backward, as if he had +been suddenly confronted by a larger beetle. When he had traveled some +few yards and saw only the serrated ridge of sand interposed between him +and the sky, he rose, turned, and started for the edge of the water. + +Though he felt no fear of these men, Bly found it the better part of +discretion to move swiftly from their path. He ran at a trot, a long +lope which covered ground with a minimum of effort. The whole of the +night went by, and still Bly Stanton moved in the easy pace he had set +himself. The dawn found his lean figure bounding along the edge of the +sand. + +Hunger forced him to pause, then, and seek food. There was wild fruit on +trees a half mile inland. He ate some apples, and washed down the meager +meal with water from a spring. Then he found shelter and lay down to +sleep. Travel by night, he reasoned, was the best way. + +The sound of voices awakened him. They were voices the timbre of which +he had never heard before. He parted the brush under which he had lain +through the day, and peered out cautiously. His eyes widened at the +sight they saw. Strange creatures, a tribe of which he knew nothing, +squatted in the sand a hundred feet from the water. They wore +tight-fitting garments which hugged their bodies so tightly that every +curve was clearly outlined. And they had figures which were not familiar +to Stanton. + +It was not strange, for these were women. + + * * * * * + +Had Bly Stanton been less interested in what he was seeing and more +alert to what was closer at hand, he would perhaps have escaped the +noose which suddenly slipped over his shoulders and pinioned his arms +neatly to his side. Bodies encased in metal jackets leaped upon him and +made useless his struggles. He was jerked to his feet, and voices +shouted to others below to come forward. He understood the words, for +they were speaking in the same tongue that was his. + +[Illustration: They flung themselves upon him from all sides and bound +him hand and foot] + +There was a Naila, a Valis, another called simply She, and a tall strong +woman, older than the rest, called Mary. Mary seemed to be the leader, +or at least the one with the most authority. It was to her Bly was +brought. + +"Mary," one of the guards said, "the first of what we hoped to find." + +The woman looked at the man appraisingly. He was the first she had ever +seen. He seemed of good stock. She was quick to note he wore no weapons. +It surprised her, for even if he had no enemies, there would be wild +animals about. + +"Yes," Mary said softly, "the first. Then the book was true. There _are_ +men in this world." She made a sound of laughter deep in her throat, +stopped, then said to Bly, "We have come a long way. Do you talk? Can +you tell me whether there are others like you?" + +"Like me and different," Bly replied. + +The women exchanged glances. + +Mary spoke again: "How do you mean?" + +It did not take long for Bly Stanton to tell the history of the three +hundred men of his group, and that of the Mongoloid Himlo men, the last +of the invaders who were the remnants of those who came across from +Asia. All the while he spoke, his senses were full of these women. There +was a long silence when he finished his tale. + +"The books did not lie then," the one called Naila said. "And what about +children...?" her voice faded. + +"The last of the great bombs did irreparable damage," Mary said. "But we +will talk of that later. You have told us that there is a battle to the +death between you and these Himlos. Then why are you unarmed? Where are +your weapons?" + +It was the first time Bly had been asked the question directly. And it +was the first time he had to think about it. He let his mind assemble +the facts in their proper order, and after a while he spoke: + +"I do not _know_ why, except that I no longer want to know either the +touch or feel of a sword or knife. I do not want to harm anyone. Nor can +I explain why I feel this way." + +Suddenly one of the women made a sound of horror. They turned to her and +saw she was staring in fascination at the torn part of Stanton's shirt +where the sword blade had entered. Mary and several others gathered +closer, and Mary parted the fabric to see the wound better. + +"Look!" she exclaimed in wonder. "How deep it is." + +For the first time, then, Bly Stanton saw the wound for what it was, a +death wound. He wondered--had he become immortal?--not in the sense he +knew, but in actuality, where death even by violence was not the end. + +He put out his hand and said: "Let me have a blade." + +Without hesitation, Mary handed him the blade which hung at her right +side. Placing the point against the flesh, he put both hands about the +hilt and plunged it deep into him with all his strength, until only the +hilt was to be seen. + +Miraculously, he felt no pain. The blade when Stanton withdrew the steel +showed virgin as it had entered, and not a drop of crimson dyed the +entrance it had made in the flesh. + +One of the women put into words what they all felt: "This is magic. +Death is gone forever now." + +_It was in that very instant that the soul of Miotis entered into the +body of Bly Stanton._ + + * * * * * + +Stanton felt a sudden elation. More, a consciousness of vast powers. He +was immune to death. But were his companions? He looked Mary full in the +eyes as he said: "It seems that nothing can kill me now, even violence. +What of you?" + +She knew what he meant. And with as little hesitation as he had shown, +did what he did with the blade in her fingers. Her face in an instant +became a grotesque mask of pain and horror. A fountain of blood poured +from the self-inflicted wound. She tried to say something as she sank to +her knees, but nothing came out. + +"Only he is immortal," Naila said, awed. "For look! Mary is already +gone. Hail immortal...." + +It was the acknowledgement of his supremacy. + +He took advantage of it on the instant. "Good. I can use you all. We +must first rid ourselves of these men, my enemies. Come, call the others +of your tribe and I will lead you to them." + +He knew without being told that there were many more of these women. For +surely not so few would have come, armed as they were, into a strange +land. At his words, several of them sped around a headland which hid the +cove beyond. Naila took his arm and led him forward. His eyes widened +when he saw the four sailing ships in the large bay beyond the headland. + +There were five hundred women all armed and all ready and willing, when +they heard the situation, to do his bidding. Nor did he take long to +give his commands. + +Daylight was breaking when they came to the tunnel which was the +headquarters for the tribe from which Bly Stanton had come. He deployed +his forces with the greatest of care, making sure the surprise would be +complete when he came out. Then he entered. He knew at this hour that +his men would be asleep. He was right. There were two hundred of the +women with him, and these he placed all along the tunnel length, telling +them to hide in the recesses along the walls. + + * * * * * + +His voice awakened his men. They crowded round him when he clambered +over the barricade, and at the sight of the sword in the place where he +usually carried it smiles broke on their lips. + +"Bly! We have you with us again," Mark exclaimed. + +"But of course," Bly said. "It must have been the knock on the head I +got in the fight with the Himlos. But now it's clear. And I have news +for you. We can get rid of our enemies in one fell swoop. They are as +foolish as we. They too sleep in the daytime. Does that mean anything to +you?" + +"Are you sure?" Mark asked. + +"Certain. I have seen them." + +"Then let us wait no longer. By the time they come to their senses, it +will be too late." + +And it was. Only not as Mark had thought. For the immortal Stanton had +become battle-crazed, and whether loyal comrade or enemy, he knew only +to kill violently. It was Stanton himself who delivered the death blow +to his good friend. The rest of his group fell easy prey to the women, +who were even more savage than Stanton. It wasn't until it was all over +that Bly noticed what his women companions had done. Each and every one +of them carried a trophy hung in her belt, a horrible thing which leaked +blood. They had cut the heads from those they killed. + +All that day and the next and until the last of the Mongoloids had been +eliminated, they hunted. They were no longer five hundred women when +they were finished. But there were no more men, either. Each of the +women carried a single head on her belt when they went back to the ships +which had brought them. And Bly, also, carried one. + +Bly Stanton was no longer the same man as the one whom they had +discovered. The blood bath he had been in had done something to him. His +nose had become pinched, and his whole face had changed, so that his +eyes were narrowed now and his forehead, for some reason, lower. He no +longer walked erect, but stooped and shambled oddly as he moved. His jaw +jutted forward, and his teeth showed because of it. Little by little, he +had found it more comfortable to be without clothes, until by the time +they returned to the ships, the only article of clothing he wore was the +belt on which hung his sword and knife. + +Naila had taken Mary's place in the scheme of things. Still, she found +she had to call Bly her superior. During the long days of slaughter, +there had been little need of talk. Muttered directions had done for +them. + +But as they stood at the edge of the gangplank leading aboard, she said: +"Come immortal! There is nothing left for you here." + +"Nothing?" he asked, somewhat blankly. "Nothing...?" + +"Of course not," she said. "In all of this world not another like you is +left alive." + + * * * * * + +Through the brain of Bly Stanton shot a thought that was like an +arrow--he, alone, of all the males in the world. What sort of world +could it be? What was he to do in this world where there was nothing but +woman, and man had no place? He peered at these women and saw them for +what they were--beasts, cruel and vicious, shaped as humans. There was +no compromising with nature. If one did not serve the purpose for which +one was intended, then one served another purpose. He looked at these +women who were the rulers of this planet and knew they had an empty +rule, and a losing fight. For immortality, in the sense in which he had +achieved it, was lost to them. + +He shook his head from side to side, and slowly turning, started off +without a word of farewell. + +But Naila was not as Mary. There was a cunning in her which the other +had never possessed. Before Stanton had taken more than ten steps, she +was at his side. Her sword flashed in a blinding arc as it sped toward +the man. There was a sickening sound as the steel met the flesh of the +throat. And a bloody geyser bloomed where the head had been. A vicious +grin leaped to her lips as she stooped and lifted the head. + +But the grin changed to a howl of fear as the eyes suddenly opened and +the lips parted and words came from them: "You forgot, Naila. Death +comes not to me. Remember?" + +She dropped the head and sped for the ship. The others, witness to what +happened, followed as quickly as possible. What they did not see, of +course, was that the eyes and lips had closed forever on the instant of +their departure. + +_For it was then that the soul of Miotis left the body of Bly Stanton._ + + * * * * * + +Kannot removed the mask from Miotis' face. The soul-globe lay to one +side. Slowly the eyelids of the warlord raised. For a few seconds his +eyes were blank. Then reason came to them. + +"Did you ..." Kannot began, and wet his suddenly dry lips. "Did you get +to where I sent you?" he finished. + +The eyes of the man on the table blinked as though in signal. The lips +moved but feebly. + +"Can you talk?" Kannot asked. + +"Later," Miotis whispered. + +Kannot nodded in understanding. He had an idea of the ordeal his King +had been through. The telling of what had happened to him could wait for +a while. + +Hours went by, and the man on the table slowly gained strength. But it +was a long time later before he could talk. + +"You sent my soul into the body of a mighty warrior," Miotis said. "Aye. +A mighty warrior. I saw and learned many strange things. But of all the +things I saw, only one stood out...." + +"And what was that?" Kannot asked. + +"War must die!" Miotis said. + +"But war is already dead," Kannot said. "Remember, sire, it is the +reason why you allowed the experiment--to seek ways of bringing war back +to life." + +"No! I saw what war can do to a planet, to man and to woman. It must +never come back. From this day forward, the sinews of war will be +removed. Look closely at me, Kannot. What do you see?" + +It was then Kannot understood. He had transferred the souls of Miotis +and of Bly Stanton. But the unforeseen had taken place. He had not +merely transferred the two souls. He had done so permanently. And Bly +Stanton, in the body of Miotis, had come to do what he realized now too +late should have been done on the Earth long ago--abolish war forever. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Once Upon A Planet, by J. J. Allerton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONCE UPON A PLANET *** + +***** This file should be named 32785.txt or 32785.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/7/8/32785/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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