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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c889fd6 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66618 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66618) diff --git a/old/66618-0.txt b/old/66618-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5be9866..0000000 --- a/old/66618-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1241 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Pioneer, by Irving Cox - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Pioneer - -Author: Irving Cox - -Release Date: October 27, 2021 [eBook #66618] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIONEER *** - - - - - - THE PIONEER - - By Irving Cox, Jr. - - Greg was sure the kids had no right being - in control of a planet; after all what had they - learned about life? Still, what had he learned? - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - October 1955 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -The old ship wheezed and clattered into the landing slot. Greg was -an expert pilot, but skill was no substitute for outdated equipment. -He unstrapped the safety webbing and eased himself out of the cabin, -cluttered with its worn and scarred electronic gadgetry. With the -handcrank he opened the airlock. Rusting metal screamed as the panel -slid back into the hull. Greg found himself panting from the sudden -muscular effort in the heavier atmosphere of the earth. - -I'm an old man, he thought bitterly--old at forty; as antiquated as -my ship, and as much in need of repair. But no one can do anything -for either of us. I gave them the stars, and in twenty years they've -forgotten. They've made me a museum piece, these pampered, undersized -kids of the new generation. - -Greg walked down the ramp. He hadn't been home for seven years, but he -was still surprised that no flight inspector met him with the officious -clipboard of check-out sheets. The landing fields in the colonies were -far more efficiently supervised. - -Greg saw a light in the field control building and walked toward it. -The field, sprawling for miles across the California desert, was empty, -a mocking moment to the magnificent dream the new generation had -rejected. Behind him Greg saw the long rows of landing slots, towering -metal shafts raised against the night sky. Only four ships rested in -the slots, his and three other rusting cargo carriers. In front of -the unlighted terminal building the passenger liners stood untended, -decaying hulks that would never lift again. Fifteen years ago--even -as recently as ten years ago--the California field had hummed with -activity. Greg could remember the tide of humanity, the clattering -pick-up trucks gliding like curious ants among the freighters, the -shotgun blast of lift tubes, the parade of ships trailing flame across -the sky. - -Now the dream was gone. The terminal windows were filmed with dust. -Grass grew in the cracking asphalt of the field. - -Greg pushed open the door of the control building. One man sat with -his feet propped on a desk. Once the room had required a hundred -technicians. Once the traffic-control panel, filling a wall nearly a -quarter of a mile long, had been a maze of dancing, colored lights. Now -the board was dead; the enamel was peeling; the exposed metal was red -with rust. - -The attendant took Greg's manifest without interest. "You're our first -landing in two years, Captain--" He glanced at the sheet. "Captain -Greg. I see you're in from Mars." - -"I'm carrying five tons of Redearth." In the old days such a cargo -would have cleared three million after transportation costs; a whole -new industry had been built on the Martian antibiotical spore. - -"No market, I'm afraid, Captain." The attendant flipped the manifest -aside. - -"Sell it at auction. I have to raise enough cash to--" - -"You won't get a buyer." - -"I've got to get some new equipment for my ship!" - -"You'd have done better in the colonies. Mars has excellent repair -facilities, we understand." - -"At sky-high prices, sure." - -"The earth isn't building flight equipment any more. What's the point? -The kids don't want it." The attendant shrugged his shoulders. "You -aren't the first one, Captain Greg, who's come home for nothing; and -you won't be the last. Check with me tomorrow. I'll see what I can -work out." - -"If I can't dispose of my cargo--" - -"We waive all field charges in cases of destitution. You can dump the -Redearth and the kids will stake you to a cargo of iron ore; it's going -at triple premium on Venus, we're told." - - * * * * * - -Greg turned on his heel and walked stiffly out of the building. One -bitter word burned in his mind: destitution. It was like a kick in the -teeth. He thought, in a fury of blind anger, I gave them the stars and -they make me a charity case--this new generation! Children who could -never build a colonial bubble or pioneer a star route. Soft-minded and -soft-muscled idiots. - -The field attendant hadn't even recognized Greg's name. - -Suddenly the past was alive again, like an angry nightmare. The -speeches and the headlines, the bands and the screaming mobs, the -politicians, the scientists, the generals. Handclasps and newsreel -pictures. "Just one more, sir, for the TV cameras." ... "A Citation -by a joint session of the Congress of the United States, to Captain -Victor Greg, U. S. Rocket Forces...." GREG MAKES MARS.... L. A. -WELCOMES GREG.... FIRST SPACEMAN IN N. Y. PARADE... "And I say to -you, my constituents, the name Greg shall be forever writ large in the -hearts of a grateful people." ... GREG LANDS FIRST MARTIAN CARGO.... -"For the discovery of Redearth, the eternal gratitude of the medical -profession...." GREG TAKES NOBEL PRIZE.... "A small token of the -gratitude of American industry...." GREG JOINS IMPORT FIRM.... "The -undying gratitude of the United Patriotic Mothers of America...." FIRST -COLONISTS ON MARS.... COLONIES ON THE MOONS OF JUPITER.... VENUS BUBBLE -COMPLETED.... - -The dream of yesterday, and the dream was gone. The rocket ports -were dead. The machines were crumbling into rust. And Captain Victor -Greg?--a destitute tramp, waiting for a handout from a generation of -brats which had forgotten him. - -He crossed the field toward the clutter of buildings beyond the -terminal: Port City, raised in less than a year on the California -desert, the first minor miracle of the new frontier. The endless mass -of traffic, the noisy honky tonks, the nervous neon shimmering in -the night, the brassy bands and the fancy women--all of it was gone. -Desert sand had drifted across the streets. The highpoled intersection -lights, still burning, cast a blue halo in the empty, dirty windows. - -Greg's shoulders sagged as he walked toward the central square of -Port City. He had to see the monument again. He had to drain the last -bitterness from his homecoming. In the Martian colony they had told him -it would be like this. He hadn't believed them. How could a legend be -forgotten in a generation? - -From a block away he saw the metal statue, turned a sickly blue by the -corner street light. The high shaft of a primitive rocket ship, with -its nose foregear lifted proudly toward the stars; in the foreground, -the towering giant of a spaceman, his legs spread wide to embrace the -symbolic sphere of the earth. "Sky Frontier"; the sculptor had named it -that. - -Greg sat wearily on the granite base of the monument. He could read, -all too clearly, the lettering on the plaque, "Commemorating the first -solar flight, earth to Mars, made by Captain Victor Greg of the U. S. -Rocket Fleet. Launched from this site on the first day of June and -completed--" - -Greg ground his fists against his eyes, yet still the words -danced through his brain. His attitude of dejection was an ironic -counter-point to the confident, metal monster rising above him. -Twenty years and a new generation made the difference. Yet there was -a striking similarity between the statue and the man, for Greg had -posed for the original model. Greg was still a powerful, muscular man; -his face was still clean cut and unlined. Only the torment in his eyes -reflected the dream he had lost. - -"But nothing is lost. It is just--different." - -Greg looked up. A serious-faced boy of twelve stood close to him, in -the shadow of the statue. One of the new children. Greg felt a cold -chill crawl up his spine. Fear and loathing: he hated them. They had -destroyed his world; they had made him a nonentity. Yet when the boy -came closer and Greg saw how frail and small he was, the fear seemed -foolish. - -"You live around here, kid?" Greg asked. Out in the colonies they said -the new children read minds--which really wasn't much, considering -their other abilities--but Greg refused to believe it. - -"Not minds," the boy corrected him. "We know your feelings--which is -probably much the same thing. No, I don't live in Port City. I came -from Chicago after you landed; I thought you might need me." - -From Chicago!--fifteen hundred miles, the instantaneous transportation -of living matter. Greg's mind boggled at the familiar fact; he felt -the hate and the fear again. These were not the natural children of -men, but monstrosities spawned by an unknown universe and eating out -the heart of human culture. Greg stood up, his arms stiff and his fists -clenched. "When I need the help of a kid," he growled, "I'll know it's -time to cash in my chips." - -"It's wrong to think that way, Captain Greg." - -"No pint-sized child's going to tell me--" - -"I wanted to make things easier for you. You should have stayed in the -colonies; it was a mistake to come home." - -"Now you're trying to drive us off the earth!" - -"We want to save you the discomfort of homecoming. We can't turn back -the clock; neither can you." - - * * * * * - -Greg strode down the deserted street, through the small drifts of sand. -He recognized the corner where there used to be a bar. He flung open -the door and entered the long, dark room. The stale air smelled of dust -and neglect; his boots echoed hollowly on the oak floor. He fumbled for -a match and in the pale, yellow light he saw the bottles crowding the -shelves. - -He snatched a fifth of bourbon and ripped off the cap. He gulped the -liquor thirstily and the hot fire burned warm in his veins. After the -third drink he felt the strong self-confidence of his manhood again. -He leaned his elbow against the bar and glanced toward the street. The -sad-eyed kid was out there somewhere, waiting like a nightmare; or -maybe he had already done his magic and transported himself back to -Chicago. - -It didn't matter. The kid wasn't human. Greg took another pull at -the bottle and he saw it all very clearly. In the beginning men had -speculated about life forms on other worlds. Before Greg's pioneering -flight to Mars the Sunday supplements had been filled with a vast -number of lurid speculations. Yet the spacemen had found nothing -but virgin worlds which became the colonies of man. The truth -was--Greg understood it now--they had looked for intelligent life in -familiar forms. But there had been something out there, something as -undetectable as a virus epidemic--and as deadly. It had invaded the -earth and captured the minds of the children. - -Greg killed the bottle. By that time he was very impressed with the -brilliance of his own reasoning. Small inconsistencies kept nagging -at his mind and it seemed strange that no one had ever thought of it -before--but all that was of no consequence. - -Greg heard footsteps outside. His body tensed. Was it the kid coming -back? He would know what Greg was thinking; he would know how close -Greg was to the real truth. And the new children--no, invaders; Greg -must remember that--would not let him survive. They were puny and -undersized. Physically, Greg had no reason to be afraid of them. -But how was he to fight an enemy who could instantly disappear and -rematerialize thousands--or millions--of miles away? - -The shuffling steps came closer. A stooped, white-haired man, wearing -soiled and unpressed tweeds, stepped through the door. Greg seized the -newcomer's shoulder; the man gave a bleat of animal terror. - -"Who the hell are you?" Greg demanded. - -"Dr. Vayle--Adrian Vayle." - -"The astrophysicist?" Greg remembered the name from the ponderous text -he had studied in the flight school. - -The old man straightened his shoulders with a semblance of pride. "You -know me?" - -"What are you doing in Port City?" - -"This is where I live. I couldn't stand it in the city any longer and -I didn't want to emigrate to the colonies. The children don't object. -They bring us supplies. Holly and I are quite comfortable." Dr. Vayle -ran his fingers over Greg's uniform. "You're a pilot! I haven't met one -in years. Usually the children send them back to the colonies as soon -as they land." - -"Where do you live, Dr. Vayle?" - -"The best hotel in town. I'll show you." He bent closer and whispered, -"And I'll let you see what we're working on. But I have to have my -nightcap first." Vayle groped in the dark for a bottle. He drank the -liquor eagerly, wiping his lips on his sleeve. - -Greg and the astrophysicist went outside. Greg looked along the -deserted street for the twelve year old, but the boy was nowhere in -sight. Perhaps he had returned to Chicago. Yet if he had come to send -Greg back to the colonies, would he have given up so easily? - -The blue intersection lights swam in a comfortable haze, spinning when -Greg looked at them directly. Occasionally the drifts of sand seemed to -run like water and Greg became unsure of his footing. He knew he was -drunk, but alcohol had never interfered with his reasoning. Back in -the bar he had made a tremendous discovery; he mustn't let it slip his -mind. The children were alien invaders: that was it. In the morning he -would be able to decide what he was to do with the information. - -The old man took him to a pseudo-Spanish structure across the main -highway from the field. The _Biltmore Hacienda_, at one time the -gaudiest and costliest hotel in Port City. Now the neon signs were out, -the streetfront shops were closed, and only a pale light glowed dimly -behind the ornate, iron gate. - - * * * * * - -As he followed Vayle up the three tile steps, Greg looked back toward -the field. He saw his ship standing in its landing slot. Someone was -working to unload his useless cargo of Redearth. The field attendant -was displaying an unusual conscientiousness, Greg thought; he hadn't -expected action in less than a week. - -Then, abruptly, Greg knew the real significance of such prompt service. -It fit with the discovery he had made in the bar. The only trouble was, -his mind was too hazy for him to grasp the connection clearly. It would -come to him later; he was sure of that. - -He followed Vayle through the dusty, thick-carpeted lobby. Vayle slept -in a disorderly room adjoining the cavernous hall of the dining room, -where the tables were covered with dust and the band instruments lay -rusting on the bandstand. The astrophysicist swept a litter of loose -manuscript pages from his bed and sat down. He fished a bottle of gin -from under the bed and took a long drink. - -"For my nerves," he apologized. - -Greg saw a score of empty bottles in the debris on the floor. -Apparently Vayle had been treating his nerves for a long time. Greg -picked up one of the manuscript pages. It was a part of a book. At -least the patter of phrases was familiar, but the whole context was -incoherent, without beginning or end. - -"My new text," Vayle explained. "When it's finished, the kids have -promised to publish it. That's why they let me stay here, so I can -work in peace." He pulled at the bottle again. "They're still children -at heart. An adult can twist them around his finger, if he goes at it -properly." - -"You mean the book's just a blind?" - -The scientist eyed Greg carefully. "You're too old. You can't be one of -them." He rolled back the mattress and took out a thin file of paper, -holding it tenderly in his hand. "I'm analyzing the cause, sir. I'm -going to demonstrate how the children have made us believe they are -able to defy the laws of physics. When I publish this, the nightmare -will be over." - -Vayle handed over the file reluctantly. Greg turned back the cover--and -the shock sobered him. Vayle was an established authority; Vayle was an -eminent scientist; Vayle was a man Greg had learned to respect. But -the book Vayle showed him contained nothing but blank pages. - -"You're interested in our project?" - -The throaty, silky voice came from the open door. Greg whirled. He saw -a tall, thin woman, heavily painted. She was wearing a bangled, scarlet -gown, which hung loose from her shoulders. Her beauty had faded long -ago; her face was a lined, marble mask; her yellow hair was streaked -with gray. Fifteen years ago Greg could have found her counterpart -lurking in any Port City honky tonk, her thin hips swaying with the -brassy jargon of the music and invitation in her eyes. - -"This is Holly Wilson," Vayle said. "My secretary." - -Secretary! Greg thought. So that's what they were calling it now. Holly -Wilson's profession had gone by many names. The pickings on earth must -have become mighty thin, if she were satisfied to saddle herself with -a white-haired professor of astrophysics. Greg introduced himself, -grinning contemptuously. - -"You're just in from the colonies, Captain?" she asked. - -"Yes." - -"Staying long?" - -"That depends. I have a cargo to auction and--" - -"The kids will take care of that. But you'll stay through tonight, of -course. Let's see if we can find you a room." - -Greg thought he knew what she had in mind. But as soon as they were -out of earshot of the scientist's bedroom, she said, "Come outside, -Captain; I have to talk to you." - -They went into the tiled patio of the hotel. The kidney-shaped pool was -empty, and its basin was criss-crossed with gaping cracks. Many of the -potted shrubs had died untended, but the palms still flourished. The -fronds laced skeletal fingers across the face of the full moon. The -dry, desert wind washed through the trees, the ghost whisper of the -dream that had died in Port City. - -"Don't say anything to Dr. Vayle about his book." Holly Wilson's voice -was surprisingly sincere. "Play along with him, please; let him go on -thinking he's found the great secret." - -"What is it--alcoholism or madness?" - -"A little of both. No one's really sane any more." - -"I came home the last time seven years ago. It wasn't this bad then. -What's happened?" - -"Most of the adults have emigrated to the colonies. There are only a -few derelicts left--like Adrian Vayle and myself." - - * * * * * - -Nearly sober, Greg remembered the discovery he had stumbled on in the -bar, and the logic still held up. "They've taken over the earth and -thrown men out." - -"The children? You talk as if--" - -"Tell me everything about it, from the beginning." - -"The kids are different; that's all there is to it. They read minds. -They move themselves anywhere they please simply by thinking about it. -God knows what else they'll learn to whip up after they get the hang of -it." - -"Are all the children like this?" - -"No. The others emigrated with their parents. Dr. Vayle says there are -about five million. That's approximately the total population of the -earth, now. They've shoved the rest of us out." - -"By force?" - -"Who wants to hang around like a pet ape to amuse his own brats? Dr. -Vayle was too old to go. I--I couldn't get a medical clearance." - -"I don't think the colonies are aware that the emigration was so large." - -"Why should they be? We've half a dozen worlds out there. They could -absorb us all." - -"So the kids have taken over everything." - -"What they wanted, yes. For a while we thought it was temporary. Dr. -Vayle didn't begin drinking until we knew the change was permanent. -The oldest kids are nineteen now. They're beginning to marry, and all -their children have the same abilities. Or witchcraft. Call it what you -like." - -"As old as nineteen? Then the change dates from--" - -"From your first flight, Captain Greg. I sometimes look at that damn -statue in the square and laugh till it hurts. A brave, new frontier you -discovered--but that wasn't all you gave us." - -"You believe I'm responsible for--" Greg gestured toward the slow decay -in the patio. "For this?" - -"Who else, Captain? It's the kids who should build you a monument. You -gave them the earth." - -For the first time Greg saw the monstrosity hidden by his dream. He -had made the pioneer flight; and he had created this new generation. -The relationship was plain. If he could unravel it and find the real -cause--but he knew that now. An invasion, an invisible virus life that -had taken over their minds. How? When he knew that, how could he fight -it? How could he turn back the clock and restore the earth to man? - -He walked slowly to the end of the patio where he could see the -deserted field across the highway. In the slot they were still scooping -the Redearth of Mars out of the hull of his ship. He smiled grimly. A -decade ago the Redearth had been priceless; that one import alone had -made the conquest of space commercially possible. Redearth had built -Port City and the colonies; Redearth had created the import companies, -once so tremendously profitable. - -A light burned for a moment above Greg's ship. Clearly he saw the puny, -twelve year old boy and the four other children who were dumping the -cargo. It gave him another explosive insight. Greg knew then how the -invasion had come from the stars. - -The Redearth of Mars; the invisible molds of that unknown world: that -was the alien life form no man had recognized. The enemy was tangible. -The enemy was real. And such an enemy could be conquered. - -Greg's first inclination was to cross the road and smash with his fist -the pint-sized weaklings who had stolen his world. Physical conflict: -that was something man understood and respected. But the children were -not human; he must never allow himself to forget that. They had to be -fought on other terms. - -First, Greg had to escape the earth without letting them read his mind -and measure his hatred. Until he could lift his ship, he had to play -along with whatever plans they made for him. The children didn't want -him here; escape should be easy--if he could only wall off his thinking. - -He turned back toward the faded woman in the scarlet dress. As -matter-of-factly as he could, he asked her to show him his room. "I'll -probably leave tomorrow; they're doing an efficient job out there." - -"The kids don't waste any time. They'll stake you to a cargo of iron -ore for Venus; that's the usual procedure." She put her arm through -his. "And you promise, Captain: you won't say anything to Dr. Vayle?" - -"Why are you so interested in that old fool?" - -"We're derelicts. It would be damn lonely without him. He has something -to believe in--nonsense, yes; but what difference does that make? -Sometimes I can almost believe in it, too." - -"Men aren't licked yet." - -She laughed. "You noble souls who drop in on us out of space talk so -bravely; that's your brand of madness, Captain. Thank your stars you -don't have to get to know the kids as well as we do." - - * * * * * - -She took him to a room on the first floor of the hotel. The air, when -he opened the door, was stale. The full moon behind the Venetian blinds -made an unpleasant symbolic shadow pattern of prison bars on the -carpet. Greg ripped open the zipper of his flight jacket; his chest was -wet with sweat. The woman turned to go and he caught her arm, pulling -her toward him. - -"This much at least hasn't changed," he grinned. - -She neither resisted nor responded. She stood looking up into his face. -Her eyes were cold and tired. "I have to go back to Adrian, Captain -Greg. He's frightened when I leave him alone too long." - -"That doddering graybeard--" - -"None of the things that used to be so important matter any more. All -we have left is our love for each other. Adrian and I have that; I -don't want to lose it." - -She glided away from him. Angrily Greg jerked up the blinds--to erase -the prison symbol--and ground open the windows. The hot desert wind -whispered through the screen. Greg stripped off his uniform and lay -naked on the bed. - -After a time he slept--fitfully, caught in a confusion of fragmentary -dreams. The hope of yesterday and the disillusionment of now; his pride -as a pioneer; and the pain of his responsibility for what his frontier -had created. Out of the chaos a pattern of action slowly emerged. -Sometime in the small hours before the dawn Greg made up his mind what -he would do. - -It would be futile to try to arouse the colonies to attack the earth. -Each man in his own soul might admit the truth, but as a culture they -would all reject it. They needed to keep the symbol of earth as home, -though they might never return to it. Even if that psychological -objection could be overcome, war was not the answer. Only if the -children were taken completely by surprise--given no time to use their -alien abilities--could they be effectively destroyed. - -Greg knew how that could be done. A decade before his pioneer flight -to Mars, the first artificial satellite had been sent up in an orbit -around the earth. A purely military weapon--capable of destroying any -objective on the surface of the earth--the satellite had overturned -the balance of power and forced the creation of a united world. The -resources of a planetary government had made Greg's first flight -possible. Afterward, in the excitement of exploiting the new frontier, -the satellite had been forgotten. - -But it was still there, still armed with a firepower capable of wiping -the earth clean of life. It would be the murder of a world--but murder -to save human kind. Greg could do it alone. His only problem was to -lift his ship without the children knowing what was in his mind. He -felt no guilt, no pang of conscience. Once the decision was made, Greg -slept easily; and he awoke completely refreshed, with only a slight -headache from the liquor he had drunk the night before. - -Dr. Vayle and Holly Wilson insisted that Greg breakfast with them in -the hotel. He would have preferred to forage for himself. The painted -woman's protective, maternal affection for the astrophysicist made Greg -acutely uncomfortable. It was not the sort of behavior he would have -expected of either of them. Greg's discomfort quickly became a feeling -of guilt. If he used the old satellite wheel to destroy the alien -children, he would be slaughtering the few human beings who remained on -the earth. Discreetly he asked how many others had stayed behind. - -"It's hard to say," Vayle told him. "A hundred thousand, perhaps." - -"Do you keep up any sort of contact?" - -"Why should we? We're outcasts." With a sudden rationality, he added, -"We're ashamed. When we're together we feel bound to face the truth. -It's impossible for man to admit he's a second-rater. So we hide out in -deserted villages like this one--and pretend all this nightmare never -happened." Then Vayle slipped back into his delusion again. "However, -all that will be different as soon as my research is finished. Why, do -you know, Captain--" - -"I'm leaving this morning," Greg broke in. "Would you like to go with -me?" - -Vayle shook his head. "I'm too old to make a new start on your -frontier, Captain." He reached for the woman's hand. "And as long as my -secretary can't have a clearance--" - -"Leave us as we are," Holly said. "Your dream is no better than ours." - - * * * * * - -After breakfast Greg left the hotel and crossed the highway to the -field. It was still early morning, but the desert sun blazed hot in a -copper sky. As Greg passed the old terminal building, the twelve year -old boy suddenly materialized and fell in step beside him. - -This was the thing Greg feared most. He began to walk more rapidly, -fighting a rising panic. How could he keep the kid from prying into his -mind? Desperately he tried to think of something else--anything, inane -or banal. The children were not gods; they couldn't dig deeper than his -conscious thought. (Or could they? Greg wasn't sure.) - -"We're giving you a cargo for Venus," the boy said conversationally. -"It will put you in business again, Captain. The Martian colony is -equipped to repair your ship. You'll have enough cash to pay for it, -now." - -"Fine," Greg grunted. In his mind he was frantically reciting a rhyme -his grandmother had taught him ago, "One two, buckle my shoe; three -four, open the door...." Reciting it with fervor, like a prayer for -survival--which it was. - -"After this, Captain, it might be better if you stayed in the colonies. -Don't get me wrong. You're welcome on earth anytime you want to come -home, but conditions are different here and...." - -Suddenly the boy's tone changed. "But you aren't responsible, Captain!" - -Greg's muscles tensed. So the boy had probed that deep! - -"A new frontier always means change, Captain--but not tragedy; not -defeat! We've never supposed any of you would believe that. You gave us -a miracle, the greatest frontier men have ever crossed. When all the -other pioneers are forgotten, Captain, your name...." - -Pretty words, like the pretty speeches Greg had listened to twenty -years ago. They wanted to confuse him, make him doubt the decision he -had made. "One two, buckle my shoe! Three four, open the door!" - -The boy caught Greg's sleeve. "You might as well blame Galileo or -Copernicus because they studied the universe. Or go back to the -beginning. Blame the unknown who did our first scientific pioneering." - -Copernicus and Galileo? What was the kid trying to say? And why would -a twelve year old speak so glibly--so knowingly--of the giants? That -proved his alienness. When Greg was twelve, the only thing he had -thought about seriously was football or baseball or summer vacation or -how he was going to get out of the piano lessons his mother imposed on -him. - -The boy pulled him to a stop. "The first pioneer, Captain: do you blame -him for it all? We don't know his name, but we do have his monument. -Look, Captain Greg." In the drifting sand the boy sketched the outline -of a wheel. - -Greg panicked. He was too intent upon keeping his mind impregnable -to make any other interpretation. The wheel symbolized the satellite -riding above the earth; then the boy knew what Greg was going to do. - -Greg swung his fist blindly. He took the boy by surprise. The child -had no time to rematerialize at a safe distance. Greg's fist struck -his chest and the boy went down, with a cry of agony. Greg felt a -subconscious surge of satisfaction; humanity hadn't been defeated after -all and the children were by no means invulnerable. Surprise--physical -initiative--gave men their trump card over these undernourished mind -readers. - -Greg sprinted toward his ship. The body lay on the drifting sand -gasping for breath, gesturing futilely with his small hand. - -Greg's foot was on the ramp when he heard a scream behind him. He -looked back toward the road. He saw Dr. Vayle and Holly Wilson running -toward him. A mongrel, frothing at the mouth, was yapping at their -heels. - - * * * * * - -Greg reacted with an altogether human instinct. He ripped a metal bar -loose from the ramp rail and went back to help them, two fellow humans -in trouble. A tiny warning of logic flamed briefly in his mind: this -could be a trick; his only real chance of escape was to leave now, -while he could. But he ignored it. - -He ran across the field and swung the bar at the dog, crushing its -skull with one blow. The woman clutched his arm. Her hands were -shaking; her face was white with fear. - -"What happened?" Greg demanded. - -"Adrian and I were clearing the breakfast table. Suddenly the dog -was--he was just there, growling at us." - -"A mad dog," the astrophysicist added. "The kids did it. They can make -any living thing appear anywhere they please." - -"A trick!" Greg said. The whisper of logic had been right. He glanced -at where the boy had fallen; the child was gone. - -"They're trying to make me leave," Vayle complained, "before I finished -my research. They know I have the answer to--" - -"Now you have no other choice," Greg snapped. He pulled the scientist -toward his ship; the woman followed. Greg reasoned that he might still -have an outside chance. The children obviously had expected him to take -Vayle back to the hotel. That would have given them a chance to disable -his ship. - -Greg pushed the two through the airlock. His luck still held. He shoved -them toward the safety webbing and jerked down the firing toggle. As -the ship quivered in the thunder of the power tubes, Greg dialed the -satellite course on the pilot computer. - -It was the simplest setting he could make. His was an old ship, built -when the satellite had still been used as an initial landing station, -before the new fuel had made the big wheel obsolete. Every ship had -once had an automatic satellite course projection taped in the pilot -computer. Without a new setting, the ship would move into the core ramp -of the wheel and the lock would open automatically when the magnetic -seal was completed. - -Greg felt the sudden, crushing weight of gravity. He caught at the -safety webbing until the pressure stabilized. From that point--if -he remembered his early flights accurately--it would be six minutes -before the ship reached the satellite. He had won. Nothing could stop -him--nothing. - -Then Holly Wilson screamed and Greg saw the twelve year old boy -standing beside the flight console. - -"It wasn't a virus invasion," the child said, shouting to be heard -above the roar of the power tubes. "I didn't know you were thinking -that this morning. I could have explained if--" - -Greg swung his fist--against an emptiness. The boy rematerialized two -feet away. - -"Reset your course!" the boy cried. "You understand machines, Captain; -we don't. And I can't get enough technical information from your mind -to do it for you." - -"One two, buckle my shoe!" Greg thought, in an ecstacy of triumph. -He had kept that much of his thinking safe. The kids were making one -last effort to save themselves--he was sure of that--but it wouldn't -work. They had the alien skill to pry into a human mind, but they were -helpless against man's machines. Inexorably the computer would drive -the ship to the satellite; nothing could stop it. - -"Think rationally," the boy pleaded, "not with your emotions. You have -only four minutes left, Captain Greg. If the Redearth was a virus -invasion as you believe it was, why were only the children affected? -We made it an antibiotic; we used it for millions of people; every -colonist was innoculated before he emigrated." - -He was lying. He had to be lying. He was trying to confuse Greg with -side issues. It didn't matter now how the virus had been brought back -to the earth. "Three four, open the door; five six, pick up sticks." - -"We aren't different, Captain. We've simply crossed your frontier in -a different way. We have a theory how it happened, but no proof. The -Martian Redearth worked as a sort of mental catalyst when it was used -for newly born infants. It awoke the full thought potential of our -cerebral cortex. That's all. We have no ability that men haven't always -been capable of; if you believe that, you can do it yourself." - -Belief!--mystical nonsense. Did the kid really think Greg would buy -that? Greg glanced at Adrian Vayle. The scientist's face was gray -with horror. Sweat stood in beads on his lips. Holly Wilson clung -desperately to his hand. - -"I drew a wheel in the sand for you, Captain: another monument to -another pioneer, the first primitive who grasped what we might do with -a rolling disk. He gave us terror and disaster, yes; but he gave us -progress, too. Do we blame him because his heirs sometimes misapplied -his discovery? Do we call ourselves alien invaders because we have -a more complex technology than his? Then why heap shame on yourself -because you gave us a frontier in the stars? It won't end the way you -thought it would; nothing ever does. We're your children, Captain; -we're your new frontier." - -"Aliens!" Greg spat. - -"My research was for nothing," Dr. Vayle said numbly. The words were a -whisper of agony, the torment of a soul ripped out of the comfortable -world of madness. - -"Don't say that. You'll finish your work," Holly told him soothingly. - -He pushed her away. "Not now. It was pointless." - -The boy wrung his hands. "You have only two minutes left. Forget your -emotions; put aside your self-pity. It's a luxury you can't afford any -longer. Use the brains God gave you, Captain Greg. You can't land on -the satellite. You must--" - - * * * * * - -Greg swung again and again he missed the boy, but he lost his balance -and plunged into the pilot computer, smashing the machine. Greg saw -what he had done and began to laugh. It was impossible, now, for anyone -to change the course setting. The boy's pleading was for nothing. - -The twelve year old rematerialized and stood looking at the broken -computer. Then shrugged his shoulders calmly. "A minute and a half -left, Captain; and now you have no choice." The child sighed, as a -parent might have sighed over the prank of a mischievious son. - -"You killed the mad dog," he said. "You didn't hesitate about that. I -thought him into Port City to give you an object lesson. You missed -the point, I'm afraid. You couldn't understand that you were yourself -a mad dog yapping at our heels. Potentially, all the older generation -threaten us the same way. Your kind of emotional reasoning, in one -form or another, will sooner or later infect them all. We encouraged -the migration to the colonies in order to prevent a conflict. By -administering the Redearth to every adult who left the earth, we -thought we might make a few of them realize their mental capacity. -Apparently the catalyst works only with an infant, and not always then. -In a sense, Captain Greg, your frontier has made us two species--ours, -mankind; yours, the rejects; the unfinished men." - -Dr. Vayle made a choking sound deep in his throat. His dream was gone; -the comfort of his madness had been stripped away from him. - -"And if it does come to the point of conflict," the boy went on -quietly, "we fully intend to survive." - -"Not after I reach the satellite," Greg answered grimly. His voice -sounded hollow and uncertain, even to himself. The boy had destroyed -the dramatic fiction of a virus invasion. Greg's dream, too, was gone. - -"I tried to save you, Captain, but by your own violence you made that -impossible. Now you will provide another object lesson. What I have -told you is true; every man has our ability. In sixty seconds your ship -will reach the old satellite; the airlock will open automatically--only -there will be no air in the wheel. This shell rusted open years ago. -You face death just as certain as if you leaped into outer space. But -you can save yourselves--all three of you--by thinking yourselves back -to the earth, or out to one of the colonies. This experiment interests -us a great deal. We didn't intend to resort to it quite so soon, but -you've given us an ideal opportunity. If you can unshackle your minds -now, we have hope for the rest of the rejects. There will be fewer mad -dogs for us to dispose of later on." - -The boy was gone. - -Greg felt the ship slide into the ramp of the satellite. He heard the -grapples clang against the hull, and the scream of rusting metal as the -airlock began to open. A paralyzing emotional opiate flamed through his -mind: this was a dream, nothing more. In a moment he would jerk himself -awake and be amused by his terror. But there was something else in his -mind, too, a stirring of greatness, a fire of magnificence, a new self -he had never known before. He groped blindly toward that pinpoint of -light. - -From a great distance, like an echo of shattering ice, he heard -Adrian Vayle's voice, "The children have mastered the art of hypnotic -illusion, but obviously they cannot violate the established physical -laws. Our problem is entirely mechanical. I am sure Captain Greg can -work out...." - -Vayle had found the sublime ignorance of sanity; and that was no -solution. - -"Kiss me," Holly Wilson whispered. "Nothing else matters, Adrian." - -And she had chosen the equally blind sterility of resignation. - -Greg knew they were both wrong. He was a realist; a spaceman had to be. -The kid had been able to read his thoughts; naturally the kid could put -this weird sense of a new self in Greg's mind. It was only a clever, -semantic manipulation of words to keep Greg from using the satellite. - -He squared his shoulders. The star-point of greatness flickered out in -his mind. Greg was a man, a product of a sophisticated and intelligent -culture. This undernourished, alien generation wasn't going to confuse -him with mystic mumbo jumbo about belief. He knew how to sort out fact -from childish magic. - -He walked toward the lock, straight and proud with the confidence of -man. He was smiling savagely. Mankind was no mad dog, to be crushed -into oblivion by a pack of puny children. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Pioneer</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Irving Cox</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 27, 2021 [eBook #66618]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIONEER ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>THE PIONEER</h1> - -<h2>By Irving Cox, Jr.</h2> - -<p>Greg was sure the kids had no right being<br /> -in control of a planet; after all what had they<br /> -learned about life? Still, what had he learned?</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -October 1955<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The old ship wheezed and clattered into the landing slot. Greg was -an expert pilot, but skill was no substitute for outdated equipment. -He unstrapped the safety webbing and eased himself out of the cabin, -cluttered with its worn and scarred electronic gadgetry. With the -handcrank he opened the airlock. Rusting metal screamed as the panel -slid back into the hull. Greg found himself panting from the sudden -muscular effort in the heavier atmosphere of the earth.</p> - -<p>I'm an old man, he thought bitterly—old at forty; as antiquated as -my ship, and as much in need of repair. But no one can do anything -for either of us. I gave them the stars, and in twenty years they've -forgotten. They've made me a museum piece, these pampered, undersized -kids of the new generation.</p> - -<p>Greg walked down the ramp. He hadn't been home for seven years, but he -was still surprised that no flight inspector met him with the officious -clipboard of check-out sheets. The landing fields in the colonies were -far more efficiently supervised.</p> - -<p>Greg saw a light in the field control building and walked toward it. -The field, sprawling for miles across the California desert, was empty, -a mocking moment to the magnificent dream the new generation had -rejected. Behind him Greg saw the long rows of landing slots, towering -metal shafts raised against the night sky. Only four ships rested in -the slots, his and three other rusting cargo carriers. In front of -the unlighted terminal building the passenger liners stood untended, -decaying hulks that would never lift again. Fifteen years ago—even -as recently as ten years ago—the California field had hummed with -activity. Greg could remember the tide of humanity, the clattering -pick-up trucks gliding like curious ants among the freighters, the -shotgun blast of lift tubes, the parade of ships trailing flame across -the sky.</p> - -<p>Now the dream was gone. The terminal windows were filmed with dust. -Grass grew in the cracking asphalt of the field.</p> - -<p>Greg pushed open the door of the control building. One man sat with -his feet propped on a desk. Once the room had required a hundred -technicians. Once the traffic-control panel, filling a wall nearly a -quarter of a mile long, had been a maze of dancing, colored lights. Now -the board was dead; the enamel was peeling; the exposed metal was red -with rust.</p> - -<p>The attendant took Greg's manifest without interest. "You're our first -landing in two years, Captain—" He glanced at the sheet. "Captain -Greg. I see you're in from Mars."</p> - -<p>"I'm carrying five tons of Redearth." In the old days such a cargo -would have cleared three million after transportation costs; a whole -new industry had been built on the Martian antibiotical spore.</p> - -<p>"No market, I'm afraid, Captain." The attendant flipped the manifest -aside.</p> - -<p>"Sell it at auction. I have to raise enough cash to—"</p> - -<p>"You won't get a buyer."</p> - -<p>"I've got to get some new equipment for my ship!"</p> - -<p>"You'd have done better in the colonies. Mars has excellent repair -facilities, we understand."</p> - -<p>"At sky-high prices, sure."</p> - -<p>"The earth isn't building flight equipment any more. What's the point? -The kids don't want it." The attendant shrugged his shoulders. "You -aren't the first one, Captain Greg, who's come home for nothing; and -you won't be the last. Check with me tomorrow. I'll see what I can -work out."</p> - -<p>"If I can't dispose of my cargo—"</p> - -<p>"We waive all field charges in cases of destitution. You can dump the -Redearth and the kids will stake you to a cargo of iron ore; it's going -at triple premium on Venus, we're told."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Greg turned on his heel and walked stiffly out of the building. One -bitter word burned in his mind: destitution. It was like a kick in the -teeth. He thought, in a fury of blind anger, I gave them the stars and -they make me a charity case—this new generation! Children who could -never build a colonial bubble or pioneer a star route. Soft-minded and -soft-muscled idiots.</p> - -<p>The field attendant hadn't even recognized Greg's name.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the past was alive again, like an angry nightmare. The -speeches and the headlines, the bands and the screaming mobs, the -politicians, the scientists, the generals. Handclasps and newsreel -pictures. "Just one more, sir, for the TV cameras." ... "A Citation -by a joint session of the Congress of the United States, to Captain -Victor Greg, U. S. Rocket Forces...." GREG MAKES MARS.... L. A. -WELCOMES GREG.... FIRST SPACEMAN IN N. Y. PARADE... "And I say to -you, my constituents, the name Greg shall be forever writ large in the -hearts of a grateful people." ... GREG LANDS FIRST MARTIAN CARGO.... -"For the discovery of Redearth, the eternal gratitude of the medical -profession...." GREG TAKES NOBEL PRIZE.... "A small token of the -gratitude of American industry...." GREG JOINS IMPORT FIRM.... "The -undying gratitude of the United Patriotic Mothers of America...." FIRST -COLONISTS ON MARS.... COLONIES ON THE MOONS OF JUPITER.... VENUS BUBBLE -COMPLETED....</p> - -<p>The dream of yesterday, and the dream was gone. The rocket ports -were dead. The machines were crumbling into rust. And Captain Victor -Greg?—a destitute tramp, waiting for a handout from a generation of -brats which had forgotten him.</p> - -<p>He crossed the field toward the clutter of buildings beyond the -terminal: Port City, raised in less than a year on the California -desert, the first minor miracle of the new frontier. The endless mass -of traffic, the noisy honky tonks, the nervous neon shimmering in -the night, the brassy bands and the fancy women—all of it was gone. -Desert sand had drifted across the streets. The highpoled intersection -lights, still burning, cast a blue halo in the empty, dirty windows.</p> - -<p>Greg's shoulders sagged as he walked toward the central square of -Port City. He had to see the monument again. He had to drain the last -bitterness from his homecoming. In the Martian colony they had told him -it would be like this. He hadn't believed them. How could a legend be -forgotten in a generation?</p> - -<p>From a block away he saw the metal statue, turned a sickly blue by the -corner street light. The high shaft of a primitive rocket ship, with -its nose foregear lifted proudly toward the stars; in the foreground, -the towering giant of a spaceman, his legs spread wide to embrace the -symbolic sphere of the earth. "Sky Frontier"; the sculptor had named it -that.</p> - -<p>Greg sat wearily on the granite base of the monument. He could read, -all too clearly, the lettering on the plaque, "Commemorating the first -solar flight, earth to Mars, made by Captain Victor Greg of the U. S. -Rocket Fleet. Launched from this site on the first day of June and -completed—"</p> - -<p>Greg ground his fists against his eyes, yet still the words -danced through his brain. His attitude of dejection was an ironic -counter-point to the confident, metal monster rising above him. -Twenty years and a new generation made the difference. Yet there was -a striking similarity between the statue and the man, for Greg had -posed for the original model. Greg was still a powerful, muscular man; -his face was still clean cut and unlined. Only the torment in his eyes -reflected the dream he had lost.</p> - -<p>"But nothing is lost. It is just—different."</p> - -<p>Greg looked up. A serious-faced boy of twelve stood close to him, in -the shadow of the statue. One of the new children. Greg felt a cold -chill crawl up his spine. Fear and loathing: he hated them. They had -destroyed his world; they had made him a nonentity. Yet when the boy -came closer and Greg saw how frail and small he was, the fear seemed -foolish.</p> - -<p>"You live around here, kid?" Greg asked. Out in the colonies they said -the new children read minds—which really wasn't much, considering -their other abilities—but Greg refused to believe it.</p> - -<p>"Not minds," the boy corrected him. "We know your feelings—which is -probably much the same thing. No, I don't live in Port City. I came -from Chicago after you landed; I thought you might need me."</p> - -<p>From Chicago!—fifteen hundred miles, the instantaneous transportation -of living matter. Greg's mind boggled at the familiar fact; he felt -the hate and the fear again. These were not the natural children of -men, but monstrosities spawned by an unknown universe and eating out -the heart of human culture. Greg stood up, his arms stiff and his fists -clenched. "When I need the help of a kid," he growled, "I'll know it's -time to cash in my chips."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"It's wrong to think that way, Captain Greg."</p> - -<p>"No pint-sized child's going to tell me—"</p> - -<p>"I wanted to make things easier for you. You should have stayed in the -colonies; it was a mistake to come home."</p> - -<p>"Now you're trying to drive us off the earth!"</p> - -<p>"We want to save you the discomfort of homecoming. We can't turn back -the clock; neither can you."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Greg strode down the deserted street, through the small drifts of sand. -He recognized the corner where there used to be a bar. He flung open -the door and entered the long, dark room. The stale air smelled of dust -and neglect; his boots echoed hollowly on the oak floor. He fumbled for -a match and in the pale, yellow light he saw the bottles crowding the -shelves.</p> - -<p>He snatched a fifth of bourbon and ripped off the cap. He gulped the -liquor thirstily and the hot fire burned warm in his veins. After the -third drink he felt the strong self-confidence of his manhood again. -He leaned his elbow against the bar and glanced toward the street. The -sad-eyed kid was out there somewhere, waiting like a nightmare; or -maybe he had already done his magic and transported himself back to -Chicago.</p> - -<p>It didn't matter. The kid wasn't human. Greg took another pull at -the bottle and he saw it all very clearly. In the beginning men had -speculated about life forms on other worlds. Before Greg's pioneering -flight to Mars the Sunday supplements had been filled with a vast -number of lurid speculations. Yet the spacemen had found nothing -but virgin worlds which became the colonies of man. The truth -was—Greg understood it now—they had looked for intelligent life in -familiar forms. But there had been something out there, something as -undetectable as a virus epidemic—and as deadly. It had invaded the -earth and captured the minds of the children.</p> - -<p>Greg killed the bottle. By that time he was very impressed with the -brilliance of his own reasoning. Small inconsistencies kept nagging -at his mind and it seemed strange that no one had ever thought of it -before—but all that was of no consequence.</p> - -<p>Greg heard footsteps outside. His body tensed. Was it the kid coming -back? He would know what Greg was thinking; he would know how close -Greg was to the real truth. And the new children—no, invaders; Greg -must remember that—would not let him survive. They were puny and -undersized. Physically, Greg had no reason to be afraid of them. -But how was he to fight an enemy who could instantly disappear and -rematerialize thousands—or millions—of miles away?</p> - -<p>The shuffling steps came closer. A stooped, white-haired man, wearing -soiled and unpressed tweeds, stepped through the door. Greg seized the -newcomer's shoulder; the man gave a bleat of animal terror.</p> - -<p>"Who the hell are you?" Greg demanded.</p> - -<p>"Dr. Vayle—Adrian Vayle."</p> - -<p>"The astrophysicist?" Greg remembered the name from the ponderous text -he had studied in the flight school.</p> - -<p>The old man straightened his shoulders with a semblance of pride. "You -know me?"</p> - -<p>"What are you doing in Port City?"</p> - -<p>"This is where I live. I couldn't stand it in the city any longer and -I didn't want to emigrate to the colonies. The children don't object. -They bring us supplies. Holly and I are quite comfortable." Dr. Vayle -ran his fingers over Greg's uniform. "You're a pilot! I haven't met one -in years. Usually the children send them back to the colonies as soon -as they land."</p> - -<p>"Where do you live, Dr. Vayle?"</p> - -<p>"The best hotel in town. I'll show you." He bent closer and whispered, -"And I'll let you see what we're working on. But I have to have my -nightcap first." Vayle groped in the dark for a bottle. He drank the -liquor eagerly, wiping his lips on his sleeve.</p> - -<p>Greg and the astrophysicist went outside. Greg looked along the -deserted street for the twelve year old, but the boy was nowhere in -sight. Perhaps he had returned to Chicago. Yet if he had come to send -Greg back to the colonies, would he have given up so easily?</p> - -<p>The blue intersection lights swam in a comfortable haze, spinning when -Greg looked at them directly. Occasionally the drifts of sand seemed to -run like water and Greg became unsure of his footing. He knew he was -drunk, but alcohol had never interfered with his reasoning. Back in -the bar he had made a tremendous discovery; he mustn't let it slip his -mind. The children were alien invaders: that was it. In the morning he -would be able to decide what he was to do with the information.</p> - -<p>The old man took him to a pseudo-Spanish structure across the main -highway from the field. The <i>Biltmore Hacienda</i>, at one time the -gaudiest and costliest hotel in Port City. Now the neon signs were out, -the streetfront shops were closed, and only a pale light glowed dimly -behind the ornate, iron gate.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As he followed Vayle up the three tile steps, Greg looked back toward -the field. He saw his ship standing in its landing slot. Someone was -working to unload his useless cargo of Redearth. The field attendant -was displaying an unusual conscientiousness, Greg thought; he hadn't -expected action in less than a week.</p> - -<p>Then, abruptly, Greg knew the real significance of such prompt service. -It fit with the discovery he had made in the bar. The only trouble was, -his mind was too hazy for him to grasp the connection clearly. It would -come to him later; he was sure of that.</p> - -<p>He followed Vayle through the dusty, thick-carpeted lobby. Vayle slept -in a disorderly room adjoining the cavernous hall of the dining room, -where the tables were covered with dust and the band instruments lay -rusting on the bandstand. The astrophysicist swept a litter of loose -manuscript pages from his bed and sat down. He fished a bottle of gin -from under the bed and took a long drink.</p> - -<p>"For my nerves," he apologized.</p> - -<p>Greg saw a score of empty bottles in the debris on the floor. -Apparently Vayle had been treating his nerves for a long time. Greg -picked up one of the manuscript pages. It was a part of a book. At -least the patter of phrases was familiar, but the whole context was -incoherent, without beginning or end.</p> - -<p>"My new text," Vayle explained. "When it's finished, the kids have -promised to publish it. That's why they let me stay here, so I can -work in peace." He pulled at the bottle again. "They're still children -at heart. An adult can twist them around his finger, if he goes at it -properly."</p> - -<p>"You mean the book's just a blind?"</p> - -<p>The scientist eyed Greg carefully. "You're too old. You can't be one of -them." He rolled back the mattress and took out a thin file of paper, -holding it tenderly in his hand. "I'm analyzing the cause, sir. I'm -going to demonstrate how the children have made us believe they are -able to defy the laws of physics. When I publish this, the nightmare -will be over."</p> - -<p>Vayle handed over the file reluctantly. Greg turned back the cover—and -the shock sobered him. Vayle was an established authority; Vayle was an -eminent scientist; Vayle was a man Greg had learned to respect. But -the book Vayle showed him contained nothing but blank pages.</p> - -<p>"You're interested in our project?"</p> - -<p>The throaty, silky voice came from the open door. Greg whirled. He saw -a tall, thin woman, heavily painted. She was wearing a bangled, scarlet -gown, which hung loose from her shoulders. Her beauty had faded long -ago; her face was a lined, marble mask; her yellow hair was streaked -with gray. Fifteen years ago Greg could have found her counterpart -lurking in any Port City honky tonk, her thin hips swaying with the -brassy jargon of the music and invitation in her eyes.</p> - -<p>"This is Holly Wilson," Vayle said. "My secretary."</p> - -<p>Secretary! Greg thought. So that's what they were calling it now. Holly -Wilson's profession had gone by many names. The pickings on earth must -have become mighty thin, if she were satisfied to saddle herself with -a white-haired professor of astrophysics. Greg introduced himself, -grinning contemptuously.</p> - -<p>"You're just in from the colonies, Captain?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Staying long?"</p> - -<p>"That depends. I have a cargo to auction and—"</p> - -<p>"The kids will take care of that. But you'll stay through tonight, of -course. Let's see if we can find you a room."</p> - -<p>Greg thought he knew what she had in mind. But as soon as they were -out of earshot of the scientist's bedroom, she said, "Come outside, -Captain; I have to talk to you."</p> - -<p>They went into the tiled patio of the hotel. The kidney-shaped pool was -empty, and its basin was criss-crossed with gaping cracks. Many of the -potted shrubs had died untended, but the palms still flourished. The -fronds laced skeletal fingers across the face of the full moon. The -dry, desert wind washed through the trees, the ghost whisper of the -dream that had died in Port City.</p> - -<p>"Don't say anything to Dr. Vayle about his book." Holly Wilson's voice -was surprisingly sincere. "Play along with him, please; let him go on -thinking he's found the great secret."</p> - -<p>"What is it—alcoholism or madness?"</p> - -<p>"A little of both. No one's really sane any more."</p> - -<p>"I came home the last time seven years ago. It wasn't this bad then. -What's happened?"</p> - -<p>"Most of the adults have emigrated to the colonies. There are only a -few derelicts left—like Adrian Vayle and myself."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Nearly sober, Greg remembered the discovery he had stumbled on in the -bar, and the logic still held up. "They've taken over the earth and -thrown men out."</p> - -<p>"The children? You talk as if—"</p> - -<p>"Tell me everything about it, from the beginning."</p> - -<p>"The kids are different; that's all there is to it. They read minds. -They move themselves anywhere they please simply by thinking about it. -God knows what else they'll learn to whip up after they get the hang of -it."</p> - -<p>"Are all the children like this?"</p> - -<p>"No. The others emigrated with their parents. Dr. Vayle says there are -about five million. That's approximately the total population of the -earth, now. They've shoved the rest of us out."</p> - -<p>"By force?"</p> - -<p>"Who wants to hang around like a pet ape to amuse his own brats? Dr. -Vayle was too old to go. I—I couldn't get a medical clearance."</p> - -<p>"I don't think the colonies are aware that the emigration was so large."</p> - -<p>"Why should they be? We've half a dozen worlds out there. They could -absorb us all."</p> - -<p>"So the kids have taken over everything."</p> - -<p>"What they wanted, yes. For a while we thought it was temporary. Dr. -Vayle didn't begin drinking until we knew the change was permanent. -The oldest kids are nineteen now. They're beginning to marry, and all -their children have the same abilities. Or witchcraft. Call it what you -like."</p> - -<p>"As old as nineteen? Then the change dates from—"</p> - -<p>"From your first flight, Captain Greg. I sometimes look at that damn -statue in the square and laugh till it hurts. A brave, new frontier you -discovered—but that wasn't all you gave us."</p> - -<p>"You believe I'm responsible for—" Greg gestured toward the slow decay -in the patio. "For this?"</p> - -<p>"Who else, Captain? It's the kids who should build you a monument. You -gave them the earth."</p> - -<p>For the first time Greg saw the monstrosity hidden by his dream. He -had made the pioneer flight; and he had created this new generation. -The relationship was plain. If he could unravel it and find the real -cause—but he knew that now. An invasion, an invisible virus life that -had taken over their minds. How? When he knew that, how could he fight -it? How could he turn back the clock and restore the earth to man?</p> - -<p>He walked slowly to the end of the patio where he could see the -deserted field across the highway. In the slot they were still scooping -the Redearth of Mars out of the hull of his ship. He smiled grimly. A -decade ago the Redearth had been priceless; that one import alone had -made the conquest of space commercially possible. Redearth had built -Port City and the colonies; Redearth had created the import companies, -once so tremendously profitable.</p> - -<p>A light burned for a moment above Greg's ship. Clearly he saw the puny, -twelve year old boy and the four other children who were dumping the -cargo. It gave him another explosive insight. Greg knew then how the -invasion had come from the stars.</p> - -<p>The Redearth of Mars; the invisible molds of that unknown world: that -was the alien life form no man had recognized. The enemy was tangible. -The enemy was real. And such an enemy could be conquered.</p> - -<p>Greg's first inclination was to cross the road and smash with his fist -the pint-sized weaklings who had stolen his world. Physical conflict: -that was something man understood and respected. But the children were -not human; he must never allow himself to forget that. They had to be -fought on other terms.</p> - -<p>First, Greg had to escape the earth without letting them read his mind -and measure his hatred. Until he could lift his ship, he had to play -along with whatever plans they made for him. The children didn't want -him here; escape should be easy—if he could only wall off his thinking.</p> - -<p>He turned back toward the faded woman in the scarlet dress. As -matter-of-factly as he could, he asked her to show him his room. "I'll -probably leave tomorrow; they're doing an efficient job out there."</p> - -<p>"The kids don't waste any time. They'll stake you to a cargo of iron -ore for Venus; that's the usual procedure." She put her arm through -his. "And you promise, Captain: you won't say anything to Dr. Vayle?"</p> - -<p>"Why are you so interested in that old fool?"</p> - -<p>"We're derelicts. It would be damn lonely without him. He has something -to believe in—nonsense, yes; but what difference does that make? -Sometimes I can almost believe in it, too."</p> - -<p>"Men aren't licked yet."</p> - -<p>She laughed. "You noble souls who drop in on us out of space talk so -bravely; that's your brand of madness, Captain. Thank your stars you -don't have to get to know the kids as well as we do."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She took him to a room on the first floor of the hotel. The air, when -he opened the door, was stale. The full moon behind the Venetian blinds -made an unpleasant symbolic shadow pattern of prison bars on the -carpet. Greg ripped open the zipper of his flight jacket; his chest was -wet with sweat. The woman turned to go and he caught her arm, pulling -her toward him.</p> - -<p>"This much at least hasn't changed," he grinned.</p> - -<p>She neither resisted nor responded. She stood looking up into his face. -Her eyes were cold and tired. "I have to go back to Adrian, Captain -Greg. He's frightened when I leave him alone too long."</p> - -<p>"That doddering graybeard—"</p> - -<p>"None of the things that used to be so important matter any more. All -we have left is our love for each other. Adrian and I have that; I -don't want to lose it."</p> - -<p>She glided away from him. Angrily Greg jerked up the blinds—to erase -the prison symbol—and ground open the windows. The hot desert wind -whispered through the screen. Greg stripped off his uniform and lay -naked on the bed.</p> - -<p>After a time he slept—fitfully, caught in a confusion of fragmentary -dreams. The hope of yesterday and the disillusionment of now; his pride -as a pioneer; and the pain of his responsibility for what his frontier -had created. Out of the chaos a pattern of action slowly emerged. -Sometime in the small hours before the dawn Greg made up his mind what -he would do.</p> - -<p>It would be futile to try to arouse the colonies to attack the earth. -Each man in his own soul might admit the truth, but as a culture they -would all reject it. They needed to keep the symbol of earth as home, -though they might never return to it. Even if that psychological -objection could be overcome, war was not the answer. Only if the -children were taken completely by surprise—given no time to use their -alien abilities—could they be effectively destroyed.</p> - -<p>Greg knew how that could be done. A decade before his pioneer flight -to Mars, the first artificial satellite had been sent up in an orbit -around the earth. A purely military weapon—capable of destroying any -objective on the surface of the earth—the satellite had overturned -the balance of power and forced the creation of a united world. The -resources of a planetary government had made Greg's first flight -possible. Afterward, in the excitement of exploiting the new frontier, -the satellite had been forgotten.</p> - -<p>But it was still there, still armed with a firepower capable of wiping -the earth clean of life. It would be the murder of a world—but murder -to save human kind. Greg could do it alone. His only problem was to -lift his ship without the children knowing what was in his mind. He -felt no guilt, no pang of conscience. Once the decision was made, Greg -slept easily; and he awoke completely refreshed, with only a slight -headache from the liquor he had drunk the night before.</p> - -<p>Dr. Vayle and Holly Wilson insisted that Greg breakfast with them in -the hotel. He would have preferred to forage for himself. The painted -woman's protective, maternal affection for the astrophysicist made Greg -acutely uncomfortable. It was not the sort of behavior he would have -expected of either of them. Greg's discomfort quickly became a feeling -of guilt. If he used the old satellite wheel to destroy the alien -children, he would be slaughtering the few human beings who remained on -the earth. Discreetly he asked how many others had stayed behind.</p> - -<p>"It's hard to say," Vayle told him. "A hundred thousand, perhaps."</p> - -<p>"Do you keep up any sort of contact?"</p> - -<p>"Why should we? We're outcasts." With a sudden rationality, he added, -"We're ashamed. When we're together we feel bound to face the truth. -It's impossible for man to admit he's a second-rater. So we hide out in -deserted villages like this one—and pretend all this nightmare never -happened." Then Vayle slipped back into his delusion again. "However, -all that will be different as soon as my research is finished. Why, do -you know, Captain—"</p> - -<p>"I'm leaving this morning," Greg broke in. "Would you like to go with -me?"</p> - -<p>Vayle shook his head. "I'm too old to make a new start on your -frontier, Captain." He reached for the woman's hand. "And as long as my -secretary can't have a clearance—"</p> - -<p>"Leave us as we are," Holly said. "Your dream is no better than ours."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>After breakfast Greg left the hotel and crossed the highway to the -field. It was still early morning, but the desert sun blazed hot in a -copper sky. As Greg passed the old terminal building, the twelve year -old boy suddenly materialized and fell in step beside him.</p> - -<p>This was the thing Greg feared most. He began to walk more rapidly, -fighting a rising panic. How could he keep the kid from prying into his -mind? Desperately he tried to think of something else—anything, inane -or banal. The children were not gods; they couldn't dig deeper than his -conscious thought. (Or could they? Greg wasn't sure.)</p> - -<p>"We're giving you a cargo for Venus," the boy said conversationally. -"It will put you in business again, Captain. The Martian colony is -equipped to repair your ship. You'll have enough cash to pay for it, -now."</p> - -<p>"Fine," Greg grunted. In his mind he was frantically reciting a rhyme -his grandmother had taught him ago, "One two, buckle my shoe; three -four, open the door...." Reciting it with fervor, like a prayer for -survival—which it was.</p> - -<p>"After this, Captain, it might be better if you stayed in the colonies. -Don't get me wrong. You're welcome on earth anytime you want to come -home, but conditions are different here and...."</p> - -<p>Suddenly the boy's tone changed. "But you aren't responsible, Captain!"</p> - -<p>Greg's muscles tensed. So the boy had probed that deep!</p> - -<p>"A new frontier always means change, Captain—but not tragedy; not -defeat! We've never supposed any of you would believe that. You gave us -a miracle, the greatest frontier men have ever crossed. When all the -other pioneers are forgotten, Captain, your name...."</p> - -<p>Pretty words, like the pretty speeches Greg had listened to twenty -years ago. They wanted to confuse him, make him doubt the decision he -had made. "One two, buckle my shoe! Three four, open the door!"</p> - -<p>The boy caught Greg's sleeve. "You might as well blame Galileo or -Copernicus because they studied the universe. Or go back to the -beginning. Blame the unknown who did our first scientific pioneering."</p> - -<p>Copernicus and Galileo? What was the kid trying to say? And why would -a twelve year old speak so glibly—so knowingly—of the giants? That -proved his alienness. When Greg was twelve, the only thing he had -thought about seriously was football or baseball or summer vacation or -how he was going to get out of the piano lessons his mother imposed on -him.</p> - -<p>The boy pulled him to a stop. "The first pioneer, Captain: do you blame -him for it all? We don't know his name, but we do have his monument. -Look, Captain Greg." In the drifting sand the boy sketched the outline -of a wheel.</p> - -<p>Greg panicked. He was too intent upon keeping his mind impregnable -to make any other interpretation. The wheel symbolized the satellite -riding above the earth; then the boy knew what Greg was going to do.</p> - -<p>Greg swung his fist blindly. He took the boy by surprise. The child -had no time to rematerialize at a safe distance. Greg's fist struck -his chest and the boy went down, with a cry of agony. Greg felt a -subconscious surge of satisfaction; humanity hadn't been defeated after -all and the children were by no means invulnerable. Surprise—physical -initiative—gave men their trump card over these undernourished mind -readers.</p> - -<p>Greg sprinted toward his ship. The body lay on the drifting sand -gasping for breath, gesturing futilely with his small hand.</p> - -<p>Greg's foot was on the ramp when he heard a scream behind him. He -looked back toward the road. He saw Dr. Vayle and Holly Wilson running -toward him. A mongrel, frothing at the mouth, was yapping at their -heels.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Greg reacted with an altogether human instinct. He ripped a metal bar -loose from the ramp rail and went back to help them, two fellow humans -in trouble. A tiny warning of logic flamed briefly in his mind: this -could be a trick; his only real chance of escape was to leave now, -while he could. But he ignored it.</p> - -<p>He ran across the field and swung the bar at the dog, crushing its -skull with one blow. The woman clutched his arm. Her hands were -shaking; her face was white with fear.</p> - -<p>"What happened?" Greg demanded.</p> - -<p>"Adrian and I were clearing the breakfast table. Suddenly the dog -was—he was just there, growling at us."</p> - -<p>"A mad dog," the astrophysicist added. "The kids did it. They can make -any living thing appear anywhere they please."</p> - -<p>"A trick!" Greg said. The whisper of logic had been right. He glanced -at where the boy had fallen; the child was gone.</p> - -<p>"They're trying to make me leave," Vayle complained, "before I finished -my research. They know I have the answer to—"</p> - -<p>"Now you have no other choice," Greg snapped. He pulled the scientist -toward his ship; the woman followed. Greg reasoned that he might still -have an outside chance. The children obviously had expected him to take -Vayle back to the hotel. That would have given them a chance to disable -his ship.</p> - -<p>Greg pushed the two through the airlock. His luck still held. He shoved -them toward the safety webbing and jerked down the firing toggle. As -the ship quivered in the thunder of the power tubes, Greg dialed the -satellite course on the pilot computer.</p> - -<p>It was the simplest setting he could make. His was an old ship, built -when the satellite had still been used as an initial landing station, -before the new fuel had made the big wheel obsolete. Every ship had -once had an automatic satellite course projection taped in the pilot -computer. Without a new setting, the ship would move into the core ramp -of the wheel and the lock would open automatically when the magnetic -seal was completed.</p> - -<p>Greg felt the sudden, crushing weight of gravity. He caught at the -safety webbing until the pressure stabilized. From that point—if -he remembered his early flights accurately—it would be six minutes -before the ship reached the satellite. He had won. Nothing could stop -him—nothing.</p> - -<p>Then Holly Wilson screamed and Greg saw the twelve year old boy -standing beside the flight console.</p> - -<p>"It wasn't a virus invasion," the child said, shouting to be heard -above the roar of the power tubes. "I didn't know you were thinking -that this morning. I could have explained if—"</p> - -<p>Greg swung his fist—against an emptiness. The boy rematerialized two -feet away.</p> - -<p>"Reset your course!" the boy cried. "You understand machines, Captain; -we don't. And I can't get enough technical information from your mind -to do it for you."</p> - -<p>"One two, buckle my shoe!" Greg thought, in an ecstacy of triumph. -He had kept that much of his thinking safe. The kids were making one -last effort to save themselves—he was sure of that—but it wouldn't -work. They had the alien skill to pry into a human mind, but they were -helpless against man's machines. Inexorably the computer would drive -the ship to the satellite; nothing could stop it.</p> - -<p>"Think rationally," the boy pleaded, "not with your emotions. You have -only four minutes left, Captain Greg. If the Redearth was a virus -invasion as you believe it was, why were only the children affected? -We made it an antibiotic; we used it for millions of people; every -colonist was innoculated before he emigrated."</p> - -<p>He was lying. He had to be lying. He was trying to confuse Greg with -side issues. It didn't matter now how the virus had been brought back -to the earth. "Three four, open the door; five six, pick up sticks."</p> - -<p>"We aren't different, Captain. We've simply crossed your frontier in -a different way. We have a theory how it happened, but no proof. The -Martian Redearth worked as a sort of mental catalyst when it was used -for newly born infants. It awoke the full thought potential of our -cerebral cortex. That's all. We have no ability that men haven't always -been capable of; if you believe that, you can do it yourself."</p> - -<p>Belief!—mystical nonsense. Did the kid really think Greg would buy -that? Greg glanced at Adrian Vayle. The scientist's face was gray -with horror. Sweat stood in beads on his lips. Holly Wilson clung -desperately to his hand.</p> - -<p>"I drew a wheel in the sand for you, Captain: another monument to -another pioneer, the first primitive who grasped what we might do with -a rolling disk. He gave us terror and disaster, yes; but he gave us -progress, too. Do we blame him because his heirs sometimes misapplied -his discovery? Do we call ourselves alien invaders because we have -a more complex technology than his? Then why heap shame on yourself -because you gave us a frontier in the stars? It won't end the way you -thought it would; nothing ever does. We're your children, Captain; -we're your new frontier."</p> - -<p>"Aliens!" Greg spat.</p> - -<p>"My research was for nothing," Dr. Vayle said numbly. The words were a -whisper of agony, the torment of a soul ripped out of the comfortable -world of madness.</p> - -<p>"Don't say that. You'll finish your work," Holly told him soothingly.</p> - -<p>He pushed her away. "Not now. It was pointless."</p> - -<p>The boy wrung his hands. "You have only two minutes left. Forget your -emotions; put aside your self-pity. It's a luxury you can't afford any -longer. Use the brains God gave you, Captain Greg. You can't land on -the satellite. You must—"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Greg swung again and again he missed the boy, but he lost his balance -and plunged into the pilot computer, smashing the machine. Greg saw -what he had done and began to laugh. It was impossible, now, for anyone -to change the course setting. The boy's pleading was for nothing.</p> - -<p>The twelve year old rematerialized and stood looking at the broken -computer. Then shrugged his shoulders calmly. "A minute and a half -left, Captain; and now you have no choice." The child sighed, as a -parent might have sighed over the prank of a mischievious son.</p> - -<p>"You killed the mad dog," he said. "You didn't hesitate about that. I -thought him into Port City to give you an object lesson. You missed -the point, I'm afraid. You couldn't understand that you were yourself -a mad dog yapping at our heels. Potentially, all the older generation -threaten us the same way. Your kind of emotional reasoning, in one -form or another, will sooner or later infect them all. We encouraged -the migration to the colonies in order to prevent a conflict. By -administering the Redearth to every adult who left the earth, we -thought we might make a few of them realize their mental capacity. -Apparently the catalyst works only with an infant, and not always then. -In a sense, Captain Greg, your frontier has made us two species—ours, -mankind; yours, the rejects; the unfinished men."</p> - -<p>Dr. Vayle made a choking sound deep in his throat. His dream was gone; -the comfort of his madness had been stripped away from him.</p> - -<p>"And if it does come to the point of conflict," the boy went on -quietly, "we fully intend to survive."</p> - -<p>"Not after I reach the satellite," Greg answered grimly. His voice -sounded hollow and uncertain, even to himself. The boy had destroyed -the dramatic fiction of a virus invasion. Greg's dream, too, was gone.</p> - -<p>"I tried to save you, Captain, but by your own violence you made that -impossible. Now you will provide another object lesson. What I have -told you is true; every man has our ability. In sixty seconds your ship -will reach the old satellite; the airlock will open automatically—only -there will be no air in the wheel. This shell rusted open years ago. -You face death just as certain as if you leaped into outer space. But -you can save yourselves—all three of you—by thinking yourselves back -to the earth, or out to one of the colonies. This experiment interests -us a great deal. We didn't intend to resort to it quite so soon, but -you've given us an ideal opportunity. If you can unshackle your minds -now, we have hope for the rest of the rejects. There will be fewer mad -dogs for us to dispose of later on."</p> - -<p>The boy was gone.</p> - -<p>Greg felt the ship slide into the ramp of the satellite. He heard the -grapples clang against the hull, and the scream of rusting metal as the -airlock began to open. A paralyzing emotional opiate flamed through his -mind: this was a dream, nothing more. In a moment he would jerk himself -awake and be amused by his terror. But there was something else in his -mind, too, a stirring of greatness, a fire of magnificence, a new self -he had never known before. He groped blindly toward that pinpoint of -light.</p> - -<p>From a great distance, like an echo of shattering ice, he heard -Adrian Vayle's voice, "The children have mastered the art of hypnotic -illusion, but obviously they cannot violate the established physical -laws. Our problem is entirely mechanical. I am sure Captain Greg can -work out...."</p> - -<p>Vayle had found the sublime ignorance of sanity; and that was no -solution.</p> - -<p>"Kiss me," Holly Wilson whispered. "Nothing else matters, Adrian."</p> - -<p>And she had chosen the equally blind sterility of resignation.</p> - -<p>Greg knew they were both wrong. He was a realist; a spaceman had to be. -The kid had been able to read his thoughts; naturally the kid could put -this weird sense of a new self in Greg's mind. It was only a clever, -semantic manipulation of words to keep Greg from using the satellite.</p> - -<p>He squared his shoulders. The star-point of greatness flickered out in -his mind. Greg was a man, a product of a sophisticated and intelligent -culture. This undernourished, alien generation wasn't going to confuse -him with mystic mumbo jumbo about belief. He knew how to sort out fact -from childish magic.</p> - -<p>He walked toward the lock, straight and proud with the confidence of -man. He was smiling savagely. Mankind was no mad dog, to be crushed -into oblivion by a pack of puny children. They might as well learn that -now!</p> - -<p>And then the airlock screamed open.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIONEER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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