The Scifi & Fantasy Collection

by L. Ron Hubbard

  The bridge officer was turning to his tubes. Kree flitted by the door and came to Shapadin’s quarters.

  Dana’s composure, up to this moment, had remained under control. She stood now against the table, defiance in her bearing and flame in her eyes, holding her dress together with a clenched fist. There was a bruise on her cheek, but there was proud victory upon her mouth.

  And then she saw Kree and recognized him. Her body started and her face flooded with incredulity. And then a mist swam before her eyes and she stumbled toward him.

  Kree glanced back down the ladder into the noisy ship. A guard was coming up to take over his appointed duty. Kree stepped deeper into the room and gripped Dana’s hand. He unlimbered a gun and held it loosely.

  The sailor stepped through the door, and Kree shot him between the eyes.

  “Come on!” said Kree, and hurried Dana beside him.

  The officer on watch turned toward the door, not much alarmed, for shot and footfalls were swallowed in the dinning gongs. Kree fired from the waist, and then in the few seconds he thought he could spare, began to smash the fire control panel and throttles with a series of flame cartridges.

  “Look out!” screamed Dana into the clamor.

  Kree ducked and then spun. The shot went over his head. His own aim was not as bad, for the guard went tumbling backward down the ladder, to lie inertly at the bottom.

  In the confusion, Kree tried to recall the way he had come, but almost immediately took a wrong corridor. They came out on the boat deck, but it was port, not starboard, where he was sure of his spaceboat and its equipment.

  Somewhere Shapadin was beginning a sweep of the whole vessel, and Kree knew he stood little chance unless he also had the advantage of surprise.

  Kree dragged the girl through a door and they found themselves in an officer’s pantry. An attendant cowered away from them and vanished through another door before Kree could stop him.

  Abruptly the gongs ceased. In the passage outside, the warning howl of the attendant went into the distance.

  Kree stumbled across the wardroom with its threadbare cloth and scarred furniture and racked riot guns. He saw that two weapons had been left in the rack and took one of them. But with this type of weapon he had no experience and could not quickly load it. He cast it away from him and drew his remaining belt gun. There were ten shots in this, all that remained to him.

  The next two doors let them out on the boat deck on the starboard side, and Kree marked the spaceboat he had checked. It was a considerable distance up the deck from them, its door invitingly open.

  They started toward it, and then there was a cry of discovery from behind them. Kree hurled the girl into a niche between the bulges and flattened himself against the side. A shot scored rust above his head, and another twitched at his belt.

  He took careful aim, not allowing himself to be disturbed. A man in the group two hundred feet up the deck screamed and spun about. The others hurriedly dodged back into cover, while Voris Shapadin, behind them, bullied them.

  Kree indicated that the girl should run for the open door, and he himself began to back toward it, firing carefully at each face which presented itself at the turn of the passage.

  The range was extreme for a flame gun of the belt type. And as his shots missed, the sailors began to gather courage.

  Step by step he worked his way back. Cartridge by cartridge he neared the open door where Dana had already arrived. He counted seven. He counted eight.

  He whirled and raced for it. A chunk of metal flew out of the door before his outstretched hand. Dana snatched at him and helped him through.

  Kree turned in this cover and fired his ninth shot. The group was racing toward him now and the men were hard to hit. Kree took very careful aim. He squeezed the trigger, keeping his arm properly loose. The gun recoiled.

  Voris Shapadin curled up into an agonized knot on the deck, his speed causing him to tumble three yards farther.

  Kree slammed the port. He smashed the heel of his hand against the jet buttons.

  There was a crash as the outer port went up. Speed jammed the two against the seats and momentarily blinded them.

  After a little he cut the acceleration and eased down into position so that he could discover the use of the controls and the answerability of the jet helm.

  He looked across the black skies and all around, but he found no sign of the Gaffgon. He looked critically at various stars which blazed through the airless void. One, quite near, was gigantic. And near it there was a planet.

  Kree became aware of the girl beside him. Her wonderously blue eyes were fixed upon him as though she were hypnotized.

  And then, as though she herself had only begun to believe it, she said, “You . . . I . . . escaped!”

  He was getting his equilibrium back now. He grinned at her. She dropped her glance in humility and leaned a little closer to him.

  “I . . . I’m sorry for what—”

  “Sorry?” said Kree. “Sorry for what?”

  “But you . . . are a . . . a very brave and—” She looked at him mistily.

  “Brave? Why,” said Kree with an offhand wave of his arm, “why, of course I’m brave. I am Kree Lorin. Kree Lorin of Falcon’s Nest.”

  Glossary

  STORIES FROM THE GOLDEN AGE reflect the words and expressions used in the 1930s and 1940s, adding unique flavor and authenticity to the tales. While a character’s speech may often reflect regional origins, it also can convey attitudes common in the day. So that readers can better grasp such cultural and historical terms, uncommon words or expressions of the era, the following glossary has been provided.

  avarice: extreme greed for wealth or material gain.

  batteries: groups of large-caliber weapons used for combined action.

  beaters: people who drive animals out from cover.

  beck: a gesture of the hand, head, etc., meant to summon.

  bos’n: bosun; a petty officer on a merchant ship who supervises the work of other crew.

  brutes: animals other than human beings.

  CPO: Chief Petty Officer.

  dodger: a screen to provide protection on a ship.

  dry washes: dry stream beds, as at the bottom of a canyon.

  flagon: a container for beverages, with a handle, narrow neck, spout and sometimes a lid.

  gangway: a narrow, movable platform or ramp forming a bridge by which to board or leave a ship.

  haft: the handle of a knife, ax or spear.

  hard by: in close proximity to; near.

  hither and thither: in many directions in a disorderly way.

  juju: something thought to possess magical powers.

  O: used in solemn or poetic language to add earnestness to an appeal.

  obtained: existed.

  pannikin: a small metal drinking cup.

  shoal: to become shallow.

  slaver: a slave ship; a ship for transporting slaves from their native homes to places of bondage.

  slug: a bullet.

  spraddled: spread apart.

  squelched: made a sucking sound (while walking on soft wet ground).

  struck no colors: never surrendered. A variation of the phrase “striking the colors,” which is the universally recognized sign of surrender for ships at battle; the flag is hauled down as a token of submission.

  terrier who had no eyes for the size of her rats: terrier is a group of dogs initially bred for hunting and killing vermin, such as rats and small game, both above and under the ground. While usually small, these dogs are known for being brave and tough with a lively, energetic personality. They will tenaciously go after their prey, undeterred by its size, even digging into the ground if needed to reach it. Used figuratively.

  thou: archaic form of you.

  tramp: a freight vessel that does not run regularly
between fixed ports, but takes a cargo wherever shippers desire.

  vassals: servants or slaves.

  Venusian: relating to the planet Venus.

  Published by

  Galaxy Press, LLC

  7051 Hollywood Boulevard, Suite 200

  Hollywood, CA 90028

  © 2008 L. Ron Hubbard Library. All Rights Reserved.

  Any unauthorized copying, translation, duplication, importation or distribution, in whole or in part, by any means, including electronic copying, storage or transmission, is a violation of applicable laws.

  Mission Earth is a trademark owned by L. Ron Hubbard Library and is used with permission. Battlefield Earth is a trademark owned by Author Services, Inc. and is used with permission.

  Horsemen illustration from Western Story Magazine is © and ™ Condé Nast Publications and is used with their permission. Cover art and thumbnail cover on back; Greed and The Automagic Horse story illustrations; Fantasy, Far-Flung Adventure and Science Fiction illustrations and Story Preview and Glossary illustrations: Unknown and Astounding Science Fiction copyright © by Street & Smith Publications, Inc. Reprinted with permission of Penny Publications, LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59212-566-1 ePub version

  ISBN 978-1-59212-369-8 print version

  ISBN 978-1-59212-243-1 audiobook version

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2007927677

  Contents

  GREED

  FINAL ENEMY

  THE AUTOMAGIC HORSE

  GLOSSARY

  Greed

  Greed

  IT can be said with more than a little truth that a society is lost when it loses its greed, for without hunger as a whip—for power, money or fame—man sinks into a blind sloth and, contented or not, is gone.

  There were three distinct classes of men who made up the early vanguard into space —and they were all greedy.

  First were the explorers, the keen-eyed, eager and dauntless few who wrenched knowledge from the dark and unwilling depths of the universe.

  Next were the rangers, called variously the “space tramps,” “space nuts” and “star hobos,” who wandered aimlessly, looking, prospecting, seeing what was to be seen and wandering on.

  And last were the exploiters, the hardheaded, quick-eyed and dangerous few who accomplished, according to a standard and learned work of the times, the “rape of space.”

  Each had his hunger. The explorer wanted knowledge and fame and he often laid down his life in an effort to attain them. The space tramp wanted novelty, change, adventure and sojourns in the exotic humanoid societies or solitudes in the wastes. The exploiter wanted gems and gold.

  Hard words have been used against these last and it has been charged that their depredations in the first days of conquest committed ravages upon new planets which hundreds of generations could not repair.

  George Marquis Lorrilard, sometime lieutenant in the United Continents Space Navy—that pitiful handful of space guards—was an exploiter. The savage libels leveled at him in his days are leveled even now. In the kindest histories, he is “not quite nice.” And yet this man broke an impasse of Earth nations which threatened the future of all space conquest and planted the first successful colony in the stars.

  He wanted wealth and he made no secret of it. A lean, hardy, ice-eyed man, Lorrilard knew his own desires and he attained them. Lesser men were afraid of him and yet, when one reviews the evidence, he never gave his own kind reason.

  Often savage, always decisive and abrupt, George Marquis Lorrilard looms like a giant among his kind. He attained his goals. His fortune, wrested from brutal and inhospitable worlds, at one time amounted to twice the entire national debt of the United Continents and when it was at last dispersed in the reading of his will, it nearly wrecked Earth’s economy.

  But if one seeks to envision him as a palm-rubbing skinflint, cowering behind underlings, one is wrong. Even if that is the impression vengeful historians seek to give, nothing could be further from truth. He commanded his own ships. He fought his own fights. And he died in the act of personal conquest in the stars.

  Not too long after exploration had begun in earnest, men found that there was wealth to be had amongst the alien worlds. All they saw, then, was the portable wealth, the fabulous jewels and precious metals and elements, which lay either already mined in the hands of hapless humanoids or was to be had by the merest skimming of the virgin ground. Some of the tales told in these times are not exaggerations. It is actually true that there was an entire mountain of solid gold on Durak and that there was a ruby measuring eighty feet in diameter on Psycho. The humanoids of Darwin of Mizar used solid silver for paving. And into a thousand worlds went the exploiters, close behind the explorers, to extract their due with pick and gun. They fought animals, humanoids, men and absolute zero—some died and some received their pay.

  Few had thought of colonies at this time. Overpopulation on Earth was serious, but the first efforts with Mars had proven so pale that thoughts of new human worlds were few. Earth, as always, was too engrossed in her own travails to think much, as an entire society, about the stars.

  An invention had disrupted affairs entirely. And it was a sudden and stopping thing. Heretofore, nearly all research had aided space conquest but now, abruptly, the problems of the universe had to wait. The Asian government had triumphed.

  For many a long year there had been a single Earth, all properly patrolled and controlled by a single government. And the researches had become private affairs. Long sleep had lulled the salons, and the armor of their army and navy was almost sunk to rust. In the last year before the political cataclysm, the total United Nations appropriation for defense was less than one-tenth its expenditure for education, a thing which, while pretty, is not practical. And for a long, long while, the Asiatic races had slept.

  Earth had, as we all know, several human races. But her most energetic were the Oriental and the Occidental. And the Occidental ruled and the Oriental endured. A country which had been called Russia had almost triumphed once. And then it had failed. Although ostensibly white, it was actually Oriental. Sunk into what it considered a trying servitude to the Occidental races, Asia struggled behind her hands and at length, with the One-Earth government grown feeble, struck with suddenness.

  The wounds of a forgotten war had festered into a new invention. It was privately done. And it outstripped all the means of offense which could be employed against it.

  It was a simple contrivance. We would call it very elementary now. But to Earth it came as a stunning reversal of affairs. It was a “cohesion projector.” By using the force which keeps electrons and atoms together, rather than the force which blows them apart, space itself could be made into a solid wall. In an instant then, from a single generator, a column several hundred feet in diameter could be projected upwards for several thousand miles. It was not an elementary force screen such as those in early use to repel missile rockets. It was a solid, if invisible, wall. With a slightly greater frequency, it could have made matter, but they did not know that then and, indeed, did not find it out for another five hundred years.

  With cunning handicraft, the Asian races, under the direction of the ex-federation of Russia, constructed their thousands of generators, passed them secretly to proper points for installation and suddenly announced, with the murder of all the United Nations garrisons within the boundaries of Asia, that they were free from the remainder of the world.

  A dozen violent attacks against the rebels ended in defeat for the United Nations. The remaining political entities outside this barrier formed the United Continents under the direction of a major country in North America.

  At first no one supposed that any great harm would come of this. The Asians knew better than to attack such excellent missile weapons as the United Continents had,
and the United Continents had learned with cost not to attack the cohesion barriers of the Asians. Earth was in a fine state of deadlock and consequent intrigue, and stayed that way for many years.

  It was into this strange situation that George Marquis Lorrilard was born. He went to the United Continents Naval Academy, was graduated in the center of his class, was given a minor warship assignment and was forgotten about as a cog in the machinery of government. In due time, unnoticed in general but always admired by his divisions for his athletic skill and competence, he became a lieutenant and was placed in command of an outer-space patrol vessel, the State Sahara.

  Only then did he astonish anyone. He attacked the Asian cruiser Changrin in the area of Betelgeuse and shot it to such small bits that he experienced trouble afterwards finding out its right name.

  Returning to Earth, he reported with aplomb the circumstances of the engagement. The United Continents and the Asians had not been at war for a decade. They had pursued their way in space without a clash because there was, after all, a lot of space. There had been tales brought back from time to time of white prospectors being robbed and murdered by Asian military units or vessels, but no action had been taken. The general idea was that any man fool enough to cruise space for any purpose did so at his own risk.

  George Marquis Lorrilard not only reported—he gave forth a new doctrine, “The Freedom of Space.” Heretofore there had been spheres of activity. There were no colonies as such; there were only isolated mines and occasional garrisons and patrols to keep the humanoids in hand.

  George Marquis Lorrilard brought to an astonished world some news. The mortality of mines in the strange worlds was not coincident with the risings of humanoids or the happening of cataclysms. The loss of small freighters was only rarely due to collision and mechanical failure. The Asians were establishing fortresses on most of the habitable worlds in easy cruise from Earth and they would soon control space.

  People had said it before. But there had not been a bloody fight involved. Lorrilard made front page with his own personal story, “HOW THE CHANGRIN WAS BEATEN.”