The Early Asimov. Volume 1

by Isaac Asimov

  These words served only to amuse the Earthman. “Come, Antil, your patriotism is admirable, and your grievances justified, but melodrama and chauvinism don’t go with me. I am, above all, a realist.”

  There was a terrible earnestness in the Venusian’s voice. “Believe me, Karl, when I say nothing is more real than what I tell you now. In case of a Venusian revolt, I cannot vouch for Earth’s safety.”

  “Earth’s safety!” The enormity of this stunned Karl.

  “Yes,” continued Antil, “for I may be forced to destroy Earth. There you have it.” With this, he wheeled and plunged into the underbrush on the way back to the little Venusian village outside the great dome.

  Five years passed-years of turbulent unrest, and Venus stirred in its sleep like an awakening volcano. The shortsighted Terrestrial masters of Aphrodopolis , Venusia , and other domed cities cheerfully disregarded all danger signals. When they thought of the little green Venusians at all, it was with a disdainful grimace as if to say, “Oh, THOSE things!”

  But “those things” were finally pushed beyond endurance, and the nationalistic Green Bands became increasingly vociferous with every passing day. Then, on one grey day, not unlike the grey days preceding, crowds of natives swarmed upon the cities in organized rebellion.

  The smaller domes, caught by surprise, succumbed. In rapid succession New Washington, Mount Vulcan , and St. Denis were taken, together with the entire eastern continent, Before the reeling Terrestrials realized what was happening, half of Venus was no longer theirs.

  Earth, shocked and stunned by this sudden emergency-which, of course, should have been foreseen-sent arms and supplies to the inhabitants of the remaining beleaguered towns and began to equip a great space fleet for the recovery of the lost territory.

  Earth was annoyed but not frightened, knowing that ground lost by surprise could easily be regained at leisure, and that ground not now lost would never be lost. Or such, at least, was the belief.

  Imagine, then, the stupefaction of Earth’s leaders as no pause came in the Venusian advance. Venusia City had been amply stocked with weapons and food; her outer defences were up, the men at their posts. A tiny army of naked, unarmed natives approached and demanded unconditional surrender. Venusia refused haughtily, and the messages to Earth were mirthful in their references to the unarmed natives who had become so recklessly flushed with success.

  Then, suddenly, no more messages were received, and the natives took over Venusia .

  The events at Venusia were duplicated, over and over again, at what should have been impregnable fortresses. Even Aphrodopolis itself, with half a million population, fell to a pitiful five hundred Venusians. This, in spite of the fact that every weapon known to Earth was available to the defenders.

  The Terrestrial Government suppressed the facts, and Earth itself remained unsuspecting of the strange events on Venus; but in the inner councils, statesmen frowned as they listened to the strange words of Karl Frantor, son of the Minister of Education.

  Jan Heersen, Minister of War, rose in anger at the conclusion of the report.

  “Do you wish us to take seriously the random statement of a half-mad Greenie and make our peace with Venus on its own terms? That is definitely and absolutely impossible. What those damned beasts need is the mailed fist. Our fleet will blast them out of the Universe, and it is time that it were done.”

  “The blasting may not be so simple, Heersen,” said the gray-haired, elder Frantor, rushing to his son’s defence. “There are many of us who have all along claimed that the Government policy toward the Venusians was all wrong. Who knows what means of attack they have found and what, in revenge, they will do with it?”

  “Fairy Tales!” exclaimed Heersen. “You treat the Greenies as if they were people. They’re animals and should be thankful for the benefits of civilization we brought them. Remember, we’re treating them much better than some of our own Earth races were treated in our early history, the Red Indians for example.”

  Karl Frantor burst in once more in an agitated voice. “We must investigate, sirs! Antil’s threat is too serious to disregard, no matter how silly it sounds-and in the light of the Venusian conquests, it sounds anything but silly. I propose that you send me with Admiral von Blumdorff, as a sort of envoy. Let me get to the bottom of this before we attack them.”

  The saturnine Earth President, Jules Debuc, spoke now for the first time. “Frantor’s proposal is reasonable, at least. It shall be done. Are there any objections?”

  There were none, though Heersen scowled and snorted angrily. Thus, a week later, Karl Frantor accompanied the space armada of Earth when it set off for the inner planet.

  It was a strange Venus that greeted Karl after his five years’ absence. It was still its old soaking self, its old dreary, monotony of white and grey, its scattering of domed cities-and yet how different.

  Where before the haughty Terrestrials had moved in disdainful splendour among the cowering Venusians, now the natives maintained undisputed sway. Aphrodopolis was a native city entirely, and in the office of the former governor sat -Antil.

  Karl eyed him doubtfully, scarcely knowing what to say. “I rather thought you might be king-pin,” he managed at length. “You-the pacifist.”

  “The choice was not mine. It was that of circumstance,” Antil replied. “But you, I did not expect you to be your planet’s spokesman.”

  “It was to me that you made your silly threat years ago, and so it is I who was most pessimistic concerning your rebellion. I come, you see, but not unaccompanied.” His hand motioned vaguely upward, where spaceships lazed motionless and threatening.

  “You come to menace me?”

  “No! To hear your aims and your terms.”

  “That is easily accomplished. Venus demands its independence and we promise friendship, together with free and unrestricted trade.”

  “And you expect us to accept all that without a struggle.”

  “I hope you do-for Earth’s own sake.”

  Karl scowled and threw himself back in his chair in annoyance, “For God’s sake, Antil, the time for mysterious hints and bogies has passed. Show your hand. How did you overcome Aphrodopolis and the other cities so easily?”

  “We were forced to it, Karl. We did not desire it.” Antil’s voice was shrill with agitation. “They would not accept our fair terms of surrender and began to shoot their Tonite guns. We-we had to use the-the weapon. We had to kill most of them afterward-out of mercy.”

  “I don’t follow. What weapon are you talking about?”

  “Do you remember that time in the ruins of Ash-tai-wr, Karl? The hidden room; the ancient inscription; the five little rods.”

  Karl nodded sombrely. “I thought so, but I wasn’t sure.”

  “It was a horrible weapon, Karl.” Antil hurried on as if the mere thought of it were not to be endured. “The ancients discovered it-but never used it. They hid it instead, and why they did not destroy it, I can’t imagine. I wish they had destroyed it; I really do. But they didn’t and I found it and I must use it-for the good of Venus.”

  His voice sank to a whisper, but with a manifest effort he nerved himself to the task of explanation. “The little harmless rods you saw then, Karl, were capable of producing a force field of some unknown nature (the ancients wisely refused to be explicit there) which has the power of disconnecting brain from mind.”

  “What?” Karl stared in open-mouthed surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  “Why, you must know that the brain is merely the seat of the mind, and not the mind itself. The nature of ‘mind’ is a mystery, unknown even to our ancients; but whatever it is, it uses the brain as its intermediary to the world of matter.”

  “I see. And your weapon divorces mind from brain- renders mind helpless-a space-pilot without his controls.”

  Antil nodded solemnly. “Have you ever seen a decerebrated animal?” he asked suddenly.

  “Why, yes, a dog-in my bio course back in college
.”

  “Come, then, I will show you a decerebrated human.”

  Karl followed the Venusian to an elevator. As he shot downward to the lowest level-the prison level-his mind was in a turmoil. Tom between horror and fury, he had alternate impulses of unreasoning desire to escape and almost insuperable yearnings to slay the Venusian at his side. In a daze, he left the cubicle and followed Antil down a gloomy corridor, winding its way between rows of tiny, barred cells.

  There.” Antil’s voice roused Karl as would a sudden stream of cold water. He followed the pointing webbed hand and stared in fascinated revulsion at the human figure revealed.

  It was human, undoubtedly, in form-but inhuman, nevertheless. It (Karl could not imagine it as “he”) sat dumbly on the floor, large staring eyes never leaving the blank wall before him. Eyes that were empty of soul, loose lips from which saliva drooled, fingers that moved aimlessly. Nauseated, Karl turned his head hastily.

  “He is not exactly decerebrated.” Antil’s voice was low. “Organically, his brain is perfect and unharmed. It is merely -disconnected.”

  “How does it live, Antil? Why doesn’t it die?”

  “Because the autonomic system is untouched. Stand him up and he will remain balanced. Push him and he will regain his balance. His heart beats. He breathes. If you put food in his mouth, he will swallow, though he would die of starvation before performing the voluntary act of eating food that has been placed before him. It is life-of a sort; but it were better dead, for the disconnection is permanent.”

  “It is horrible-horrible.”

  “It is worse than you think. I feel convinced that somewhere within the shell of humanity, the mind, unharmed, still exists. Imprisoned helplessly in a body it cannot control, what must be that mind’s torture?”

  Karl stiffened suddenly. “You shan’t overcome Earth by sheer unspeakable brutality. It is an unbelievably cruel weapon but no more deadly than any of a dozen of ours. You shall pay for this.”

  “Please, Karl, you have no conception of one-millionth of the deadliness of the ‘Disconnection Field’. The Field is independent of space, and perhaps of time, too, so that its range can be extended almost indefinitely. Do you know that it required merely one discharge of the weapon to render every warm-blooded creature in Aphrodopolis helpless?” Antil’s voice rose tensely. “Do you know that I am able to bathe ALL EARTH in the Field-to render all your teeming billions the duplicate of that dead-alive hulk in there AT ONE STROKE.”

  Karl did not recognize his own voice as he rasped, “Fiend! Are you the only one who knows the secret of this damnable Field?”

  Antil burst into a hollow laugh, “Yes, Karl, the blame rests on me, alone. Yet killing me will not help. If I die, there are others who know where to find the inscription, others who have not my sympathy for Earth. I am perfectly safe from you, Karl, for my death would be the end of your world.”

  The Earthman was broken-utterly. Not a fragment of doubt as to the Venusian’s power was left within him. “I yield,” he muttered, “I yield. What shall I tell my people?”

  “Tell them of my terms, and of what I could do if I wished.”

  Karl shrank from the Venusian as if his very touch was death, “I will tell them that.”

  “Tell them also, that Venus is not vindictive. We do not wish to use our weapon, for it it too dreadful to use. If they will give us our independence on our own terms, and allow us certain wise precautions against future re-enslavement, we will hurl each of our five guns and the explanatory inscription explaining it into the sun.”

  The Terrestrial’s voice did not change from its toneless whisper. “I will tell them that.”

  Admiral von Blumdorff was as Prussian as his name, and his military code was the simple one of brute force. So it was quite natural that his reactions to Karl’s report were explosive in their sarcastic derision.

  “You forsaken fool,” he raved at the young man. ‘This is what comes of talk, of words, of tomfoolery. You dare come back to me with this old-wives’ tale of mysterious weapons, of untold force. Without any proof at all, you accept all that this damned Greenie tells you at absolute face value, and surrender abjectly. Couldn’t you threaten, couldn’t you bluff, couldn’t you lie?”

  “He didn’t threaten, bluff, or lie,” Karl answered warmly. “What he said was the gospel truth. If you had seen the decerebrated man-”

  “Bah! That is the most inexcusable part of the whole cursed business. To exhibit a lunatic to you, some perfectly normal mental defective, and to say, ‘This is our weapon!’ and for you to accept that without question! Did they do anything but talk? Did they demonstrate the weapon? Did they even show it to you?”

  “Naturally not. The weapon is deadly. They’re not going to kill a Venusian to satisfy me. As for showing me the weapon -well, would you show your ace-in-the-hole to the enemy? Now you answer me a few questions. Why is Antil so cocksure of himself? How did he conquer all Venus so easily?”

  “I can’t explain it I admit, but does that prove that theirs is the correct explanation? Anyhow, I’m sick of this talk. We’re attacking now, and to hell with theories. I’ll face them with Tonite projectiles and you can watch their bluff backfire in their ugly faces.”

  “But, Admiral, you must communicate my report to the President.”

  “I will-after I blow Aphrodopolis into kingdom come.”

  He turned on the central broadcasting unit. “Attention, all ships! Battle formation! We dive at Aphrodopolis with all Tonites blasting in fifteen minutes.” Then he turned to the orderly. “Have Captain Larsen inform Aphrodopolis that they have fifteen minutes to hoist the white flag.”

  The minutes that ticked by after that were tense and nervewracking for Karl Frantor. He sat in bent silence, head buried in his hands and the faint click of the chronometer at the end of every minute sounded like a thunder-clap in his ears. He counted those clicks in a mumbling whisper-8-9-10. God!

  Only five minutes to certain death! Or was it certain death? Was von Blumdorff right? Were the Venusians putting over a daring bluff?

  An orderly catapulted into the room and saluted. “The Greenies have just answered, sir.”

  “Well,” von Blumdorff leaned forward eagerly.

  “They say, ‘Urgently request fleet not to attack. If done, we shall not be responsible for the consequences.’“

  “Is that all?” came the outraged shout

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Admiral burst into a sulphurous stream of profanity. “Why, the infernal gall of them,” he shouted. “They dare bluff to the very end.”

  And as he finished, the fifteenth minute clicked off, and the mighty armada burst into motion. In streaking, orderly flight they shot down toward the cloudy shroud of the second planet. Von Blumdorff grinned in a grisly appreciation of the awesome view spread over the televisor-until the mathematically precise battle formation suddenly broke.

  The Admiral stared and rubbed his eyes. The entire further half of the fleet had suddenly gone crazy. First, the ships wavered; then they veered and shot off at mad angles.

  Then calls came in from the sane half of the fleet-reports that the left wing had ceased to respond to radio.

  The attack on Aphrodopolis was immediately disrupted as the order went out to capture the ships that had run amok. Von Blumdorff stamped up and down and tore his hair. Karl Frantor cried out dully, “It is their weapon,” and lapsed back into his former silence.

  From Aphrodopolis came no word at all.

  For two solid hours the remnant of the Terrestrial fleet battled their own ships. Following the aimless courses of the stricken vessels, they approached and grappled. Bound together then by rigid force, rocket blasts were applied until the insane flight of the others had been balanced and stopped,

  Fully twenty of the fleet were never caught; some continuing on some orbit about the sun, some shooting off into unknown space, a few crashing down to Venus.

  When the remaining ships of the left wing we
re boarded, the unsuspecting boarding parties stopped short in horror. Seventy-five staring witless shells of humanity in each ship . Not a single human being left.

  Some of the first to enter screamed in horror and fled in a panic. Others merely retched and turned away their eyes. One officer took in the situation at a glance, calmly drew his Atomo-pistol and rayed every decerebrate in sight.

  Admiral von Blumdorff was a stricken man; a pitiful, limp wreck of his former proud and blustering self, when he heard the worst. One of the decerebrates was brought to him, and he reeled back.

  Karl Frantor gazed at him with red-rimmed eyes, “Well, Admiral, are you satisfied?”

  But the Admiral made no answer. He drew his gun, and before anyone could stop him, shot himself through the head.

  Once again Karl Frantor stood before a meeting of the President and his Cabinet, before a dispirited, frightened group of men. His report was definite and left no doubt as to the course that must now be followed.

  President Debuc stared at the decerebrate brought in as an exhibit. “We are finished,” he said. “We must surrender unconditionally, throw ourselves upon their mercy. But someday-,” his eyes kindled in retribution.

  “No, Mr. President!” Karl’s voice rang out, “there shall be no someday. We must give the Venusians their simple due- liberty and independence. Bygones must be bygones-our dead have but paid for the half-century of Venusian slavery. After this, there must be a new order in the Solar System- the birth of a new day.”

  The President lowered his head in thought and then raised it again. “You are right,” he answered with decision; “there shall be no thought of revenge.”

  Two months later the peace treaty was signed and Venus became what it has remained ever since-an independent and sovereign power. And with the signing of the treaty, a whirling speck shot out toward the sun. It was-the weapon too dreadful to use.

  ***

  Amazing Storieswas, at that time, heavily slanted toward adventure and action and disapproved of too much scientific exposition in the course of the story. I, of course, even then was writing the kind of science fiction that involved scientific extrapolation that was specifically described. What Raymond Palmer did in this case was to omit some of my scientific discussion and to place in footnotes a condensed version of passages that he could not omit without damaging the plot. This was an extraordinarily inept device, at which I chafed at the time. I took the only retaliation available to me. I placed Amazing at the bottom of the list, as far as the order in which to submit stories was concerned.