The Tenth Planet

by Cooper, Edmund

  “These people have spent a great deal of time trying to help you,” said Zylonia angrily. “This is how you repay them?”

  “I thank them for their help,” said Idris evenly. “I am immensely grateful for all the work they have done to ensure that I survived. But now that I am fully alive once more—no longer a prisoner in a nutrient tank—my freedom is precious, very precious. I wish to explore this world into which I have been reborn. If I am not hindered, no one will come to any harm.”

  Manfrius de Skun emerged from the cabin. “Captain Hamilton, I beg you to reconsider. You have demonstrated that you are in full possession of your faculties and in total harmony with your new body. Allow us a little more time to determine whether your integration is temporary or permanent.”

  “Dr. de Skun, you should be very proud of your achievement. I am a man once more, capable of completely independent action. I assume this is what you wanted. Now I choose to exercise my freedom. Try to see it from my point of view. So far I have had to depend on information about Minerva from you and Zylonia. Now, I must see for myself. I want to find out about this world you have thrust me into, and I want to find out about the fate of the children who were my charges on the Dag Hammarskjold. For my own peace of mind, there can be no more delay.”

  Manfrius de Skun gave a deep sigh and shrugged. “You ignore my professional opinion, so it is on your own head. Zylonia, take him wherever he wishes to go. Show him whatever—or whoever—he wishes to see.”

  15

  ABOVE ALL, IDRIS wanted to see the other survivors from the Dag Hammarskjold—the eleven children and one teacher whom the Minervans had managed to resuscitate. Until the Dag had been destroyed by the senseless and desperate sabotage of doomed Earthmen at Woomera, the children and their teachers had been regarded by Idris chiefly as the last, precious cultural and genetic cargo that could be lifted from the dying world. They had been taken aboard already encapsulated in their life-support systems. Each suspended animation unit was simply a priceless item on the ship’s manifest.

  He remembered looking at the titanium-clad suspended animation units and thinking of them as huge bombs—bombs of intelligence and initiative that would explode upon Mars and help to shape its future. The children, he knew, all had intelligence quotients of genius level. That was why they had been chosen. Primarily, he had regarded them as a cargo of super-brains—potential Newtons, Einsteins, Schweitzers who would leaven the intellectual development of the Martian elite and make invaluable contributions to the advancement of civilisation on the fourth planet.

  But that was long ago—long, long ago. Now there were no Earthmen or Martians left. There were only Minervans, living in their synthetic grottoes on a frozen planet six billion miles from the sun.

  So the children now were much more to him than super-brains. They were living time-machines, capable of transporting him across the black centuries of oblivion. Capable of reassuring him by bringing to life once more the ideas and attitudes—the very smell—of the Earth that had passed into history. Or so he thought …

  The meeting he had demanded took place in Talbot Hall, in Talbot City. He was already becoming sick of hearing the name Talbot. But the memory of Garfield Talbot, the man who had settled the tenth planet, had achieved semi-divine status in Minervan culture. Garfield Talbot was the man who had assured the survival of mankind.

  It was a strange event. Instead of the informal atmosphere that Idris had hoped for, the meeting had been deliberately organised for an audience. Besides Zylonia and Manfrius de Skun, nearly a hundred other Minervans were present.

  Dr. de Skun seemed rather agitated, and Zylonia also looked tense. Idris guessed that the situation was now out of Dr. de Skun’s control, and felt a twinge of regret at having forced his hand. Dr. de Skun was, after all, responsible for resuscitating Idris and providing him with a new body. The least he could have done in return, perhaps, would have been to exercise a little more patience and to have allowed the doctor to play it his way. But there was no going back. Having made his ‘break-out’—the news of which must have spread very rapidly in this small community—Idris was determined to retain the initiative. If he capitulated now, he felt, he would reduce himself to the status of laboratory animal.

  Before the Earth children and their surviving teacher were produced, Idris faced a number of questions from the Minervans. These questions were invited somewhat hesitantly by Manfrius de Skun.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you are all familiar with Captain Hamilton’s history. As you see, he is completely in harmony with his new body.” Dr. de Skun gave a nervous laugh. “Indeed, he adjusted to it far more rapidly than was anticipated, and there are those among us who have good reason to believe that his co-ordination is at optimum performance.” That, no doubt, was a reference to his emergence from the cabin that was supposed to be his psychological womb. It was received in frigid silence. “The point is,” went on Dr. de Skun desperately, “that Captain Hamilton is once more a totally integrated person—integrated, that is, within the framework of his own cultural attitudes. How he will respond to Minervan culture cannot, of course, yet be determined. But, in a sense, that is irrelevant. His presence among you justifies the techniques of transplant that we have been trying to establish for so long. He has demonstrated that a form of immortality is now within our grasp. To that extent he is our benefactor.

  “His present overwhelming desire is to meet the surviving children of Earth that it was his mission to transport to Mars some five thousand years ago. He will meet them presently. Meanwhile, I am sure he will be kind enough to answer any questions you may care to ask.”

  There was a short silence. Then someone said: “Captain Hamilton, do you feel that after such traumatic experience you can be wholly sane?”

  Idris shrugged. “Define sanity, and perhaps I can answer the question … I feel that I am in full possession of my clone brother’s faculties. I understand my situation, I try hard to accept it, and I believe I make rational responses. To that extent, I think that I am reasonably sane.”

  “Was it a sane act to attack’ technicians of the team responsible for your resuscitation?”

  “My environment seemed claustrophobic. Which of you has endured what I have endured? None. Therefore, I think, you cannot understand my motivations. I did not wantonly attack the technicians. They barred my way. They attempted to restrain me. Rightly or wrongly, I could not accept that restraint.”

  “Captain Hamilton.” This time it was a woman who spoke. “What do you. think of the women of Minerva?”

  He smiled and glanced at Zylonia. “Apart from Miss de Herrens, I have had no contact with the women of Minerva. If she is typical then I do not think I shall have cause to complain.”

  “Is it true that while your brain was still in the life-support system, you required her to disrobe?”

  “It is true.”

  “Why was that?”

  “I did not have a body. She did. I wanted to see it, to know what it was like. I wanted to observe all its movements and functions. And, apart from the obvious sexual motivation, I thought that it might help to keep me sane.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Manfrius de Skun was getting even more nervous.

  “You felt you were in danger of becoming insane?” Another voice. A male voice. The question was deceptively gentle. From Dr. de Skun’s agitated reaction, Idris sensed that the question was not so harmless as it appeared. He wondered why. He wondered how best to counter it. Finally he decided that the best way was by absolute honesty.

  “Of course, I thought I might become insane.”

  There was an almost unified gasp from the audience.

  “Consider the facts, ladies and gentlemen,” he went on calmly. “I was a brain in a life-support system. I had learned that I had died in space five thousand years before, that my brain had been salvaged and resuscitated by techniques at which I can only marvel, and that I was on the outermost planet of the solar system. Consider also that I ha
d no means of checking any data given to me. Under the circumstances, it would surely have been an indication of madness if I failed to doubt my own sanity.” There was some nervous and appreciative laughter. “But,” he concluded, “I believe that a normal Minervan brain, suitably prepared beforehand, would not be subjected to the stresses which I had to face. A Minervan brain, I am convinced, could be transferred from body to support system and back to body without experiencing any stress that would imperil sanity.” He glanced at Dr. de Skun, who seemed now a little more relaxed. “I am sure,” he added evenly, “that what Dr. de Skun has discovered during the course of my resuscitation can ultimately be of benefit to you all. Needless to say, he and his team have my profound gratitude.”

  There was a short burst of applause. Idris noted the gratitude in Manfrius de Skun’s eyes and in Zylonia’s, and knew that he had said the right things.

  “Another question, please.”

  “Let it be the last, then,” said Manfrius de Skun, his voice authoritative once more. “Captain Hamilton has been most co-operative.”

  “Captain Hamilton, now that you are fully restored to life, what would you like to do with all the useful time that is now ahead of you?”

  He smiled. “Well, you already know my immediate objective. After that I want to spend some time finding out about you Minervans. I am told that, unlike Earth and Mars, you have succeeded in developing a stable culture. I want to find out all I can about it.” He paused. “But, in the long term I have one overwhelming ambition. I am a spaceman. You have space flight. I want to mount an expedition to Earth.”

  There was a deathly silence. The good will that seemed to have been building up suddenly evaporated. The Minervans stared at him with expressionless faces. He was amazed.

  “I think,” said Manfrius de Skun hurriedly, “you will all appreciate that Captain Hamilton knows little or nothing of Minervan values. He cannot be expected to appreciate our attitudes until he has had time to explore our society.”

  “He is tainted!” said a woman’s voice, shrilly. “He attacked two of the project group, and now he wants to go back to that planet. He is tainted.”

  There were murmurs of approval. Idris was aware of a sudden, chilling hostility.

  “The E-people are ready and waiting,” said Zylonia in a voice that shook somewhat. “Captain Hamilton has endured much. Let us ensure that this encounter with the children he tried so valiantly to take to Mars is a pleasant one.”

  16

  IDRIS EXPECTED TO meet children. Instead he was confronted by young men and women. At first he thought he was being tricked, and said so. But Dr. de Skun explained what had happened.

  “Captain Hamilton, your abrupt rejection of our programme of psychological adjustment has given us no opportunity to prepare you to face certain facts which must now be made apparent. Minerva takes nearly five hundred Earth years to complete one orbit of the sun. To try to reckon personal time in Minervan years would be meaningless. Therefore we have retained Martian time. As you know, the Martian year is almost two Earth years. The wreckage of the Dag Hammarskjold was salvaged eighteen M-years ago. I and my team began work upon the resuscitation and rehabilitation of your brain almost immediately. But there was much arduous preparation, including the development of special equipment, and much testing before we could be reasonably certain that we could restore your brain and the personality encoded in it to a normal function. It was only when we were sure that this would be the case that we began resuscitation procedures upon the children. That was four M-years ago. Since there was no need to provide artificial life-support systems for their brains, the task proceeded relatively quickly. We have had great success. Six of the children and their teacher are now fully in possession of their faculties and integrated to our Minervan society. Judge for yourself.”

  Idris, gazing at the twelve people now confronting him, silently worked out a few simple sums. He had been brought to Minerva eighteen M-years ago, which was roughly thirty-four E-years ago. And the children, therefore, had been restored to life just over seven E-years ago. That figured. According to the manifest, the children he had taken on board at Woomera were eleven to twelve years of age. Now they would be eighteen or nineteen, Earth time. It figured.

  He spoke in English. It was hard to speak in English. He had become so accustomed to speaking—even thinking—in Minervan.

  “Please nod your heads slightly if you can understand what I say. I know that you are of varied nationalities, but I assume that most of you will have some acquaintance with my native tongue. I assume also that all of you are familiar with the Minervan language, as I am. We will use it presently; but for the moment, I would like to preserve some degree of privacy.”

  Six of them and the woman who was obviously the teacher nodded their heads. The remaining five looked at him blankly. Among the six was a Negro boy, an Indian or Pakistani girl and a girl who seemed to be of Chinese origin.

  “It would be more helpful, Idris, if you were to talk to them in Minervan,” said Zylonia.

  “I will be helpful presently,” he retorted, also in Minervan. “Meanwhile, I wish to exchange a few semi-private words with these people for whose safety I was once responsible.”

  “Captain Hamilton.” It was the teacher speaking. Her hair was white, Idris noted. Yet she could only be in her late twenties or early thirties—Earth time. He tried to remember the details of the manifest, but could not.

  “Captain Hamilton, I do not think we should antagonize our hosts. My name is Mary Evans. I am, as you probably know, the surviving teacher.” She spoke in English, with a pleasing Welsh lilt that sounded entirely marvellous.

  “Well, Miss Evans, may I say that your voice is like music to my ears. I have no intention of antagonizing our hosts, as you put it. Indeed, I have every reason to be grateful to them—so far. But I have been somewhat isolated—no doubt you know the facts—and I want to get one or two things clear in my mind. Have the Minervans treated you well? Have they tried to brainwash you or restrict you or compel you in any way?”

  Mary Evans smiled. “Captain Hamilton, you are very suspicious, perhaps rightly so. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we are filled with gratitude for what the Minervans have done. Truly, there has been no compulsion of any kind.”

  “So you will be content to spend the rest of your days here?”

  She sighed. “There is no choice … Let me give you some advice. You are a brave man. We all know what you have endured. But try to adjust to their philosophy. It is for the best.”

  “Your hair is white, yet you have a young face.”

  “I am now thirty-four Earth years old,” said Mary. “Perhaps the shock of being resuscitated on the wrong planet accounts for the white hair … Be at ease, Captain Hamilton. The Minervans are not sinister. They have been very good to us. Ask any of the children.” She grinned. “If we can still call them children. They are men and women, I suppose. And they have adapted very well.”

  He turned to a dark-haired, dark-skinned and quite beautiful girl—the one who was either Indian or Pakistani. “What is your name?”

  “Annali Prodoski, sir.”

  “You need not say sir, Annali.”

  “It is a mark of respect only, Captain Hamilton. You tried so hard to get us to Mars, and we are very grateful.”

  “Do you like living here on Minerva?”

  She shrugged. “Mars would have been better. But the Minervans are very kind.”

  “Have you been out on the surface?”

  “No. There is no need. Conditions are very difficult up there, and special training is necessary. Even in a space-suit it is possible to drown in a hydrogen lake. I think—”

  “Have you ever wanted to get away from this subterranean life, to go up top and see what it is really like?”

  “Yes, but it really is too dangerous.”

  “Who says so?”

  “The Minervans. Very few of them go to the surface or want to go to the surf
ace. Of course, there are scientists and space engineers who must work out there, and—”

  Again he interrupted her. “Annali, do you want to spend the rest of your life in an underground city on a frozen planet six billion miles from the sun?”

  Annali Prodoski seemed confused. “When you put it like that, it does not seem a very pleasant prospect. But we have no choice. There is nothing else we can do, is there?”

  “There might be,” he said enigmatically.

  All the time that he had been speaking in English, Idris had sensed a growing unrest among the Minervans present. He knew that Zylonia and Manfrius de Skun would be able to follow his conversation; but from the blank and hostile looks on the faces of the rest, it was evident that they had no familiarity with a language that had been dead for five thousand years.

  He looked at Zylonia and Dr. de Skun, both plainly unhappy at the way things were turning out. There was an atmosphere of tension and hostility among the other Minervans that puzzled him greatly. Well, he would think about that later. Now was the time to take some of the heat out, if at all possible.

  He continued his questioning of the Earth children in the Minervan tongue. The tension diminished; but much of the hostility remained.

  The responses he got from the children who had once been entrusted to his care were startlingly similar. They were all filled with gratitude for what the Minervans had done. They now thought of themselves not as Earth people but as Minervan citizens. And they seemed content to spend the rest of their days in the underground cities of this desolate world without ever feeling the need to go out on to the surface and explore.

  He was surprised that children of genius level should accept the situation so docilely and should be apparently devoid of curiosity. This, of course, was understandable in the case of those suffering from brain damage. He questioned them carefully—in Minervan. Apart from a Russian boy, Alexei Bolkonski, who had a serious speech defect, the rest were able to answer him rationally. One of them, Natalie van Doren, an American, curiously enough had retained her high intelligence quotient but could not remember anything of her life before she had been resuscitated on Minerva. The remaining three with brain damage had lost their paranormal intelligence but were by no means reduced to the level of cabbages. Their reactions were slow, they needed time to formulate their thoughts; but they got there in the end.