Don Pendleton's Science Fiction Collection, 3 Books Box Set, (The Guns of Terra 10; The Godmakers; The Olympians)

by Don Pendleton

  “Yeah?” Hunter said.

  “Yes. The triangle, you see, of regeneration: Scorpius, Sagittarius, Leo.”

  “This is the fifth regeneration, you know,” Libwitz added, raising his eyebrows significantly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. Four times, the civilizations have risen and fallen. We must make it, this time.” Libwitz had ceased to eat altogether, and was staring fixedly at the young Sagittarian.

  “Uh...when was that last time we goofed?” Hunter inquired meekly. He speared a piece of roast beef and thrust it into his mouth, chewing nervously and hoping for a sane reply.

  “Roughly six thousand years ago,” Libwitz said, his eyes studying Hunter’s face. “Don’t you remember?”

  Hunter’s glaze fled to Brian. The Olympian was smiling tolerantly, “Libwitz is a cycling reincarnationist,” he explained. “He maintains that the Karmic Law is forcing us into practically identical roles.”

  “Identical to what?” Hunter asked, all but holding his breath.

  “Identical to our past failures,” Libwitz answered. “We were together...” His fork executed a large, triangle, linking the three at the table. “We were there, just as now. We simply must do better this time.”

  “What’d we do wrong last time?” Hunter asked, turning to Brian.

  “Don’t you remember?” Brian said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

  Hunter admitted that the entire episode had slipped his mind.

  “It’s the veil of horror,” Libwitz explained, his gaze trying to take in both men at once. “Even the reincarnated mind reels with horror at the terrible memory of cataclysm. But you can see through it if you’ll merely confront the truth. You can do it if you will. I’ve done it.”

  “What, uh...what cataclysm?” Hunter wanted to know.

  “The flood, of course,” Libwitz returned immediately.

  “Oh, that cataclysm!” Hunter looked from one to the other. You’re talking about Noah’s flood.”

  “Are you getting a picture?” Libwitz asked quickly, his eyes boring into Hunter’s.

  Hunter would have liked to tell him about the picture he was getting, but he took the coward’s way. “No. Uh, I guess not,” he muttered.

  Libwitz dropped his fork so he could get both hands into motion. He formed a ball in space, his eyes still searching Hunter’s face. “Think, now,” he commanded urgently. “Think of this. The spinning sphere. Suddenly...the earth stands still. The sphere stops spinning! What happens?”

  Hunter glanced at Brian. “Everything falls off, I guess.”

  Libwitz’s face didn’t change expression. “Think, now! The earth stops, but the mantle continues moving—the atmosphere, the waters, everything that isn’t fixed. The law of inertia keeps them moving. Abruptly the sphere undertakes a new motion; it begins to spin once again, but on a new axis, and with its elements dislocated and running wild! Oceans roar across the continents, great mountain ranges, are inundated... Civilization has disappeared in the first instant! All the great cities...oh, God! All our great works are roaring across the continents also! Remember, Archer! Remember!

  Hunter sat frozen, his fork halfway to his face, his mouth open. He closed his mouth and returned the fork to the plate. “Shit. Could that really happen?” he asked in a near-whisper.

  “It has happened. Many times!” Libwitz assured him.

  “How...how do you know?”

  “I know because I have pushed aside the veil of horror; I have looked into my memory. You can do the same, and you shall see the same. We were together.”

  Hunter looked at Brian, who nodded faintly. “I can’t vouch for the fact that we were there,” he mused, “but it has happened. Perhaps four times, perhaps many more than that, but at least four times during the reign of man. The great deluge of Bible legend was the most recent occurrence, and it is spoken of in all the ancient books of far-flung lands. Noah’s flood was a world-wide calamity. It happened just as Libwitz said: The earth stopped, caught in an uncontestable pinch of opposition from out of the cosmos. The stop was only momentary, but from full-spin to full-stop in the snap of a finger, then a shift of axis and an immediate restart, with a new direction of spin. But as Libwitz pointed out, the damage was already done; irreversibly done. The entire geography of the planet was altered in a twinkling. Great forests, entire species of animal life, even man himself, were all but obliterated. We had some high civilizations then, you know; perhaps higher than the present one.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Hunter said, “but I really don’t buy it.”

  “You will,” Brian replied.

  “Noah’s stupid-ass ark never sounded technologically sound to me,” the Secretary of State retorted.

  Brian dismissed this with a wave of the hand. “Tribal legends,” he said. “The entire Bible, all the ancient books, are products of the beginning of this fifth age of man. Everything else had been lost for time out of mind, Hunter. All the great cities, the technologies...human consciousness itself. Do you really understand the meaning of Doomsday? Global cataclysm? Good Lord! For centuries following the earth-tilt, there must have been unending hurricanes, tornadoes, thunderstorms clear out of your mind, incessant volcanic activity. Entire mountain ranges were raised and lowered; continents appeared and disappeared. Think of the tons of volcanic ash and dust blotting out the sun for centuries! Every extreme of temperature imaginable, and the pitiful bands of survivors hanging onto life by sheer guts alone. Then, a thousand years later you ask the descendants of those survivors why they haven’t retained memory and technology? Pfaugh! The preservation of life itself was the paramount consideration, and that was marginal itself. You think the Russians invented brain-washing? Try a thousand years of almost unendurable terror, and then ask where your brains have gone. You’re back to a stone-age culture, my friend, and you consider yourself damn lucky to have that much.”

  Hunter was definitely interested now. ‘You say this has happened over and over again. Then how old is man?”

  “Millions of years.”

  “How many millions?”

  Brian shrugged. “At least two. Perhaps fifty.”

  “And there have been great civilizations? Shades of Atlantis?”

  Brian nodded, and Libwitz joined in vigorously. “Atlantis is fact, not fantasy,” Brian declared. “And Lemuria, and undoubtedly many others. There were airplanes and space ships, and undoubtedly interplanetary travel.”

  “You stretch credulity a bit too far,” Hunter said, beginning to lose interest again.

  “Why? Merely because I mention things the scientific world has decided to pooh-pooh?”

  “I don’t believe the earth could ever stand still,” Hunter said.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s just...unnatural,” Hunter replied. “All the planets behave the same; it’s their nature to rotate. It’s just a fact of nature.”

  “That right?” Brian smiled. “Does the earth rotate clockwise or counterclockwise?”

  “I guess I never thought much about it.”

  “The earth spins on its axis in a counterclockwise motion. Your scientists had proclaimed that. Indeed, all the planets do so. But now the Arecibo Observatory has decided that Venus goes the other way—clockwise—even though she orbits the sun in a counterclockwise motion, as do all the planets. As for the earth standing still, there is considerable astronomical evidence to the effect that several planets have undergone shifts, or relocations, of their magnetic poles. And there’s geological evidence that the earth’s polarity has changed many times also. This is clear indication of a realignment of axis and an entirely new motion.”

  “I can’t argue about any of that,” Hunter said. “I know absolutely nothing about whatever it is you’re talking about.”

  “You will,” Brian replied, in an assertion that was beginning to sound to Hunter like a broken record.

  “The point is,” Libwitz put in, “is that this time we must succeed.”

 
Hunter was losing good humor rapidly. “Succeed in what?” he asked irritably. “Are you suggesting that the three of us hold some power over cataclysmic events, even allowing that one is coming up?”

  “No,” Brian replied smoothly. “We can’t command the stars. But we can save civilization for something a bit better than a new stone age.”

  “I see,” Hunter snapped. “That’s the plot, eh? The three of us are going to be the saviors of civilization.”

  “Something like that,” Brian replied.

  “Yes; something like that,” Libwitz echoed. “And perhaps...perhaps we can maintain a pothole through the veil of horror.”

  5: A CIRCUMVENTION

  The meeting with the military was held in the President’s oval office, an informal affair involving secretaries of the Army, Navy and Air Force, the commandant of the Marine Corps and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Most of the attendees were stiffly formal in the early moments, due to the unknown quantity behind the Presidential desk, but Donaldson’s air of easy relaxation quickly permeated the entire office, and by the time coffee and brandy were brought in, good nature was well established. The meeting broke up about an hour later, after Presidential assurances that “individual and private” conferences would be arranged in the very near future. Libwitz left with his arms encircling the shoulders of the secretaries of the Army and Navy; Hunter hoped he wasn’t discussing the veil of horror with them.

  Brian had indicated a desire that Hunter remain. He did so, closing the door behind the departing brass and turning with a troubled frown. “I feel like deadwood around here,” he announced. “What the hell am I doing here?”

  “You are serving your nation and your destiny,” Brian told him. “Come over here a moment.” He had stepped up to a huge map of the world which occupied most of one wall. As Hunter joined him there, Brian swept a hand across the North American continent. “This is the favored area of the Sagittarian cycle,” he said soberly. “And specifically, the United States. But now...” His voice trailed away, and his eyes drifted to Eastern Europe. “There are deep trouble influences over there, and all the way across Asia. Deep trouble. Tell me, Hunter: have you ever heard of the Jupiter-Saturn conjunction and the twenty-year cycle of the Presidents?”

  Hunter indicated that he had not heard of it. “Errrk!” he said.

  “You’re becoming increasingly hostile, aren’t you?” Brian observed. “That’s fine. It’s a good sign. You’ll peak out pretty soon, and fall into the valley of knowledge. Very well... On with your education. For more than a century now, a hundred twenty-five or thirty years, actually, there’s been a recurrence every twenty years of a Jupiter-Saturn conjunction in an earth sign.” He caught Hunter’s eye and hung onto it. “Every time this conjunction occurs, the incumbent President dies in office. It-”

  “Wait,” Hunter said. “Name them, please.”

  “Very well. Let’s see now. The conjunction appeared in Capricorn, and President Harrison died in 1841. Again in Virgo, and Lincoln got it; but he borrowed time until 1865. But he was still in office, of course. Garfield in 1881, following the conjunction in Taurus. McKinley, I believe...yes, McKinley, in 1901. Then, uh...oh, yes: McKinley’s conjunction appeared in Capricorn. Then the conjunction in Virgo got Harding. He died in 1923, still in office. Franklin Roosevelt pulled a Lincoln on us and borrowed time from a conjunction appearing in Taurus during his third-term bid, but he left us in 1945. Kennedy was the last, to date. His conjunction was in Capricorn. Now, you see, Roosevelt was truly an instrument of destiny. Franklin Roosevelt, I mean. He was the herald of the Aquarian Age. He was an Aquarian, you know; born January thirty, and up until Roosevelt our Presidents were inaugurated in March. Roosevelt was the first to be inaugurated on January twenty, and he broke the trine, you see.”

  “What’d he break?” Hunter asked disgustedly.

  “The trine. The Zodiacal mystery triangle of American politics. You see, we had a trine of the American twelve-month between July fourth, our birthday, the Presidential elections in November, and inauguration in March. That’s the trine. Or it was, until Roosevelt. Lincoln, by the way, was an Aquarian also, but he was too early for the Aquarian Age, which is just now getting up steam. At any rate, politically, FDR ushered in the Aquarian Age in American politics. Now... Hell, I don’t see how I can get you there, Hunter. I wish you’d spend more time with Winfried. I just don’t have the time for your education. I think probably—”

  “I’d just as soon skip it, if you don’t mind,” Hunter said wearily. “This is all just alien language to me, Brian.”

  “Well...I’ll try to be your interpreter. Just follow what I say, and I won’t try to back it up with anything factual. Call this a briefing.” He again rested one hand on the American continent, sweeping the map lightly with the other. “A rising Sagittarian influence here, a rising influence in Eastern Europe and Asia.... There’s big trouble brewing. Nothing like the teacakes and rum of the past twenty years, I mean real trouble. Asia’s going to unite, and we’re going to lose out over there entirely. Russia is presently pivotal; they may swing East, they may swing West. An unknown factor, you might say. Either way, there’s a confrontation looming. Furthermore, with things in the present trend, the United States very likely began faltering and beginning to disintegrate in the 80s.” He caught Hunter’s eye. “There’s going to be a nuclear war.”

  “How do you know that?” Hunter asked, interested despite himself.

  “Let Winfried explain the reasons. Just take my word for it; nuclear war is looming and the United States will lose.”

  “Who could win?” Hunter asked. “There is no winner in that kind of war.”

  “That’s brain-washing. Of course there’ll be a winner. The winner will be the nation that can keep a vestige of civilization intact. We won’t do it with our culture already beginning to deteriorate. The chances are excellent, in fact, that we won’t get a single shot off.”

  “Is this the cataclysm you and Libwitz were telling me about?”

  Brian shook his head vigorously. “Not at all. The next Doomsday will come about by natural means, not by warfare.”

  “So why worry?” Hunter said, silently complimenting himself on his logic.

  “The worry, young friend, is whether or not civilization will survive this Doomsday. The signs say that it will not...unless...”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless we can outwit the stars.”

  “Is that safe?”

  Brian chuckled. “Safe? Are you thinking, perhaps, of the wrath of God?”

  “Maybe.”

  “If I were God, I believe I’d feel more wrathful if none of my godlets ever did try to outwit me. If the challenge is there, then we should meet it.” “We’re godlets, eh?”

  “We are. All who strive are evolving Gods.”

  “Okay,” Hunter said. “How do we go about outwitting the stars?”

  “We prepare for the cataclysm. We build nests of safety for the preservation of human consciousness and the continuation of technologies and the philosophies. We gather together the best, the strongest, and we outfit them with every conceivable tool for survival. The work has been going on now for the past twenty years. We need another forty.”

  “Another forty years!

  Brian nodded. “Preferably. We want fourth-generation super-humans who are versed in all the arts and sciences, and in all the mental disciplines. We want true godlets who will survive the millennium of holocaust, and will hold the torch of mankind high for the better age. Hunter, we must preserve the wisdom and knowledge of this fifth planetary age!”

  Hunter didn’t know if he was in the presence of a madman or a cosmic saint. Either way, he felt a sudden deep compassion, and a jarring of consciousness. “Is that what you’ve been doing at Jackass Crags all these years?” he wanted to know. “Laying the groundwork for these godlets?”

  Brian nodded. “We have had to discard the religious and philosophical errors of the centuries. We are
building a new race, you see. We’ve had to replace religious ideas with cosmic knowledge, dead-end philosophies with ageless wisdom, and irrational sociologies with survivalist order.”

  “And the crags themselves? They’re considered to be a natural sanctuary?”

  “Yes. All the signs are good for the crags. But just to make sure, we have been drilling survival caves for the past twelve years. Already we’ve completed the tombs for the libraries, chemical samples, petroleum processes, mechanical models and various other artifacts.”

  Hunter’s eyes sought the floor. He squeezed the back of his neck with his fingers. “I...I don’t...”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Brian said softly. “There have been such lunatics in every age. This’s what you’re thinking. And sure; I’ll agree with you. Men have been preaching Doomsday messages from the beginning of recorded time. But why do you think this is so, Hunter? Doomsday is a part of the race consciousness, and whether or not you go along with Libwitz’s line of thought, you must allow that Doomsday is a human concept. We got the idea somewhere. We got it from the word-of-mouth history of countless generations of men who had survived a Doomsday.

  “The convictions of the Olympians aren’t lunatic mouthings, though. Some of the most learned thinking on this planet backs us up. The evidence is all in; most of the jury simply chooses to ignore it. The entire cosmos is cyclic, and so is our planet. Believe me, we speak from scientific investigation and truth. We are not lunatics.”

  “I believe that,” Hunter said. And he meant it. “But how does all this tie in with the fact that you and I are standing here in the White House? Shouldn’t we be back at Olympia making with the preparations? What are we doing here?”

  Brian patted the map again. “In order to outwit the stars, we must first outwit the minds of men,” he said.

  “I don’t get you.”

  “The signs are good for the crags against natural holocaust,” Brian explained. “We have no assurances regarding man-made holocausts.”