Captain Future 27 - Birthplace of Creation (May 1951)

by Edmond Hamilton

  His gesture had been both a feint to draw attention and a signal. A signal that sent Otho lunging toward the oblong altar.

  The phenomenal swiftness of the android, the reaction speed of nerves and muscles that were not human, made Otho’s movement almost blurring to the eye. But Garrand saw and with a low cry he pressed the keys.

  To Ezra, in the next moment, the air around them seemed suddenly charged with power. The golden haze spun about him, darkened, thickened, all in a heartbeat. He felt the imminent materialization of an agency of destruction drawn from the great matrix of force about them.

  He glimpsed through the thickening haze Otho pulling Garrand back from the altar. He saw Curt leaping in, his face desperate and raising the depressed keys.

  And Ezra felt the half-materialized shadowy force around him melting back into nothingness. “What —” he stammered, still standing frozen.

  “Death,” said Curt. “As to the form of it who knows but Garrand? Anyway, it’s over now.” His voice was unsteady and his hands shook on the keys. He looked down. Garrand had gone limp in Otho’s arms. Ezra thought at first that he was dead and then he saw the shallow breathing, the faint twitching of the mouth.

  “Hunger and exhaustion,” said Curt. “Strain. He was already at the end of his rope. Get him back to the ship, Otho, and have Simon take care of him.”

  Otho lifted the unconscious man without effort but he did not yet move away. “Aren’t you coming, Curt?”

  “Not yet.” He glanced upward through the opening at the brilliant stars that swarmed where no stars ought to be. “I can’t leave this imbalance at the heart of the Birthplace. The Watchers were careful about that. They built their one small planet at the exact center of stress, where it wouldn’t upset anything. But those creations of Garrand’s — I don’t dare leave them here, Otho.”

  Still Otho did not move and Curt said, “Go on, Otho. Garrand needs help.”

  SLOWLY and reluctantly the android turned and as he did so he looked at Ezra, a look of warning, a pleading look. Then, he went out, carrying Garrand.

  Curt Newton bent over the keys. “I haven’t forgotten,” he whispered to himself. “How could anyone ever forget?” He touched the gleaming keys, not pressing them, just touching them lightly and feeling the power that was in them, the unimaginable control of matter.

  Ezra said hoarsely, “What are you going to do?”

  Curt looked upward to where the little suns swam in the golden haze, the little suns that could create havoc in this cosmic womb where only the seed of matter belonged.

  “Watch,” he said. “I am going to dissolve what Garrand created.”

  Ezra watched. Slowly, carefully, Curt pressed a certain pattern on the keys and around a ruby star waves and bands of golden force began to flicker like faint auroras. They grew and strengthened and became streams of raw electrons, pouring their substance into the little Sun.

  Ezra shielded his eyes, but not soon enough. The star had become a nova, but without the second, the collapsed stage of novas. The fury of electronic force launched upon it from outside in this universal vortex of such forces had swept away each fragment of the exploding atoms to return them to the parent cloud.

  The ruby star had ceased to exist and its worlds had vanished with it.

  Swifter now, more surely, Curt’s hands flashed across the keys. And Ezra Gurney cowered beside the altar, blinded, stunned, shaken by the savage explosions of far-distant matter, riven and burst apart.

  How long he crouched there while the great lights flared in the sky and the cosmic hammers beat he never knew. But there came a time when everything was still and he looked up and saw Curt standing there with his hands motionless on the keys and his head strained back so that he could search the farthest reaches of the sky.

  He spoke and Curt did not answer. He touched him and spoke again, and it was like speaking to a statue except that under his fingers he could feel the subtle tremors of Curt’s hard flesh, the taut quivering.

  “Curt!” he cried out. And Curt very slowly lowered his head and looked at him with a kind of amazement in his eyes, as though he had forgotten Ezra Gurney.

  “Is it finished, Curt?”

  “Yes. It’s finished.”

  “Then come away.”

  Newton’s gaze, the unfamiliar gaze that did not see small things like men but looked on larger distances, slipped away to the banks of keys and upward to the sky again.

  “In a moment,” he said. “In just a moment.”

  Two red bars burned across the bones of his cheeks and the rest of his face was like marble. Ezra saw in it the beginning of the exaltation, the terrible beauty that had marked the face of Garrand. Curt smiled and the sinews of his hands moved delicately as he stroked his fingers across the keys.

  “The worlds that I could make,” he whispered. “Garrand was only a little man. I could create things he never dreamed of.”

  “Curt!” cried Ezra in a panic. “Come away!” But his voice was swallowed up in dreams and Curt whispered very softly, “I wouldn’t keep them. I would dissolve them afterward. But I could create...”

  His fingers were forming a pattern on the keys. Ezra looked down at his gnarled old hands and knew that they were not strong enough. He looked at his gun and knew that he could not use it in any way. Searching desperately for a way to pierce through the dreams he cried, “Could you create another Earth?”

  For awhile he was not sure that Curt had heard him, not sure but that he was beyond hearing. Then a vaguely startled look came into Curt’s eyes and he said, “What?”

  “Could you create another Earth, Curt? Could you put the mountains and the seas together and build the cities and fill them with men and women and the voices of children? Could you create another Otho or Grag or Simon?”

  Curt slowly looked down at his fingers, curved and hungry on the waiting keys, and a kind of horror flashed across his face. He snatched his hands away and spun around, turning his back to the altar. He looked sick, and shamed, but the dreams were no longer shadowing his face, and Ezra began to breathe again.

  “Thanks, Ezra,” he said hoarsely. “Now let’s go. Let’s go, while I can.”

  THE black cloud lay behind them and the Comet fled away from it like a frightened thing, back through the great blazing clusters of Suns that had now no terrors for them. Curt Newton sat silently at the controls and his face was so brooding that Ezra Gurney did not venture to speak.

  Ezra looked ahead because he did not want to look back into the main cabin. He knew that what Simon was doing there was perfectly harmless and utterly necessary but there was something so uncanny about it that he did not want to see it being done.

  He had looked in once and seen Simon hovering over the strange projector that Grag and Otho had rigged above the heads of the drugged unconscious Garrand and Herrick. He had come away from there quickly.

  He sat unspeaking beside Curt, watching the great clusters wheel slowly past them until at last Simon Wright came gliding into the control-room.

  “It is done,” said Simon. “Garrand and Herrick will not wake for many hours. When they do they won’t remember.”

  Curt looked at him. “You’re sure that you expunged every memory of the Birthplace?”

  “Absolutely sure. I used the scanner to block every memory-path on that subject — and checked by questioning them hypnotically. They know nothing of the Birthplace. You’ll have to have a story ready for them.”

  Curt nodded. “We picked them up out here in deep space when their ship cracked up in cosmic ray research. That fits the circumstances — they’ll never doubt it.”

  Ezra shivered a little. Even now the blocking of part of a man’s memories, the taking away forever of a bit of his experience, seemed an eerie thing to do.

  Curt Newton saw his shiver and understood it. He said, “It doesn’t harm them, Ezra — and it’s necessary.”

  “Very necessary, if the secret of the Birthplace is not to get out again
,” said Simon.

  There was a little silence among them and the ship crawled on and on through the cosmic glare and gloom. Ezra saw that the somber shadow on Newton’s face deepened as he looked out through the wilderness of Suns and nebulae toward the far, far spark of Sol.

  “But someday,” Curt said slowly, “someday not too far in the future, many men will be pushing out through these spaces. They’ll find the Birthplace sooner or later. And then what?”

  Simon said, “We will not be here when that happens.”

  “But they’ll do it. And what will happen when they do?”

  Simon had no answer for that nor had Ezra Gurney. And Curt spoke again, his voice heavy with foreboding.

  “I have sometimes thought that life, human life, intelligent life, is merely a deadly agent by which a stellar system achieves its own doom in a cosmic cycle far vaster and stranger than anyone has dreamed. For see — stars and planets are born from primal nothingness and they cool and the cooling worlds spawn life and life grows to ever higher levels of intelligence and power until...”

  There was an ironical twist to Curt’s lips as he paused and then went on “... until the life of that world becomes intelligent enough to tap the energies of the cosmos! When that happens is it inevitable that fallible mortals should use those energies so disastrously that they finally destroy their own worlds and stars? Are life and intelligence merely a lethal seed planted in each universe, a seed that must inevitably destroy that universe?”

  Simon said slowly, “That is a terrible thought, Curtis. But I deny its inevitability. Long ago the Watchers found the Birthplace, yet they did not try to use its powers.”

  “We are not like the Watchers, we men,” Curt said bitterly. “You saw what it did to Garrand and to me.”

  “I know,” said Simon. “But perhaps men will be as wise as the Watchers were by the time they find the Birthplace. Perhaps they too will then be powerful enough to renounce power. We can only hope.”

  THE END

  Well Done and Farewell

  AFTER starring in twenty novels and seven novelets of this current series, Curt Newton and his faithful trio of comrades — Simon Wright, the Brain; Otho, the android; and Grag, the robot — are taking off on an indefinite leave of absence, doubtless for some star far from their secret fortress upon the dark side of the Moon.

  Their recent return has been an exciting one, a happy one for all concerned — but it is time again for them to be on their galactic way. If their fortunes permit they may, in time, be back in the pages of this magazine to tend to their incredible affairs. So do not say good-bye but farewell.

  — The Editor

  Meet the Futuremen!

  In this department, which is a regular feature of CAPTAIN FUTURE, we acquaint you further with the companions of CAPTAIN FUTURE whom you have met in our complete book-length novels. Here you are told the off-the-record stories of their lives and anecdotes plucked from their careers. Follow this department closely, for it contains many interesting and fascinating facts to supplement those you read in our featured novels.

  Otho Finds a Mascot

  From the Spring 1945 issue of Captain Future

  On the tiny asteroid of a hermit, the famous android discovers his moon-mimic, Oog, which after much goading, stages a Battle Of The Ages with Grag’s Eek!

  IT WAS one of the countless asteroids that whirl between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. It was only a tiny worldlet, but it was green and forest-covered and parklike, with a thin atmosphere and gleaming little streams and lakes.

  Flame-birds darted in shining trails above the forests. Asteroid-rats scurried beneath the flat fronds of the trees. The hum of insects, the sigh of the breeze through the foliage and flowers, these were the only sounds to break the silence. For this asteroid had but one human inhabitant.

  He was an old man, this hermit of space — an Earthman, and something of a fanatic. For in the midst of an expanding scientific civilization, he was a bitter opponent of scientific progress. An eccentric rebel who had come to this lonely little asteroid, deliberately marooning himself here without tools or instruments, building his own cabin, cultivating his own food, and living completely out of the rush of Solar civilization.

  FUTUREMEN VISIT HERMIT

  The Futuremen were the only visitors to the hermit’s little world. They had first chanced upon it in running down certain pirates. Since then, they had stopped here more than once.

  Oddly enough, Curt Newton liked the old man. He the supreme wizard of modern Solar science, recognized a certain strain of bitter truth in the old Earthman’s condemnation of that science.

  “He’s a corrective,” Captain Future answered when the others wonderingly asked the reason for his liking.

  “Whenever I get too vain about what we modern men are doing with science, I like to hear the old boy point out just how much we haven’t done.”

  It was on the hermit’s little asteroid that Otho finally found what he had been looking for — a pet that would outshine Grag’s mascot.

  OTHO SEEKS PET

  Ever since Grag had adopted the moon-pup Eek as a pet, Otho had been secretly a little jealous. He had resolved to outdo Grag.

  “I’m so blasted tired of hearing Grag drool about that confounded moon-pup’s abilities, that I’m going to fix him for good,” Otho told Curt Newton. “I mean to grab myself some kind of a little critter that will make Eek’s life miserable for him.”

  “What are you going to do — get another moon-pup?” Newton asked.

  “No, I’ll find some kind of animal that will not only be smarter than Eek but will also be able to thrash the life out of Eek. Grag will go wild, then!”

  On the asteroid of the hermit, Otho on this particular morning noticed a small beast gamboling near the Comet. It was short-legged, and fat and white, with a round head whose two incongruously big, solemn eyes gave it an irresistibly comic appearance.

  Otho started toward it with casual interest. Spotting his approach, the little animal suddenly underwent an astounding transformation.

  A STRANGE CREATURE

  The fat, doughy-looking white body and head seemed to flow and twist and change color at the same time. In a second, the little beast had changed itself into a perfect replica of an ordinary asteroid-rabbit.

  “What the devil! Am I seeing things?” yelled Otho.

  He started toward the asteroid-rabbit. It hopped away among some gray stones. Again, its body changed with protean rapidity. Now it had become a perfect simulacrum of a gray stone.

  Otho yelled for the others. When Captain Future came with the hermit, the android pointed excitedly at the thing.

  “First it was a little fat white animal, then it changed into an asteroid-rabbit, now it’s a stone! I must be going crazy.”

  The old eccentric stepped forward and uttered a shrill whistle. The gray stone suddenly changed back into a little white animal, looking solemnly up at them.

  “It’s a meteor-mimic,” said the hermit. “There’s a few of them on this asteroid and they’ve got tame because I never hurt them. And are they pests! They fool me a dozen times a day with their tricks.”

  METEOR-MIMICS ARE RARE

  Captain Future was interested. “I’ve heard of meteor-mimics, but this is the first I’ve seen. They’re a rare species, living only on a few of the smaller asteroids.”

  “How the devil does the critter accomplish those changes?” Otho wanted to know.

  “They’re one of the strangest species of System life known,” Curt Newton said. “These meteor-mimics have all their vital organs in a compact core at the center of their bodies. The rest of the body is merely a mass of loosely organized cells whose structure the creature can almost instantly shift by an effort of will. Undoubtedly, they evolved this perfect camouflage-capacity as a method of defense.”

  Otho’s enthusiasm kindled. “Say, this is just the mascot I’ve been looking for! One that will be able to give Eek the licking of his life.” />
  Captain Future grinned. “It’s certainly appropriate as a pet for a disguise-expert like yourself. But I’m not so sure it can thrash Eek.”

  “Of course it can — when it can change itself into any kind of creature it desires!” Otho pointed out. He chortled. “Is Grag going to get the shock of his life! This will kill him.”

  HERMIT COMPLAINS OF PESTS

  The hermit made no objection to giving up the meteor-mimic. “Wish you could take them all,” he growled. “Every time I turn around the little pests fool me by looking like something else.”

  Nor was it hard for Otho to make friends with the little animal. Oog, as he decided on the spot to name his pet, was the friendliest beast alive. In ten minutes, he was snuggling contentedly in Otho’s arm.

  As they went to the ship to rejoin Grag and Simon Wright, Otho could not contain his elation.

  “For all these months, I’ve been listening to Grag’s boasting about that miserable moon-pup. Wait till he sees Oog clean up the floor with Eek.”

  “Eek has got wicked teeth and claws,” Captain Future reminded Otho. “I wouldn’t be too sure about how this scrap will turn out.”

  “Oog can grow teeth and claws better than Eek’s,” Otho retorted. “What’s more, Eek is the biggest coward alive, scared of his own shadow. He won’t have a chance.”

  When they rejoined the others in the Comet, Grag stared scornfully at Otho’s new acquisition.

  “That heap of dough for a pet?” scoffed Grag. “Why, it’s the stupidest-looking beast I ever saw in my life.”

  “Stupid, is it?” said Otho. “Just watch this.”

  OOG PLAYS A TRICK

  He put Oog down beside a mass of books on Simon’s desk, and then clapped his hands sharply to startle the meteor-mimic. Instantly, Oog changed into another book, perfectly camouflaging himself.