THE SKY IS FALLING
By
LESTER DEL REY
ace books
A Division of Charter Communications Inc.
1120 Avenue of the Americas
New York, N.Y. 10036
Copyright © 1954, 1963 by Galaxy Publishing Corp.
A shorter and earlier version of this story appeared as "No More Stars"
under the pseudonym of Charles Satterfield in Beyond Fantasy Fiction
for July, 1954.
First Ace printing: January, 1973
Printed in U.S.A.
Transcriber's note.
Extensive research did not uncover anyevidence that the copyright on this publication was renewed.
Dave stared around the office. He went to the window and staredupwards at the crazy patchwork of the sky. For all he knew, insuch a sky there might be cracks. In fact, as he looked, hecould make out a rift, and beyond that a ... hole ... a smallpatch where there was no color, and yet the sky there was notblack. There were no stars there, though points of light wereclustered around the edges, apparently retreating.
The Sky
Is Falling
By
Lester Del Rey
I
"Dave Hanson! By the power of the true name be summoned cells andhumors, ka and id, self and—"
Dave Hanson! The name came swimming through utter blackness, sucking athim, pulling him together out of nothingness. Then, abruptly, he wasaware of being alive, and surprised. He sucked in on the air around him,and the breath burned in his lungs. He was one of the dead—there shouldbe no quickening of breath within him!
He caught a grip on himself, fighting the fantasies of his mind, andtook another breath of air. This time it burned less, and he could forcean awareness of the smells around him. But there was none of the pungentodor of the hospital he had expected. Instead, his nostrils werescorched with a noxious odor of sulfur, burned hair and cloying incense.
He gagged on it. His diaphragm tautened with the sharp pain oflong-unused muscles, and he sneezed.
"A good sign," a man's voice said. "The followers have accepted and areleaving. Only a true being can sneeze. But unless the salamander works,his chances are only slight."
There was a mutter of agreement from others, before an older voice brokein. "It takes a deeper fire than most salamanders can stir, Ser Perth.We might aid it with high-frequency radiation, but I distrust theeffects on the prepsyche. If we tried a tamed succubus—"
"The things are untrustworthy," the first voice an [Pg 7]swered. "And with thesky falling, we dare not trust one."
The words blurred off in a fog of semiconsciousness and half-thoughts.The sky was falling? Who killed Foxy Loxy? I, said the spider, who satdown insider, I went boomp in the night and the bull jumped over themoon....
"Bull," he croaked. "The bull sleeper!"
"Delirious," the first voice muttered.
"I mean—bull pusher!" That was wrong, too, and he tried again, forcinghis reluctant tongue around the syllables. "Bull dosser!"
Damn it, couldn't he even pronounce simple Engaliss?
The language wasn't English, however. Nor was it Canadian French, theonly other speech he could make any sense of. Yet he understood it—hadeven spoken it, he realized. There was nothing wrong with his command ofwhatever language it was, but there se