Transcriber's Notes:
This etext was produced from "Future combinedwith Science Fiction Stories" September 1951. Extensive research did notuncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication was renewed.
A number of typographical errors found in theoriginal text have been corrected in this version. A list of theseerrors is found at the end of this book.
Was this ill-fated expedition the end of a proud, old race—or thebeginning of a new one?
There are strange gaps in our records of the past. We find tracesof man-like things—but, suddenly, man appears, far too muchdeveloped to be the "next step" in a well-linked chain ofevolutionary evidence. Perhaps something like the events of thisstory furnishes the answer to the riddle.
Aboard the ship, there was neither day nor night; the hours slippedgently by, as vistas of star-gemmed blackness slid across thevisiscreens. For the crew, time had some meaning—one watch on duty andtwo off. But for the thousand-odd colonists, the men and women who wereto be the spearhead of migration to a new and friendlier planet, it hadnone. They slept, and played, worked at such tasks as they could invent,and slept again, while the huge ship followed her plotted trajectory.
Kalvar Dard, the army officer who would lead them in their new home, hadas little to do as any of his followers. The ship's officers had all theresponsibility for the voyage, and, for the first time in over fiveyears, he had none at all. He was finding the unaccustomed idleness morewearying than the hectic work of loading the ship before the blastofffrom Doorsha. He went over his landing and security plans again, andfound no probable emergency unprepared for. Dard wandered about theship, talking to groups of his colonists, and found morale even betterthan he had hoped. He spent hours staring into the forward visiscreens,watching the disc of Tareesh, the planet of his destination, grow largerand plainer ahead.
Now, with the voyage almost over, he was in the cargo-hold just aft ofthe Number Seven bulkhead, with six girls to help him, checkingconstruction material which would be needed immediately after landing.The stuff had all been checked two or three times before, but there wasno harm in going over it again. It furnished an occupation to fill inthe time; it gave Kalvar Dard an excuse for surrounding himself withhalf a dozen charming girls, and the girls seemed to enjoy being withhim. There was tall blonde Olva, the electromagnetician; pert littleVarnis, the machinist's helper; Kyna, the surgeon's-aide; dark-hairedAnalea; Dorita, the accountant; plump little Eldra, the armamenttechnician. At the moment, they were all sitting on or around the deskin the corner of the store-room, going over the inventory when they werenot just gabbling.
"Well, how about the rock-drill bitts?" Dorita was asking earnestly,trying to stick to business. "Won't we need them almost as soon as we'reoff?"
"Yes, we'll have to dig temporary magazines for our explosives,small-arms and artillery ammunition, and storage-pits for ourfissionables and radioactives," Kalvar Dard replied. "We'll have to havesafe places for that stuff ready before it can be unloaded; and if werun into hard rock near the surface, we'll have to drill holes forblasting-shots."
"The drilling machinery goes into one of those prefabricated sheds,"Eldra considered. "Will there be room in it for all the bitts, too?"
Kalvar Dard shrugged. "Maybe. If not, we'll cut poles and build racksfor them outside. The bitts are nono-steel; they can be stored in theopen."
"If there are poles to cut," Olva added.
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