Galactic Dreams Read online

  “Then my teddy… ?

  “I altered its tapes, in just that one way, so this part of your education would be missed. Nothing else was changed.

  “It was enough, Doctor.

  There was a coldness to his voice that had never existed before. “How is Barre supposed to be killed?

  “With this. Eigg removed a package from the table drawer and opened it.

  “This is a primitive weapon removed from a museum. I have repaired it, then charged it with the projectile devices called shells.

  He held the sleek, ugly, black thing in his hand. “It is fully automatic in operation. When this device, the trigger, is depressed a chemical reaction propels a copper and lead weight named a bullet directly from the front orifice. The line of flight of the bullet is along an imaginary path extended from these two niches on the top of the device. The bullet of course falls by gravity. But in a minimum distance, say a meter, this fall is negligible.

  He put it down suddenly on the table. “It is called a gun.

  David reached over slowly and picked it up. How well it fitted into his hand, sitting with such precise balance. He raised it slowly, sighted across the niches and pulled the trigger. It exploded with an immense roar and jumped in his hand. The bullet plunged into Eigg’s chest just over his heart with such a great impact that the man and the chair he had been sitting in were hurled backwards to the floor. The bullet also tore a great hole in his flesh and Eigg’s throat choked with blood and he died.

  “David! What are you doing? His father’s voice cracked with uncomprehending horror.

  David turned away from the thing on the floor, still unmoved by what he had done.

  “Don’t you understand, Father? Barre and his Panstentialists are indeed a terrible weight. Many suffer and freedom is abridged, and all the other things that are wrong, that we know should not be. But don’t you see the difference? You yourself said that things would change after Barre’s death. The world would move on. So how is his crime to be compared to the crime of bringing this back into existence?

  He shot his father quickly and efficiently before the older men could realize the import of his words and suffer with the knowledge of what was coming. Torrence screamed and ran to the door, fumbling with terrified fingers at the lock. David shot him too. But not very well since he was so far away, and the bullet lodged in his body and made him fall. David walked over and ignoring the screamings and bubbled words, took careful aim at the man’s twisting head and blew out his brains.

  Now the gun was heavy and he was very tired. The lift shaft took him up to his room and he had to stand on a chair to take teddy down from behind the books on the high shelf. The little furry animal sat in the middle of the large bed and rolled its eyes and wagged its stubby arms.

  “Teddy,” he said, “I’m going to pull up flowers from the flower bed.

  “No Davy … pulling up flowers is naughty … don’t pull up the flowers.

  The little voice squeaked and the arms waved.

  “Teddy, I’m going to break a window.

  “No, Davy … breaking windows is naughty … don’t break any windows …

  “Teddy, I’m going to kill a man.

  Silence, just silence. Even the eyes and the arms were still.

  The roar of the gun broke the silence and blew a ruin of gears, wires and bent metal from the back of the destroyed teddy bear.

  “Teddy … oh, teddy … you should have told me,” David said and dropped the gun and at last was crying.

  2:

  SPACE RATS OF THE CCC

  That’s it, matey, pull up a stool, sure use that one. Just dump old Phrnnx onto the floor to sleep it off. You know that Krddls can’t stand to drink - much less drink flnnx, and that topped off with a smoke of the hellish krmml weed. Here, let me pour you a mug of flnnx, oops, sorry about your sleeve. When it dries you can scrape it off with a knife. Here’s to your health and may your tubleliners never fail you when the kpnnz hordes are on your tail.

  No, sorry, never heard your name before. Too many good men come and go, and the good ones die early, aye! Me? You never heard of me. Just call me Old Sarge - as good a name as any. Good men I say, and the best of them was well, we’ll call him Gentleman Jax. He had another name, but there’s a little girl waiting on a planet I could tell you about, a little girl who’s waiting and watching the shimmering trails of the deep-spacers when they come, and waiting for a man. So for her sake we’ll call him Gentleman Jax, he would have liked that, and she would like that if only she knew, although she must be getting kind of gray, or bald by now, and arthritic from all that sitting and waiting but, golly, that’s another story and by Orion it’s not for me to tell. That’s it, help yourself, a large one. Sure the green fumes are normal for good flnnx, though you better close your eyes when you drink or you’ll be blind in a week, ha-ha!, by the sacred name of the Prophet Mrddl! Yes, I can tell what you’re thinking. What’s an old space rat like me doing in a dive like this out here at galaxy’s end where the rim stars flicker wanly and the tired photons go slow? I’ll tell you what I’m doing, getting drunker than a Planizzian pfrdffl, that’s what. They say that drink has the power to dim memories and by Cygnus I have some memories that need dimming. I saw you looking at those scars on my hands. Each one is a story, matey, aye, and the scars on my back each a story and the scars on my … well, that’s a different story. Yes, I’ll tell you a story, a true one by Mrddl’s holy memory, though I might change a name or two, that little girl waiting, you know.

  You heard tell of the CCC? I can see by the sudden widening of your eyes and the blanching of your space-tanned skin that you have. Well, yours truly, Old Sarge here, was one of the first of the Space Rats of the CCC, and my buddy then was the man they know as Gentleman Jax. May Great Kramddl curse his name and blacken the memory of the first day when I first set eyes on him ….

  “Graduating class … ten-SHUN!

  The sergeant’s stentorian voice bellowed forth, cracking like a whiplash across the expectant ears of the mathematically aligned rows of cadets. With the harsh snap of those fateful words a hundred and three incredibly polished boot heels crashed together with a single echoing crunch as the eighty seven cadets of the graduating class snapped to steel-rigid attention. (It should be explained that some of them were from alien worlds, different numbers of legs, and so on.) Not a breath was drawn, not an eyelid twitched a thousandth of a milliliter as Colonel von Thorax stepped forward, glaring down at them all through the glass monocle in front of his glass eye, close cropped gray hair stiff as barbed wire, black uniform faultlessly cut and smooth, a krmml-weed cigarette clutched in the steel fingers of his prosthetic left arm, black gloved fingers of his prosthetic right arm snapping to hat brim’s edge in a perfect salute, motors whining thinly in his prosthetic lungs to power the Brobdingnagian roar of his harshly bellowed command.

  “At ease. And listen to me. You are the hand-picked men, and hand-picked things too, of course, from all the civilized worlds of the galaxy. Six million and forty-three cadets entered the first year of training, and most of them washed out in one way or another. Some could not toe the mark. Some were expelled and shot for buggery. Some believed the lying commie pinko crying liberal claims that continuous war and slaughter are not necessary, and they were expelled and shot as well. One by one the weaklings fell away through the years leaving the hard core of the Corpsyou! The Corpsmen of the first graduating class of the CCC! Ready to spread the benefits of civilization to. the stars. Ready at last to find out what the initials CCC stand for!

  A mighty roar went up from the massed throats, a cheer of hoarse masculine enthusiasm that echoed and boomed from the stadium walls. At a signal from von Thorax a switch was thrown, and a great shield of imperviumite slid into place above, sealing the stadium from prying eyes and ears and snooping spyish rays. The roaring voices roared on enthusiastically, and many an eardrum was burst that day! Yet they were stilled in an instant when the Colonel raised his hand. />
  “You Corpsmen will not be alone when you push the frontiers of civilization out to the barbaric stars. Oh no! You will each have a faithful companion by your side. First man, first row, step forward and meet your faithful companion!

  The called out Corpsman stepped forward a smart pace and clicked his heels sharply, said click being echoed in the clack of a thrown-wide door, and, without conscious intent, every eye in that stadium was drawn in the direction of the pitch-black doorway from which emerged …

  How to describe it? How to describe the whirlwind that batters you, the storm that engulfs you, the spacewarp that enwraps you? It was as indescribable as any natural force! It was a creature three meters high at the shoulders, four meters high at the ugly, drooling, tooth-clashing head, a whirlwinded, spacewarped storm that rushed forward on four piston-like legs, great-clawed feet tearing grooves in the untearable surface of the impervitium flooring. A monster born of madness and nightmares that reared up before them and bellowed forth a soul-destroying screech.

  “There! Colonel von Thorax bellowed in answer, bloodspecked spittle mottling his lips. “There is your faithful companion, the mutacamel, mutation of the noble beast of Good Old Earth, symbol and pride of the CCC, the Combat Camel Corps! Corpsman meet your camel!

  The selected Corpsman stepped forward and raised his arm in greeting to this noble beast which promptly bit the arm off. His shrill screams mingled with the barely stifled gasps of his companions who watched, with more than casual interest, as camel trainers girt with brass-buckled leather harness rushed out and beat the protesting camel with clubs back from whence it had come, while a medic clamped a tourniquet on the wounded man’s stump and dragged his limp body away.

  “That is your first lesson about combat camels,” the Colonel cried huskily. “Never raise your arms to them. Your companion, with a newly grafted arm will, I am certain, ha-ha!, remember this little lesson. Next man, next companion!

  Again the thunder of rushing feet and the high-pitched gurgling, scream-like roar of the combat camel at full charge. This time the Corpsman kept his arm down, and the camel bit his head off.

  “Can’t graft on a new head I am afraid,” the Colonel leered maliciously at them. “A moment of silence for our departed companion who has gone to the big rocket pad in the sky. That’s enough. Ten-SHUN! You will now proceed to the camel training area where you will learn to get along with your faithful companions. Never forgetting of course that each creature has a complete set of teeth made of imperviumite, as well as razor sharp claw caps of this same substance. DisMISSED!

  The student barracks of the CCC was well known for its “no frills” - or rather “no coddling” - decor and comforts. The beds were impervitium slabs, no spine-sapping mattresses here!, and the sheets made of thin burlap. No blankets of course, not with the air kept at a healthy 4 degrees Centigrade. The rest of the comforts matched so that it was a great surprise to the graduates to find unaccustomed luxuries awaiting them upon their return from the ceremonies and training. There was a shade on each bare-bulbed reading light and a nice soft two centimeter-thick pillow on every bed. Already they were reaping the benefits of all the years of labor.

  Now, among all the students, the top student by far was named M. There are some secrets that must not be told, names that are important to loved ones and neighbors. Therefore I shall draw the cloak of anonymity over the true identity of the man known as M. Suffice to call him “Steel,” for that was the nickname of someone who knew him best. “Steel,” or Steel as we can call him, had at this time a roommate by the name of L. Later, much later, he was to be called by certain people “Gentleman Jax,” so for the purpose of this narrative we shall call him “Gentleman Jax” as well, or perhaps just plain “Jax.

  Jax was second only to Steel in scholastic and sporting attainments, and the two were the best of chums. They had been roommates for the past year and now they were back in their room with their feet up, basking in the unexpected luxury of the new furnishings, sipping decaffeinated coffee, called koffee, and smoking deeply of the school’s own brand of denicotinized cigarettes, called Denikcig by the manufacturer but always referred to, humorously, by the CCC students as “gaspers” or “lungbusters.

  “Throw me over a gasper, will you Jax,” Steel said, from where he lolled on the bed, hands behind his head, dreaming of what was in store for him now that he would be having his own camel soon.

  “Ouch! he chuckled as the pack of gaspers caught him in the eye. He drew out one of the slim white forms and tapped it on the wall to ignite it, then drew in a lungful of refreshing smoke. “I still can’t believe it …

  He smoke ringed.

  “Well it’s true enough, by Mrddl,” Jax smiled. “We’re graduates. Now throw back that pack of lungbusters so I can join you in a draw or two.

  Steel complied, but did it so enthusiastically that the pack hit the wall and instantly all the cigarettes ignited and the whole thing burst into flame. A glass of water doused the conflagration but, while it was still fizzling fitfully, a light flashed redly on the comscreen.

  “High-priority message,” Steel bit out, slamming down the actuator button. Both youths snapped to rigid attention as the screen filled with the iron visage of Colonel von Thorax.

  “M, L to my office on the triple.

  The words fell like leaden weights from his lips. What could it mean?

  “What can it mean? Jax asked as they hurtled down a dropchute at close to the speed of gravity.

  “We’ll find out quickly enough,” Steel snapped as they drew up at the old man’s door and activated the announcer button.

  Moved by some hidden mechanism, the door swung wide and, not without a certain amount of trepidation, they entered. But what was this? This! The Colonel was looking at them and smiling. Unbelievable for this expression had never before been known to cross his stern face at any time.

  “Make yourselves comfortable, lads,” he indicated, pointing at comfortable chairs that rose out of the floor at the touch of a button. “You’ll find gaspers in the arms of these servochairs. As well as Valumian wine or Snaggian beer.

  “No koffee? Jax open-mouthedly expostulated, and they all laughed.

  “I don’t think you really want it,” the Colonel susurrated coyly through his artificial larynx. “Drink up, lads. You’re Space Rats of the CCC now, and your youth is behind you. Now look at that.

  That was a three-dimensional image that sprang into being in the air before them at the touch of a button, an image of a spacer like none ever seen before. She was as slender as a swordfish, fine-winged as a bird, solid as a whale, and as armed to the teeth as an alligator.

  “Holy Kolon,” Steel sighed in open-mouthed awe. “Now that is what I call a hunk o’ rocket!

  “Some of us prefer to call it the Indefectible,” the Colonel said, not unhumorously.

  “Is that her? We heard something … .

  “You heard very little for we have had this baby under wraps ever since the earliest stage. She has the largest engines ever built, new improved MacPhersons 1 of the most advanced design, Kelly drive 2 gear that has been improved to where you would not recognize it in a month of Thursdays, as well as double-strength Fitzroy projectors 3 that make the old ones look like a kid’s pop-gun. And I’ve saved the best for last … .

  “Nothing can be better than what you have already told us,” Steel broke in.

  “That’s what you think! The Colonel laughed, not unkindly, with a sound like tearing steel. “The best news is that M, you are going to be Captain of this spacegoing superdreadnought, while lucky L is Chief Engineer.

  (Note - The MacPherson engine was first mentioned in the author’s story “Rocket Rangers of the IRT” (Spicy-Weird Stories, 1933. Loyal readers first discovered the Kelly drive in the famous book Hell Hounds of the Coal Sack Cluster (Slimecreeper Press, Ltd., 1931), also published in German as Teufel Nach de Knockwurst Expres. Translated into Italian by Re Umberto, unpublished to date. A media breakth
rough was made when the Fitzroy projector first appeared in “Female Space Zombies of Venus” in 1936 in True Story Confessions.)

  Lucky L would be a lot happier if he were Captain instead of king of the stokehold,” Jax muttered, and the other two laughed at what they thought was a joke.

  “Everything is completely automated,” the Colonel continued, “so it can be flown by a crew of two. But I must warn you that it has experimental gear aboard so whoever flies her has to volunteer … .

  “I volunteer! Steel shouted.

  “I have to go to the terlet,” Jax said, rising, though he sat again instantly when the ugly blaster leaped from its holster to the Colonel’s hand. “Ha-ha, just a joke. I volunteer, sure.

  “I knew I could count on you lads. The CCC breeds men. Camels too, of course. So here is what you do. At 0304 hours tomorrow you two in the Indefectible will crack ether headed out Cygnus way. In the direction of a certain planet.

  “Let me guess, if I can, that is,” Steel said grimly through tight-clenched teeth. “You don’t mean to give us a crack at the larshnik-loaded world of Biru-2, do you?

  “I do. This is the larshniks’ prime base, the seat of operation of all their drug and gambling traffic, where the whiteslavers offload and the queer green is printed, site of the flnnx distilleries and lair of the pirate hordes.

  “If you want action that sounds like it! Steel grimaced.

  “You are not just whistling through your back teeth,” the Colonel agreed. “If I were younger and had a few less replaceable parts, this is the kind opportunity I would leap at ….

  “You can be Chief Engineer,” Jax hinted.

  “Shut up,” the Colonel implied. “Good luck, gentlemen, for the honor of the C.C.C. rides with you.

  “But not the camels? Steel asked.

  “Maybe next time. There are, well, adjustment problems. We have lost four more graduates since we have been sitting here. Maybe we’ll even change animals. Make it the C.D.C.