Read Online Collected Stories Of Arthur C. Clarke by Arthur Clarke C. - Free Book Online
Authors: Arthur Clarke C.
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for ‘Earth’ suggests that they may be of special interest and it is hoped that they can be translated. Other papers will be following shortly.
H. Forbes, Lt/Cdr.
[Added in manuscript]
Dear Max,
Sorry I’ve had no time to contact you before. I’ll be seeing you as soon as I get back to Earth.
Gosh! Mars is in a mess! Our Co-ordinates were dead accurate and the bombs materialised right over their cities, just as the Mount Wilson boys predicted.
We’re sending a lot of stuff back through the two small machines, but until the big transmitter is materialised we’re rather restricted, and, of course, none of us can return. So hurry up with it!
I’m glad we can get to work on rockets again. I may be old-fashioned, but being squirted through space at the speed of light doesn’t appeal to me!
Yours in haste,
Henry
Rescue Party
First published in Astounding Science-Fiction , May 1946
Collected in Reach for Tomorrow
This story stems from a lost original which also inspired ‘History Lesson’ (1949), although it would be difficult to find two more contrasting endings.
Who was to blame? For three days Alveron’s thoughts had come back to that question, and still he had found no answer. A creature of a less civilised or a less sensitive race would never have let it torture his mind, and would have satisfied himself with the assurance that no one could be responsible for the working of fate. But Alveron and his kind had been lords of the Universe since the dawn of history, since that far distant age when the Time Barrier had been folded round the cosmos by the unknown powers that lay beyond the Beginning. To them had been given all knowledge – and with infinite knowledge went infinite responsibility. If there were mistakes and errors in the administration of the galaxy, the fault lay on the heads of Alveron and his people. And this was no mere mistake: it was one of the greatest tragedies in history.
The crew still knew nothing. Even Rugon, his closest friend and the ship’s deputy captain, had been told only part of the truth. But now the doomed worlds lay less than a billion miles ahead. In a few hours, they would be landing on the third planet.
Once again Alveron read the message from Base; then, with a flick of a tentacle that no human eye could have followed, he pressed the ‘General Attention’ button. Throughout the mile-long cylinder that was the Galactic Survey Ship S9000, creatures of many races laid down their work to listen to the words of their captain.
‘I know you have all been wondering,’ began Alveron, ‘why we were ordered to abandon our survey and to proceed at such an acceleration to this region of space. Some of you may realise what this acceleration means. Our ship is on its last voyage: the generators have already been running for sixty hours at Ultimate Overload. We will be very lucky if we return to Base under our own power.
‘We are approaching a sun which is about to become a Nova. Detonation will occur in seven hours, with an uncertainty of one hour, leaving us a maximum of only four hours of exploration. There are ten planets in the system about to be destroyed – and there is a civilisation on the third. That fact was discovered only a few days ago. It is our tragic mission to contact that doomed race and if possible to save some of its members. I know that there is little we can do in so short a time with this single ship. No other machine can possibly reach the system before detonation occurs.’
There was a long pause during which there could have been no sound or movement in the whole of the mighty ship as it sped silently toward the worlds ahead. Alveron knew what his companions were thinking and he tried to answer their unspoken question.
‘You will wonder how such a disaster, the greatest of which we have any record, has been allowed to occur. On one point I can assure you. The fault does not lie with the Survey.
‘As you know, with our present fleet of under
H. Forbes, Lt/Cdr.
[Added in manuscript]
Dear Max,
Sorry I’ve had no time to contact you before. I’ll be seeing you as soon as I get back to Earth.
Gosh! Mars is in a mess! Our Co-ordinates were dead accurate and the bombs materialised right over their cities, just as the Mount Wilson boys predicted.
We’re sending a lot of stuff back through the two small machines, but until the big transmitter is materialised we’re rather restricted, and, of course, none of us can return. So hurry up with it!
I’m glad we can get to work on rockets again. I may be old-fashioned, but being squirted through space at the speed of light doesn’t appeal to me!
Yours in haste,
Henry
Rescue Party
First published in Astounding Science-Fiction , May 1946
Collected in Reach for Tomorrow
This story stems from a lost original which also inspired ‘History Lesson’ (1949), although it would be difficult to find two more contrasting endings.
Who was to blame? For three days Alveron’s thoughts had come back to that question, and still he had found no answer. A creature of a less civilised or a less sensitive race would never have let it torture his mind, and would have satisfied himself with the assurance that no one could be responsible for the working of fate. But Alveron and his kind had been lords of the Universe since the dawn of history, since that far distant age when the Time Barrier had been folded round the cosmos by the unknown powers that lay beyond the Beginning. To them had been given all knowledge – and with infinite knowledge went infinite responsibility. If there were mistakes and errors in the administration of the galaxy, the fault lay on the heads of Alveron and his people. And this was no mere mistake: it was one of the greatest tragedies in history.
The crew still knew nothing. Even Rugon, his closest friend and the ship’s deputy captain, had been told only part of the truth. But now the doomed worlds lay less than a billion miles ahead. In a few hours, they would be landing on the third planet.
Once again Alveron read the message from Base; then, with a flick of a tentacle that no human eye could have followed, he pressed the ‘General Attention’ button. Throughout the mile-long cylinder that was the Galactic Survey Ship S9000, creatures of many races laid down their work to listen to the words of their captain.
‘I know you have all been wondering,’ began Alveron, ‘why we were ordered to abandon our survey and to proceed at such an acceleration to this region of space. Some of you may realise what this acceleration means. Our ship is on its last voyage: the generators have already been running for sixty hours at Ultimate Overload. We will be very lucky if we return to Base under our own power.
‘We are approaching a sun which is about to become a Nova. Detonation will occur in seven hours, with an uncertainty of one hour, leaving us a maximum of only four hours of exploration. There are ten planets in the system about to be destroyed – and there is a civilisation on the third. That fact was discovered only a few days ago. It is our tragic mission to contact that doomed race and if possible to save some of its members. I know that there is little we can do in so short a time with this single ship. No other machine can possibly reach the system before detonation occurs.’
There was a long pause during which there could have been no sound or movement in the whole of the mighty ship as it sped silently toward the worlds ahead. Alveron knew what his companions were thinking and he tried to answer their unspoken question.
‘You will wonder how such a disaster, the greatest of which we have any record, has been allowed to occur. On one point I can assure you. The fault does not lie with the Survey.
‘As you know, with our present fleet of under
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