Ascelius was an academic world, whose primary business was teaching the knowledge of the thousands of worlds, and housing great universities and colleges, populated by students and scholars from all over the galaxy. Such a world was surely the place to learn of the legendary planet called Earth. And Dumarest discovered that there had once indeed been a study-group of Earth lore. But to find the remnants of it was not easy. Not when the dreaded Cyber already had a toe-hold on Ascelius - and genetic engineering of man and monster was the latest fad. But Dumarest was not a quitter. Whatever the tests might demand, he would not give up . . . although it might mean death for others - or even for himself. (First published 1980)
Release date:
September 29, 2011
Publisher:
Gateway
Print pages:
160
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The Cap Kennedy (F.A.T.E.) Series (E.C. Tubb writing as Gregory Kern)
1: Galaxy of the Lost (1973)
2: Slave Ship from Sergan (1973)
3: Monster of Metelaze (1973)
4: Enemy Within the Skull (1974)
5: Jewel of Jarhen (1974)
6: Seetee Alert! (1974)
7: The Gholan Gate (1974)
8: The Eater of Worlds (1974)
9: Earth Enslaved (1974)
10: Planet of Dread (1974)
11: Spawn of Laban (1974)
12: The Genetic Buccaneer (1974)
13: A World Aflame (1974)
14: The Ghosts of Epidoris (1975)
15: Mimics of Dephene (1975)
16: Beyond the Galactic Lens (1975)
17: The Galactiad (1983)
Alien Dust (1955)
Alien Impact (1952)
Journey Into Terror (originally published as Alien Life (1954, rev. 1998))
Atom War on Mars (1952)
Fear of Strangers (first published as C.O.D. – Mars (1968))
Century of the Manikin (1972)
City of No Return (1954)
Death God’s Doom (1999)
Death is a Dream (1967)
Dead Weight (first published as Death Wears a White Face (1979))
Escape into Space (1969)
Footsteps of Angels (2004) (previously unpublished work written c.1988)
Hell Planet (1954)
Journey to Mars (1954)
Moon Base (1964)
Pandora’s Box (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)
Pawn of the Omphalos (1980)
S.T.A.R. Flight (1969)
Stardeath (1983)
Starslave (2010) (previously unpublished work written 1984)
Stellar Assignment (1979)
Temple of Death (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)
Fifty Days to Doom (first published as The Extra Man (1954))
The Life-Buyer (1965, 2008)
The Luck Machine (1980)
World in Torment (originally published as The Mutants Rebel (1953))
The Primitive (1977)
The Resurrected Man (1954)
The Sleeping City (1999)
The Space-Born (1956)
The Stellar Legion (1954)
To Dream Again (2011)
Venusian Adventure (1953)
Tide of Death (first published as World at Bay (1954))
E. C. Tubb (writing as Arthur MacLean)
The Possessed (revised version of Touch of Evil (1957))
E. C. Tubb (writing as Brian Shaw)
Argentis (1952)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Carl Maddox)
Menace from the Past (1954)
The Living World (1954)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Charles Grey)
Dynasty of Doom (1953)
The Extra Man (first published as Enterprise 2115 (1954) & then as The Mechanical Monarch (1958))
I Fight for Mars (1953)
Space Hunger (1953)
The Hand of Havoc (1954)
Secret of the Towers (originally published as The Tormented City (1953))
The Wall (1953)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Gill Hunt)
Planetfall (1951)
E. C. Tubb (writing as King Lang)
Saturn Patrol (1951)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Roy Sheldon)
The Metal Eater (1954)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Volsted Gridban)
The Green Helix (originally published as Alien Universe (1952))
Reverse Universe (1952)
Planetoid Disposals Ltd. (1953)
The Freedom Army (originally published as De Bracy’s Drug (1953))
Fugitive of Time (1953)
Against the tawdry velvet the dolls were things of enchantment: bright shapes of tinsel and glitter with hair of various hues
formed into elaborate coiffures, eyes like gems, limbs and bodies traced with glowing colors, sparkling with sequins, stuffed
with aromatic herbs.
“Mummy!” The voice was thin, high, crackling with childish longing. “Look, Mummy! Please may I have one?”
“No, child.”
“Please, Mummy! Please!”
“No, Lavinia! Don’t ask again!”
Dumarest turned, seeing the small figure at his side, the mane of hair which formed an ebon waterfall over the narrow shoulders—a
frame for the rounded, piquant face, the widely spaced eyes now filled with a hopeless yearning. One which matched that of
the woman who blinked as she forced herself to be harsh.
She said, as if conscious of his presence, “You know we can’t afford to buy such things, child. Later, when we get back home,
I’ll make you one. I promise.”
A promise she would keep at the cost of lost sleep and small comforts, but it wouldn’t be the same. She lacked the skill to produce such false beauty and nothing could ever replace the magic of this special moment. Behind her a man, thick-set,
dressed in rough and patched clothing, coughed and fumbled in a pocket.
“Maybe we could manage, Floria, if—”
“No, Roy!” The need to refuse accentuated her sharpness. “Bran needs all we can give him.” She looked at the robed figure
standing at the man’s side. “He must be given his chance.”
Determination must have driven them for years and Dumarest could guess at the sacrifices they had made. The man, a farmer
he guessed, was decades younger than he looked, the woman the same. The youth, shapeless in his dun-colored robe, stood with
a listless detachment, the face masked by the raised cowl pale, the eyes bruised with chronic fatigue. A family cursed by
endless study and endless economies so that one of them, at least, would gain the chance to better himself.
But must the girl also pay?
Dumarest stooped and closed his hands about the small waist and lifted the girl high to sit on his shoulder. As the man opened
his mouth to protest, he said, quickly, “With your permission, sir. I have my reasons. Allow me to buy your daughter a doll.”
“But—”
“Roy!” The woman closed her hand on his arm. “No, husband!”
“He offers charity—”
“No!” With a woman’s quick intuition she sensed it was more than that. Sensed too that Dumarest would not be denied. Her voice
fell, became a whisper as, ignoring her, he concentrated on the child.
“Choose,” he urged. “Take your time and pick which one you want.”
She needed no time—the decision had been made already. Her hand lifted, the finger steady as it aimed at the second largest.
“That one.” Her tone was wistful. “Please, may I have that one?”
“A wise choice.” The vendor had remained silent knowing that to press too soon was to risk losing the sale. Now she came forward,
smiling, smoothing the scarlet hair of the doll as she lifted it from its place. “The finest materials and skills have gone into the fabrication of this product. Note the
eyes and the way they seem to move as you turn them against the light. The hair can be washed and set in a variety of styles.
The face is capable of slight alteration, see?” The cheeks developed hollows beneath the pressure of her fingers, smoothed
as she manipulated the plastic. “And the stuffing will retain its potency for years, bringing comfort and tranquility and
restful sleep.”
Valued comforts on any world and to be envied on Podesta.
Dumarest nodded, swung the girl from his shoulder, straightened to face the vendor who still held the doll.
“How much?”
The price had been decided as the child had made her choice. The family were poor and Dumarest wore a student’s robe to match
that of the youth but their poverty need not be mutual. A man studying for a whim, a noble paying a forfeit, a rich man amusing
himself—such were not uncommon at the fair. But the vendor had seen his face and had abandoned the hope of an inflated profit.
Here was no gull to be cheated.
“Fifteen corlms, my lord.” As she picked up the coins she added, mechanically, “Good luck attend your studies.”
“I’ll echo that.” Roy cleared his throat aware of his previous antagonism and embarrassed by it. “I thought you were taking
pity on us at first but Floria explained. A superstition, I understand. Well, I’m no man to deny another his search for luck.
You’re for Ascelius, I see. Just like Bran here.” He nodded at his son. “I’ve got him passage on the Evidia—fifth class, hard
but cheap.” Then, as Dumarest made no comment, he coughed and ended, “Well, I just wanted to thank you. We all did.”
The woman, with her quick wit and the facile lie which had saved her husband’s pride, now as Dumarest extended the doll to
the child, said quickly, “Don’t snatch it, Lavinia. Thank the gentleman properly.”
“How can I, Mummy?”
“You’ll have to kneel,” she said to Dumarest. “Allow her to kiss you.”
For a moment he hesitated, looking at the woman, reading the understanding in her eyes. Then he knelt, the doll in one hand,
arms extended as the child ran into their embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for the doll.”
Then she was warm and soft against him, the touch of her lips moist on his cheek, small hands at his shoulders. A timeless
instant which shattered as he rose to stand above her, the silken smoothness of her hair a memory against his palm—a moment
she had already forgotten, engrossed as she was with her new toy.
The wind had turned fitful, gusting from the town and blowing over the field, the clustered booths of the fair, catching the
rising columns of colored smoke and stinging his eyes with drifting acridity.
Blinking, Dumarest took shelter in an open-fronted tent, buying a mug of spiced tisane, sipping it as he looked over the area.
The crowds had thickened as had the noise, and both would increase as the night grew older, not easing until the dawn, not
ending until the closing of the fair two days from now. A misnomer—the fair was only called that because of the entrepreneurs
taking advantage of the occasion; the vendors and touts, the harlots and gamblers, clowns, tumblers, freaks, the sellers of
dreams and builders of hope, the merchants and traders and caterers to vice and pleasure who moved from world to world adding
color and gaiety to a host of gatherings, living like transient parasites on the events of time.
“A word in your ear, sir.” The man standing beside Dumarest looked cautiously from side to side. “But first your promise that
our discourse will remain confidential. I have it?”
Dumarest sipped at his tisane.
“A man of discretion,” applauded the stranger. “One who knows that silence is a message within itself. Now, sir, to be frank,
I find myself in an invidious position. My client—I am an investigator—has died. The assignment he gave me was to obtain for
him certain information regarding an examination held before the granting of a degree of special merit on a world which need
not be named at this time. Passing the examination and gaining the degree offers great financial and academic advantages.
The cost of obtaining the information—to be frank, the answers to the questions—was considerable and, as I mentioned, my client
died before I could be recompensed. You understand the situation?”
“I think so.” Dumarest looked into his mug. “You want to sell me the answers to the examination questions?”
“You put it bluntly, sir, but you have grasped the point. Such an intelligence does not shame the robe you wear. Now, as a
student, you will appreciate the opportunity I offer. Copied, the information will make you financially independent, and a
few sales will recoup the initial outlay.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You should be.” The man had a thin, avian face, the eyes hooded, the mouth pursed. “Need I remind you that education does
not come cheap? That to fail an examination could mean the loss of years of effort? Isn’t it logical to take all precautions
against that happening?”
Dumarest said flatly, “I told you I’m not interested. You’re wasting your time. Now just move on and stop bothering me.”
He finished the tisane as the stranger moved away in search of a more gullible victim. He could even find one; some scared
and timid youth desperate at the thought of failure and willing to buy an imagined security. More likely the relative of a
student would fall for his lies and hand the expensive rubbish over as a final gift. In either case both would have paid for
their folly.
Setting down the empty mug, Dumarest moved from the tent and paused on the wide path running between the facing booths. Between
two of them he could see the area beyond; more open, thronged now with little groups, studded with stands selling drinks,
comestibles, gaudy confections. A scene lit with the burning hues of torches set high on slender poles; chemical flares casting
patches of somber browns, smoldering oranges, dusty blues, intense purples, vivid greens, burning yellows, savage reds. Circus
colors augmented by the blaze of stars covering the sky in a myriad of glittering points, the sheets and curtains of luminescence,
the silver glow of triple moons.
From somewhere down the midway came the thud of drums and a sudden burst of laughter; strained amusement too raucous to be
genuine, sounds made to cover an aching grief, a fear, an anxiety grown too great. Those gathered had not come for the fun
available but to make their farewells—all wearing the dun-colored robe would be taking ships for Ascelius, the vessels themselves now ranked on the field or heading into orbit.
“Mister!” A woman called to him, her body moving with sinuous grace. “A lecture hall can be a dull place—why not take a little
pleasure while you can? Come with me and taste the realities of life. For ten corlms I will teach you a new art. For twenty
I will stun your senses. For fifty I will give you paradise.”
She shrugged as he moved on, knowing better than to scream insults, knowing such actions could bring an ugly return. And why
waste time on one when others were available?
Dumarest heard her make a fresh offer as he slipped between two booths and into the open area. His ship was on the field,
his passage booked, but for reasons of his own he delayed boarding. Instead he walked to where a throng had gathered around
an area bright with unexpected light. The crowd had formed a circle, faces turned like sun-loving flowers toward the illumination,
eyes intent on what they saw.
A cage stood beneath suspended lights, a thing of stout bars and braces, wheeled for ease of transport, ringed with a handful
of guards. In it paced a beast.
It was half again as tall as a man, twice as broad, the hands like spades, the fingers tipped with claws as were the toes
of the splayed feet. The body was dark with thickly matted hair grown so close that it seemed the texture of horn. The face
was a nightmare of jutting jaw, fangs, burning eyes and pointed ears. The plated skull bore two stubby horns, their tips glistening
with metallic sharpness. The neck was as thick as the thighs, which were as thick as the waist of a woman.
“Look at it!” A man sucked in his breath as he spoke to the woman at his side. “How would you like to meet that in a dark
alley?”
“I wouldn’t.” The sight which entranced him nauseated her. “Come away, Lou.”
“You don’t like it?”
“I think it’s vile.” She gave her reason. “It’s too much like a man. An animal is one thing but this is disgusting.” An association
others had made and which added to its attraction. The head guard, sweating despite the cold, walked past, a padded cap held suggestively in his hand. In it rested the gleam of coins.
“What is it?” He shrugged at the question, pausing until a few coins had joined the others, smiling as he received his due.
“Friends you are fortunate to have the privilege of seeing a product of the Chetame Laboratories. Note the coat, the eyes,
the fangs. The body hair is as fine as fur, matted almost at the skin to f. . .
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