[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
first flightsedited by damon knightthis book contains the first published story by ten famous science fiction writersA LANCER BOOK ù 1963FIRST FLIGHTThe Isolinguals, The Faithful, Black Destroyer, Life-Line,Ether Breather, Loophole, Tomorrow's Children and ThatOnly A Mother were originally published inSen›e Fon.Copyright, c, 1937, 1938, 1939, 1946, 1947, 1948, by Street &Smith Publications, Inc.Walk To The World was originally published inCopyright, c, 1952 by Space Publications, Inc.T was originally published in Nbul Science Fco Copyright, c, 1956 by Peter Hamilton.Copyright c 1963 by Damon KnightAll rights reservedPrinted in the U.S.A.LANCER BOOKS, INC. ù 26 WEST 47TH STREET ù NEW YORK 36, N.Y.CONTENTSIntroduction7The-. Isoljnguals ... ...; L.Sprague de Camp 9TheFaithfulLester del Rey27Black Destroyer A2, van Vogt36Life-Line ,...Robert A. Heinlein67Ether BreatherTheodore Sturgeon .n ;.85Loophole Arthur C.Clarke 99Tomorrow's ChildrenPonlAnderson 105That Only a MotherJudithMerril 132Walkto the WorldAlgisBudrys t42T Brian W.Aldiss 154INTRODUCTIONIF I COULD go back and rearrange the third decade ofmy life to suit myself, I would somehow manage to startdoing 'my best work in 1937 instead of 1950, and join thegroup of writers that began to form around John W. Campbellin that year. As things actually happened, I was in NewYork only a few years later, writing science fiction; but likeJames Blish, Cyril Kornbluth and a few other late-floweringtypes, I had a long apprenticeship to serve.Heinlein, d Camp, del Rey, van Vogt and Sturgeon wereof a diffrerrt breed. The first published story of each wasdistinctive, brilliant and memorable. Te same is true of fiveyounger writers who came along in the late 40s and early--Aldiss, Clarke, Budrys, Merril and Anderson.It would be hard to overestimate what science fiction owesto these ten writers, and more particularly to the first five Imentioned. There have never been more than a dozen reallyable and prolific writers working in this field at the sametime. A sympathetic editor can encourage good wrkers, butcannot manufacture them. It was Heinlein, Sturgeon, deCamp, del Rey and van Vogt, along with the Kuttners, Hubbard,Asimov and one or two more, who brought the newscience fiction into being.In a sense, the whole history of modern s.f. is contained inthese ten first stories. Here are the technical genius and thedramatic gifts of Heinlein, the wry wit of de Camp, Sturgeon'spyrotechnic inventiveness, the nightmare world ofvan Vogt; del Rey's pathos, Merril's deep perception, thehuman insights of Budrys, Anderson's hypnotic tale-telling,Clarke's intellect, Aldiss's grotesquerie.Without these ten, the magazines might still be lumberingalong in the old girl-vs.-bug-eyed-monster pattern, or morelikely; be as extinct as Big Little Books. Reading their storiesas a group, then, and realizing that each one was the firstbright glimpse of an enduring talent, I find them fascin,-ating.I hope you will, too.DaaoNTI:rE. ISOLINGUALSby L. Smavr.W.De Camp bas been a patent expert, engineer, advertising manand correspondence course teacher, as vell asmost tpenty-five years after this story vas publisbed, beturned from science-fantasy to the historical novel: but bisinterest in antiquity and the classics is apparent in this, thefirst de Camp story that ever appeared in print.mc rooro at the cop, and the cop looked at Nick.The fruit vndor's friendly smile suddenly, froze. The copdidn't know it, but something had gone ping inside Nick'shead. He wasn't N'iccolo Franchetti any longer. He was Dec-imusAgridola, engineering officer of the good old XXXIIndLegion. He had been standing behind his ballista, laying itfor the Parthians' next charge. Of the crew, only he and twoprivates had not been struck down by the Asiastics' terriblearrows.Then something awful had happened: the vast red rockdesert of Mesopotamia had vanished, and with it the swirlingmasses of hostile cavalry, the heaps of dead and wounded,and everything else. One of the ballista crew was gone likewise;the other had metamorphosed into this fat fellow in thetight clothes. His catapult had, in the same twinkling, becomea little two-wheeled wagon piled with fruit. He wasstanding on a paved street, lined with buildings of fantasticheight.Decimus blinked incredulously. Sorcery! Those Parthiamwere said to be good at it. Tile man looking at him must beCartoricus, the Gaulish replacement. "Onere!" he shouted."Load!"The man in dark blue iusr stared. Decimus lost his emper."What's the matter, don't you understarld good Latin?They'll be at us again in a minute!" ne man did nothing.Decimus lek for his SWord. It wasn't there. He was wearingqueer, uncomfortable clothes like the other. He snatched anapple; at the touch of it his mind reeled. Ir felt like a realapple, not a sorcerer's illusion. He bit into it. Then stark terrorseized him. He threw the apple at the fat man and startedto run.910L. SRm.m ECArthur Lindsley picked up the hand set. "Hello? . . . Oh,it's you, Pierre. How's the esteemed son-in-law thismorn"Fairish, replied the instrument. "I'm up at RockefellerMed. Bill Jenkins has a case that might interest you. None oftheir high-powered psychiatrists have been able to do a thingwith it. Want to come up?"Lindsley looked at his watch. "Let's see---my elementarybiology class lets out at two thirty. I can come up then.""Fine. And could you round up a couple of good linguistsand bring 'em along?""Huh? What for?""Take too long to explain over the 'phone. Can you bringthem?""Well, there's Van Wyck over'at Barnard, and Squiex's Of-riceis down the hall. Say, are you and Elsa going to haveChristmas dinner with us?""Sorry, but we promised my folks to have it with themthis year. Yeah, we're taking the train for Quebec nextThursday. Thanks anyway. Now please bring some reallygood language sharks. It might be important."Professor Lindsley sighed as he hung up. He didn't lookforward with much pleasure to the undiluted company ofhis two sons all day Christmas. Hugh would talk interminablyabout the vacuum-cleaner business. Malcolm woulddrape himself over the furniture and make languid remarksin his newly acquired college voice about how art is all. Whatdid Pierre mean by dragging Elsa off to spend Christmaswith his Canuck parents? They were the only intelligentmembers of the family, besides himselfLindsley took the new Tenth Avenue Subway up to theMedical Center, with his two linguists in tow. Squier hadbeen in, but not Van Wyck. A search of the language departmentha unearthed a Dr. Fedor Jevsky, who said he'd bever-r-ry glad to come. Lindsley was a smallish man, veryerecr, with mapping eyes and a diminutixe white beard. Helooked odd, leading the rangy Squier and the obese Jevskylike a couple of puppies.Dr. Jenkins' office was jammed. The thickset, shabby manwas speaking: "It's just like I told the guys down at the hospital,doc; Mrs. Garfinkle and I been married ten years, andshe never showed no symptoms or nothin'. We're just poorwoiking people "THE ISOLINGUAIsS11ù Jenkins' bedside voice suddenly recovered its normal snap."Come in, Arthur; I take it these are your linguists. I've got aù queer job for them."Pierre Lamarque's broad, coppery face grinned at hisfather-in4aw from across the room. Jenkins was explaining:"--and all at once her normal personality went out like alight. She began talking this gibberish, and didn't know herhusband or the city or anything else. That's just the trouble;we can't, locate a single physical paranoiac symptom, andaphasia won't work either. Split personality, yes, but itdoesn't explain her making up what seems to be a wholenew language of her own. But that's not all. She's the thirdof these cases the hospital has received in twenty-four hours.Sure, naturallywe gave 'em all the routine tests."The telephone r.ang. "Yes? Oh, Lord! . . . Yes No....Glad you let ,me know." Jenkins hung up. "Twelvemorecases. Seems to be an epidemic."Jevskyhad inclined his globular form--it was impossibleforhim to bend--in front of the plainqooking woman on thechair.She seemed to be so earnestly trying to tell himsomethingwith that rush of strange syllables. He suddenlyseemedto catch something, for he barked at her whatsoundedlike "Haybye-ded-yow?"Therush of sound stopped, and the woman's face brokeintoa grateful smile. Then the torrent began again.Jevskywasn't listening. He spoke to Jenkins, "Whatforeignlanguages has Meesez Garfinkle studied?""Noneat all; she was born in New York City; bothparentsspoke English, at least of a sort; she left school at theendof the eighth grade. What do you think you've got, Dr.Jevsky?""I'mnot sure, but it might be Gothic.""What!"Thevast shoulders shrugged. "I know it sounds crazy, butlabai-ddjau means "ff I had' in Gothic. Idon't really knowthe language, except for a few fragments likethat; nor, Itheenk, vill many of my.colleagues. You, Dr. Squier?"The other linguist shook hishead. "The Celtic languagesare my specialty. But I suppose there'sat least one Gothicscholar in New Yo... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]