‘Oh, they didn’t hate humans. I’m sure we survivors would have been well treated, had we stayed in their sectors. But neither did they love us. We, like any living creatures, were just phenomena, to be dealt with as suited their own ends. If they destroyed Earth, they could pin the blame on Kandemir by such methods as planting captured Kandemirian missiles in orbit … but not making the missiles too damned effective. That was quite a sound calculation, too. Anger against Kandemir helped out the war effort no end.

  ‘To play safe, they prepared a second-line cover story. I don’t know whether the Xoan was bribed or forced to tell that whopper about the doomsday weapon. I do know the story was well concocted, with a lot of detail such as only an alien race that has close acquaintance with Earth could have got straight. However, wasn’t it a little too pat, that Wandwai had a copy of a top-secret film right in his own regional office? That struck me as odd at the time.

  ‘What else might Monwaing gain by blasting Earth? The planet itself, in due course. They figured on winning the war, as belligerents generally do figure. Because of the ecological differences, Monwaing could only colonize Earth if it was sterile first. Your set-up of many different cultures, each wanting at least one world to itself, makes you actually a good deal more imperialistic than Kandemir ever was. You simply aren’t so blunt about it.

  ‘Yeh, I’ve no doubt left in my mind. Monwaing killed our planet. A real slick job. The only thing they overlooked was what a helpless, fugitive shipload of surviving humans might end up doing. You can’t blame them for not foreseeing that. I wouldn’t have myself.’

  Donnan stopped talking.

  ‘You have no proof,’ Ramri keened.

  ‘No courtroom proof,’ Donnan replied. ‘Now that we know where to search, though, I don’t doubt we can find it.’

  ‘What … do you plan … to do, Carl?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Donnan admitted heavily. ‘Sit on the lid till the Kandemirian business is finished, I reckon. Meanwhile we can gather evidence and made ready to act.’

  ‘A, nej,’ Sigrid cried out. ‘Not another var so soon!’

  Ramri shuddered. And then the beaked head lifted. Sunlight came in a window and blazed along his feathers. He said, with death in his tone: ‘That will not be necessary. Not for you.’

  The frozenness began to break in Donnan. He took an uneven step towards the being who had been his friend. ‘I never thought you—’ he stammered. ‘Only the smallest handful of your race—’

  Ramri avoided him. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘The majority of us shall restore our honour. But this may not be done easily. More than a few individuals must suffer. More, even, than one or two Societies. You need not concern yourselves in this affair, humans. You must not. It is ours.

  ‘I hope the settlement and cleansing need annihilate no more than our mother planet.’

  He strode jerkily towards the door. ‘I shall organize the search for positive evidence myself,’ he said, like a machine, never looking back at them. ‘When the case is prepared, it shall be put before the proper representatives of each Society. Then the groundwork of action must be quietly laid. I expect our civil war will begin in about one year.’

  ‘Ramri, no! Why, your people are the leaders of this whole cluster—’

  ‘You must succeed us.’

  The Monwaingi went out. Donnan realized he had never known him.

  Sigrid came to give the man what comfort she was able. Presently they heard an air-car take off. It hit the sky so fast that it trailed a continuous thunderbolt as if new armadas were already bound for battle.

  They looked at each other. ‘What have we done?’

  About the Author

  Poul Anderson (1926–2001) grew up bilingual in a Danish American family. After discovering science fiction fandom and earning a physics degree at the University of Minnesota, he found writing science fiction more satisfactory. Admired for his “hard” science fiction, mysteries, historical novels, and “fantasy with rivets,” he also excelled in humor. He was the guest of honor at the 1959 World Science Fiction Convention and at many similar events, including the 1998 Contact Japan 3 and the 1999 Strannik Conference in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Besides winning the Hugo and Nebula Awards, he has received the Gandalf, Seiun, and Strannik, or “Wanderer,” Awards. A founder of the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, he became a Grand Master, and was inducted into the Science Fiction and Fantasy Hall of Fame.

  In 1952 he met Karen Kruse; they married in Berkeley, California, where their daughter, Astrid, was born, and they later lived in Orinda, California. Astrid and her husband, science fiction author Greg Bear, now live with their family outside Seattle.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1962 by Trigonier Trust

  Cover design by Mauricio Díaz

  978-1-5040-2444-0

  This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

  180 Maiden Lane

  New York, NY 10038

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  POUL ANDERSON

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  Poul Anderson, After Doomsday

 

 

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