PLANET OF CREATION
By CHESTER S. GEIER
To these hardened spacemen, it was heaven.
Bald rock sprouted grass, metal parts popped
up as required, new men relieved the weary
as soon as the need was merely thought of.
Who could imagine there was a joker?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
In the control room was silence like fabric strained to the verge of tearing. Softly through the weave of it came the murmur of the engines, fretful, unhappy, the whimper of something sick.
The whimper echoed Thettumir's feelings. He gestured suddenly at the telescopic space scanner, the six snake-like digits of his hand stiff with dismay.
"But that is all? There are no other planets in this region?"
"None." Vandumonn shook for added emphasis the erect spiny crest which ran from the top of his head down the middle of his back. "I have made absolutely certain of that. This is the only planet. The next nearest sun is ten light-years away. But listen to the engines, Commander. I am an astronomer, not an engineer, yet I know the engines will not take us that far. Even if they could, it would be a gamble as to whether or not that next nearest sun had planets."
Thettumir gazed once more at the magnified image in the scanner. It showed a great red sun, already well on its way toward cooling, and far off to the right, a silvery speck which was the only planet circling the dying giant. He reached for the dial which increased the magnification of the scanner and twirled it until the disc of the planet filled the entire screen.