Battleground
By Lester del Rey
We know that the human race must
struggle to survive—and that
on the outcome may hang disaster.
But just how wide is Armageddon?
Lester del Rey would certainly be acclaimed by any unbiased critic as one of America's ten most gifted science fiction writers. His work has appeared in many magazines, and Hollywood, radio, and TV have all enhanced his ever-growing popularity. In BATTLEGROUND he has found a theme worthy of his rare talents—the doom potential in an alien culture.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Fantastic Universe July 1954.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Beyond the observation port of the hypercruiser Clarion lay the utter blackness of nothing. The ship was effectively cutting across space without going through it, spanning parsecs for every subjective day of travel.
There were neither stars, space nor time around them, and only the great detectors built into the ship could keep them from being hopelessly lost. These followed a trail of energy laid down on the way out from Earth years before, leading them homeward, solar system by solar system.
Acting Captain Lenk stood with his back to the other three, studying their sullen reflections in the port. It was better than facing them directly, somehow, even though it showed his own bald scalp, tautly hollow face and slump-shouldered body.
"All right," he said at last. "So we vote again. I'll have to remind you we're under orders to investigate all habitable planets on a line back to Earth. I vote we follow orders. Jeremy?"