A World Called Crimson

: A World Called Crimson

When the starship Star of Fire collided with a meteor swarm six

parsecs stellar north of the galactic hub in the year A.D. 2278, it lost

its atmosphere within forty-five minutes. At first it was thought that

every man, woman and child of the four thousand, one hundred and

sixty-six aboard were lost, in this the greatest of all interstellar

disasters. But as was discovered twenty years later in the Purcell

exploration, his was not quite the case. (See PURCELL)



from The ANNALS OF SPACE, Vol. 12







It was the nasty little boy from B Deck who had stolen her doll. She

hated him. He was horrid. She slipped out of their stateroom while her

Mom and Dad were dressing for dinner. She'd find that horrid little boy

on B Deck. She'd scratch his eyes out.



Her name was Robin Sinclair and she was five years old and mad enough to

throw the boy from B Deck out into space, only she didn't know how to go

about that.



She went down the companionway to B Deck, where the people dressed

differently. The colors weren't as bright, somehow, the cloth not so

fine. It was a major distinction in the eyes of a five-year-old girl,

especially one who loved to run her fingers over fine synthetics and who

even had a favorite color. Her favorite color was crimson.



"'Scuse me, mister. Didja see a little boy with a doll with a crimson

dress on?"



A smile. But she was deadly serious. "Not me, young lady."



She walked for a while aimlessly on B Deck. She saw two little boys, but

they weren't the right ones. Pouting now, almost in tears, she was on

the verge of giving up. Mom and Dad could buy her a new doll. Mom and

Dad were richer than anybody, weren't they?



Then, all of a sudden, she saw him. He was just ducking out of sight up

ahead. Under his arm was tucked the doll with the crimson dress, her

favorite doll.



"Hey!" she cried. "Hey, wait for me!"



Her little feet pounding, she raced down the companionway. As she

reached the irising door in the bulkhead, an electric eye opened it for

her. She had never come this way before. It was not as bright and clean

as the rest of the ship. She had not even seen the sign which said

PASSENGERS NOT PERMITTED BEYOND THIS POINT. But then, she could barely

read, anyway.



She caught a quick second glimpse of the boy, and started running as he

rounded a turn in the corridor. Shouting for him to stop, she reached

the turn and saw him up ahead. He looked back at her and stuck out his

tongue and kept running.



* * * * *



It was then that the whole world shuddered, like it was trying to shake

itself to pieces.



Alarm bells clanged everywhere. Whistles shrilled. Pretty soon

uniformed men were running in all directions. Robin Sinclair was

suddenly very frightened. She wanted to go back to A Deck, to her Mom

and Dad, but she had followed the boy through so many twisting, turning

corridors that she knew she would be lost if she tried. She looked

ahead. The boy seemed confident as he made his way. She followed him.

But she was really mad at him now. It was his fault she was so far from

Mom and Dad when a thing like this happened.



* * * * *



Uniformed members of the crew continued rushing by. She heard snatches

of conversation she didn't understand.



"Trying to patch it ..."



"The whole stern section of the ship. Losing air fast ..."



"The lifeboats. I was just down there. Every last one of 'em. Gone. The

meteor took 'em right off into space."



"If the damage can't be repaired ..."



And one man, finally, with a face awful to behold: "Patches won't hold.

We're losing air faster'n it can be replaced. Better tell the Captain."



A man in a lot of gold braid rushed into view. He was

distinguished-looking, but old. Boy, he was old, Robin thought. He

looked as old as her grandfather.



"Captain! We're losing too much air. It can't be replaced."



"Then prepare to abandon ship."



"But, sir, every lifeboat is gone!"



"No lifeboats? No lifeboats!"



The boy stuck his tongue out again. She ran after him, shaking her

little fist. They were completely absorbed in their private enmity while

the word went out that the situation was hopeless and almost five

thousand people prepared to die.



"I've got you now!"



He had run up against a blank wall. She came toward him, holding her

hands out for the doll with the crimson dress. He held it behind his

back. She reached around to get it but he pushed her and she fell down.



"I'll fix you!" she threatened, getting up and rushing toward him again.

Big arms came down, and big hands grabbed her.



"There now, little miss," a voice said. "Why aren't you with your folks?

Time like this, you ought to be with your folks. What is it, B Deck?"



"A Deck," Robin said haughtily. "He's from B. Why is everybody running

around so?"



He was a tall, slat-thin man with a kind-looking face. "Say, wait a

minute!" he suddenly said, looking perplexed. "They all the time said I

was nuts, building that damn thing. Well, I can't fit into it, but maybe

these here kids can."



He scooped Robin up with one hand, got the boy with the other. "I want

my doll!" Robin cried, but the boy held it away from her.



"Take it easy now," the man said. "Take it easy. We'll take care of

you."



* * * * *



He ran with them to one of the repair bays of the great, doom-bound

starship. In one corner, beyond the now useless patching equipment, was

a table. On the table stood a model of the Star of Fire. It was six

feet long and perfect in every external detail. He hadn't got around to

the inside yet. The inside was completely empty. It had rockets and

everything. There was no reason why it wouldn't be perfectly

space-worthy. Why, it would even hold an atmosphere ...



"In you go!" he said.



The little boy was suddenly scared. "I want my Mother," he said. "I

want my Dad."



"In you go."



Robin felt herself lifted, and thrust inside something. It was dark in

there. She moved around and bumped into something. She moved around some

more and bumped against the little boy from B Deck.



"How do you get out of here?" she asked.



"I don't know," he said.



"I want my doll back," she said.



"Oh yeah?"



"You better give it to me."



He said nothing. There was a hissing sound, and a faint roar. Far away,

something slid ponderously.



"Pleasant voyage, little ones!" a voice boomed.



Something sat on her chest all at once, squeezing all the air from her.

It was a great weight holding her motionless, squeezing. She wanted to

cry, but couldn't get the sound out. She wanted her Mom. Mom would know

what to do.



She was crushed and flattened into a tunnel of blackness.



Thirty minutes later, the starship Star of Fire, outworld-bound from

Sol to the starswarms beyond Ophiuchus, lost all its remaining air. It

became an enormous coffin spinning end over end in space amid the blaze

of starlight near the center of the galaxy.



One tiny spaceship, a small model of the huge liner, sped away. If it

went two days finding no planet, its two occupants would perish when the

small oxygen supply gave out. If it found a planet it would circle and

land automatically. The possibility of this was small, but not remote.

For here at the center of the galaxy, stellar distances are more nearly

planetary and most of the stars have attendant planets. But even then,

it would have to be a world capable of supporting their lives ...



They sped on, in all innocence. She was five. He was six. His name was

Charlie Fullerton. He had her doll. She hated him.



* * * * *



Two hours after the tiny model spaceship landed on a planet with three

suns in the sky, Robin Sinclair awoke. She felt cramped and

uncomfortable. It took her a while to orient herself. She had some kind

of a dream. A dream was a funny thing. Mom said it wasn't real. But it

sure was real to her.



She got up and pushed with her hands. A section of the tiny spaceship

sprang away at her touch, admitting blinding light. She lay there with

her eyes tightly shut, but after a while she could see. The boy was

sleeping. She still hated him. He was sleeping with her doll in his

arms. She took the doll and he moved his arms and woke up. She jumped

out of the open spaceship with the doll and started running.



She ran along a beach. But the sand was green. The ocean hissed and

roared and there was nobody else. "N'ya! N'ya! Y'can't catch me!" she

bawled at the top of her voice. And fell down in the sand.



He caught up with her and fell on top of her and they wrestled for the

doll. The surf thundered nearby. The tide, capricious in the grip of the

three suns, rose suddenly, flooding them with chill water. Coughing and

spluttering and choking, they retreated further up the beach.



Soon they quieted down.



"I'm soaking wet," she said.



"My name is Charlie," he said sullenly. "Let's go back now."



"How do we go back?" she wanted to know.



"That's a nice doll," Charlie said.



"You took it from me!" Accusingly.



"Aw, I only wanted to look at it."



"She has a crimson dress and everything."



"This is some world," Charlie said after a while.



"What's a world?"



"Oh, a world is--you know--everything."



"Oh."



"You think it has Indians?"



She said, "It ought to have Indians, anyhow."



"And pirates too?" he asked in a voice full of awe.



She nodded her head very seriously. "I like pirates," she said. "They're

so scarey."



Just then a ship came into view far away across the water. It had

enormous sails and a black hull. On the fore-sail was painted a huge

black skull.



"Let's get out of here!" Charlie cried in alarm. But beetling cliffs

reared behind the beach and although they ran frantically along at the

edge of the green sand, they could find no way to scale the cliffs. The

pirate ship came closer and closer.



They got down whimpering at the base of the cliffs and remained very

still. After a long time the pirate ship came close to shore. A longboat

was dispatched and its oars flashed in the triple sunlight like giant

legs on which the longboat walked across the waves toward the beach.



Then the pirates were ashore. The man who led them had only one leg, and

a peg. He looked very mean.



* * * * *



"It's Blackbeard the Pirate!" said Charlie in a frightened whisper. His

Dad had once read him a story about Blackbeard.



The pirate with the wooden leg suddenly had a black beard.



"The doll!" cried Robin.



"What's the matter?"



"We left her down there. Crimson." She called her doll Crimson because

she had a crimson dress.



Now Blackbeard approached the model spaceship with his crew. They

gathered around it, frowning. Robin watched, her face pale, her eyes

wide. Crimson was there on the sand. They were going to see Crimson.

Even as she was thinking these horrible thoughts, one of the pirates saw

Crimson and picked her up. Blackbeard came over and took the doll and

looked at her. At that moment there was a shout from above the cliffs

and an arrow suddenly transfixed one of the pirates. He fell down

writhing and Blackbeard and the rest of his men raced back to the

longboat.



"Indians," Charlie whispered knowingly.



The Indians shouted and yelled.



"Are there any cowboys here?" Robin asked hopefully.



"No, sir. No cowboys," Charlie said very definitely.



"I'm hungry," Robin said. "I wish we had something."



With a little squeal of delight, she looked down at her feet. Two

platters of fried chicken, with all the trimmings. Her favorite. They

ate ravenously, not hearing the Indians any more. They watched the

longboat return to the pirate ship. All this way, they could see little

Crimson's dress as Blackbeard took her aboard. Robin finished her fried

chicken and started to cry.



"Girls," said Charlie in disgust.



"I can't help it. Poor Crimson."



"Is she dead?"



"Blackbeard the pirate took her."



"Charles was my grandfather's name. My grandfather died and they named

me Charles."



"I want Crimson!"



"Get down! The Indians will see you."



"The Indians went away. I want Crimson!"



"We could name this beach after Crimson."



"Aw, what do you know? It's only a beach."



"We could name the whole wide world." Charlie gestured expansively.



The green sand of the beach became crimson. The sky had a crimson glow.



"It sure is a funny world," Charlie said. Laughter loud as thunder

echoed in the sky. "A world called Crimson," he added.



* * * * *



The tide came in. Spray and surf bounded off the rocks, wetting them.

"We better go up the hill," Robin said. By hill she meant the

perpendicular cliffs behind them.



The tide thundered in. They were sodden. They clung to the rocks.



"We need an elevator or something," Charlie said.



Golden cables flashed in the sunlight. The gilt elevator cage came down.

They climbed in as a big wave came and battered the rocks. The elevator

went up, up to the top of the cliff. They could see a long way across

the water. They could watch the pirate ship sailing away, the skull

black as night on its sail.



They got out of the elevator at the top of the cliff. They didn't see

any Indians, but they saw the ashes of a campfire.



"Are there lions and tigers and everything?" Robin asked in wonder,

gazing out over the beach and the sea and then turning around to see the

green forest which began fifty yards beyond the edge of the cliff.



"Sure there are lions and tigers," Charlie said matter-of-factly.



* * * * *



Off somewhere in the woods, a big cat roared. Robin whimpered.



"I w-was only fooling," Charlie said, vaguely understanding that you

could somehow make things happen on this world called Crimson.



But he learned a lesson that night. You could make things happen on

Crimson, but you couldn't unmake them.



The tiger roared again. But they were downwind from it and it went

elsewhere in search of prey. Huddled together near the embers of the

Indian campfire, the two children slept fitfully through the cold night.



Then the three suns finally came up on three different sides of the

horizon. Crimson was deadly, but beautiful....



* * * * *



Although credit for the discovery of Aladdin's Planet goes to the

explorer Richard Purcell of Earth, two Earth children actually were

shipwrecked there twenty years before Purcell's expedition. But instead

of paving the way for Purcell, they actually made the exploration more

difficult for him. In fact, it was positively fraught with peril. But

since Aladdin's Planet had become the galaxy's arsenal of plenty, it

was well worth Purcell's effort. As any schoolboy knows in this utopia

of 24th century plenty, Aladdin's Planet, almost exactly at the heart

of the galaxy, where matter is spontaneously created to sweep out in

long cosmic trails across the galaxy, is the home not merely of

spontaneous creation of matter, but spontaneous formed creation, with

any human psyche capable of doing the handwork of God. A planet of great

import ...



--from The ANNALS OF SPACE, Vol. 2



* * * * *



She stood poised for a glorious moment on the very edge of the rock, the

bronze and pink of her glistening in the sun, the spray still clinging

to her from her last dive. Then, grace in every line of her lithe body,

she sprang from the rock in a perfectly executed swan dive.



Charlie helped her out, smiling. "That was pretty," he said.



"Well, you taught me how." Her figure was not yet that of a woman, but

far more than that of a girl. She was very beautiful and Charlie knew

this although he had no standards to judge by, except for the Indian

women they occasionally saw or Blackbeard's slave girls when the pirate

ship came in to trade.



Unselfconsciously, Robin climbed into her gold-mesh shorts. Charlie

helped her fasten the gold-mesh halter. Long, long ago--it seemed an

unreal dream, almost--he had been a very small boy and his mother had

taken him to a show in which everyone danced and sang and wore gold-mesh

clothing. He had never forgotten it, and now all their clothing was

gold-mesh.



* * * * *



Robin spun around and looked at him. Her tawny blonde hair fell almost

to her waist, and he helped her comb it with a jewel-encrusted comb he

had wished into being a few days before.



"I so like Crimson!" she cried impulsively.



Charlie smiled. "Why, that's a funny thing to say. Is there any other

kind of a place?"



"You mean, but Crimson?"



"Yes."



"I don't know. It is funny. Sometimes I think--"



Charlie smiled at her, a little condescendingly. "Oh, it's the book

again, is it?" he asked.



"All right. It's the book. Stop making fun of me."



Many years ago, when they'd been small children, they had returned to

the ruined spaceship which had brought them to Crimson. It had been

empty except for the book, as if the book had been placed there for them

by whatever power had put them in the spaceship. Naturally, they had not

been able to read, but they kept the book anyway. Then one day, years

later, Robin had wished to be able to read and the next time she lifted

the book and opened it, the magic of the words was miraculously revealed

to her. The book was called A ONE VOLUME ENCYCLOPEDIC HISTORY and it

told about just everything--except Crimson. There was no mention of

Crimson at all. Robin read the book over and over again until she almost

knew it by heart. Even Charlie had listened to it twice all the way

through when she read it, but he had never wished for the ability to

read himself.



Now Charlie asked: "Do you really believe the book? This is Crimson.

This is real."



"I don't know. Sometimes I think this isn't as real as everything in the

book. And sometimes I just don't know."



They walked in silence to their elevator and took it to the top of the

highest cliff. They had wished for a house there, like one Robin had

seen in the book. They had wished for many things to make their lives

interesting, or pleasant. They had peopled Crimson with the fruit of

their wishes, using the ONE VOLUME ENCYCLOPEDIC HISTORY as a guide.



* * * * *



They lived a mile from the Indian Camp. They traded with the Indians

who, strangely, did not know how to wish for things. Neither did the

pirates, or anyone. Just Robin and Charlie. The pirates lived across the

sea on an island. To the south along the shore were Phoenicians, Greeks,

Mayas, Royal Navymen, Submariners, mermaids and Cyclopes. To the north

along the shore were Polynesians, Maoris, Panamanians and Dutchmen.

Inland were Cannibals, Lotus Eaters, a few settlements of cowboys to

make life interesting for the Indians, farmers, Russians, Congressmen

and Ministers. All had been created by Robin and Charlie, who visited

them sometimes. They never believed for a minute that Robin and Charlie

had really created them, although all were amazed by Robin and Charlie's

ability to make things appear out of thin air.



Just as they reached their house, an Indian brave came running down the

trail toward them.



"Skyship come!" he cried, gesturing wildly and excitedly.



"Skyship?" repeated Charlie, looking at Robin. "Have you created any

spaceships?"



"No. You know it's a bargain between us. We don't create anything we

don't think we understand."



The Indian was sweating. His name was Tashtu, which meant Wild Eagle,

and he was their go-between with the tribe. "Skyship sweep across

heavens," he said. "Not land. Go up in Wild Country."



Charlie's interest quickened. Wild Country. They had created it on

impulse, about twenty miles from the Indian Camp, midway between the

settlements of Congressmen inland and Cyclopes on the shore. It was a

place of tortuous gorges and rocks and mountains, utterly lifeless. No

one ever went there. Someday, he had always told Robin, they would

explore Wild Country. If there really was a spaceship, and if it had

gone there ...



"No," Robin said. "I know what you're thinking. But I'm perfectly happy

here."



"You just now said you sometimes thought Crimson wasn't real and there

were other, real worlds which--"



"That's different. I can dream, can't I?"



"But don't you see, if a spaceship's really come, maybe they can tell

us."



* * * * *



She gripped his arm. "Charlie. Oh, Charlie, I don't know. I'm afraid.

We've been happy here, haven't we? We really wouldn't want it to

change ..."



"I'm going to Wild Country," Charlie said stubbornly.



Tashtu nodded his head. "It is good that you do. For the braves--"



"Don't tell me they went after the skyship?" Charlie asked.



"Yes, Lord. Skyship come low, ruin crops mile around. War dance follow.

War party leave last sunrise."



"Six hours ago!" Charlie cried. "Can we overtake them?"



Tashtu shrugged. "Hurry, Lord."



"Don't you see," Charlie told Robin. "They're savages. They wouldn't

understand anything like spaceships. They wouldn't want to. If they get

the chance, they'll kill first and ask questions afterwards. We've got

to go to the Wild Country now."



Big and brawny Tashtu was nodding his head earnestly, but Robin seemed

unconvinced. "Why," she said, "there isn't even anything about Wild

Country in the book."



"That's because we made it."



"And besides, the Congressmen are dangerous."



"Congressmen? Don't you mean the Cyclopes?"



"Yes, I'm sorry. The Cyclopes are dangerous."



She couldn't possibly have meant the Congressmen. It was never clear to

either of them precisely what a Congressman did. But there were hundreds

of them on one side of Wild Country and they were forever making

speeches and promises, little round bald men with great, rich voices

and wonderful vocabularies. Charlie loved to hear them speak.



"We go, Lord?" Tashtu asked.



Charlie nodded and went inside swiftly for his rifle. It was modeled

after the most powerful rifle in the encyclopedia and was called a

Mannlicher Elephant Gun. Robin came with her own smaller Springfield

repeater.



"Ready?" Charlie asked.



"Yes. We can think up food along the trail."



"Hurry, Lord," Tashtu urged.



Charlie could hardly contain his excitement. The Wild Country, at last.

And a spaceship.



* * * * *



By the time they were ready to make planetfall on the unexplored world,

Purcell knew his dislike of Glaudot bordered on actual hatred. Purcell,

who was forty-five years old and a bachelor, liked his spacemen tough,

yes: you had to be tough to land on, explore, and subdue a couple of

dozen worlds, as Purcell himself had done. But he also liked his

spacemen with humility: facing the unknown and sometimes the unknowable

at every step of the way, you needed humility.



Glaudot, younger than Purcell by fifteen years, confident, arrogant, a

lean hard man and handsome in a gaunt-cheeked, saturnine way, lacked

humility. For one thing, he treated the crew like dirt and had treated

them that way since blastoff from Earth almost five months before. For

another, he seemed impatient with Purcell's orders, although Purcell was

not a cautious man, and certainly not a timid one. What had been growing

between them flared out into the open moments before planetfall.



"I can't get over it," Purcell said. "I've never seen a world anything

like it." They had made telescopic observations from within the

atmosphere. "Giants living in caves," Purcell went on. "Sailing ships

flying the Jolly Roger. A town consisting of miniature replicas of the

White House on Earth. Mermaids."



"Don't tell me you really thought you saw mermaids?" Glaudot asked a

little condescendingly.



"All right, I'll admit I only caught a glimpse of them. I thought they

were mermaids. But what about the Indians?"



"Yes," Glaudot admitted. "I saw the Indians."



Using their atmospheric rockets, they had flown over the Indian village

at an altitude of only a few hundred feet, to see bronze-skinned men

rush out of tents and stare up at them in awe. After that, Purcell had

decided to find some desolate spot in which to land, in order not to

risk a too-sudden encounter with any of the fantastically diversified

natives.



Now Glaudot said: "You're taking what we saw too literally, Captain.

Why, I remember on Harfonte we had all sorts of hallucinations until

Captain Jamison discovered they were exactly that--we'd been hypnotized

into seeing the things we most feared by powerless natives who really

feared us."



"This isn't Harfonte," Purcell said, a little irritably.



"Yeah, but you weren't there."



"I know that, Glaudot. I'm only trying to point out that each world must

be considered as unique. Each world presents its own problems, which--"



"I say this is like Harfonte all over again. I say if you'd had the guts

to land right smack in the middle of that Indian village, you'd have

seen for yourself. I say to play it close to the vest is ridiculous,"

Glaudot said, and then smiled deprecatingly. "Begging your pardon, of

course, Captain. But don't you see, man, you've got to show the

extraterrestrials, whatever form they take, that Earthmen aren't afraid

of them."



"Caution and fear aren't the same thing," Purcell insisted. He didn't

know why he bothered to explain this to Glaudot. Perhaps it was because

Ensign Chandler, youngest man in the exploration party, was in the

lounge listening to them. Chandler was a nice kid, clean-cut and right

out of the finest tradition of Earth, but Chandler was, like all boys

barely out of their teens, impressionable. He was particularly

impressionable in these, his first months in space.



"When you're cautious it's as much to protect the natives as yourself,"

Purcell went on, and then put into simple words what Glaudot and

Chandler should have learned at the Academy for Exploration, anyway.



When he finished, Glaudot shrugged and asked: "What do you think, Ensign

Chandler?"



Chandler blushed slowly. "I--I'd rather not say," he told them. "Captain

Purcell is--the captain."



Glaudot smiled his triumph at Purcell. It was then, for the first time,

that Purcell's dislike for the man became intense. Purcell wondered how

long he'd been poisoning the youth's mind against the doctrines of the

Academy.



Just then a light glowed in the bulkhead and a metallic voice intoned:

"Prepare for landing. Prepare for landing at once."



Purcell, striding to his blast-hammock, told Glaudot, who was the

expedition's exec, "I'll want the landing party ready to move half an

hour after planetfall."



"Yes, sir," said Glaudot eagerly. At least there was something they

agreed on.



* * * * *



"Men," Purcell told the small landing party as they assembled near the

main airlock thirty-five minutes later, "we have an obligation to our

civilization which I hope all of you understand. While here on this

unknown world we must do nothing to bring discredit to the name of Earth

and the galactic culture which Earth represents."



They had all seen the bleak moon-like landscape through the viewports.

They were eager to get out there and plant the flag of Earth and

determine what the new world was like. There were only eight of them in

the first landing party: others would follow once the eight established

a preliminary base of operations. The eight were wearing the new-style,

light-weight spacesuits which all exploration parties used even though

the temperature and atmosphere of the new world seemed close enough to

Earth-norm. It had long ago been decided at the Academy that chances

couldn't be taken with some unknown factor, possibly toxic, fatal and

irreversible, in an unknown atmosphere. After a day or two of thorough

laboratory analysis of the air they'd be able to chuck their spacesuits

if all went well.



They filed through the airlock silently, Purcell first with the flag of

Earth, then Glaudot, then the others. White faces watched from the

viewport as they clomped across the convoluted terrain.



"Nobody here but us chickens!" Glaudot said, and he laughed, after they

had walked some way across the desolate landscape. "But then, what did

you expect? Captain took us clear of all the more promising places."



The man's only motive, Purcell decided, was his colossal ego. He made no

reply: that would be descending to Glaudot's level.



After they walked almost entirely across the low-walled crater in which

the exploration ship had come down, and after Purcell had planted the

flag on the highest pinnacle within the low crater walls, Glaudot said:



"How's about taking a look-see over the top, Captain? At least that

much."



Purcell wasn't in favor of the idea. It would mean leaving sight of the

ship too soon. But the radio voices of most of the men indicated that

they agreed with Glaudot, so Purcell shrugged and said a pair of

volunteers could go, if they promised to rejoin the main party within

two hours.



Glaudot immediately volunteered. That at least made sense. Glaudot had

the courage of his convictions. Several others volunteered, but the

first hand up had been Ensign Chandler's.



"I don't want to sound like a martinet," Purcell told them. "But you

understand that by two hours I mean two hours. Not a minute more."



"Yes, sir," Chandler said.



"Glaudot?"



"Yes, sir," the Executive Officer replied.



"All right," Purcell said. He walked over to the first of the big

magna-sleds piled high with equipment. "We'll be setting up the base

camp over here. I know the men still in the ship will want to stretch

their legs soon as possible. We don't want to have to go looking for

you, Glaudot."



"Not me, Captain," Glaudot assured him, and walked off toward the crater

rim with young Ensign Chandler.



* * * * *



"What the devil was that?" Chandler said forty-five minutes later.



"Stop jumping at every shadow you see. Relax."



"I thought I saw something moving behind that rock."



"So, go take a look."



"But--"



"Hell, boy, don't let that Purcell put the fear of the unknown into you

on your very first trip out. Huh, what do you say?"



"Yes, sir, Mr. Glaudot," Ensign Chandler replied.



"After all," Glaudot went on, "we have nothing to be afraid of. We're

still within sight of the ship."



Chandler turned around. "I don't see it," he said.



"From the top of that rock you could."



"Think so?"



"Sure I do. Why don't you take a look if it will make you feel better?"



"All right," Chandler said, and smiled at his own temerity. But he knew

vaguely that he'd been caught in a crossfire between the cautious

Purcell and the bold, arrogant Glaudot. Sometimes he really thought that

the Captain's caution made sense: on Wulcreston, he'd learned at the

Academy, a whole Earth expedition had been slaughtered before contact

because the natives mistook hand telescopes for weapons. And surely on

any world a spacesuited man looked more like a monster than a man

although he was vulnerable in a spacesuit, even more vulnerable than a

naked man because he could only run awkwardly.



All this Chandler thought as he climbed the high rock rampart. He'd send

a subspace letter back to the folks tonight, sure enough, he told

himself. Not only had he been chosen for the preliminary exploration

party, he'd made the first trip out of sight of the spaceship. It

certainly was something to write home about, and Mom would be very

proud ...



He was on top of the rock now. The vast tortuous landscape spread out

below him like a relief map in a mapmaker's nightmare. Far to his left,

beyond Glaudot's spacesuited figure, he could see the projectile-shaped

spaceship resting on its tail fins. And to his right--



He stared. He gawked.



At the last moment he tried to get down from the rock, but his spaceboot

caught on an outcropping and his fatal mistake was standing upright in

an attempt to free it.



Then all at once in a blinding burst of pain he was clutching at

something in his chest but knew as his life ebbed rapidly from his young

body that it would not matter if he was able to pull the cruel shaft

out....



* * * * *



Glaudot went rushing up the side of the rock. He still couldn't believe

his eyes. Ensign Chandler had been impaled by two long feathered shafts,

two arrows. The force of the first one had spun Chandler around and he

lay now with his back arched across the topmost ramparts of the rock,

two arrows protruding from his chest and his life blood, starkly crimson

against the white of the spacesuit, pouring out.



Reaching the top of the rock in an attempt to drag the dying boy down,

Glaudot saw the Indians rushing up the other side of the crater wall.

Indians, he thought incredulously. Indians, as in the American West

hundreds of years ago. Indians ... But just what the hell were they

doing here?



A muscular brave notched an arrow, his right hand drawing the feathered

shaft back to his ear. Quickly Glaudot flung his arms skyward, hoping

that the universal gesture of surrender would be understood. The brave

stood statue-still. His lips opened. He was speaking to another of the

half-dozen Indians in the raiding band, but Glaudot could not hear the

words through his space helmet. He knew his life hung in the balance.



He watched, fascinated and helpless, as the Indian who had slain Ensign

Chandler came toward him.



* * * * *



Tashtu said: "Two raiding bands, Lord. One go north. Other south. We

follow?"



They had reached the advance Indian camp on the fringe of the Wild

Country. So far they had seen nothing of the Cyclopes who lived in this

part of the world. Of all their creations, Charlie and Robin feared and

avoided only the Cyclopes, the enormous one-eyed giants which had so

intrigued Robin in the encyclopedia that she'd had a compulsion to

create them, and had done so.



"We can't follow both bands," Charlie said, looking troubled.



"Why can't we?" Robin asked. "You go north with some of the braves,

Charlie. I'll go south. We ought to be able to overtake the raiding

parties before anything happens."



"I can't let you go alone."



"All right. I'll take Tashtu with me. Don't you think Tashtu can take

care of me as well as you can?"



"Well, I just don't like the idea--" Charlie began.



"That's silly. If we have to find them before there's trouble, we have

to find them. Well, don't we?"



Charlie gave her an uncertain nod. He had grown up with her and had seen

her every day of his life, but every time he took a good look at her, at

the lovely face and the tawny, long-limbed form ill-concealed by the

gold-mesh garments, it took his breath away. Although in a sense a whole

world was his plaything, he had never seen anything so lovely. Finally

he said, "I guess you're too logical for me. Take care of her, Tashtu."



"With my life, Lord," the Indian vowed as the group broke up. Robin ran

to Charlie and hugged him, kissing his cheek half playfully, half in

earnest.



"You be careful, too," she said, and went off with Tashtu and several of

the braves.



* * * * *



Naturally she was excited. She knew more about spacemen than Charlie

did. She had read the encyclopedia more carefully, hadn't she? She

wondered what the spacemen would be like. She couldn't help wondering it

because the only man she had ever known, except for those they had

created, was Charlie. Of course, she hadn't told Charlie this in so many

words, but she felt, had always felt, vaguely and now felt clearly, that

before she could settle down contentedly with Charlie, she would have to

know something of the world beyond Crimson. And there was a vast

world--a multitude of worlds--beyond Crimson. She knew that. The

encyclopedia mentioned all of them but did not mention Crimson at all.



They walked for several minutes through green forest, and then abruptly

came to the edge of the Wild Country. Even the idea of the Wild Country

brought an eagerness to Robin's limbs and made her walk more rapidly.

The Wild Country was unknown, wasn't it? They had created it without

knowing quite what they were creating, and had never explored it.



She went ahead with Tashtu over the rocks and crushed pumice. No winds

blew in Wild Country. The air was neither hot nor cold. The landscape

seemed changeless and eternal, as if it had been that way since before

the dawn of history, although actually Charlie and Robin had created it

only a few years before.



They forged on for two hours, Tashtu following the easily read spoor in

the pumice. They came at last to a low crater wall, where the spoor

disappeared. At first Tashtu was confused, but then he pointed to the

top, several hundred feet above their heads. Robin caught a glimpse of

tawny skin and feathers and buckskin in the sunlight.



"Haloo!" Tashtu called, and some of the braves above them whirled, all

speaking excitedly in the clumsy English which was the only tongue they

knew.



"Huragpha slay monster," they said. "Capture other monster. But then

see ..." the words drifted off into silence. Obviously, the Indians were

perplexed. "You come, see. Monster, him bleed like man."



At Tashtu's side, Robin rushed up the steep rocky slope. When they

reached the top, breathless and all but exhausted, Robin put her hand to

her mouth with a little cry of horror.



* * * * *



There was a dead man stretched out on the rock there, two arrows

transfixing his chest through the fabric of his spacesuit. The spacesuit

had probably frightened the Indians, but he was a man all right. Had

they been closer, even the Indians would have known that. That poor

man.... Why, he was hardly more than a boy.



Spacemen!



And there was another, surrounded now by several of the Indians. "Him

prisoner," said the Indian called Huragpha a little uncertainly.



Robin walked over to the man in the spacesuit. He was a big man, even

bigger than Charlie. He looked very strong, but the spacesuit might have

been deceptive. He looked frightened, but not terrified.



"Are you really a spaceman?" Robin asked.



Glaudot said: "Well, so one of you can speak more than a few grunts.

That's something." He looked carefully at Robin. "Beautiful, too," he

said. The way he said it was not a compliment. It was an objective

statement of fact.



"I know it won't help to say I'm sorry about your friend. Words won't

help, I guess. But--"



"Yeah," Glaudot said. "All right. He's dead. I can't bring him back and

you can't bring him back, sister."



"I'm not your sister," Robin said.



Glaudot told her it was a way of speaking. He couldn't quite believe his

ears. She spoke English as well as he did, which was incredible enough

here on a world halfway across the galaxy. But he got the impression

that she was almost fantastically naive. Yet the Indians--and,

incredibly, they were Indians--seemed to be subservient to her, almost

seemed to worship her.



Glaudot sat down on his space helmet, which he had taken off some

minutes before, and said: "Are you the boss lady around here?"



"Boss lady? I don't understand."



"Are you in charge? Do you run things?"



Robin smiled and said: "I created them."



"I'm sorry. Now I don't get you."



"I said I created them. It's very simple. My friend and I decided a very

long time ago it would be nice or interesting or I forget what, it was

so long ago, if we had some Indians. So, we created Indians."



Glaudot threw his head back and laughed. "For a minute," he said, "you

almost had me believing you." The girl was dressed like a savage, he

told himself, like a beautiful savage, but at least she had a sense of

humor. That was something.



"But what is so funny?" Robin asked.



"You just now said--"



"I know what I said. My friend and I created the Indians. Of course.

Why? Can't you create anything you want? Just anything?"



"All right, sister," Glaudot said a little angrily. He did not like

being made fun of, for he lacked the capacity to laugh at himself. "Just

how much of a fool do you think I am?"



"Why, I don't know," Robin replied. "How much of a fool are you?"



Glaudot glared at her. Purcell was going to be one mad captain when he

was told of Chandler's death, but men had died on expeditions before and

it really wasn't Glaudot's fault. At any rate he had established contact

with somebody of obvious importance among the natives, and Purcell would

appreciate that.



"Never mind," Glaudot said.



"Tell me about being a spaceman. Do you really fly among the stars?"



"Well, yes," Glaudot said, "although it isn't really flying."



"And do you create new stars as you go along?"



* * * * *



There she went again with her talk of creation, as if creating things

out of nothing was the commonest occurrence in the world. Glaudot stood

up. "All right, sister. Show me."



"Why, show you what?"



"Create something."



"You mean," Robin said, disappointed, "you actually can't?"



"Just go ahead and create something."



Robin shrugged. "What would you like?"



Glaudot thought for a moment. "A piano!" he said suddenly. "How about a

piano?" It was complicated enough, he thought. "And while you're at it,

how about telling me how come everyone speaks English--or tries to speak

English around here?"



Robin frowned. "Is there some other way of speaking?"



Glaudot also frowned. That line of thought wouldn't get him anywhere.

"O.K.," he said. "One piano coming up?"



"All right," Robin said.



Glaudot blinked. The pretty girl hadn't moved. She hadn't even changed

her facial expression. But a parlor grand piano stood on the rock before

them.



"Well, I'll be damned," Glaudot said. "What else can you create?"



"We made all the natives here. We made the green and crimson. We made

this whole Wild Country. We made some of the animals too."



"Like--the piano? Out of nothing?"



"Is there another way?"



Glaudot said, "You better come back to the ship with me. Captain'll like

to see you."



Tashtu shook his head. "The Lady Robin awaits the Lord."



Glaudot looked at Robin. "Who's that?"



"Charlie. He's just my friend. I--I don't think I have to wait for him.

I've always been more interested in reading about spacemen than he has.

I'll go with you now if you want."



Tashtu looked unhappy. "Lord Charlie, he say--"



"Well, you wait right here, Tashtu, and tell Charlie where I've gone.

What could be simpler? I'll be all right, don't worry about me."



"Lord Charlie, he say watch you."



"And I say I'm going with the spaceman to his spaceship."



Tashtu bowed. "The Lady has spoken," he said, and watched Robin descend

the rocky rampart and walk back with Glaudot toward the far distant

glint of metal which was this spaceship they were talking about.



* * * * *



"So you can create just anything," Glaudot said.



"I guess so."



A goddess, he thought. A beautiful goddess who ...



Suddenly he stared at her. Who could make him the most powerful man in

the galaxy.



"This spaceship of yours--" she began.



"Wait. Wait a minute. If you can create anything, how's about

re-creating Chandler?"



"Chand-ler? What is Chand-ler?"



"The boy back there. The one your braves killed."



Robin said: "If you wish," and Glaudot held his breath. The power over

life and death, he thought....



He looked down and saw Chandler's spacesuited body there, the two arrows

protruding from his chest. He shook his head. "Not dead," he said. "What

good is he to anybody dead?"



Robin nodded. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just hadn't thought before of

bringing people back to life. It ... why it seems ..."



"What's the matter?"



"I wouldn't really be bringing him back, you know. It would be a copy,

just a copy."



"But a perfect copy?"



"I think so."



"Then if it's just a copy it shouldn't bother you at all, should it?"



"Well ..." Robin said doubtfully.



"Go ahead. Show me you can do it."



Glaudot gaped. Another figure sat alongside Chandler's corpse,

Chandler's second corpse. The other figure got up. It was Chandler.



* * * * *



"Look out!" the new Chandler cried. "Look out--Indians!"



"Just take it easy," Glaudot told him. Glaudot's face was very white,

his eyes big and round and staring.



Chandler looked down at the body on the rocks. His knees buckled and

Glaudot caught him, stopping him from falling. Chandler tried to say

something, but the words wouldn't come. He stared with horrified

fascination at the body, which was an exact copy of himself--or a copy

of the dead man from whom the new living man was copied.



"May we go to your spaceship now?" Robin asked Glaudot politely. "I have

always wished to see a spaceship."



Here was power, Glaudot thought. Incredible power. All the power to

control worlds, to carve worlds from primordial slime, almost, for

yourself. Here was far more power than any man in the galaxy had ever

been offered. Was it his, Glaudot's?



It wouldn't be if he brought the beautiful girl to the spaceship and

Purcell. For Captain Purcell, a devoted servant of the galactic

civilization which he was attempting to spread to the outworlds, would

think in terms of what good the discovery of this girl could bring to

all humanity. But if Glaudot kept her to himself ...



And then another thought almost stunned him. Why merely the girl? She'd

mentioned a friend, hadn't she? Perhaps it was something in the

atmosphere of this strange world, in the very air you breathed. Perhaps

anyone could do it, could create out of nothing--Glaudot included.



"You want to go to the spaceship?" he asked.



"Yes. Oh, yes."



"Then teach me the secret of creation."



"Of making things, you mean? Why, there isn't any secret. Should there

be any secret? You merely--create."



"Show me," said Glaudot.



* * * * *



A table appeared, and savory dishes of food.



"Magician!" cried Chandler.



A great roan stallion, bridled but without a saddle, materialized. Robin

swung up on its broad back and used her bare knees for balance and

control. The stallion cantered off.



"Wait!" cried Glaudot. "Please wait."



The stallion cantered back and Robin alighted. The stallion began to

graze on a patch of grass which suddenly appeared on the naked rock. The

stallion seemed quite content.



"You mean," the new Chandler asked in an awed voice, "she just made

these things? The food. The table. The horse ..."



"Yes," said Glaudot. He concentrated his will on creating a single

flower in the new field of grass. He concentrated his whole being.



But nothing happened.



He glared almost angrily at Robin, as if it were her fault. "I don't

have the power you have," he said.



She nodded. "Only Charlie and me." She looked at the roan stallion.

"Beauty, isn't he? I'll present him to Charlie." She turned to Glaudot.

"Now take me to the ship."



"We ought to get started back there, Mr. Glaudot," Chandler said.



"Yes? Why?"



"But--but I don't have to tell you why! This girl is one of the most

important discoveries that has ever been made. The ability to create

material things ... out of nothing...."



"Show me your planet," Glaudot told Robin, ignoring the younger man. "We

can talk about the spaceship later. You see, I'm an explorer and it's

my job to explore new worlds." He spoke slowly, simply, as he would

speak to a child. Somehow, although the girl was not a child and was

quite the most astonishingly beautiful girl he had ever seen, he thought

that was the right approach.



"Now wait a minute, Mr. Glaudot," Chandler protested. "We both know it's

our duty to bring her to Captain Purcell."



"Maybe you think it's your duty," Glaudot told the younger man. "I don't

think it's mine. And before you run off to the ship to tell that

precious captain of yours, you ought to know that you'd be dead right

now if it hadn't been for me."



"You?"



"Hell, yes. Those Indians or whatever they were killed you. I asked the

girl to bring you back to life."



"To bring--" echoed Chandler his mouth falling open.



"Actually, she produced a perfect copy of you. A living copy. Do you see

what she offers us, Chandler? Infinite wealth from creativity out of

nothing--and eternal life by copying our bodies each time we die! What

do you say about your precious captain now?"



Chandler seemed confused. He shook his head, staring first at Glaudot

and then at Robin. "The ship," he said. "Our duty ... the captain ..."



Glaudot snorted and told Robin: "Kill him."



"Kill him?"



"Yes. You brought him into being. Now send him out of being."



"But I can't do that. I have no further control once I make something.

And besides I--I wouldn't kill a human being, even if I could."



Fear was in Chandler's eyes. "Mr. Glaudot, listen ..." he began.



"Listen, hell," Glaudot said. "I brought you back to life. I offered you

a share in the greatest power the worlds have ever known. You turned it

down. I'm sorry, Chandler. I'm really sorry for you. But I can't let you

return to the ship, you see. Not until I learn some more about this

world, not until I understand exactly what the girl's power is, and

consolidate my position."



* * * * *



Without waiting to hear more, Chandler began to run. In three great

bounds he reached the grazing roan stallion and leaped on its back,

digging his heels into its flanks. The stallion moved off at a quick

trot as Glaudot drew his blaster and took dead aim at Chandler's

retreating back.



When he had Chandler squarely in his sights, Glaudot began to squeeze

the trigger. But suddenly the trigger-housing-unit of the blaster became

encumbered with tiny vines. There were hundreds of them writhing and

crawling all over the weapon and getting in the sights too so Glaudot

could no longer aim. By the time he tore the vines clear, cursing

savagely, the roan stallion had taken Chandler out of sight on his

retreat toward the spaceship.



Glaudot whirled on Robin. "You did this!" he accused her. "You did it.

Why--why?"



"You were going to kill him. You shouldn't have."



"But now you've ruined everything. Not just for me. For us, don't you

see? I could have laid the world at your feet. I could have--listen!

Tell me this--is there any place we can hide? Some place they won't find

us if they come looking, while we work on this power of yours and see

exactly what it can do and what it can't do?"



"I want to see the spaceship, please," said Robin.



"Afterwards, I promise you," Glaudot said. "Why, we can make all the

spaceships we want--out of nothing. Can't we?"



"Yes," said Robin. "I guess so. But even if we hide from your friends,

my friend Charlie will find us. He'll be worried about me and he'll find

us. Charlie can do everything I can do, you see."



* * * * *



Glaudot stared at her with anger in his eyes. Then something else

replaced the anger. No, he thought, Charlie couldn't do everything she

could do. She was beautiful. Her half-nude body summoned desire in him.

Tentatively, ready to withdraw his hand at the first indication of

protest, he touched her bare shoulder. She made no response. She merely

stood there, waiting for some kind of an answer from him.



"Then we'll have to hide from Charlie too. Please believe me," Glaudot

said. "I'm a spaceman and you know very little about spacemen. Do you

want to learn?"



"Yes. Yes, I do."



"Then take me some place even Charlie will have difficulty finding us."



"But he'll know."



"What do you mean he'll know? Don't tell me you can read one another's

minds?"



"Oh, goodness, no. Nothing like that. But when we were very little I

once told Charlie if ever I got mad at him I would go to hide in the

country of the Cyclopes and he would never be able to find me because

the Cyclopes would eat him. That was after we read about the Cyclopes in

the Ulysses story in our encyclopedia. You see?"



"Cyclopes, huh? You really mean one-eyed giants?"



"Yes. We made them but they don't obey us."



"Can the two of us hide in their land? Is it far?"



"No. Very close. But I don't know if I want--"



"I'm a spaceman, aren't I? And you want to learn all about spacemen and

the worlds beyond this place, don't you? Then come with me!"



"But--"



"If you say no and I go back to the spaceship we'll blast off and you'll

never see spacemen again the rest of your life," threatened Glaudot.



Robin did not answer. "Well?" Glaudot snapped, as if he was quite

indifferent. "Would you want that to happen?"



"No," Robin admitted after a while.



"Then let's go." They had to hurry, Glaudot knew. Riding that stallion,

that incredible conjured-out-of-nothing stallion, Chandler had probably

reached the spaceship by now. A few words, a few hurried explanations,

and Purcell would lead an armed party out after Glaudot.



Again Robin was silent. Glaudot stood stiffly in front of her, so close

he could reach out and wrap his arms about her. But this wasn't the

time, he told himself. Later ... later ...



"All right," Robin said at last, her eyes looking troubled. "I'll take

you to the land of Cyclopes."



They began to walk, in silence. Half an hour later, the barren terrain

of rocks gave way to a verdant jungle in which the trees were quite the

biggest Glaudot had ever seen and in which even the grass and the

fragrant wild flowers grew over their heads. Glaudot had never felt so

small.



* * * * *



"Wait a minute, Chandler," Captain Purcell said. "I listened in silence

to what you said. All of it, as incredible as it sounded. But you don't

expect me to believe--"



"Look at the horse. Where did I get the horse, sir?"



"So there are horses on this world. So what?"



"But I saw the girl create it out of thin air!"



"Really, Chandler."



"And I saw the corpse. My corpse, Captain. Mine!"



"But hell, man. Glaudot would have come back here with the girl. He

knows his obligation to civilization. He--"



"Glaudot, sir? Does he?"



Purcell scowled and said finally: "Chandler, either you and Glaudot have

made the most astonishing discovery since man first domesticated his

environment and so became more than a reasonably clever animal, or

you're the biggest liar that ever crossed deep space."



Chandler offered his captain a pale smile. "Why don't you find out

which, sir?"



"By God," said Purcell, "I will. McCreedy!" he bawled over the intercom.

"Smith! Wong! I want an armed expedition of twenty-five men ready to

leave the ship in half an hour."



And, exactly half an hour later, the expedition set out with Captain

Purcell and Chandler leading it. Chandler went astride the roan

stallion.



* * * * *



When Charlie and his small Indian band learned that the action had taken

place to the south, where Robin had gone, they set out quickly in that

direction. The further they went, the more worried Charlie became. If

Robin had met with any kind of success, if she had called off the war

party and established some kind of peaceful relations with the spacemen,

a runner would have been sent to tell them. But the desolate rock-strewn

terrain stretched out before them as devoid of life as the Paleozoic

Earth.



Charlie urged his men on relentlessly. He was a tireless hiker and since

the braves lived by hunting they could match almost any pace he set.

Finally Charlie saw the second Indian band ahead of them. Slinging the

Mannlicher Elephant Gun, he began to run.



"Tashtu!" he called. "Tashtu!"



The Indian sprinted to him. "Lord," he said breathlessly, "one sky

critter, him die. Turn out man."



"What are you talking about?" Charlie asked.



Tashtu led him to the group of braves which still clustered about Ensign

Chandler's body. "Why?" Charlie demanded, horror-struck. "Why?"



Tashtu told him all that had happened. How the braves had mistaken the

spacesuited man for a monster. How arrows had been fired before they had

learned otherwise. How Robin had come, and gone off with the spaceman.



"To their spaceship?" Charlie asked.



"Yes, Lord. That is what they spoke of." Tashtu pointed to the top of

the rampart of rock. "From there, Lord, you can see it."



Charlie scrambled up the rock. From his giddy perch on top he could see

the tiny silver gleam of the spaceship--and a band of men, led by a man

on horseback, approaching them. Charlie hurried down the rock, half

climbing, half sliding. "They are coming," he said. "Maybe Robin's with

them." He remembered what had happened last time and said: "The rest of

you return to your homes. Tashtu and I will go on ahead."



"But Lord--" Tashtu began.



"Well?"



"I did not like the man. I did not trust him."



"Then why did you let Robin go?"



"Let her, Lord? But surely Robin, the Lady Robin, does not obey a

mere--"



"All right, all right," Charlie said. "But all the more reason for the

rest of the braves to return to their homes. We can handle this, Tashtu,

you and I. I don't want any more killing."



"Yes, Lord," said Tashtu.



The Indians formed a marching column and moved off. Charlie told Tashtu

what he had seen from the top of the rampart. Then he added: "Let's go

and meet them."



And Charlie and Tashtu set out across the tortuous Wild Country.



* * * * *



"Two men coming!" Chandler cried, reining up the roan stallion.



Captain Purcell signaled his twenty-five men to halt, and their orderly

double file came up short behind him. Pretty soon the two figures could

be seen by all, advancing toward them across the rocks. When they were

close enough, Captain Purcell hailed: "We come in peace!"



"And in peace we come!" Charlie called. A moment later he was shaking

hands gravely with Captain Purcell.



"Tell the captain about--about my corpse," Chandler told Tashtu.



Charlie looked at Chandler. He had seen the dead man. "Did Robin make

you?" he asked in surprise. "We never brought the dead to life before."



"Can you really do it?" Purcell demanded.



"No, not really. But we can copy perfectly--and the copies live."



"You see?" Chandler demanded triumphantly.



Captain Purcell said: "Show me."



* * * * *



Charlie created a brother to the roan stallion. Captain Purcell gawked.

The one example sufficed and he did not ask for more as Glaudot had

done.



"Where's Robin?" Charlie asked. "At the ship?"



Chandler shook his head. "Glaudot went off with her."



"But I thought he was on the ship!"



"He deserted," Chandler said. "With the girl. He wants her. He wants her

power for himself."



Charlie moved very quickly. He swung in front of Chandler and grabbed

his tunic-front, bunching it, ripping it and all but dragging Chandler

clear off his feet before a hand could be raised to stop him. "Where did

they go?" he asked in a terrible voice. "Where are they? Take me to

them."



"But I don't--don't know!" Chandler protested, trying without success to

break free.



It was Captain Purcell who came forward and firmly took Charlie's arm,

pulling him clear of Chandler. "Remember," he said. "In peace. In

peace."



Charlie stood with his hands at his sides. His face was white and

strained. "The girl," he said.



"We all want to find out where Glaudot took her," Captain Purcell said.

"We're going to help you. Tell me: could the girl have gone willingly

with Glaudot? To share his mad dream of power, perhaps?"



"Robin?" Charlie cried. "Never!"



"Please, lad," Captain Purcell said. "I want you to think. I want you to

consider everything. You and this girl of yours may have almost godlike

powers, but you've spent your lives on an uncivilized world and

well--frankly--couldn't a sophisticated man like Glaudot turn the girl's

head? Couldn't he confuse her into going off with him, at least

temporarily? And, assuming, he did, he doesn't know this world. He's

aware of that. He'd know we'd be coming after him. Perhaps the girl

would tell him about you. Tell me, man--where would the girl go if she

didn't want you to find her? Is there such a place? Before you answer, I

want you to know that what we do here may be far graver than you think.

It is not merely the safety of one girl we have to consider--but no, you

wouldn't understand ..."



"You mean," Charlie asked, "if this man Glaudot somehow convinces Robin

to use her power as he tells her, he might want to take over all of

Crimson?"



"Do you mean this world? Is it called Crimson? Yes--and more than that.

There's no telling how far a man like Glaudot could go with such power.

And with the ability to create all the armament and all the deadly

weapons he needed, and all the missiles to carry those weapons, he might

challenge the entire galaxy--and win!"



The words were strange to Charlie. He only understood them vaguely. Now

Robin, she would understand, he thought. Robin was always more

interested in things like that, Robin who almost knew their encyclopedia

by heart, Robin ...



"Listen," he said. "Listen. We created all the life on this world. We

made Greeks and Royal Navymen and Ministers and Russians and Congressmen

and everything we knew or somehow had heard about or had read in our

book. We get along fine with all of them, except ..."



"Yes," Captain Purcell prompted. "Go on, go on!"



"No, she'd never go there. She was always afraid of them."



"Where, man? Where?"



"No. Robin wouldn't. She just wouldn't."



It was not hot in Wild Country, but sweat trickled down Purcell's face

while he waited for Charlie's answer.



* * * * *



"Show me!" cried Glaudot in rapture. "Show me! Show me! Show me!"



He stood with Robin in a little glade in the Land of the Cyclopes. About

them were heaped all the treasures Glaudot had suddenly demanded. He did

not quite know why. He felt his iron control slipping and permitted it

to slip now, for once he got this wild desire from his system, he knew

only his untroubled iron will would be left, and with it--and the

girl--he might conquer the galaxy.



Heaped about them were jewels and precious metals and deadly weapons,

all of which Robin had summoned into being at Glaudot's orders, while

Glaudot smiled at her. It was almost a frightening smile. She was even a

little sorry she had come away with him, but she could always go back,

couldn't she? She wasn't shackled to this strange man from space, was

she? And the way he looked at her, the desire she saw in his eyes, that

was frightening too. She did not know how to cope with it. Oh, she could

create a duplicate Charlie, for example. Charlie would know what to do.

Charlie would help her. Charlie hadn't read the book as she had read it,

but Charlie was more practical. Still, what would they do with the

duplicate Charlie afterwards? You couldn't uncreate something ...



"A spaceship," Glaudot said suddenly. "Can you create a spaceship out of

nothing?"



* * * * *



Robin nodded slowly. "I can. Yes, I can. It tells all about spaceships

in the book. But I don't know if I want to."



Glaudot let it pass. There was no hurry. He was thinking about the

future, though. If Purcell opposed him, as Purcell would, and managed

to escape in the exploration ship, Glaudot would need a ship to leave

this world ...



"Why not?" he asked, his voice quite calm now, the mania which had

seized him under control now, and only his iron purpose motivating him.



"I--I don't know. You have one spaceship. I guess that's why. What do

you need another one for?"



"It was just a thought," said Glaudot. "It doesn't matter." He kneeled

near the heaps of sun-dazzled jewels. He let them trickle through his

fingers. No, the desire wasn't gone yet. It was still fighting with his

will. And, since he knew his will could win at any time, it pleased him

to give his desire free rein.



He scooped up a handful of jewels. He found a necklace and came close to

Robin and dropped it over her head. The pearls were very white against

her sun-tanned skin. The pearl pendant hung almost to the start of the

dusky valley which cleaved her breasts delightfully and disappeared with

the tanned swell of flesh on either side into the gold-mesh halter.

Glaudot fingered the pendant. His fingers touched flesh. Abruptly he

drew the surprised Robin to him and kissed her lips hungrily.



For a moment she remained passive. She neither returned his ardor nor

fought it. But when his hand