Holman slept as the ship raced at near-lightspeed in an erratic, meaningless course, looping across galaxies, darting through eons of time. When the computer’s probings of Holman’s subconscious mind told it that everything was safe, it instructed the cryogenics system to reawaken the man.
He blinked, then slowly sat up.
SUBCONSCIOUS INDICATIONS SHOW THAT THE WAVE OF IRRATIONALITY HAS PASSED.
Holman said nothing.
YOU WERE SUFFERING FROM AN EMOTIONAL SHOCK.
«And now it’s an emotional pain… a permanent, fixed, immutable disease that will kill me, sooner or later. But don’t worry, I won’t kill myself. I’m over that. And I won’t do anything to damage you, either.»
COURSE INSTRUCTIONS?
He shrugged. «Let’s see what the world looks like out there.» Holman focused the outside viewscreens. «Things look different,» he said, puzzled. «The sky isn’t black anymore; it’s sort of grayish—like the first touch of dawn…»
COURSE INSTRUCTIONS?
He took a deep breath. «Let’s try to find some planet where the people are too young to have heard of mankind, and too innocent to worry about death.»
A PRIMITIVE CIVILIZATION. THE SCANNERS CAN ONLY DETECT SUCH SOCIETIES AT EXTREMELY CLOSE RANGE.
«Okay. We’ve got nothing but time.»
The ship doubled back to the nearest galaxy and began a searching pattern. Holman stared at the sky, fascinated. Something strange was happening.
The viewscreens showed him the outside world, and automatically corrected the wavelength shifts caused by the ship’s immense velocity. It was as though Holman were watching a speeded-up tape of cosmological evolution. Galaxies seemed to be edging into his field of view, mammoth islands of stars, sometimes coming close enough to collide. He watched the nebulous arms of a giant spiral slice silently through the open latticework of a great ovoid galaxy. He saw two spirals inter-penetrate, their loose gas heating to an intense blue that finally disappeared into ultraviolet. And all the while, the once-black sky was getting brighter and brighter.
«Found anything yet?» he absently asked the computer, still staring at the outside view.
You will find no one.
Holman’s whole body went rigid. No mistaking it: the Others.
No race, anywhere, will shelter you.
We will see to that.
You are alone, and you will be alone until death releases you to join your fellow men.
Their voices inside his head rang with cold fury. An implacable hatred, cosmic and eternal.
«But why me? I’m only one man. What harm can I do now?»
You are a human.
You are accursed. A race of murderers.
Your punishment is extinction.
«But I’m not an Immortal. I never even saw an Immortal. I didn’t know about the Flower People, I just took orders.»
Total extinction.
For all of mankind.
All.
«Judge and jury, all at once. And executioners too. All right… try and get me! If you’re so powerful, and it means so much to you that you have to wipe out the last single man in the universe—come and get me! Just try.»
You have no right to resist.
Your race is evil. All must pay with death.
You cannot escape us.
«I don’t care what we’ve done. Understand? I don’t care! Wrong, right, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t do anything. I won’t accept your verdict for something I didn’t do.»
It makes no difference.
You can flee to the ends of the universe to no avail.
You have forced us to leave our time-continuum. We can never return to our homeworlds again. We have nothing to do but pursue you. Sooner or later your machinery will fail. You cannot flee us forever.
Their thoughts broke off. But Holman could still feel them, still sense them following.
«Can’t flee forever,» Holman repeated to himself. «Well, I can damn well try.»
He looked at the outside viewscreens again, and suddenly the word forever took on its real meaning.
The galaxies were clustering in now, falling in together as though sliding down some titanic, invisible slope. The universe had stopped expanding eons ago, Holman now realized. Now it was contracting, pulling together again. It was all ending!
He laughed. Coming to an end. Mankind and the Others, together, coming to the ultimate and complete end of everything.
«How much longer?» he asked the computer, «How long do we have?»
The computer’s lights flashed once, twice, then went dark. The viewscreen was dead.
Holman stared at the machine. He looked around the compartment. One by one the outside viewscreens were flickering, becoming static-streaked, weak, and then winking off.
«They’re taking over the ship!»
With every ounce of will power in him, Holman concentrated on the generators and engines. That was the important part, the crucial system that spelled the difference between victory and defeat. The ship had to keep moving!
He looked at the instrument panels, but their soft luminosity faded away into darkness. And now it was becoming difficult to breathe. And the heating units seemed to be stopped. Holman could feel his life-warmth ebbing away through the inert metal hull of the dying ship.
But the engines were still throbbing. The ship was still streaking across space and time, heading toward a rendezvous with the infinite.
Surrender.
In a few moments you will be dead. Give up this mad flight and die peacefully.
The ship shuddered violently. What were they doing to it now?
Surrender!
«Go to hell,» Holman snapped. «While there’s breath in me, I’ll spend it fighting you.»
You cannot escape.
But now Holman could feel warmth seeping into the ship. He could sense the painful glare outside as billions of galaxies all rushed together down to a single cataclysmic point in space-time.
«It’s almost over!» he shouted. «Almost finished. And you’ve lost! Mankind is still alive, despite everything you’ve thrown at him. All of mankind—the good and the bad, the murderers and the music, wars and cities and everything we’ve ever done, the whole race from the beginning of time to the end—all locked up here in my skull. And I’m still here. Do you hear me? I’m still here!» The Others were silent.
Holman could feel a majestic rumble outside the ship, like distant thunder.
«The end of the world. The end of everything and everybody. We finish in a tie. Mankind has made it right down to the final second. And if there’s another universe after this one, maybe there’ll be a place in it for us all over again. How’s that for laughs?»
The world ended.
Not with a whimper, but a roar of triumph.
MONSTER SLAYER
While the Grand Tour novels are set on other worlds, for the most part, the driving force behind these stories comes from what is happening on Earth. Here is a tale of one fairly ordinary man, driven to extraordinary deeds—literally driven off the Earth, in order to help save the world.
This is the way the legend began.
He was called Harry Twelvetoes because, like all the men in his family, he was born with six toes on each foot. The white doctor who worked at the clinic on the reservation said the extra toes should be removed right away, so his parents allowed the whites to cut the toes off, even though his great-uncle Cloud Eagle pointed out that Harry’s father, and his father’s fathers as far back as anyone could remember, had gone through life perfectly well with twelve toes on their feet.