Inferiority complex. That, the helpless psychologists always said, was
at the root of the madness when space travelers' primitive fears and
emotions were lashed up by the whip of space. Lampell, long ago, seemed
to have brought back a virus from some planet, an endemic disease
that took control of all but the most hearty when confronted by new,
terrible, intelligent life forms.
"It was the cold knowingness of those worms," Hoag said reflectively.
"It was the feeling that you were licked before you started. I felt
the complex, and I had a terrible desire to escape my death. The only
refuge for my mind, from those merciless minds, was in death. If I
hadn't been a captain, with responsibility such an instinct within me,
maybe I would have picked up a gun ... but I didn't."
He forced himself to try to communicate. There was radio and radar
and the first model of the beam. They ignored them all. And finally,
with an effort of will against the fear which literally sickened him,
he put on a suit and went out upon the shell of _Lone Star_ with a
paint-spray. The worms watched while he painted for them that ancient,
universal mathematical proposition, _The sum of the squares of the
sides equals the square of the hypotenuse_.
They looked, with their horrible eyes. And finally, all together, they
turned away in unmistakable disgust.
They began to build a little solar system.
Of nothingness they fashioned the black spheres--flipped them into
shape with complicated motions of their tentacles. Nine they made,
and set them in space with an approximation of the distances between
the planetary orbits. It was the same kind of approximation which is
necessary in any model of the solar system, for no model in which the
planets are of recognizable size can cope, in scale, with inter-orbital
distances.
Finally the worms grouped themselves in the center of all, merging
their body glow into a fair replica of the sun. And all the eyes
watched the space ship while they waited for the stupid little beings
within to understand.
"Couldn't reach our poor minds with their vibrations, so they gave
us something solid to look at. What did it mean? That they were the
architects of the solar system? Some of my crew were screaming we had
met God. All I knew was that we had to get out of there while a few
of us were sane. Finally I drove a work gang outside to the tubes
again, leading them myself, and we got to work on the liners, trying
not to look at the worms and their solar system but feeling their eyes
and feeling their awful, overpowering intelligence right through our
suits...."
A buzzer cut in, not upon the tight beam but upon the _Ceres'_
communicator.
"Excuse me, Captain Hoag," the Ambassador said acidly. "There is word
from Venus: It seems I have _business_ to attend to."
The old man, back on Earth, paused, and the President said, "We'll stay
on beam, Phil, till you go."
"Say, wait a minute," Hoag said anxiously. "I didn't get to the point
of the story."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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