The dark planet - (v1.0), page 1
18-03-2023
The Birds Died First
Then the animals—stray dogs and cats, farm animals, beloved pets. The papers screamed, “Epidemic!” till people started to die in such numbers that there was no one to buy papers or to read them.
At last, when there were only a few survivors on Earth, the message came: “You have been invaded. Surrender and save yourselves. Do not resist us. Do not resist us!”
_ Yet, even as Earth was being systematically destroyed, brave men and women began to gather in rebel bands—with no hiding place and no weapon but courage. They would rather die quickly, fighting for Earth, than simply to survive under Cobellan tyranny.
THE
DARK
PLANET
J. Hunter Holly
MB
A MACFADDEN-BARTELL BOOK
Contents
PART ONE - The Coming of the Cobellians Chapter one
Chapter two
PART TWO - The Coming—Plus Fifteen Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter seventeen
A MACFADDEN BOOK……………….1971
THIS IS THE COMPLETE TEXT
OF THE HARDCOVER EDITION.
Macfadden-Bartell Corporation
A subsidiary of Bartell Media Corporation
205 East 42nd Street, New York, New York, 10017
©, Copyright, 1962 by J. Hunter Holly. Published by arrangement
with the author. Printed in the U.S.A.
PART ONE
The Coming of the Cobellians
Chapter one
The yard was quiet. Nathan Cory struggled with the shovel in the hard earth, wiping the tears from his cheeks angrily.
The sky flickered down at him, smoky and odorous from the leaping fire on the hill. Bill was up there on that hill—in that fire—burning up into the night air with others from the town. A warning from the Cobellans to the people of Earth: “Surrender!” the fire said. “Surrender!”
It flared up from the place where the City Hall had been, to light the rooftops of the neighborhood and flick from the drooping shoulders of the people stumbling in the street. Nathan couldn’t join them. With Bill gone in the fire, the graves were left to him. But he couldn’t dig them deep enough; the earth wouldn’t yield… .
A voice crept out beside him in a whisper. “Nathan Cory?”
He turned quickly, holding the shovel high, ready to strike out. But, it was not a Cobellan; it was Mr.
Houseman—a changed Mr. Houseman. All of the smiles that he had used so often and so well as Senator were gone.
“All of them, Nathan?”
Nathan nodded.
“Your mother, and Suzy?” Houseman’s eyes touched the filled graves, then swerved to the blanket padded around another form. “Your father?” Nathan nodded again. “The sickness.”
“And Bill?”
Nathan pointed to the fire on the hill. “He died in the street fighting this afternoon. They took him up there to burn. I wanted to be with him.”
“It’s better this way.” Paul Houseman sighed. “That’s what Bill said. He said I was too young —just fifteen—and it was better if I stayed behind. But, why?”
“Some of us have to survive, Nathan.”
“But, why me?” Nathan protested. “Why me alone? Who makes the decisions?”
“I’ve asked myself the same question,” Houseman answered in a soft voice. “There is no moral answer, Nathan—just the physical fact that you and I are immune to the disease, and no violent death has found our bodies. We have to make the fact of our continued existence count for something.” Nathan Cory spun away, shutting the idea out. He brushed his blond hair out of his eyes roughly, needing some action to fight the emotion.
“I’ve come for you,” Houseman said. “I want to take you away with me.”
I can t go.
‘‘Don’t make statements out of emotion.” Houseman’s face was suddenly firm. “I’m gathering what people I can, and taking them to my place in the woods. There, we can become human again and find some reason in this. Do you understand that?”
Nathan ran his hands along the roughness of the shovel handle. “I can’t go with you. I have to finish here.”
“But there’s no time! The Cobellans have ordered a general meeting at the hill. Didn’t you hear the announcement? Anyone found away from that meeting will be killed. We must hurry, if we’re to get away at all.”
Nathan turned a stubborn face to him. “It takes me a while to dig, but I have to do it, Mr. Houseman. Don’t you see? This is my father. I can’t leave him here for the Cobellans to collect and bum. I have to cover him with earth.”
Houseman reached for the shovel. “Let me help you.”
Thirty minutes later, Nathan Cory was running beside Paul Houseman, through the darkened streets. People brushed past, dazed and expressionless, headed for the meeting on the hill.
Houseman cut through the backyards of the residential section to escape an oncoming Cobellan patrol. It was quiet, running in the grass, and the city was still. Nathan remembered another night like this one—a night only two weeks away.
He had been sitting on the back porch with his family, enjoying the first warmth of spring. Suzy played with a puzzle, Mom sewed, and Bill and Dad were sharing the newspaper.
Then it happened. Thunder leaped in the sky, and a light exploded in their eyes—a great, bursting light that pulled them to their feet. It bloomed in glory for one moment, then faded away.
And that was all. They watched where the light had gleamed, and went inside to tune in the news. But no one knew the answer and similar lights had been reported—all over the world.
Five days later, when the mystery of it was almost forgotten, Nathan stopped short in the middle of a fancy baseball pitch, aimed at Bill, to watch a sparrow fall dizzily from a tree, flutter on the ground, and lie still. He had never seen a bird die, and he ran to it. It was warm in his hands, and quiet.
That same afternoon, Damon, his boxer pup, laid down and never rose again. And even as they dug the grave, a robin plummeted, dead, from the sky.
The next days were nightmares of dying animals and birds. Nathan had never realized that there were so many birds, until they were brought down. And the neighbor’s cat, who came to inspect the small bodies, mewed once; her eyes glazed, and she died.
Then people were failing, too; on the streets, in the buses—and the hospitals, filled to capacity, had to close their doors. The papers blared with cries of “epidemic,” though there was no official explanation.
It was noon, on a Wednesday, when the sky thundered again. This time it was no light; a small ship came out of it, skimming the rooftops, and broadcast a message in slurred English into every cranny of the city.
“Surrender! You have been invaded. The disease that stalks you is Cobellan made. Nothing is immune to it. Everything that lives will die. Surrender and save yourselves. We are coming to you. Do not resist us. Do not resist us.”
Nathan Cory listened, stunned. His fifteen-year-old mind could understand the words, but couldn’t grasp the meaning. But when the alien forms began to walk the streets, then he knew. And when his father fell to the floor, gasping for air, he knew.
He ran, now, beside Paul Houseman, an unwilling survivor of the coming of the Cobellans, heading for Houseman’s car.
The woods were still and dark, giving Nathan a comforting sense of being hidden. He stayed close to Paul Houseman, silent as he tread the hard earth. Soon, spring would bring it all to life again, softening and greening. But, who would care?
They had hidden the car and started the walk to the place Houseman had promised would be warm and safe. It was close. Nathan saw a glow through the trees that meant fire.
Houseman’s cabin spread its four rooms in the center of a clearing, and around it squatted rude shelters, thrown together by people who only cared about cover for their bodies. There was no shelter for their minds. Nathan walked among them, cold, as he looked into their dull eyes. Shock was everywhere; dumb, dazed, unfeeling shock. He wondered if he looked the same. He left Houseman and sat down with them and waited.
Two men nearby were talking in loud whispers. Nathan strained to make out their words. The one with the glasses was saying, “… and last I heard, the estimate was more like sixty million. Nobody knows what’s going on in Europe and Asia.”
The other man shook his head. “Sixty million—it’s almost beyond comprehension. We shouldn’t have disarmed. We shouldn’t have let the world disarm.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. We couldn’t have stopped this attack with anything. Have you seen the sickness up close?”
“I’ve seen,” the man with the gray hair said.
Nathan closed his ears to the rest. He had seen, too: His father, striding tall, determined to fight the Cobellans one minute, and the next minute, doubled over on his knees, moaning with a pain that his body couldn’t contain. Then Mom, and Suzy. It took two days for them to die. He had helped Bill with them, rinsing their foreheads and trying to give comfort, and mostly waiting for the symptoms in himself. But the symptoms never came, and whe
“Nathan? Nathan Cory!”
Someone was calling his name, and Nathan got up quickly, heading for the voice in the flickering dark. It was Paul Houseman, and he stood by the edge of the fire, his arm protectively around the shoulders of a young girl. Her brown hair was mussed and her brown eyes swollen.
“Nathan,” Houseman said, as he came up, “this is Abby Rand. She has just come to us, too, and I thought you might like to get acquainted.”
Nathan guessed what was behind the words from the expression on Houseman’s face. Here was a girl who needed someone, and Mr. Houseman was too busy to be that someone.
“We’ll get along fine.” Nathan accepted the responsibility awkwardly. Houseman patted his shoulder and walked away, already frowning over some new problem.
He stood before the girl shyly, embarrassed by the tears in her eyes, and the frightened look. “I’m Nathan Cory,” he said simply. “Would you like to sit down?”
She nodded, and Nathan reached for her hand. It was cold, and he held it close to warm it. He led her to a protected spot in reach of the fire heat, and spread some branches for her to sit on. “They’ve made some stew. I’ll get you some—if you’re hungry-
She nodded again, and he went to the short line of people waiting for food. He picked up two bowls, and when the stew was put into them, he handed one to Abby and sat down beside her. They ate quietly for a while, then Nathan said, “I’m fifteen.”
“I’m thirteen,” Abby murmured, her voice husky.
Nothing else was forthcoming, so he tried again. “I’m from Brentwood—that’s near Detroit.”
She regarded him with her brown eyes. “I’m from Morris.”
Nathan made his tone perk up. “That’s not far from me.”
“No, only a few miles. We might have met some time.”
This time, Nathan didn’t answer. The conversation was too unreal. “Look, Abby, I guess we’ve got to forget that you’re thirteen and I’m fifteen, and where we lived, and what schools we went to. There’s nothing of that left. I lost my whole family—my parents, my brother, and my little sister. They’re all dead. Most of the guys I knew, too. The …”
He broke off, afraid that the tears which had been hanging stubbornly in her eyes were going to fall.
“I lost my family, too,” she said, her voice firm. “My parents, and my brother.” She stared straight at him. “I’m glad I’ve finally said it. I don’t know why, but it makes a difference.”
Nathan couldn’t put the reason into words, either, but it did make a difference. “You and I,” he said, “we’ll stick together. All right? That way, neither of us will really be alone.”
She reached across and took his hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Nathan.”
The words were simple, yet they grew inside him until he felt taller and older and not nearly so afraid. He had someone dependent upon him now, someone to look after. There was a reason for his survival, after all… .
Two weeks later, their camp had grown to number eighty-five people. There were twenty Nathan Cory’s age, but he remained close to Abby, not trying to make friends with the others.
Two weeks to the day after he had arrived in the woods, Paul Houseman called a general meeting. His trips back and forth to the cities kept him abreast of the news, and everyone wanted to hear it. The group was quiet as he stepped before them, and Nathan grasped Abby’s hand, ready to face whatever had to be faced.
Houseman glanced around the assembled people, and began bluntly. “I’ve just come from Detroit. It’s all over.” He waited for the murmur to die away. ‘‘There was never any doubt, but the Cobellans insisted on a formal surrender, and the Earth is now theirs. News is beginning to filter in, and the death toll is staggering. We’ll never know exactly, but the estimates are one billion. The ones who are left in the cities are shells of themselves. They walk around, lost in their own private hells. They are ready to be led, and the Cobellans are ready to lead.
“We’ve all been wondering about the Cobellans— where they came from, and why. I’ve heard enough to piece some information together. They’re not alone, and that’s all the worse for us. They belong to some sort of federation of planets—some sort of organization that we never dreamed existed. They speak in terms of the galaxy, not of worlds or solar systems. We are not the first people they have conquered; we’re just part of an empire. The Cobellans will exploit our Earth, take its minerals and food, use its power and its labor, and we will have to put up with it.”
Nathan met Abby’s stare. The question that was in his mind was reflected on her face. A man from the far side of the group put it into words. “Then, do we go back?”
Houseman cleared his throat. “That is the reason I’ve called you here. We have a choice, I think. We can go back and pick up our lives under this new order. Amnesty has been declared, so it’s safe. I don’t know what kind of life it would be, but there are some who may want it.”
He waited while they thought their separate thoughts.
‘‘You said we had a choice,” someone said.
‘‘We have,” Houseman answered. “We’re here, and we can stay here. I don’t know how long the Cobellans will allow it—maybe they’ll never care about a small group like ours—but we can stay, if we want to.”
“And do what? Just live the kind of life we have been living? That’s not much use to anyone.”
“That’s the whole point,” Houseman said. “If we remain here, we can remain free. We can work together, and perhaps find an answer; perhaps find a way to free the Earth.”
Paul Houseman gestured toward the group of men sitting immediately before him. They were new to the camp. “These men could be our answer. I have gathered them here especially for this reason. They are the beginning—the core—of a scientific force that could one day duplicate the sickness that ravaged our people, and retaliate. The Cobellans are not immune to the disease.
“These men have already started work, trying to find what kind of organism creates it. They gathered samples from the dead and dying, and took films of the course of the disease. But, they need a place to work in secret. They cannot stay here alone. That would be too obvious, and the Cobellans wouldn’t be fooled. Our task would be to cover for them, to make the Cobellans believe that we are the only ones here. It might work, but it is tenuous and dangerous. Some may even call it foolhardy. So, if you choose to return to the cities, no one will blame you. The Cobellans are making preparations to take you in, to teach you the new language and laws, and let you live, so long as you do it in the manner they dictate. It’s a big decision, and each person will have to make it for himself.”
Nathan asked Abby, but she only murmured, “Whatever you decide, Nathan— I’ll follow.”
“Then, we’ll stay,” he said firmly. “One day, we’ll win, Abby. I promise you that. One day we’ll free the Earth.”
Chapter two
It was agreed that they would stay. A better routine of life was planned, better shelters begun, and the camp began to look permanent. Equipment for the scientists was gathered and put in the cabin. What wasn’t available, was stolen. Nathan Cory watched the men return from these dangerous trips, bitterly. The day when he could be a real part of the plan was too far in the future. For the present, his contributions were embarrassingly menial—cutting wood, carrying water, or light building work.
He was in the woods, cutting more in the never-ending-stream of firewood, when he stopped his axe short at a strange sound. It crackled in the brush and churned through the quiet of the forest. He crept to his right, keeping behind trees and ferns until he made out movement. The churning came from an overtaxed motor. It coughed to a stop and he heard the slam of doors, then the movement started toward him, waddling and slow. Cobellans!
He dropped his axe and dashed for camp, leaping logs and small bushes on silent feet. “Mr. Houseman!” he called. “Mr. Houseman!”
