were beamed down from the satellite and World Television carried a commentary as the two ships closed the gap between them.
“A momentous meeting,” the announcer said. “They are matching velocity ready for an exchange of—”
The searing flash of a nuclear explosion filled the screen. Crane was temporarily blinded. When he could see again, there was only scattered debris. Both Earth’s military spaceship and the alien had been vaporized.
The commentator chattered breathlessly before turning to one of the experts for guidance.
“Vice-Admiral Judson, what do you imagine has happened?”
Judson’s face filled the screen as he leaned forward in his chair.
“I’m inclined to say the aliens made a mistake. Obviously they attempted to destroy our ship, but something went wrong. This should be a warning to all of us. We must arm and prepare for war.”
Crane switched off. Judson had double-crossed him. After he’d left the ship, Judson had reset the timer to detonate much later. And he would get the blame.
Crane sat motionless, in shock. He told himself that his objective had been attained; there could be no contact now with the aliens. He felt relief, then guilt at the death of the crew. And, finally, sadness at a lifetime’s friendship ending in betrayal.
Eventually, his survival instinct asserted itself. There was bound to be an enquiry, and Judson had covered himself. He packed hastily and left by the first aircraft traveling south. He ended up on a tropical island billed as a paradise.
* * * *
It was no longer a paradise.
When Crane reached the cave and crawled inside, his face was a mask of ice. Already he regretted leaving the dog as his belly rumbled. He fumbled with gloves and matches and numb fingers. His teeth rattled in his head, but he got a fire going with the sticks laboriously gathered and hoarded.
Outside, gray shadows moved towards the entrance. They squatted a short way off, waiting. Crane loosed off a single shot to warn then to keep their distance.
Smoke filled the cave and made his eyes water. As warmth seeped through his body, he tried to get his boot off. Pain shot up his leg. Gently now! He knew that if he fainted, he’d never wake again.
He realized that his foot was too swollen to have any chance of getting the boot off. He would have to cut it free. He hesitated; boots were essential. But he had to know the worst.
With the warmth of the fire came the smell from his fur and wool. He got out his knife and carefully sliced away the leather till he could ease it away from his woolen sock. And saw bone jutting through dirty flesh and a clot of frozen blood.
He cried, knowing this was the end. He was going to die in this cave.
He built up the fire with his remaining sticks, and reached for paper and pencil. He began to write an account of what had happened. Somebody—a man?—might find it one day and be warned.…
* * * *
“Life on an island a few degrees north of the equator is pleasantly relaxing. Worries vanish. There is no pressure. The heat prevents any but the most casual activity. For much of the time I lazed in the shade and drank lime and iced water. I had enough money for the simple life, and no one bothered me. Possibly those in authority agreed with my action and turned a blind eye.
“I swam in the sea, ate and drank, sometimes took a leisurely stroll, and slept. I realized I was drifting, but it didn’t bother me. I suppose I had just given up.
“It was almost twelve months before the galactics’ second ship was detected. I followed the news on TV, but somehow it didn’t affect me the way the news of the first one had. I was that far gone. I assumed we would claim it was an accident and talk reparations.
“We waited for radio contact but this ship made no attempt to communicate, and ignored our broadcasts. Experts talked knowledgeably about robot probes. Then it turned away from its Earth trajectory and headed directly towards the sun. There were brief hours of panic while engineers spoke of systems failure. The alien fired one missile into the sun and headed back the way it had come.
“And the sun went out.
“There were riots in the cities. New religions sprang up, and governments collapsed. Human activity became meaningless.
“Earth was dark now the moon had no light to reflect. It grew cold. Snow fell and the glaciers marched south. Nuclear power stations were buried beneath the ice and human civilization was overwhelmed. Millions froze to death. Thousands tried to reach the equatorial regions. Wars flared as the inhabitants repelled them.
“‘London under twenty feet of ice’, the last commentator announced before the power failed.
“My tropical paradise became dark and cold, and survival was all that mattered. I was lucky to be on an island and away from the worst of the gangs that fought each other. I robbed a store to get a rifle and ammunition, climbing boots and matches. My fur coat came from the corpse of a wealthy visitor.
“I found a cave along the coast and hid out, eating birds and rats, even insects—though they gave me stomach pains. I survived by hunting. Dog, I found, was the best eating.…”
* * * *
The fire was dying as the last of the wood burned away. Crane’s chilblains itched and the patch of frostbite on his face numbed the chill as he sucked a piece of ice. He had no food. His ankle stopped hurting as he gradually froze.
The hunters moved in, and Crane fired one last bullet.
* * * *
The hunters spotted a dull glimmer among the embers in the cave and fanned it to life. They fed the pages of writing to the flames as the fire blazed up. Then they collected food for cooking.
SUNSKIMMER, by Sydney J. Bounds
“It has been confirmed that a swarm of meteors is orbiting the sun and approaching Mercury. So the question now is, will the powers-that-be cancel this year’s race?”
The voice coming from the widescreen was warm, thrilling and female. The buzz of chatter in the skimmers’ changing room faded to near silence.
They stared at the image of Kate Pilgrim, a smartly dressed newscaster of mature years; behind her over-excited groupies screamed the names of their favorite skimmer.
Duke Halliday viewed Kate with approval, even though her words disturbed him. He imagined the length of the legs under that ankle-touching skirt and sighed.
“You hear that, Duke?” Bull Travers, one of the younger sunskimmers, used a tone of voice that suggested a challenge to their leader. “What d’you propose to do about it?”
Duke’s attention remained with the woman onscreen. “I propose to wait for an official announcement. She’s a media person and exaggerates.”
Bull noticed his concentration on the newscaster and made a shrewd guess.
He expressed his disgust. “She’s old—that’s obscene!”
“Yeah,
