Produced by Greg Weeks, Geetu Melwani and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

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Transcriber’s Notes: 

This etext was produced from “Future combined with Science Fiction Stories” September 1951.  Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication was renewed.

A number of typographical errors found in the original text have been corrected in this version.  A list of these errors is provided at the end of the book.

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         Genesis

By H. Beam Piper

Feature NOVELET
of lost Worlds

Was this ill-fated expedition the end of a proud, old race—­or the
beginning of a new one?

There are strange gaps in our records of the past.  We find traces of man-like things—­but, suddenly, man appears, far too much developed to be the “next step” in a well-linked chain of evolutionary evidence.  Perhaps something like the events of this story furnishes the answer to the riddle.

Aboard the ship, there was neither day nor night; the hours slipped gently by, as vistas of star-gemmed blackness slid across the visiscreens.  For the crew, time had some meaning—­one watch on duty and two off.  But for the thousand-odd colonists, the men and women who were to be the spearhead of migration to a new and friendlier planet, it had none.  They slept, and played, worked at such tasks as they could invent, and slept again, while the huge ship followed her plotted trajectory.

Kalvar Dard, the army officer who would lead them in their new home, had as little to do as any of his followers.  The ship’s officers had all the responsibility for the voyage, and, for the first time in over five years, he had none at all.  He was finding the unaccustomed idleness more wearying than the hectic work of loading the ship before the blastoff from Doorsha.  He went over his landing and security plans again, and found no probable emergency unprepared for.  Dard wandered about the ship, talking to groups of his colonists, and found morale even better than he had hoped.  He spent hours staring into the forward visiscreens, watching the disc of Tareesh, the planet of his destination, grow larger and plainer ahead.

Now, with the voyage almost over, he was in the cargo-hold just aft of the Number Seven bulkhead, with six girls to help him, checking construction material which would be needed immediately after landing.  The stuff had all been checked two or three times before, but there was no harm in going over it again.  It furnished an occupation to fill in the time; it gave Kalvar Dard an excuse for surrounding himself with half a dozen charming girls, and the girls seemed to enjoy being with him.  There was tall blonde Olva, the electromagnetician; pert little Varnis, the machinist’s helper; Kyna, the surgeon’s-aide; dark-haired Analea; Dorita, the accountant; plump little Eldra, the armament technician.  At the moment, they were all sitting on or around the desk in the corner of the store-room, going over the inventory when they were not just gabbling.