The Red Dust
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About this ebook
Murray Leinster
Murray Leinster, born William Fitzgerald Jenkins on June 16, 1896, in Norfolk, Virginia, is a towering figure in the annals of science fiction. Often hailed as the "Dean of Science Fiction," Leinster's prolific career spanned over five decades, during which he penned more than 1,500 short stories, novels, and scripts. His work is characterized by an uncanny ability to foresee technological advancements and their societal impacts, making him a visionary in speculative fiction. Leinster's 1945 short story "First Contact" is particularly notable for introducing the now-standard concept of the universal translator, a device that has since become a staple in science fiction lore. This story also tackled the complex theme of peaceful coexistence between different species, a revolutionary idea during the post-World War II era when fears of the "other" were rampant. A pioneer in the genre, Leinster was also a master of blending hard science with humanistic elements, making his stories resonate on both intellectual and emotional levels. His influence can be seen in the works of contemporary writers like Arthur C. Clarke and Isaac Asimov, who admired his ability to weave intricate plots with scientific plausibility. Despite his acclaim, Leinster was not without controversy. His 1956 story "The Ethical Equations" sparked debates about the moral implications of artificial intelligence, a topic that remains hotly contested today. His forward-thinking narratives often challenged societal norms, pushing readers to question the ethical dimensions of technological progress. Leinster's legacy is not just confined to his written work; he also made significant contributions to radio and television, scripting episodes for popular series like "The Shadow" and "Land of the Giants." His ability to adapt his storytelling across multiple media underscores his versatility and enduring relevance. In an era where science fiction continues to shape our understanding of the future, Murray Leinster's work remains a cornerstone, offering timeless insights into the human condition and the boundless possibilities of innovation.
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The Red Dust - Murray Leinster
The Red Dust
by Murray Leinster
Start Publishing LLC
Copyright © 2015 by Start Publishing LLC
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
First Start Publishing eBook edition July 2015
Start Publishing is a registered trademark of Start Publishing LLC
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN 13: 978-1-68299-777-2
Table of Contents
Prey
The Journey
The Sexton-Beetles
The Forest of Death
Out of Bondage
Prey
The sky grew gray and then almost white. The overhanging banks of clouds seemed to withdraw a little from the steaming earth. Haze that hung always among the mushroom forests and above the fungus hills grew more tenuous, and the slow and misty rain that dripped the whole night long ceased reluctantly.
As far as the eye could see a mad world stretched out, a world of insensate cruelties and strange, fierce maternal solicitudes. The insects of the night—the great moths whose wings spread far and wide in the dimness, and the huge fireflies, four feet in length, whose beacons made the earth glow in their pale, weird light—the insects of the night had sought their hiding-places.
Now the creatures of the day ventured forth. A great ant-hill towered a hundred feet in the air. Upon its gravel and boulder-strewn side a commotion became visible.
The earth crumbled, and fell into an invisible opening, then a dark chasm appeared, and two slender, threadlike antennæ peered out.
A warrior ant emerged, and stood for an instant in the daylight, looking all about for signs of danger to the ant-city. He was all of ten inches long, this ant, and his mandibles were fierce and strong. A second and third warrior came from the inside of the ant-hill, and ran with tiny clickings about the hillock, waving their antennæ restlessly, searching, ever searching for a menace to their city.
They returned to the gateway from which they had made their appearance, evidently bearing reassuring messages, because shortly after they had reëntered the gateway of the ant-city, a flood of black, ill-smelling workers poured out of the opening and dispersed upon their business. The clickings of their limbs and an occasional whining stridulation made an incessant sound as they scattered over the earth, foraging among the mushrooms and giant cabbages, among the rubbish-heaps of the gigantic bee-hives and wasp colonies, and among the remains of the tragedies of the night for food for their city.
The city of the ants had begun its daily toil, toil in which every one shared without supervision or coercion. Deep in the recesses of the pyramid galleries were hollowed out and winding passages that led down a fathomless distance into the earth below.
Somewhere in the maze of tunnels there was a royal apartment, in which the queen-ant reposed, waited upon by assiduous courtiers, fed by royal stewards, and combed and rubbed by the hands of her subjects and children.
But even the huge monarch of the city had her constant and pressing duty of maternity. A dozen times the size of her largest loyal servant, she was no less bound by the unwritten but imperative laws of the city than they. From the time of waking to the time of rest, she was ordained to be the queen-mother in the strictest and most literal sense of the word, for at intervals to be measured only in terms of minutes she brought forth a single egg, perhaps three inches in length, which was instantly seized by one of her eager attendants and carried in haste to the municipal nursery.
There it was placed in a tiny cell a foot or more in length until a sac-shaped grub appeared, all soft, white body save for a tiny mouth. Then the nurses took it in charge and fed it with curious, tender gestures until it had waxed large and fat and slept the sleep of metamorphosis. When it emerged from its rudimentary cocoon it took the places of its nurses until its soft skin had hardened into the horny armor of the workers and soldiers, and then it joined the throng of workers that poured out from the city at dawn to forage for food, to bring back its finds and to share with the warriors and the nurses, the drone males and the young queens, and all the other members of its communities, their duties in the city itself. That was the life of the social insect, absolute devotion to the cause of its city, utter abnegation of self-interest for the sake of its fellows—and death at their hands when their usefulness was past. They neither knew nor expected more or less.
It is a strange instinct that prompts these creatures to devote their lives to their city, taking no smallest thought for their individual good, without even the call of maternity or sex to guide them. Only the queen knows motherhood. The others know nothing but toil, for purposes they do not understand, and to an end of which they cannot dream. At intervals all over the world of Burl’s time these ant-cities rose above the surrounding ground, some small and barely begun, and others ancient colonies which were truly the continuation of cities first built when the ants were insects to be crushed beneath the feet of men. These ancient strongholds towered two, three, and even four hundred feet above the plains, and their inhabitants would have had to be numbered in millions if not billions.
Not all the earth was subject to the ants, however. Bees and wasps and more deadly creatures crawled over and flew above its surface. The bees were four feet and more in length. And slender-waisted wasps darted here and there, preying upon the colossal crickets that sang deep bass music to their mates—and the length of the crickets was the length of a man, and more.
Spiders with bloated bellies waited, motionless, in their snares, whose threads were the size of small cables, waiting for some luckless giant insect to be entangled in the gummy traps. And butterflies fluttered over the festering plains of this new world, tremendous creatures whose wings could only be measured in terms of yards.
An outcropping of rock jutted up abruptly from a fungus-covered plain. Shelf-fungi and strangely colored molds stained the stone until the shining quartz was hidden almost completely from view, but the whole glistened like tinted crystal from the dank wetness of the night. Little wisps of vapor curled away from the slopes as the moisture was taken up by the already moisture-laden air.
Seen from a distance, the outcropping of rock looked innocent and still, but a nearer view showed many things.
Here a hunting wasp had come