{"id":24797,"date":"2025-10-26T23:51:15","date_gmt":"2025-10-27T03:51:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=24797"},"modified":"2025-10-26T23:51:18","modified_gmt":"2025-10-27T03:51:18","slug":"a-e-van-vogt-black-destroyer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/a-e-van-vogt-black-destroyer\/24797\/","title":{"rendered":"A. E. van Vogt: Black Destroyer"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis<\/strong>: \u201cBlack Destroyer\u201d<\/em> is an influential science fiction short story by A. E. van Vogt, first published in Astounding Science-Fiction<\/em> in July 1939. The story follows Coeurl, a fierce and intelligent alien creature roaming a desolate planet in search of sustenance. When a ship of human explorers lands, Coeurl detects a vital substance that awakens his insatiable hunger and triggers his predatory instincts. As he cunningly observes the humans, he prepares to seize any opportunity. Widely regarded as the beginning of the Golden Age of Science Fiction, the story is also recognized as one of the inspirations behind Ridley Scott\u2019s film Alien<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n

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\"A.<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Black Destroyer<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

By A. E. van Vogt
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

ON AND ON COEURL PROWLED! The black, moonless, almost starless night yielded reluctantly before a grim reddish dawn that crept up from his left. A vague, dull light it was, that gave no sense of approaching warmth, no comfort, nothing but a cold, diffuse lightness, slowly revealing a nightmare landscape.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Black, jagged rock and black, unliving plain took form around him, as a pale-red sun peered at last above the grotesque horizon. It was then Coeurl recognized suddenly that he was on familiar ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stopped short. Tenseness flamed along his nerves. His muscles pressed with sudden, unrelenting strength against his bones. His great forelegs\u2014twice as long as his hindlegs\u2014twitched with a shuddering movement that arched every razor-sharp claw. The thick tentacles that sprouted from his shoulders ceased their weaving undulation, and grew taut with anxious alertness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Utterly appalled, he twisted his great cat head from side to side, while the little hairlike tendrils that formed each ear vibrated frantically, testing every vagrant breeze, every throb in the ether.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But there was no response, no swift tingling along his intricate nervous system, not the faintest suggestion anywhere of the presence of the all-necessary id. Hopelessly, Coeurl crouched, an enormous catlike figure silhouetted against the dim reddish skyline, like a distorted etching of a black tiger resting on a black rock in a shadow world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He had known this day would come. Through all the centuries of restless search, this day had loomed ever nearer, blacker, more frightening\u2014this inevitable hour when he must return to the point where he began his systematic hunt in a world almost depleted of id-creatures.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The truth struck in waves like an endless, rhythmic ache at the seat of his ego. When he had started, there had been a few id-creatures in every hundred square miles, to be mercilessly rooted out. Only too well Coeurl knew in this ultimate hour that he had missed none. There were no id-creatures left to eat. In all the hundreds of thousands of square miles that he had made his own by right of ruthless conquest\u2014until no neighboring coeurl dared to question his sovereignty\u2014-there was no id to feed the otherwise immortal engine that was his body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Square foot by square foot he had gone over it. And now\u2014he recognized the knoll of rock just ahead, and the black rock bridge that formed a queer, curling tunnel to his right. It was in that tunnel he had lain for days, waiting for the simple-minded, snakelike id-creature to come forth from its hole in the rock to bask in the sun\u2014his first kill after he had realized the absolute necessity of organized extermination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He licked his lips in brief gloating memory of the moment his slavering jaws tore the victim into precious toothsome bits. But the dark fear of an idless universe swept the sweet remembrance from his consciousness, leaving only certainty of death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He snarled audibly, a defiant, devilish sound that quavered on the air, echoed and re-echoed among the rocks, and shuddered back along his nerves\u2014instinctive and hellish expression of his will to live.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then\u2014abruptly\u2014it came.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


He saw it emerge out of the distance on a long downward slant, a tiny glowing spot that grew enormously into a metal ball. The great shining globe hissed by above Coeurl, slowing visibly in quick deceleration. It sped over a black line of hills to the right, hovered almost motionless for a second, then sank down out of sight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl exploded from his startled immobility. With tiger speed, he flowed down among the rocks. His round, black eyes burned with the horrible desire that was an agony within him. His ear tendrils vibrated a message of id in such tremendous quantities that his body felt sick with the pangs of his abnormal hunger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little red sun was a crimson ball in the purple-black heavens when he crept up from behind a mass of rock and gazed from its shadows at the crumbling, gigantic ruins of the city that sprawled below him. The silvery globe, in spite of its great size, looked strangely inconspicuous against that vast, fairylike reach of ruins. Yet about it was a leashed aliveness, a dynamic quiescence that, after a moment, made it stand out, dominating the foreground. A massive, rock-crushing thing of metal, it rested on a cradle made by its own weight in the harsh, resisting plain which began abruptly at the outskirts of the dead metropolis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl gazed at the strange, two-legged creatures who stood in little groups near the brilliantly lighted opening that yawned at the base of the ship. His throat thickened with the immediacy of his need; and his brain grew dark with the first wild impulse to burst forth in furious charge and smash these flimsy, helpless-looking creatures whose bodies emitted the id-vibrations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mists of memory stopped that mad rush when it was still only electricity surging through his muscles. Memory that brought fear in an acid stream of weakness, pouring along his nerves, poisoning the reservoirs of his strength. He had time to see that the creatures wore things over their real bodies, shimmering transparent material that glittered in strange, burning flashes in the rays of the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Other memories came suddenly. Of dim days when the city that spread below was the living, breathing heart of an age of glory that dissolved in a single century before flaming guns whose wielders knew only that for the survivors there would be an ever-narrowing supply of id.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was the remembrance of those guns that held him there, cringing in a wave of terror that blurred his reason. He saw himself smashed by balls of metal and burned by searing flame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Came cunning\u2014understanding of the presence of these creatures. This, Coeurl reasoned for the first time, was a scientific expedition from another star. In the olden days, the coeurls had thought of space travel, but disaster came too swiftly for it ever to be more than a thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Scientists meant investigation, not destruction. Scientists in their way were fools. Bold with his knowledge, he emerged into the open. He saw the creatures become aware of him. They turned and stared. One, the smallest of the group, detached a shining metal rod from a sheath, and held it casually in one hand. Coeurl loped on, shaken to his core by the action; but it was too late to turn back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Commander Hal Morton heard little Gregory Kent, the chemist, laugh with the embarrassed half gurgle with which he invariably announced inner uncertainty. He saw Kent fingering the spindly metalite weapon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kent said: \u201cI\u2019ll take no chances with anything as big as that.\u201d Commander Morton allowed his own deep chuckle to echo along the communicators. \u201cThat,\u201d he grunted finally, \u201cis one of the reasons why you\u2019re on this expedition, Kent\u2014because you never leave anything to chance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His chuckle trailed off into silence. Instinctively, as he watched the monster approach them across that black rock plain, he moved forward until he stood a little in advance of the others, his huge form bulking the transparent metalite suit. The comments of the men pattered through the radio communicator into his ears:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d hate to meet that baby on a dark night in an alley.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be silly. This is obviously an intelligent creature. Probably a member of the ruling race.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt looks like nothing else than a big cat, if you forget those tentacles sticking out from its shoulders, and make allowances for those monster forelegs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIts physical development,\u201d said a voice, which Morton recognized as that of Siedel, the psychologist, \u201cpresupposes an animal-like adaptation to surroundings, not an intellectual one. On the other hand, its coming to us like this is not the act of an animal but of a creature possessing a mental awareness of our possible identity. You will notice that its movements are stiff, denoting caution, which suggests fear and consciousness of our weapons. I\u2019d like to get a good look at the end of its tentacles. If they taper into handlike appendages that can really grip objects, then the conclusion would be inescapable that it is a descendant of the inhabitants of this city. It would be a great help if we could establish communication with it, even though appearances indicate that it has degenerated into a historyless primitive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl stopped when he was still ten feet from the foremost creature. The sense of id was so overwhelming that his brain drifted to the ultimate verge of chaos. He felt as if his limbs were bathed in molten liquid; his very vision was not quite clear, as the sheer sensuality of his desire thundered through his being.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The men\u2014all except the little one with the shining metal rod in his fingers\u2014came closer. Coeurl saw that they were frankly and curiously examining him. Their lips were moving, and their voices beat in a monotonous, meaningless rhythm on his ear tendrils. At the same time he had the sense of waves of a much higher frequency\u2014his own communication level\u2014only it was a machinelike clicking that jarred his brain. With a distinct effort to appear friendly, he broadcast his name from his ear tendrils, at the same time pointing at himself with one curving tentacle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gourlay, chief of communications, drawled: \u201cI got a sort of static in my radio when he wiggled those hairs, Morton. Do you think\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLooks very much like it,\u201d the leader answered the unfinished question. \u201cThat means a job for you, Gourlay. If it speaks by means of radio waves, it might not be altogether impossible that you can create some sort of television picture of its vibrations, or teach him the Morse code.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh,\u201d said Siedel. \u201cI was right. The tentacles each develop into seven strong fingers. Provided the nervous system is complicated enough, those fingers could, with training, operate any machine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Morton said: \u201cI think we\u2019d better go in and have some lunch. Afterward, we\u2019ve got to get busy. The material men can set up their machines and start gathering data on the planet\u2019s metal possibilities, and so on. The others can do a little careful exploring. I\u2019d like some notes on architecture and on the scientific development of this race, and particularly what happened to wreck the civilization. On earth civilization after civilization crumbled, but always a new one sprang up in its dust. Why didn\u2019t that happen here? Any questions?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes. What about pussy? Look, he wants to come in with us.\u201d Commander Morton frowned, an action that emphasized the deep-space pallor of his face. \u201cI wish there was some way we could take it in with us, without forcibly capturing it. Kent, what do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think we should first decide whether it\u2019s an it or a him, and call it one or the other. I\u2019m in favor of him. As for taking him in with us\u2014\u201d The little chemist shook his head decisively. \u201cImpossible. This atmosphere is twenty-eight per cent chlorine. Our oxygen would be pure dynamite to his lungs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The commander chuckled. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t believe that, apparently.\u201d He watched the catlike monster follow the first two men through the great door. The men kept an anxious distance from him, then glanced at Morton questioningly. Morton waved his hand. \u201cO.K. Open the second lock and let him get a whiff of the oxygen. That\u2019ll cure him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A moment later, he cursed his amazement. \u201cBy Heaven, he doesn\u2019t even notice the difference! That means he hasn\u2019t any lungs, or else the chlorine is not what his lungs use. Let him in! You bet he can go in! Smith, here\u2019s a treasure house for a biologist\u2014harmless enough if we\u2019re careful. We can always handle him. But what a metabolism!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smith, a tall, thin, bony chap with a long, mournful face, said in an oddly forceful voice: \u201cIn all our travels, we\u2019ve found only two higher forms of life. Those dependent on chlorine, and those who need oxygen\u2014the two elements that support combustion. I\u2019m prepared to stake my reputation that no complicated organism could ever adapt itself to both gases in a natural way. At first thought I should say here is an extremely advanced form of life. This race long ago discovered truths of biology that we are just beginning to suspect. Morton, we mustn\u2019t let this creature get away if we can help it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf his anxiety to get inside is any criterion,\u201d Commander Morton laughed, \u201cthen our difficulty will be to get rid of him.\u201d \u2018<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He moved into the lock with Coeurl and the two men. The automatic machinery hummed; and in a few minutes they were standing at the bottom of a series of elevators that led up to the living quarters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDoes that go up?\u201d One of the men flicked a thumb in the direction of the monster.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBetter send him up alone, if he\u2019ll go in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl offered no objection, until he heard the door slam behind him; and the closed cage shot upward. He whirled with a savage snarl, his reason swirling into chaos. With one leap, he pounced at the door. The metal bent under his plunge, and the desperate pain maddened him. Now, he was all trapped animal. He smashed at the metal with his paws, bending it like so much tin. He tore great bars loose with his thick tentacles. The machinery screeched; there were horrible jerks as the limitless power pulled the cage along in spite of projecting pieces of metal that scraped the outside walls. And then the cage stopped, and he snatched off the rest of the door and hurtled into the corridor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He waited there until Morton and the men came up with drawn weapons. \u201cWe\u2019re fools,\u201d Morton said. \u201cWe should have shown him how it works. He thought we\u2019d double-crossed him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He motioned to the monster, and saw the savage glow fade from the coal-black eyes as he opened and closed the door with elaborate gestures to show the operation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl ended the lesson by trotting into the large room to his right. He lay down on the rugged floor, and fought down the electric tautness of his nerves and muscles. A very fury of rage against himself for his fright consumed him. It seemed to his burning brain that he had lost the advantage of appearing a mild and harmless creature. His strength must have startled and dismayed them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It meant greater danger in the task which he now knew he must accomplish: To kill everything in the ship, and take the machine back to their world in search of unlimited id.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


With unwinking eyes, Coeurl lay and watched the two men clearing away the loose rubble from the metal doorway of the huge old building. His whole body ached with the hunger of his cells for id. The craving tore through his palpitant muscles, and throbbed like a living thing in his brain. His every nerve quivered to be off after the men who had wandered into the city. One of them, he knew, had gone\u2014alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dragging minutes fled; and still he restrained himself, still he lay there watching, aware that the men knew he watched. They floated a metal machine from the ship to the rock mass that blocked the great half-open door, under the direction of a third man. No flicker of their fingers escaped his fierce stare, and slowly, as the simplicity of the machinery became apparent to him, contempt grew upon him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He knew what to expect finally, when the flame flared in incandescent violence and ate ravenously at the hard rock beneath. But in spite of his preknowledge, he deliberately jumped and snarled as if in fear, as that white heat burst forth. His ear tendrils caught the laughter of the men, their curious pleasure at his simulated dismay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The door was released, and Morton came over and went inside with the third man. The latter shook his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a shambles. You can catch the drift of the stuff. Obviously, they used atomic energy, but . . . but it\u2019s in wheel form. That\u2019s a peculiar development. In our science, atomic energy brought in the nonwheel machine. It\u2019s possible that here they\u2019ve progressed further to a new type of wheel mechanics. I hope their libraries are better preserved than this, or we\u2019ll never know. What could have happened to a civilization to make it vanish like this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A third voice broke through the communicators: \u201cThis is Siedel. I heard your question, Pennons. Psychologically and sociologically speaking, the only reason why a territory becomes uninhabited is lack of food.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut they\u2019re so advanced scientifically, why didn\u2019t they develop space flying and go elsewhere for their food?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAsk Gunlie Lester,\u201d interjected Morton. \u201cI heard him expounding some theory even before we landed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The astronomer answered the first call. \u201cI\u2019ve still got to verify all my facts, but this desolate world is the only planet revolving around that miserable red sun. There\u2019s nothing else. No moon, not even a planetoid. And the nearest star system is nine hundred light-years<\/em> away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo tremendous would have been the problem of the ruling race of this world, that in one jump they would not only have had to solve interplanetary but interstellar space traveling. When you consider how slow our own development was\u2014first the moon, then Venus\u2014each success leading to the next, and after centuries to the nearest stars; and last of all to the anti-accelerators that permitted galactic travel\u2014considering all this, I maintain it would be impossible for any race to create such machines without practical experience. And, with the nearest star so far away, they had no incentive for the space adventuring that makes for experience.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Coeurl was trotting briskly over to another group. But now, in the driving appetite that consumed him, and in the frenzy of his high scorn, he paid no attention to what they were doing. Memories of past knowledge, jarred into activity by what he had seen, flowed into his consciousness in an ever developing and more vivid stream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From group to group he sped, a nervous dynamo\u2014jumpy, sick with his awful hunger. A little car rolled up, stopping in front of him, and a formidable camera whirred as it took a picture of him. Over on a mound of rock, a gigantic telescope was rearing up toward the sky. Nearby, a disintegrating machine drilled its searing fire into an ever-deepening hole, down and down, straight down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coerul\u2019s mind became a blur of things he watched with half attention. And ever more imminent grew the moment when he knew he could no longer carry on the torture of acting. His brain strained with an irresistible impatience; his body burned with the fury of his eagerness to be off after the man who had gone alone into the city.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He could stand it no longer. A green foam misted his mouth, maddening him. He saw that, for the bare moment, nobody was looking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like a shot from a gun, he was off. He floated along in great, gliding leaps, a shadow among the shadows of the rocks. In a minute, the harsh terrain hid the spaceship and the two-legged beings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl forgot the ship, forgot everything but his purpose, as if his brain had been wiped clear by a magic, memory-erasing brush. He circled widely, then raced into the city, along deserted streets, taking short cuts with the ease of familiarity, through gaping holes in time-weakened walls, through long corridors of moldering buildings. He slowed to a crouching lope as his ear tendrils caught the id vibrations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suddenly, he stopped and peered from a scatter of fallen rock. The man was standing at what must once have been a window, sending the glaring rays of his flashlight into the gloomy interior. The flashlight clicked off. The man, a heavy-set, powerful fellow, walked off with quick, alert steps. Coeurl didn\u2019t like that alertness. It presaged trouble; it meant lightning reaction to danger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl waited till the human being had vanished around a comer, then he padded into the open. He was running now, tremendously faster than a man could walk, because his plan was clear in his brain. Like a wraith, he slipped down the next street, past a long block of buildings. He turned the first corner at top speed; and then, with dragging belly, crept into the half-darkness between the building and a huge chunk of debris. The street ahead was barred by a solid line of loose rubble that made it like a valley, ending in a narrow, bottlelike neck. The neck had its outlet just below Coeurl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His ear tendrils caught the low-frequency waves of whistling. The sound throbbed through his being; and suddenly terror caught with icy fingers at his brain. The man would have a gun. Suppose he leveled one burst of atomic energy\u2014one burst\u2014before his own muscles could whip out in murder fury.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A little shower of rocks streamed past. And then the man was beneath him. Coeurl reached out and struck a single crushing blow at the shimmering transparent headpiece of the spacesuit. There was a tearing sound of metal and a gushing of blood. The man doubled up as if part of him had been telescoped. For a moment, his bones and legs and muscles combined miraculously to keep him standing. Then he crumpled with a metallic clank of his space armor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fear completely evaporated, Coeurl leaped out of hiding. With ravenous speed, he smashed the metal and the body within it to bits. Great chunks of metal, torn piecemeal from the suit, sprayed the ground. Bones cracked. Flesh crunched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was simple to tune in on the vibrations of the id, and to create the violent chemical disorganization that freed it from the crushed bone. The id was, Coeurl discovered, mostly in the bone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He felt revived, almost reborn. Here was more food than he had had in the whole past year.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Three minutes, and it was over, and Coeurl was off like a thing fleeing dire danger. Cautiously, he approached the glistening globe from the opposite side to that by which he had left. The men were all busy at their tasks. Gliding noiselessly, Coeurl slipped unnoticed up to a group of men.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Morton stared down at the horror of tattered flesh, metal and blood on the rock at his feet, and felt a tightening in his throat that prevented speech. He heard Kent say:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe would<\/em> go alone, damn him!\u201d The little chemist\u2019s voice held a sob imprisoned; and Morton remembered that Kent and Jarvey had chummed together for years in the way only two men can.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe worst part of it is,\u201d shuddered one of the men, \u201cit looks like a senseless murder. His body is spread out like little lumps of flattened jelly, but it seems to be all there. I\u2019d almost wager that if we weighed everything here, there\u2019d still be one hundred and seventy-five pounds by earth gravity. That\u2019d be about one hundred and seventy pounds here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smith broke in, his mournful face lined with gloom: \u201cThe killer attacked Jarvey, and then discovered his flesh was alien\u2014uneatable. Just like our big cat. Wouldn\u2019t eat anything we set before him\u2014\u201d His words died out in sudden, queer silence. Then he said slowly: \u201cSay, what about that creature? He\u2019s big enough and strong enough to have done this with his own little paws.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton frowned. \u201cIt\u2019s a thought. After all, he\u2019s the only living thing we\u2019ve seen. We can\u2019t just execute him on suspicion, of course\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBesides,\u201d said one of the men, \u201che was never out of my sight.\u201d Before Morton could speak, Siedel, the psychologist, snapped, \u201cPositive about that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man hesitated. \u201cMaybe he was for a few minutes. He was wandering around so much,-looking at everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExactly,\u201d said Siedel with satisfaction. He turned to Morton. \u201cYou see, commander, I, too, had the impression that he was always around; and yet, thinking back over it, I find gaps. There were moments\u2014probably long minutes\u2014when he was completely out of sight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton\u2019s face was dark with thought, as Kent broke in fiercely: \u201cI say, take no chances. Kill the brute on suspicion before he does any more damage.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton said slowly: \u201cKorita, you\u2019ve been wandering around with Cranessy and Van Home. Do you think pussy is a descendant of the ruling class of this planet?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The tall Japanese archeologist stared at the sky as if collecting his mind. \u201cCommander Morton,\u201d he said finally, respectfully, \u201cthere is a mystery here. Take a look, all of you, at that majestic skyline. Notice the almost Gothic outline of the architecture. In spite of the megalopolis which they created, these people were close to the soil. The buildings are not simply ornamented. They are ornamental in themselves. Here is the equivalent of the Doric column, the Egyptian pyramid, the Gothic cathedral, growing out of the ground, earnest, big with destiny. If this lonely, desolate world can be regarded as a mother earth, then the land had a warm, a spiritual place in the hearts of the race.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe effect is emphasized by the winding streets. Their machines prove they were mathematicians, but they were artists first; and so they did not create the geometrically designed cities of the ultrasophisticated world metropolis. There is a genuine artistic abandon, a deep joyous emotion written in the curving and unmathematical arrangements of houses, buildings and avenues; a sense of intensity, of divine belief in an inner certainty. This is not a decadent, hoary-with-age civilization, but a young and vigorous culture, confident, strong with purpose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere it ended. Abruptly, as if at this point culture had its Battle of Tours, and began to collapse like the ancient Mohammedan civilization. Or as if in one leap it spanned the centuries and entered the period of contending states. In the Chinese civilization that period occupied 480-230 B. C., at the end of which the State of Tsin saw the beginning of the Chinese Empire. This phase Egypt experienced between 1780-1580 B. C., of which the last century was the \u2018Hyksos\u2019\u2014unmentionable\u2014time. The classical experienced it from Chseroriea\u2014338\u2014and, at the pitch of horror, from the Gracchi\u2014133\u2014to Actium\u201431 B. C. The West European Americans were devastated by it in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and modern historians agree that, nominally, we entered the same phase fifty years ago; though, of course, we have solved the problem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou may ask, commander, what has all this to do with your question? My answer is: there is no record of a culture entering abruptly into the period of contending states. It is always a slow development; and the first step is a merciless questioning of all that was once held sacred. Inner certainties cease to exist, are dissolved before the ruthless probings of scientific and analytic minds. The skeptic becomes the highest type of being<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI say that this culture ended abruptly in its most flourishing age. The sociological effects of such a catastrophe would be a sudden vanishing of morals, a reversion to almost bestial criminality, unleavened by any sense of ideal, a callous indifference to death. If this . . . this pussy is a descendant of such a race, then he will be a cunning creature, a thief in the night, a cold-blooded murderer, who would cut his own brother\u2019s throat for gain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


\u201cThat\u2019s enough!\u201d It was Kent\u2019s clipped voice. \u201cCommander, I\u2019m willing to act the role of executioner.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smith interrupted sharply: \u201cListen, Morton, you\u2019re not going to kill that cat yet, even if he is guilty. He\u2019s a biological treasure house.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kent and Smith were glaring angrily at each other. Morton frowned at them thoughtfully, then said: \u201cKorita, I\u2019m inclined to accept your theory as a working basis. But one question: Pussy comes from a period earlier than our own? That is, we are entering the highly civilized era of our culture, while he became suddenly historyless in the most vigorous period of his. But it is possible that his culture is a later one on this planet than ours is in the galactic-wide system we have civilized?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExactly. His may be the middle of the tenth civilization of his world; while ours is the end of the eighth sprung from earth, each of the ten, of course, having been builded on the ruins of the one before it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn that case, pussy would not know anything about the skepticism that made it possible for us to find him out so positively as a criminal and murderer?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo; it would be literally magic to him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton was smiling grimly. \u201cThen I think you\u2019ll get your wish, Smith. We\u2019ll let pussy live; and if there are any fatalities, now that we know him, it will be due to rank carelessness. There\u2019s just the chance, of course, that we\u2019re wrong. Like Siedel, I also have the impression that he was always around. But now\u2014we can\u2019t leave poor Jarvey here like this. We\u2019ll put him in a coffin and bury him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, we won\u2019t!\u201d Kent barked. He flushed. \u201cI beg your pardon, commander. I didn\u2019t mean it that way. I maintain pussy wanted something from that body. It looks to be all there, but something must be missing. I\u2019m going to find out what, and pin this murder on him so that you\u2019ll have to believe it beyond the shadow of a doubt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


It was late night when Morton looked up from a book and saw Kent emerge through the door that led from the laboratories below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kent carried a large, flat bowl in his hands; his tired eyes flashed across at Morton, and he said in a weary, yet harsh, voice: \u201cNow watch!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He started toward Coeurl, who lay sprawled on the great rug, pretending to be asleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton stopped him. \u201cWait a minute, Kent. Any other time, I wouldn\u2019t question your actions, but you look ill; you\u2019re overwrought. What have you got there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kent turned, and Morton saw that his first impression had been but a flashing glimpse of the truth. There were dark pouches under the little chemist\u2019s gray eyes\u2014eyes that gazed feverishly from sunken cheeks in an ascetic face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve found the missing element,\u201d Kent said. \u201cIt\u2019s phosphorus. There wasn\u2019t so much as a square millimeter of phosphorus left in Jarvey\u2019s bones. Every bit of it had been drained out\u2014by what superchemistry I don\u2019t know. There are ways of getting phosphorus out of the human body. For instance, a quick way was what happened to the workman who helped build this ship. Remember, he fell into fifteen tons of molten metalite\u2014at least, so his relatives claimed\u2014but the company wouldn\u2019t pay compensation until the metalite, on analysis, was found to contain a high percentage of phosphorus\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat about the bowl of food?\u201d somebody interrupted. Men were putting away magazines and books, looking up with interest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s got organic phosphorus in it. He\u2019ll get the scent, or whatever it is that he uses instead of scent\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think he gets the vibrations of things,\u201d Gourlay interjected lazily. \u201cSometimes, when he wiggles those tendrils, I get a distinct static on the radio. And then, again, there\u2019s no reaction, just as if he\u2019s moved higher or lower on the wave scale. He seems to control the vibrations at will.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kent waited with obvious impatience until Gourlay\u2019s last word, then abruptly went on: \u201cAll right, then, when he gets the vibration of the phosphorus and reacts to it like an animal, then\u2014well, we can decide what we\u2019ve proved by his reaction. May I go ahead, Morton?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere are three things wrong with your plan,\u201d Morton said. \u201cIn the first place, you seem to assume that he is only animal; you seem to have forgotten he may not be hungry after Jarvey; you seem to think that he will not be suspicious. But set the bowl down. His reaction may tell us something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl stared with unblinking black eyes as the man set the bowl before him. His ear tendrils instantly caught the id-vibrations from the contents of the bowl\u2014and he gave it not even a second glance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He recognized this two-legged being as the one who had held the weapon that morning. Danger! With a snarl, he floated to his feet. He caught the bowl with the fingerlike appendages at the end of one looping tentacle, and emptied its contents into the face of Kent, who shrank back with a yell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Explosively, Coeurl flung the bowl aside and snapped a hawser-thick tentacle around the cursing man\u2019s waist. He didn\u2019t bother with the gun that hung from Kent\u2019s belt. It was only a vibration gun, he sensed\u2014atomic powered, but not an atomic disintegrator. He tossed the kicking Kent onto the nearest couch\u2014and realized with a hiss of dismay that he should have disarmed the man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not that the gun was dangerous\u2014but, as the man furiously wiped the gruel from his face with one hand, he reached with the other for his weapon. Coeurl crouched back as the gun was raised slowly and a white beam of flame was discharged at his massive head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His ear tendrils hummed as they canceled the efforts of the vibration gun. His round, black eyes narrowed as he caught the movement of men reaching for their metalite guns. Morton\u2019s voice lashed across the silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStop!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Kent clicked off his weapon; and Coeurl crouched down, quivering with fury at this man who had forced him to reveal something of his power.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cKent,\u201d said Morton coldly, \u201cyou\u2019re not the type to lose your head. You deliberately tried to kill pussy, knowing that the majority of us are in favor of keeping him alive. You know what our rule is: If anyone objects to my decisions, he must say so at the time. If the majority object, my decisions are overruled. In this case, no one but you objected, and, therefore, your action in taking the law into your own hands is most reprehensible, and automatically debars you from voting for a year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kent stared grimly at the circle of faces. \u201cKorita was right when he said ours was a highly civilized age. It\u2019s decadent.\u201d Passion flamed harshly in his voice. \u201cMy God, isn\u2019t there a man here who can see the horror of the situation? Jarvey dead only a few hours, and this creature, whom we all know to be guilty, lying there unchained, planning his next murder; and the victim is right here in this room. What kind of men are we\u2014fools, cynics, ghouls\u2014or is it that our civilization is so steeped in reason that we can contemplate a murderer sympathetically?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He fixed brooding eyes on Coeurl. \u201cYou were right, Morton, that\u2019s no animal. That\u2019s a devil from the deepest hell of this forgotten planet, whirling its solitary way around a dying sun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t go melodramatic on us,\u201d Morton said. \u201cYour analysis is all wrong, so far as I am concerned. We\u2019re not ghouls or cynics; we\u2019re simply scientists, and pussy here is going to be studied. Now that we suspect him, we doubt his ability to trap any of us. One against a hundred hasn\u2019t a chance.\u201d He glanced around. \u201cDo I speak for all of us?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot for me, commander!\u201d It was Smith who spoke, and, as Morton stared in amazement, he continued: \u201cIn the excitement and momentary confusion, no one seems to have noticed that when Kent fired his vibration gun, the beam hit this creature squarely on his cat head\u2014and didn\u2019t hurt him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton\u2019s amazed glance went from Smith to Coeurl, and back to Smith again. \u201cAre you certain it hit him? As you say, it all happened so swiftly\u2014when pussy wasn\u2019t hurt I simply assumed that Kent had missed him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe hit him in the face,\u201d Smith said positively. \u201cA vibration gun, of course, can\u2019t even kill a man right away\u2014but it can injure him. There\u2019s no sign of injury on pussy, though, not even a singed hair.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerhaps his skin is a good insulation against heat of any kind.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPerhaps. But in view of our uncertainty, I think we should lock him up in the cage.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While Morton frowned darkly in thought, Kent spoke up. \u201cNow you\u2019re talking sense, Smith.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton asked: \u201cThen you would be satisfied, Kent, if we put him in the cage?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kent considered, finally: \u201cYes. If four inches of micro-steel can\u2019t hold him, we\u2019d better give him the ship.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl followed the men as they went out into the corridor. He trotted docilely along as Morton unmistakably motioned him through a door he had not hitherto seen. He found himself in a square, solid metal room. The door clanged metallically behind him; he felt the flow of power as the electric lock clicked home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His lips parted in a grimace of hate, as he realized the trap, but he gave no other outward reaction. It occurred to him that he had progressed a long way from the sunk-into-primitiveness creature who, a few hours before, had gone incoherent with fear in an elevator cage. Now, a thousand memories of his powers were reawakened in his brain; ten thousand cunnings were, after ages of disuse, once again part of his very being.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sat quite still for a moment on the short, heavy haunches into which his body tapered, his ear tendrils examining his surroundings. Finally, he lay down, his eyes glowing with contemptuous fire. The fools! The poor fools!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was about an hour later when he heard the man\u2014Smith\u2014fumbling overhead. Vibrations poured upon him, and for just an instant he was startled. He leaped to his feet in pure terror\u2014and then realized that the vibrations were vibrations, not atomic explosions. Somebody was taking pictures of the inside of his body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He crouched down again, but his ear tendrils vibrated, and he thought contemptuously: the silly fool would be surprised when he tried to develop those pictures.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a while the man went away, and for a long time there were noises of men doing things far away. That, too, died away slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl lay waiting, as he felt the silence creep over the ship. In the long ago, before the dawn of immortality, the coeurls, too, had slept at night; and the memory of it had been revived the day before when he saw some of the men dozing. At last, the vibration of two pairs of feet, pacing, pacing endlessly, was the only human-made frequency that throbbed on his ear tendrils.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tensely, he listened to the two watchmen. The first one walked slowly past the cage door. Then about thirty feet behind him came the second. Coeurl sensed the alertness of these men; knew that he could never surprise either while they walked separately. It meant\u2014he must be doubly careful!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fifteen minutes, and they came again. The moment they were past, he switched his senses from their vibrations to a vastly higher range. The pulsating violence of the atomic engines stammered its soft story to his brain. The electric dynamos hummed their muffled song of pure power. He felt the whisper of that flow through the wires in the walls of his cage, and through the electric lock of his door. He forced his quivering body into straining immobility, his senses seeking, searching, to tune in on that sibilant tempest of energy. Suddenly, his ear tendrils vibrated in harmony\u2014he caught the surging change into shrillness of that rippling force wave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a sharp click of metal on metal. With a gentle touch of one tentacle, Coeurl pushed open the door, and glided out into the dully gleaming corridor. For just a moment he felt contempt, a glow of superiority, as he thought of the stupid creatures who dared to match their wit against a coeurl. And in that moment, he suddenly thought of other coeurls. A queer, exultant sense of race pounded through his being; the driving hate of centuries of ruthless competition yielded reluctantly before pride of kinship with the future rulers of all space.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Suddenly, he felt weighed down by his limitations, his need for other coeurls, his aloneness\u2014one against a hundred, with the stake all eternity; the starry universe itself beckoned his rapacious, vaulting ambition. If he failed, there would never be a second chance\u2014no time to revive long-rotted machinery, and attempt to solve the secret of space travel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He padded along on tensed paws\u2014through the salon\u2014into the next corridor\u2014and came to the first bedroom door. It stood half open. One swift flow of synchronized muscles, one swiftly lashing tentacle that caught the unresisting throat of the sleeping man, crushing it; and the lifeless head rolled crazily, the body twitched once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seven bedrooms; seven dead men. It was the seventh taste of murder that brought a sudden return of lust, a pure, unbounded desire to kill, return of a millennium-old habit of destroying everything containing the precious id.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the twelfth man slipped convulsively into death, Coeurl emerged abruptly from the sensuous joy of the kill to the sound of footsteps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were not near\u2014that was what brought wave after wave of fright swirling into the chaos that suddenly became his brain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The watchmen were coming slowly along the corridor toward the door of the cage where he had been imprisoned. In a moment, the first man would see the open door\u2014and sound the alarm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl caught at the vanishing remnants of his reason. With frantic speed, careless now of accidental sounds, he raced\u2014along the corridor with its bedroom doors\u2014through the salon. He emerged into the next corridor, cringing in awful anticipation of the atomic flame he expected would stab into his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The two men were together, standing side by side. For one single instant, Coeurl could scarcely believe his tremendous good luck. Like a fool the second had come running when he saw the other stop before the open door. They looked up, paralyzed, before the nightmare of claws and tentacles, the ferocious cat head and hate-filled eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first man went for his gun, but the second, physically frozen before the doom he saw, uttered a shriek, a shrill cry of horror that floated along the corridors\u2014and ended in a curious gurgle, as Coeurl flung the two corpses with one irresistible motion the full length of the corridor. He didn\u2019t want the dead bodies found near the cage. That was his one hope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shaking in every nerve and muscle, conscious of the terrible error he had made, unable to think coherently, he plunged into the cage. The door clicked softly shut behind him. Power flowed once more through the electric lock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He crouched tensely, simulating sleep, as he heard the rush of many feet, caught the vibration of excited voices. He knew when somebody actuated the cage audioscope and looked in. A few moments now, and the other bodies would be discovered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


\u201cSiedel gone!\u201d Morton said numbly. \u201cWhat are we going to do without Siedel? And Breckenridge! And Coulter and\u2014Horrible!\u201d He covered his face with his hands, but only for an instant. He looked up grimly, his heavy chin outthrust as he stared into the stem faces that surrounded him. \u201cIf anybody\u2019s got so much as a germ of an idea, bring it out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSpace madness!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve thought of that. But there hasn\u2019t been a case of a man going mad for fifty years. Dr. Eggert will test everybody, of course, and right now he\u2019s looking at the bodies with that possibility in mind.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As he finished, he saw the doctor coming through the door. Men crowded aside to make way for him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI heard you, commander,\u201d Dr. Eggert said, \u201cand I think I can say right now that the space-madness theory is out. The throats of these men have been squeezed to a jelly. No human being could have exerted such enormous strength without using a machine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton saw that the doctor\u2019s eyes kept looking down the corridor, and he shook his head and groaned:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s no use suspecting pussy, doctor. He\u2019s in his cage, pacing up and down. Obviously heard the racket and\u2014Man alive! You can\u2019t suspect him. That cage was built to hold literally anything<\/em>\u2014four inches of micro-steel\u2014and there\u2019s not a scratch on the door. Kent, even you won\u2019t say, \u2018Kill him on suspicion,\u2019 because there can\u2019t be any suspicion, unless there\u2019s a new science here, beyond anything we can imagine\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOn the contrary,\u201d said Smith flatly, \u201cwe have all the evidence we need. I used the telefluor on him\u2014you know the arrangement we have on top of the cage\u2014and tried to take some pictures. They just blurred. Pussy jumped when the telefluor was turned on, as if he felt the vibrations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou all know what Gourlay said before? This beast can apparently receive and send vibrations of any lengths. The way he dominated the power of Kent\u2019s gun is final proof of his special ability to interfere with energy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat in the name of all the hells have we got here?\u201d One of the men groaned. \u201cWhy, if he can control that power, and sent it out in any vibrations, there\u2019s nothing to stop him killing all of us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhich proves,\u201d snapped Morton, \u201cthat he isn\u2019t invincible, or he would have done it long ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Very deliberately, he walked over to the mechanism that controlled the prison cage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not going to open the door!\u201d Kent gasped, reaching for his gun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, but if I pull this switch, electricity will flow through the floor, and electrocute whatever\u2019s inside. We\u2019ve never had to use this before, so you had probably forgotten about it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He jerked the switch hard over. Blue fire flashed from the metal, and a bank of fuses above his head exploded with a single bang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton frowned. \u201cThat\u2019s funny. Those fuses shouldn\u2019t have blown! Well, we can\u2019t even look in, now. That wrecked the audios, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smith said: \u201cIf he could interfere with the electric lock, enough to open the door, then he probably probed every possible danger and was ready to interfere when you threw that switch.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAt least, it proves he\u2019s vulnerable to our energies!\u201d Morton smiled grimly. \u201cBecause he rendered them harmless. The important thing is, we\u2019ve got him behind four inches of the toughest of metal. At the worst we can open the door and ray him to death. But first, I think we\u2019ll try to use the telefluor power cable\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A commotion from inside the cage interrupted his words. A heavy body crashed against a wall, followed by a dull thump.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe knows what we were trying to do!\u201d Smith grunted to Morton. \u201cAnd I\u2019ll bet it\u2019s a very sick pussy in there. What a fool he was to go back into that cage and does he realize it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The tension was relaxing; men were smiling nervously, and there was even a ripple of humorless laughter at the picture Smith drew of the monster\u2019s discomfiture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat I\u2019d like to know,\u201d said Pennons, the engineer, \u201cis, why did the telefluor meter dial jump and waver at full power when pussy made that noise? It\u2019s right under my nose here, and the dial jumped like a house afire!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was silence both without and within the cage, then Morton said: \u201cIt may mean he\u2019s coming out. Back, everybody, and keep your guns ready. Pussy was a fool to think he could conquer a hundred men, but he\u2019s by far the most formidable creature in the galactic system. He may come out of that door, rather than die like a rat in a trap. And he\u2019s just tough enough to take some of us with him\u2014if we\u2019re not careful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The men backed slowly in a solid body; and somebody said: \u201cThat\u2019s funny. I thought I heard the elevator.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cElevator!\u201d Morton echoed. \u201cAre you sure, man?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust for a moment I was!\u201d The man, a member of the crew, hesitated. \u201cWe were all shuffling our feet\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTake somebody with you, and go look. Bring whoever dared to run off back here\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a jar, a horrible jerk, as the whole gigantic body of the ship careened under them. Morton was flung to the floor with a violence that stunned him. He fought back to consciousness, aware of the other men lying all around him. He shouted: \u201cWho the devil started those engines!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The agonizing acceleration continued; his feet dragged with awful exertion, as he fumbled with the nearest audioscope, and punched the engine-room number. The picture that flooded onto the screen brought a deep bellow to his lips:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s pussy! He\u2019s in the engine room\u2014and we\u2019re heading straight out into space.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The screen went black even as he spoke, and he could see no more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was Morton who first staggered across the salon floor to the supply room where the spacesuits were kept. After fumbling almost blindly into his own suit, he cut the effects of the body-torturing acceleration, and brought suits to the semiconscious men on the floor. In a few moments, other men were assisting him; and then it was only a matter of minutes before everybody was clad in metalite, with anti-acceleration motors running at half power.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was Morton then who, after first looking into the cage, opened the door and stood, silent as the others crowded about him, to stare at the gaping hole in the rear wall. The hole was a frightful thing of jagged edges and horribly bent metal, and it opened upon another corridor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll swear,\u201d whispered Pennons, \u201cthat it\u2019s impossible. The ten-ton hammer in the machine shops couldn\u2019t more than dent four inches of micro with one blow\u2014and we only heard one. It would take at least a minute for an atomic disintegrator to do the job. Morton, this is a super-being.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton saw that Smith was examining the break in the wall. The biologist looked up. \u201cIf only Breckinridge weren\u2019t dead! We need a metallurgist to explain this. Look!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He touched the broken edge of the metal. A piece crumbled in his finger and slithered away in a fine shower of dust to the floor. Morton noticed for the first time that there was a little pile of metallic debris and dust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve hit it.\u201d Morton nodded. \u201cNo miracle of strength here. The monster merely used his special powers to interfere with the electronic tensions holding the metal together. That would account, too, for the drain on the telefluor power cable that Pennons noticed. The thing used the power with his body as a transforming medium, smashed through the wall, ran down the corridor to the elevator shaft, and so down to the engine room.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn the meantime, commander,\u201d Kent said quietly, \u201cwe are faced with a super-being in control of the ship, completely dominating the engine room and its almost unlimited power, and in possession of the best part of the machine shops.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton felt the silence, while the men pondered the chemist\u2019s words. Their anxiety was a tangible thing that lay heavily upon their faces; in every expression was the growing realization that here was the ultimate situation in their lives; their very existence was at stake and perhaps much more. Morton voiced the thought in everybody\u2019s mind:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSuppose he wins. He\u2019s utterly ruthless, and he probably sees galactic power within his grasp.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cKent is wrong,\u201d barked the chief navigator. \u201cThe thing doesn\u2019t dominate the engine room. We\u2019ve still got the control room, and that gives us first control of all the machines. You fellows may not know the mechanical set-up we have; but, though he can eventually disconnect us, we can cut off all the switches in the engine room now. Commander, why didn\u2019t you just shut off the power instead of putting us into spacesuits? At the very least you could have adjusted the ship to the acceleration.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor two reasons,\u201d Morton answered. \u201cIndividually, we\u2019re safer within the force fields of our spacesuits. And we can\u2019t afford to give up our advantages in panicky moves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAdvantages! What other advantages have we got?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe know things about him,\u201d Morton replied. \u201cAnd right now, we\u2019re going to make a test. Pennons, detail five men to each of the four approaches to the engine room. Take atomic disintegrators to blast through the big doors. They\u2019re all shut, I noticed. He\u2019s locked himself in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSelenski, you go up to the control room and shut off everything except the drive engines. Gear them to the master switch, and shut them off all at once. One thing, though\u2014leave the acceleration on full blast. No anti-acceleration must be applied to the ship. Understand?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAye, sir!\u201d The pilot saluted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd report to me through the communicators if any of the machines start to run again.\u201d He faced the men. \u201cI\u2019m going to lead the main approach. Kent, you take No. 2; Smith, No. 3, and Pennons, No. 4. We\u2019re going to find out right now if we\u2019re dealing with unlimited science, or a creature limited like the rest of us. I\u2019ll bet on the second possibility.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Morton had an empty sense of walking endlessly, as he moved, a giant of a man in his transparent space armor, along the glistening metal tube that was the main corridor of the engine-room floor. Reason told him the creature had already shown feet of clay, yet the feeling that here was an invincible being persisted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He spoke into the communicator: \u201cIt\u2019s no use trying to sneak up on him. He can probably hear a pin drop. So just wheel up your units. He hasn\u2019t been in that engine room long enough to do anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAs I\u2019ve said, this is largely a test attack. In the first place, we could never forgive ourselves if we didn\u2019t try to conquer him now, before he\u2019s had time to prepare against us. But, aside from the possibility that we can destroy him immediately, I have a theory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe idea goes something like this: Those doors are built to withstand accidental atomic explosions, and it will take fifteen minutes for the atomic disintegrators to smash them. During that period the monster will have no power. True, the drive will be on, but that\u2019s straight atomic explosion. My theory is, he can\u2019t touch stuff like that; and in a few minutes you\u2019ll see what I mean\u2014I hope.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His voice was suddenly crisp: \u201cReady, Selenski?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAye, ready.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen cut the master switch.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The corridor\u2014the whole ship, Morton knew\u2014was abruptly plunged into darkness. Morton clicked on the dazzling light of his spacesuit; the other men did the same, their faces pale and drawn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBlast!\u201d Morton barked into his communicator.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The mobile units throbbed; and then pure atomic flame ravened out and poured upon the hard metal of the door. The first molten droplet rolled reluctantly, not down, but up the door. The second was more normal. It followed a shaky downward course. The third rolled sideways\u2014for this was pure force, not subject to gravitation. Other drops followed until a dozen streams trickled sedately yet unevenly in every direction\u2014streams of hellish, sparkling fire, bright as fairy gems, alive with the coruscating fury of atoms suddenly tortured, and running blindly, crazy with pain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The minutes ate at time like a slow acid. At last Morton asked huskily:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSelenski?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing yet, commander.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton half whispered: \u201cBut he must be doing something. He can\u2019t be just waiting in there like a cornered rat. Selenski?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing, commander.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seven minutes, eight minutes, then twelve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCommander!\u201d It was Selenski\u2019s voice, taut. \u201cHe\u2019s got the electric dynamo running.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton drew a deep breath, and heard one of his men say:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s funny. We can\u2019t get any deeper. Boss, take a look at this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton looked. The little scintillating streams had frozen rigid. The ferocity of the disintegrators vented in vain against metal grown suddenly invulnerable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton sighed. \u201cOur test is over. Leave two men guarding every corridor. The others come up to the control room.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


He seated himself a few minutes later before the massive control keyboard. \u201cSo far as I\u2019m concerned the test was a success. We know that of all the machines in the engine room, the most important to the monster was the electric dynamo. He must have worked in a frenzy of terror while we were at the doors.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course, it\u2019s easy to see what he did,\u201d Pennons said. \u201cOnce he had the power he increased the electronic tensions of the door to their ultimate.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe main thing is this,\u201d Smith chimed in. \u201cHe works with vibrations only so far as his special powers are concerned, and the energy must come from outside himself. Atomic energy in its pure form, not being vibration, he can\u2019t handle any differently than we can.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kent said glumly: \u201cThe main point in my opinion is that he stopped us cold. What\u2019s the good of knowing that his control over vibrations did it? If we can\u2019t break through those doors with our atomic disintegrators, we\u2019re finished.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton shook his head. \u201cNot finished\u2014but we\u2019ll have to do some planning. First, though, I\u2019ll start these engines. It\u2019ll be harder for him to get control of them when they\u2019re running.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled the master switch back into place with a jerk. There was a hum, as scores of machines leaped into violent life in the engine room a hundred feet below. The noises sank to a steady vibration of throbbing power.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Three hours later, Morton paced up and down before the men gathered in the salon. His dark hair was uncombed; the space pallor of his strong face emphasized rather than detracted from the out-thrust aggressiveness of his jaw. When he spoke, his deep voice was crisp to the point of sharpness:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTo make sure that our plans are fully co-ordinated, I\u2019m going to ask each expert in turn to outline his part in the overpowering of this creature. Pennons first!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pennons stood up briskly. He was not a big man, Morton thought, yet he looked big, perhaps because of his air of authority. This man knew engines, and the history of engines. Morton had heard him trace a machine through its evolution from a simple toy to the highly complicated modern instrument. He had studied machine development on a hundred planets; and there was literally nothing fundamental that he didn\u2019t know about mechanics. It was almost weird to hear Pennons, who could have spoken for a thousand hours and still only have touched upon his subject, say with absurd brevity: \u201cWe\u2019ve set up a relay in the control room to start and stop every engine rhythmically. The trip lever will work a hundred times a second, and the effect will be to create vibrations of every description.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is just a possibility that one or more of the machines will burst, on the principle of soldiers crossing a bridge in step\u2014you\u2019ve heard that old story, no doubt\u2014but in my opinion there is no real danger of a break of that tough metal. The main purpose is simply to interfere with the interference of the creature, and smash through the doors.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGourlay next!\u201d barked Morton.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gourlay climbed lazily to his feet. He looked sleepy, as if he was somewhat bored by the whole proceedings, yet Morton knew he loved people to think him lazy, a good-for-nothing slouch, who spent his days in slumber and his nights catching forty winks. His title was chief communication engineer, but his knowledge extended to every vibration field; and he was probably, with the possible exception of Kent, the fastest thinker on the ship. His voice drawled out, and\u2014Morton noted\u2014the very deliberate assurance of it had a soothing effect on the men\u2014anxious faces relaxed, bodies leaned back more restfully:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOnce inside,\u201d Gourlay said, \u201cwe\u2019ve rigged up vibration screens of pure force that should stop nearly everything he\u2019s got on the ball. They would on the principle of reflection, so that everything he sends will be reflected back to him. In addition, we\u2019ve got plenty of spare electric energy that we\u2019ll just feed him from mobile copper cups. There must be a limit to his capacity for handling power with those insulated nerves of his.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSelenski!\u201d called Morton.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The chief pilot was already standing, as if he had anticipated Morton\u2019s call. And that, Morton reflected, was the man. His nerves had that rocklike steadiness which is the first requirement of the master controller of a great ship\u2019s movements; yet that very steadiness seemed to rest on dynamite ready to explode at its owner\u2019s volition. He was not a man of great learning, but he \u201creacted\u201d to stimuli so fast that he always seemed to be anticipating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe impression I\u2019ve received of the plan is that it must be cumulative. Just when the creature thinks that he can\u2019t stand any more, another thing happens to add to his trouble and confusion. When the uproar\u2019s at its height, I\u2019m supposed to cut in the anti-accelerators. The commander thinks with Gunlie Lester that these creatures will know nothing about anti-acceleration. It\u2019s a development, pure and simple, of the science of interstellar flight, and couldn\u2019t have been developed in any other way. We think when the creature feels the first effects of the anti-acceleration\u2014you all remember the caved-in feeling you had the first month\u2014it won\u2019t know what to think or do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


\u201cKorita next.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can only offer you encouragement,\u201d said the archeologist, \u201con the basis of my theory that the monster has all the characteristics of a criminal of the early ages of any civilization, complicated by an apparent reversion to primitiveness. The suggestion has been made by Smith that his knowledge of science is puzzling, and could only mean that we are dealing with an actual inhabitant, not a descendant of the inhabitants of the dead city we visited. This would ascribe a virtual immortality to our enemy, a possibility which is borne out by his ability to breathe both oxygen and chlorine\u2014or neither\u2014but even that makes no difference. He comes from a certain age in his civilization; and he has sunk so low that his ideas are mostly memories of that age.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn spite of all the powers of his body, he lost his head in the elevator the first morning, until he remembered. He placed himself in such a position that he was forced to reveal his special powers against vibrations. He bungled the mass murders a few hours ago. In fact, his whole record is one of the low cunning of the primitive, egotistical mind which has little or no conception of the vast organization with which it is confronted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe is like the ancient German soldier who felt superior to the elderly Roman scholar, yet the latter was part of a mighty civilization of which the Germans of that day stood in awe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou may suggest that the sack of Rome by the Germans in later years defeats my argument; however, modern historians agree that the \u2018sack\u2019 was an historical accident, and not history in the true sense of the word. The movement of the \u2018Sea-peoples\u2019 which set in against the Egyptian civilization from 1400 B. C. succeeded only as regards the Cretan island-realm\u2014their mighty expeditions against the Libyan and Phoenician coasts, with the accompaniment of viking fleets, failed as those of the Huns failed against the Chinese Empire. Rome would have been abandoned in any event. Ancient, glorious Sama\u2019rra was desolate by the tenth century; Pataliputra, Asoka\u2019s great capital, was an immense and completely uninhabited waste of houses when the Chinese traveler Hsinan-tang visited it about A.D. 635.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe have, then, a primitive, and that primitive is now far out in space, completely outside of his natural habitat. I say, let\u2019s go in and win.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the men grumbled, as Korita finished: \u201cYou can talk about the sack of Rome being an accident, and about this fellow being a primitive, but the facts are facts. It looks to me as if Rome is about to fall again; and it won\u2019t be no primitive that did it, either. This guy\u2019s got plenty of what it takes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton smiled grimly at the man, a member of the crew. \u201cWe\u2019ll see about that\u2014right now!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n


In the blazing brilliance of the gigantic machine shop, Coeurl slaved. The forty-foot, cigar-shaped spaceship was nearly finished. With a grunt of effort, he completed the laborious installation of the drive engines, and paused to survey his craft.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Its interior, visible through the one aperture in the outer wall, was pitifully small. There was literally room for nothing but the engines\u2014and a narrow space for himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He plunged frantically back to work as he heard the approach of the men, and the sudden change in the tempest-like thunder of the engines\u2014a rhythmical off-and-on hum, shriller in tone, sharper, more nerve-racking than the deep-throated, steady throb that had preceded it. Suddenly, there were the atomic disintegrators again at the massive outer doors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He fought them off, but never wavered from his task. Every mighty muscle of his powerful body strained as he carried great loads of tools, machines and instruments, and dumped them into the bottom of his makeshift ship. There was no time to fit anything into place, no time for anything\u2014no time\u2014no time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The thought pounded at his reason. He felt strangely weary for the first time in his long and vigorous existence. With a last, tortured heave, he jerked the gigantic sheet of metal into the gaping aperture of the ship\u2014and stood there for a terrible minute, balancing it precariously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He knew the doors were going down. Half a dozen disintegators concentrating on one point were irresistibly, though slowly, eating away the remaining inches. With a gasp, he released his mind from the doors and concentrated every ounce of his mind on the yard-thick outer wall, toward which the blunt nose of his ship was pointing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His body cringed from the surging power that flowed from the electric dynamo through his ear tendrils into that resisting wall. The whole inside of him felt on fire, and he knew that he was dangerously close to carrying his ultimate load.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And still he stood there, shuddering with the awful pain, holding the unfastened metal plate with hard-clenched tentacles. His massive head pointed as in dread fascination at that bitterly hard wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He heard one of the engine-room doors crash inward. Men shouted; disintegrators rolled forward, their raging power unchecked. Coeurl heard the floor of the engine room hiss in protest, as those beams of atomic energy tore everything in their path to bits. The machines rolled closer; cautious footsteps sounded behind them. In a minute they would be at the flimsy doors separating the engine room from the machine shop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suddenly, Coeurl was satisfied. With a snarl of hate, a vindictive glow of feral eyes, he ducked into his little craft, and pulled the metal plate down into place as if it was a hatchway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His ear tendrils hummed, as he softened the edges of the surrounding metal. In an instant, the plate was more than welded\u2014it was part of his ship, a seamless, rivetless part of a whole that was solid opaque metal except for two transparent areas, one in the front, one in the rear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His tentacle embraced the power drive with almost sensuous tenderness. There was a forward surge of his fragile machine, straight at the great outer wall of the machine shops. The nose of the forty-foot craft touched\u2014and the wall dissolved in a glittering shower of dust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coeurl felt the barest retarding movement; and then he kicked the nose of the machine out into the cold of space, twisted it about, and headed back in the direction from which the big ship had been coming all these hours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Men in space armor stood in the jagged hole that yawned in the lower reaches of the gigantic globe. The men and the great ship grew smaller. Then the men were gone; and there was only the ship with its blaze of a thousand blurring portholes. The ball shrank incredibly, too small now for individual portholes to be visible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Almost straight ahead, Coeurl saw a tiny, dim, reddish ball\u2014his own sun, he realized. He headed toward it at full speed. There were caves where he could hide and with other coeurls build secretly a spaceship in which they could reach other planets safely\u2014now that he knew how.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His body ached from the agony of acceleration, yet he dared not let up for a single instant. He glanced back, half in terror. The globe was still there, a tiny dot of light in the immense blackness of space. Suddenly it twinkled and was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a brief moment, he had the empty, frightened impression that just before it disappeared, it moved. But he could see nothing. He could not escape the belief that they had shut off all their lights, and were sneaking up on him in the darkness. Worried and uncertain, he looked through the forward transparent plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


A tremor of dismay shot through him. The dim red sun toward which he was heading was not growing larger. It<\/em> was becoming smaller<\/em> by the instant, and it grew visibly tinier during the next five minutes, became a pale-red dot in the sky\u2014and vanished like the ship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fear came then, a blinding surge of it, that swept through his being and left him chilled with the sense of the unknown. For minutes, he stared frantically into the space ahead, searching for some landmark. But only the remote stars glimmered there, unwinking points against a velvet background of unfathomable distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wait! One of the points was growing larger. With every muscle and nerve tensed, Coeurl watched the point becoming a dot, a round ball of light\u2014red light. Bigger, bigger, it grew. Suddenly, the red light shimmered and turned white\u2014and there, before him, was the great globe of the spaceship, lights glaring from every porthole, the very ship which a few minutes before he had watched vanish behind him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something happened to Coeurl in that moment. His brain was spinning like a flywheel, faster, faster, more incoherently. Suddenly, the wheel flew apart into a million aching fragments. His eyes almost started from their sockets as, like a maddened animal, he raged in his small quarters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His tentacles clutched at precious instruments and flung them insensately; his paws smashed in fury at the very walls of his ship. Finally, in a brief flash of sanity, he knew that he couldn\u2019t face the inevitable fire of atomic disintegrators.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a simple thing to create the violent disorganization that freed every drop of id from his vital organs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They found him lying dead in a little pool of phosphorus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPoor pussy,\u201d said Morton. \u201cI wonder what he thought when he saw us appear ahead of him, after his own sun disappeared. Knowing nothing of anti-accelerators, he couldn\u2019t know that we could stop short in space, whereas it would take him more than three hours to decelerate; and in the meantime he\u2019d be drawing farther and farther away from where he wanted to go. He couldn\u2019t know that by stopping, we flashed past him at millions of miles a second. Of course, he didn\u2019t have a chance once he left our ship. The whole world must have seemed topsy-turvy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNever mind the sympathy,\u201d he heard Kent say behind him. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a job\u2014to kill every cat in that miserable world.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Korita murmured softly: \u201cThat should be simple. They are but primitives; and we have merely to sit down, and they will come to us, cunningly expecting to delude us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Smith snapped: \u201cYou fellows make me sick! Pussy was the toughest nut we ever had to crack. He had everything he needed to defeat us\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Morton smiled as Korita interrupted blandly: \u201cExactly, my dear Smith, except that he reacted according to the biological impulses of his type. His defeat was already foreshadowed when we unerringly analyzed him as a criminal from a certain era of his civilization.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt was history, honorable Mr. Smith, our knowledge of history that defeated him,\u201d said the Japanese archeologist, reverting to the ancient politeness of his race.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cBlack Destroyer\u201d is an influential science fiction short story by A. E. van Vogt, first published in Astounding Science-Fiction in July 1939. The story follows Coeurl, a fierce and intelligent alien creature roaming a desolate planet in search of sustenance. When a ship of human explorers lands, Coeurl detects a vital substance that awakens his insatiable hunger and triggers his predatory instincts. As he cunningly observes the humans, he prepares to seize any opportunity. Widely regarded as the beginning of the Golden Age of Science Fiction, the story is also recognized as one of the inspirations behind Ridley Scott\u2019s film Alien.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":16899,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[1457,1458,552],"class_list":["post-24797","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-a-e-van-vogt","tag-canada-en","tag-science-fiction","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":1457,"label":"A. E. van Vogt"},{"value":1458,"label":"Canada"},{"value":552,"label":"Science fiction"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/10\/A.-E.-van-Vogt-Destructor-negro.webp",1024,1024,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":419,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":419,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":1457,"name":"A. E. van Vogt","slug":"a-e-van-vogt","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":1457,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":1,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":1458,"name":"Canada","slug":"canada-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":1458,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":2,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":552,"name":"Science fiction","slug":"science-fiction","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":552,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":121,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24797","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=24797"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24797\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16899"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=24797"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=24797"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=24797"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}