Deathworld

Deathworld
features the original magazine text taken from
Astounding Science Fiction
, January, February, and March 1960 issues.

Introduction, Selected Bibliography, and other new elements are original to this edition.

Copyright © 2011 by Wildside Press, LLC.
www.wildsidepress.com

Welcome to Deathworld!

“Deathworld” is the name of a series of science fiction novels by Harry Harrison including the books
Deathworld
(first published 1960, serialized in
Astounding Science Fiction
),
Deathworld 2
(1964, initially titled
The Ethical Engineer
and serialized in
Analog
) and
Deathworld 3
(1968, serialized in
Analog
as
The Horse Barbarians
), plus the short story “The Mothballed Spaceship” (written as part of a tribute to John W. Campbell). The central hero is a gambler who becomes involved with colonists of an extremely hostile planet.

There are several hints that the novels take place in the same universe as Harrison’s “The Stainless Steel Rat” series; however, other hints suggest a similar universe but not exactly the same one. For example, at several points in the Deathworld series, the novels mention the Special Corps with Inskipp as its leader; however, the story “The Mothballed Spaceship” mentions an armada about to attack Earth—a planet that is long destroyed in the time of The Stainless Steel Rat universe. However, that can be explained by Inskipp’s immortality and the epoch in which the events of the novel take place, long before destruction of the Earth and even longer before the events of
The Stainless Steel Rat.

Deathworld centers on Jason dinAlt, originally from an agrarian planet Porgorstorsaand, a professional gambler who uses his erratic psionic abilities to tip the odds in his favor. He is challenged by a man named Kerk Pyrrus (who turns out to be the ambassador from the planet Pyrrus) to turn a large amount of money into an immense sum by gambling at a government-run casino. He succeeds — and survives the planetary government’s desperate efforts to steal back the money.

In a fit of ennui, he decides to accompany Kerk to his home, despite being warned that it is the deadliest world ever colonized by humans.

Pyrrus has a gravity of 2 gees; its 42° axial tilt creates severe weather; it is very active tectonically, with frequent earthquakes and volcanic eruptions; and it possesses two moons, Samos and Bessos, comparable in size to Earth’s in separate orbits, each creating its own tides that sometimes combine into rises and falls of up to 30 meters, that have been known to flood active volcanoes and create even more violent weather. Finally, there have been numerous supernovae in its vicinity, meaning that planets in the area are rich in radioactive ores. Pyrrus is the only habitable planet in the area, and the only one from which efforts to mine the area’s ores can be sustained, making it a world of incredible potential value. It also means the planet’s environment contains high levels of radiation.

Everything on the planet is predatory, and capable of killing an unwary human instantly. All large animals are strong enough to destroy small vehicles. All small animals have neurotoxic venom. All plants are carnivorous, even if only by default—their victims fertilize their soil. All microorganisms consume insufficiently protected tissue as quickly as acids. On top of this, all the aforementioned life evolves so quickly that even Kerk and his Pyrran crew have to be retrained upon their return in order to survive.

Because of this harsh environment, the settlers are engaged in a ceaseless struggle to survive, which—despite generations of acclimation and a training regime harsher than that of ancient Spartans—they are losing. Their numbers are less than when the planet was first colonized, and they are restricted to a single settlement. The world’s very name is a reference to Pyrrhic victory, a success that comes at devastating cost to the victor . . .

Surely a unique creation in all of science fiction!

Return to Deathworld

The “Return to Deathworld” series is a collaboration between Harry Harrison and Russian author Ant Skalandis and has never been published in English. The exact share of Harrison’s participation is unclear, as Skalandis has also written several sequels to late Edmond Hamilton’s books, and they were published in Russian under both their names.

These are:

Return to Deathworld
(1998)

Deathworld vs. Filibusters
(1998)

The Creatures from Hell
(1999)

Foes in Intelligence
(a.k.a.
Deathworld 7
) (2001)

About the Author

Harry Harrison (born March 12, 1925) is an American science fiction author best known for his character the Stainless Steel Rat and the novel
Make Room! Make Room!
(1966), the basis for the film
Soylent Green
(1973). He is also (with Brian Aldiss) co-president of the Birmingham Science Fiction Group.

Before becoming an editor, Harrison started in the science fiction field as an illustrator, notably with EC Comics’ two science fiction comic books,
Weird Fantasy
and
Weird Science
. He has used house names such as Wade Kaempfert and Philip St. John to edit magazines, and has published other fictions under the names Felix Boyd, Leslie Charteris, and Hank Dempsey (but see Personal Life below). Harrison also wrote for syndicated comic strips, creating the Rick Random character. Harrison is now much better known for his writing, particularly his humorous and satirical science fiction, such as the Stainless Steel Rat series and the novel
Bill the Galactic Hero
(which satirises Robert A. Heinlein’s
Starship Troopers
).

During the 1950s and ’60s, he was the main writer of the Flash Gordon newspaper strip. One of his Flash Gordon scripts was serialized in
Comics Revue
magazine. Harrison drew sketches to help the artist be more scientifically accurate, which the artist largely ignored.

Not all of Harrison’s writing is comic, though. He has written many stories on serious themes, of which by far the best known is the novel about overpopulation and consumption of the world’s resources
Make Room! Make Room!

Harrison for a time was closely identified with Brian Aldiss. The pair collaborated on a series of anthology projects. Harrison and Aldiss did much in the 1970s to raise the standards of criticism in the field.

In 1990 Harrison was professional Guest of Honour at ConFiction, the 48th World SF Convention, in The Hague, Netherlands, together with Joe Haldeman and Wolfgang Jeschke.

Harrison is a writer of fairly liberal world-view. His work often hinges around the contrast between the thinking man and the man of force, although the “Thinking Man” often needs ultimately to employ force himself.

Harrison was selected by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America as the 2009 recipient of their Damon Knight Memorial Grand Master Award.

Jason dinAlt sprawled in soft luxury on the couch, a large frosty stein held limply in one hand. His other hand rested casually on a pillow. The gun behind the pillow was within easy reach of his fingers. In his line of work, he never took chances.

It was all highly suspicious. Jason didn’t know a soul on this planet. Yet the card sent by service tube from the hotel desk had read:
Kerk
Pyrrus would like to see Jason dinAlt
. Blunt and to the point. He signaled the desk to send the man up, then lowered his fingers a bit until they brushed the gun butt. The door slid open, and his visitor stepped through.

A retired wrestler.
That was Jason’s first thought. Kerk Pyrrus was a gray-haired rock of a man, his body seemingly chiseled out of flat slabs of muscle. Then Jason saw the gun strapped to the inside of the other man’s forearm, and he let his fingers drop casually behind the pillow.

“I’d appreciate it,” Jason said, “if you’d take off your gun while you’re in here.”

The other man stopped and scowled down at the gun as if he were seeing it for the first time.

“No, I never take it off.” He seemed mildly annoyed by the suggestion.

Jason had his fingers on his own gun when he said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to insist. I always feel a little uncomfortable around people who wear guns.” He kept talking to distract attention while he pulled out his gun. Fast and smooth.

He could have been moving in slow motion for all the difference it made. Kerk Pyrrus stood rock still while the gun came out, while it swung in his direction. Not until the very last instant did he act. When he did, the motion wasn’t visible. First his gun was in the arm holster — then it was aimed between Jason’s eyes. It was an ugly, heavy weapon with a pitted front orifice that showed plenty of use.

And Jason knew if he swung his own weapon up a fraction of an inch more he would be dead. He dropped his arm carefully, and Kerk flipped his own gun back in the holster with the same ease he had drawn it.

“Now,” the stranger said, “if we’re through playing, let’s get down to business. I have a proposition for you.”

Jason downed a large mouthful from the mug and bridled his temper. He was fast with a gun — his life had depended on it more than once — and this was the first time he had been outdrawn. It was the offhand, unimportant manner it had been done that irritated him.

“I’m not prepared to do business,” he said acidly. “I’ve come to Cassylia for a vacation, get away from work.”

“Let’s not fool each other, dinAlt,” Kerk said impatiently. “You’ve never worked at an honest job in your entire life. You’re a professional gambler, and that’s why I’m here to see you.”

Jason forced down his anger and threw the gun to the other end of the couch so he wouldn’t be tempted to commit suicide. He
had
hoped no one knew him on Cassylia and was looking forward to a big kill at the Casino. He would worry about that later. This weight-lifter type seemed to know all the answers. Let him plot the course for a while and see where it led.

“All right. What do you want?”

Kerk dropped into a chair that creaked ominously under his weight, and dug an envelope out of one pocket. He flipped through it quickly and dropped a handful of gleaming Galactic Exchange notes onto the table. Jason glanced at them — then sat up suddenly.

“What are they — forgeries?” he asked, holding one up to the light.

“They’re real enough,” Kerk told him, “I picked them up at the bank. Exactly twenty-seven bills — or twenty-seven million credits. I want you to use them as a bankroll when you go to the Casino tonight. Gamble with them and win.”

They looked real enough — and they could be checked. Jason fingered them thoughtfully while he examined the other man.

“I don’t know what you have in mind,” he said. “But you realize I can’t make any guarantees. I gamble — but I don’t always win. . . .”

“You gamble — and you win when you want to,” Kerk said grimly. “We looked into that quite carefully before I came to you.”

“If you mean to say that I cheat —” Carefully, Jason grabbed his temper again and held it down. There was no future in getting annoyed.

Kerk continued in the same level voice, ignoring Jason’s growing anger. “Maybe you don’t call it cheating, frankly I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned you could have your suit lined with aces and electromagnets in your boots. As long as you
won
. I’m not here to discuss moral points with you. I said I had a proposition.

“We have worked hard for that money — but it still isn’t enough. To be precise, we need three billion credits. The only way to get that sum is by gambling — with these twenty-seven million as bankroll.”

“And what do I get out of it?” Jason asked the question coolly, as if any bit of the fantastic proposition made sense.

“Everything above the three billion you can keep, that should be fair enough. You’re not risking your own money, but you stand to make enough to keep you for life if you win.”

“And if I lose — ?”

Kerk thought for a moment, not liking the taste of the idea. “Yes — there is the chance you might lose, I hadn’t thought about that.”

He reached a decision. “If you lose — well I suppose that is just a risk we will have to take. Though I think I would kill you then. The ones who died to get the twenty-seven million deserve at least that.” He said it quietly, without malice, and it was more of a promise than a threat.

Stamping to his feet Jason refilled his stein and offered one to Kerk who took it with a nod of thanks. He paced back and forth, unable to sit. The whole proposition made him angry — yet at the same time had a fatal fascination. He was a gambler and this talk was like the taste of drugs to an addict.

Stopping suddenly, he realized that his mind had been made up for some time. Win or lose — live or die — how could he say no to the chance to gamble with money like that! He turned suddenly and jabbed his finger at the big man in the chair.

“I’ll do it — you probably knew I would from the time you came in here. There are some terms of my own, though. I want to know who you are, and who
they
are you keep talking about. And where did the money come from. Is it stolen?”

Kerk drained his own stein and pushed it away from him.

“Stolen money? No, quite the opposite. Two years work mining and refining ore to get it. It was mined on Pyrrus and sold here on Cassylia. You can check on that very easily. I sold it. I’m the Pyrric ambassador to this planet.” He smiled at the thought. “Not that that means much, I’m ambassador to at least six other planets as well. Comes in handy when you want to do business.”

Jason looked at the muscular man with his gray hair and worn, military cut clothes, and decided not to laugh. You heard of strange things out in the frontier planets and every word could be true. He had never heard of Pyrrus either, though that didn’t mean anything. There were over thirty-thousand known planets in the inhabited universe.

“I’ll check on what you have told me,” Jason said. “If it’s true, we can do business. Call me tomorrow —”

“No,” Kerk said. “The money has to be won tonight. I’ve already issued a check for this twenty-seven million, it will bounce as high as the Pleiades unless we deposit the money in the morning, so that’s our time limit.”

With each moment the whole affair became more fantastic — and more intriguing for Jason. He looked at his watch. There was still enough time to find out it Kerk was lying or not.

“All right, we’ll do it tonight,” he said. “Only I’ll have to have one of those bills to check.”

Kerk stood up to go. “Take them all, I won’t be seeing you again until after you’ve won. I’ll be at the Casino of course, but don’t recognize me. It would be much better if they didn’t know where your money was coming from or how much you had.”

Then he was gone, after a bone-crushing handclasp that closed on Jason’s hand like vise jaws. Jason was alone with the money. Fanning the bills out like a hand of cards he stared at their sepia and gold faces, trying to get the reality through his head. Twenty-seven million credits. What was to stop him from just walking out the door with them and vanishing. Nothing really, except his own sense of honor.

Kerk Pyrrus, the man with the same last name as the planet he came from, was the universe’s biggest fool. Or he knew just what he was doing. From the way the interview had gone the latter seemed the better bet.

“He
knows
I would much rather gamble with the money than steal it,” he said wryly.

Slipping a small gun into his waistband holster and pocketing the money he went out.