The Space Trilogy Read online

  'Arthur C. Clarke is awesomely informed about physics and astronomy, and blessed with one of the most astounding imaginations ever encountered in print'

  New York Times

  'Science-fiction of the fines quality: original, imaginative, disturbing'

  Kingsley Amis

  'Mr. Clarke skilfully fits his heady fantasies into a human context. First class'

  Evening Standard

  'His enthusiasm is combined with considerable literary and myth-making skills … the result is something special'

  Sunday Telegraph

  Also by Arthur C. Clarke

  FICTION

  Against the Fall of Night

  Childhood Ends

  Childhood's End

  The City and The Stars

  The Deep Range

  Dolphin Island

  Earthlight

  A Fall of Moondust

  The Fountains of Paradise

  The Ghost from the Grand Banks

  Glide Path

  The Hammer of God

  Imperial Earth

  Islands in the Sky

  The Lion of Comarre

  The Lost Worlds of 2001

  A Meeting with Medusa

  Prelude to Space

  Reach for Tomorrow

  Rendezvous with Rama

  The Sands of Mars

  The Songs of Distant Earth

  2001: A Space Odyssey

  2010: Odyssey Two

  2061: Odyssey Three

  3001: The Final Odyssey

  With Gentry Lee

  Cradle

  Rama

  The Garden of Rama

  Rama Revealed

  With Mike McQuay

  Richter 10

  With Mike Kube-McDowell

  The Trigger

  With Stephen Baxter

  The Light of Other Days

  SHORT FICTION

  Across the Sea of Stars

  An Arthur C. Clarke Omnibus

  An Arthur C. Clarke 2nd Omnibus

  The Best of Arthur C. Clarke

  The Collected Stories

  Expedition to Earth

  From the Oceans, From the Stars

  More Than One Universe

  The Nine Billion Names of God

  The Other Side of the Sky

  Prelude to Mars

  The Sentinel

  Tales from Planet Earth

  Tales from the White Hart

  Tales of Ten Worlds

  The Wind from the Sun

  NON-FICTION

  Ascent to Orbit

  Astounding Days

  By Space Possessed

  The Challenge of the Sea

  The Challenge of the Spaceship

  The Coast of Coral

  The Exploration of the Moon

  The Exploration of Space

  Going into Space

  Greetings, Carbon Based Bipeds!

  How the World was One

  Interplanetary Flight

  The Making of a Moon

  Profiles of the Future

  The Promise of Space

  The Reefs of Taprobane

  Report on Planet Three

  The Snows of Olympus

  The View from Serendip

  Voice Across the Sea

  Voices from the Sky

  The Young Traveller in Space

  1984: Spring

  With the Astronauts:

  First on the Moon

  With Mike Wilson:

  Boy Beneath the Sea

  The First Five Fathoms

  Indian Ocean Adventure

  Indian Ocean Treasure

  The Treasure of the Great Reef

  With Peter Hyams:

  The Odyssey File

  With the Editors of Life:

  Man and Space

  With Robert Silverberg:

  Into Space

  With Chesley Bonestell:

  Beyond Jupiter

  With Simon Welfare and John Fairley:

  Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World

  Arthur C. Clarke's World of Strange Powers

  Arthur C. Clarke's Chronicles of the Strange & Mysterious

  Arthur C. Clarke's A-Z

  AS EDITOR

  (Fiction)

  Science Fiction Hall of Fame III

  Three for Tomorrow

  Time Probe

  Arthur C. Clarke's Venus Prime I-VI

  (Non-Fiction)

  The Coming of the Space Age

  Arthur C. Clarke's July 20, 2019

  Project Solar Sail

  Edited by Keith Daniels:

  Arthur C. Clarke & Lord Dunsany - A Correspondence

  Arthur C. Clarke & C. S. Lewis - A Correspondence

  Islands in the Sky Copyright © Arthur C. Clarke 1954

  The Sands of Mars Copyright © Arthur C. Clarke 1951

  Earthlight Copyright © Arthur C. Clarke 1955, 1973

  Foreword to The Space Trilogy Copyright © Arthur C. Clarke 2001

  Introduction to The Sands of Mars Copyright © Arthur C. Clarke 2001

  Foreword to The Sands of Mars Copyright © Donna Shirley 2001

  All rights reserved

  The right of Arthur C. Clarke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

  This edition published in Great Britain in 2001 by

  Gollancz

  An imprint of the Orion Publishing Group

  Orion House, 5 Upper St Martin's Lane, London WC2H 9EA

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 1 85798 780 2

  Printed in Great Britain

  Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

  Contents

  Foreword

  ISLANDS IN THE SKY

  Jackpot to Space

  Goodbye to Gravity

  The Morning Star

  A Plague of Pirates

  Star Turn

  Hospital in Space

  World of Monsters

  Into the Abyss

  The Shot from the Moon

  Radio Satellite

  Starlight Hotel

  The Long Fall Home

  THE SANDS OF MARS

  Introduction

  Foreword

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  EARTHLIGHT

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Foreword

  It is now hard to realise that, as late as the 1950s, to most people the concept of travel beyond the Earth seemed total fantasy. The attitude in those days was well summed up by a statement which Britain's Astronomer Royal was never able to live down: 'Space travel is utter bilge!' The very next year—1957—the Space Age opened with the launch of Sputnik I.

  The three novels in this volume were all written well before that event, when I was an active member of the tiny British Interplanetary Society—now, I am happy to say, a large and respected organisation. So these early wo
rks were, it must be confessed, partly propaganda, aimed to convince the sceptical public that we premature Space Cadets really knew what we were talking about.

  They were preceded by an earlier novel, Prelude to Space (1951)—long out of print, and now of no more than historic interest (if that!). Prelude was written soon after World War II, when the advent of atomic energy made space travel seem both imminent and practical. Fired by enthusiasm which turned out to be misplaced, I was optimistic enough to imagine that Britain could go it alone, using the newly established Australian launch-site at Woomera. Yet the date I suggested—1978!—was pessimistic; who would have dreamed that men would fly round the Moon exactly a decade earlier?

  Islands in the Sky (1952) was written for what is sometimes disparagingly referred to as the 'juvenile' market, but I hope this is indicated only by the age of the main character. It may well have been one of the first novels which described the use of satellites for communication, as well as many other concepts which are now taken for granted—but which were totally unfamiliar to most readers half a century ago, and so had to be carefully explained.

  Earthlight (1955) was one of my earliest attempts to describe conditions on the Moon, and today I am slightly ashamed of the space battle sequences; there have now been far too many Star Wars on screens of all sizes. (Why, alas, do explosions have such a universal and elemental appeal?)

  I cannot claim that this was the first story in which unprotected humans were able to survive in a vacuum; I stole the idea, as well as much else, from the brilliant and sadly short-lived Stanley Weinbaum (1902-35). To the millions who have seen David Bowman's confrontation with HAL, I am happy to say that the space medics now confirm that a minute (or even two) in space need not be particularly injurious to one's health.

  In my wildest dreams, I would never have imagined that, less than two decades after this book was written, I would receive a beautiful three-dimensional map of the Mare Imbrium, showing the track of the Lunar Rover skirting a crater labelled 'Earthlight'—and bearing the inscription 'To Arthur Clarke with best personal regards from the crew of Apollo 15 and many thanks for your visions in space.'

  (Signed) Dave Scott, Al Worden and Jim Irwin.

  The Sands of Mars—though it goes much further afield than the other two novels—was published earlier, in 1951. At that time almost everything we 'knew' about Mars was completely wrong, yet even in the 50s, we were beginning to suspect that it was a much more barren and inhospitable place than had been imagined by legions of writers, notably Edgar Rice Burroughs and, my good friend Ray Bradbury. Now, thanks to a series of brilliantly successful space probes, we have a much clearer idea of conditions there, and even know exactly what small portions of Mars look like. NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory kindly sent me a beautiful twenty foot-wide panorama, created from the images beamed back by Sojourner. When I wear 3D glasses, I feel that I can reach out and pick up individual pebbles…

  But Mars demands a Foreword of its own.

  Please turn to page 135…

  Arthur C. Clarke

  Colombo, 21 January 2001

  ISLANDS IN THE SKY

  One

  JACKPOT TO SPACE

  It was Uncle Jim who'd said, 'Whatever happens, Roy, don't worry about it. Just relax and enjoy yourself.' I remembered those words as I followed the other competitors into the big studio, and I don't think I felt particularly nervous. After all, it was only a game… however badly I wanted the prize.

  The audience was already in its place, talking and fidgeting and waiting for the program to begin. It gave a little cheer as we walked up on to the stage and took our seats. I had a quick look at the five other competitors, and was a bit disappointed. Every one of them looked quite sure that he was going to win.

  There was another cheer from the audience as Elmer Schmitz, the Quiz-master, came into the studio. I'd met him before, of course, in the semi-finals and I expect you've seen him often enough on TV. He gave us some last minute instructions, moved to his place under the spot-lights, and signalled to the cameras. There was a sudden hush as the red light came on: from where I was sitting, I could see Elmer adjusting his smile.

  'Good evening, folks! This is Elmer Schmitz, presenting you the finalists in our Aviation Quiz Programme, brought to you by arrangement with World Airways, Incorporated. The six young men we have here tonight…'

  But I guess it wouldn't be very modest to repeat the things he said about us. It all added up to the fact that we knew a lot about everything that flew—in the air and outside it—and had beaten about five thousand other members of the Junior Rocket Club in a series of nationwide contests. Tonight would be the final elimination test to find the winner.

  It started easily enough, on the lines of earlier rounds. Elmer fired off a question at each of us in turn, and we had twenty seconds in which to answer. Mine was pretty easy—he wanted to know the altitude record for a pure jet. Everyone else got their answer right, too. I think those first questions were just to give us confidence.

  Then it got tougher. We couldn't see our scores, which were being flashed up on a screen facing the audience, but you could tell when you'd given the right answer by the noise they made. I forgot to say that you lost a point when you gave the wrong reply. That was to stop guessing: if you didn't know, it was best to say nothing at all.

  As far as I could tell, I'd only made one mistake, but there was a kid from New Washington who hadn't made any—though I couldn't be sure of this, because it was difficult to keep track of the others while you were wondering what Elmer had coming up for you. I was feeling rather gloomy when suddenly the lights dimmed and a hidden movie projector went into action.

  'Now,' said Elmer, 'the last round! You'll each see some kind of aircraft or rocket for one second, and in that time you've got to identify it. Ready?'

  A second sounds awfully short, but it isn't really. You can see a lot in that time—enough to recognize anything you know really well. But some of the machines they showed us went back over a hundred years. One or two even had propellers! This was lucky for me: I'd always been interested in the history of flying, and knew some of these antiques. That's where the boy from New Washington fell down badly. They gave him a picture of the original Wright biplane, which you can see in the Smithsonian any day, and he didn't know it. He was only interested in rockets, he said afterwards, and it wasn't a fair test. But I thought it served him right.

  They gave me the Dornier DO-X and a B.52, and I knew them both. So I wasn't really surprised when Elmer called out my name as soon as the lights went up. Still, it was a proud moment as I walked over to him, with the cameras following me and the audience clapping in the background.

  'Congratulations, Roy!' said Elmer heartily, shaking my hand. 'Almost a perfect score—you only missed on one question. I have great pleasure in announcing you the winner of this World Airways contest. As you know, the prize is a trip, all expenses paid, to any place in the world. We're all interested to hear your choice. What's it going to be? You've anywhere you like between the North and South Poles!'

  My lips went kind of dry. Though I'd made all my plans weeks ago, it was different now that the time had actually come. I felt awfully lonely in that huge studio, with everyone so quiet all round me, waiting for what I was going to say. My voice sounded a long way off when I answered.

  'I want to go to the Inner Station.'

  Elmer looked puzzled, surprised and annoyed all at once. There was a sort of rustle from the audience and I heard someone give a little laugh. Perhaps that made Elmer decide to be funny too.

  'Ha, ha! very amusing, Roy! But the prize is anywhere on Earth. You must stick to the rules, you know!'

  I could tell he was laughing at me, and that made me mad. So I came back with: 'I've read the rules very carefully. And they don't say "on Earth". They say "to any part of the Earth". There's a big difference.'

  Elmer was smart. He knew there was trouble brewing, for his grin faded out at once and he looked anx
iously at the TV cameras.

  'Go on,' he said. I cleared my throat.

  'In 2054,' I continued, 'the United States, like all the other members of the Atlantic Federation, signed the Tycho Convention. That decided how far into space any planet's legal rights extended. Under that Convention, the Inner Station is part of Earth, because it's inside the thousand-kilometre limit.'

  Elmer gave me a most peculiar look. Then he relaxed a little and said: Tell me, Roy is your dad an attorney?'

  I shook my head.

  'No, he isn't'

  Of course, I might have added: 'But my Uncle Jim is.' I decided not to: there was going to be enough trouble anyway.

  Elmer made a few attempts to make me change my mind, but there was nothing doing. Time was running out, and the audience was on my side. Finally he gave up and said with a laugh:

  'Well, you're a very determined young man. You've won the prize, anyway—it looks as if the legal eagles take over from here. I hope there's something left for you when they've finished wrangling!'

  I rather hoped so, too…

  Of course, Elmer was right in thinking I'd not worked all this out by myself. Uncle Jim—who's counsellor for a big atomic energy combine—had spotted the opportunity, soon after I'd entered for the contest. He'd told me what to say and had promised that World Airways couldn't wriggle out of it. Even if they could, so many people had seen me on the air that it would be very bad publicity for them if they tried. 'Just stick to your guns, Roy,' he'd said, 'and don't agree to anything until you've talked it over with me.'

  Mom and Pop were pretty mad about the whole business. They'd been watching, and as soon as I started bargaining they knew what had happened. Pop rang up Uncle Jim at once and gave him a piece of his mind (I heard about it afterwards). But it was too late for them to stop me.

  You see, I'd been mad to get out into space for as long as I can remember. I was sixteen when all this happened, and rather big for my age. I'd read everything I could get hold of about aviation and astronautics, seen all the movies and telecasts from space, and made up my mind that some day I was going to look back and watch Earth shrinking behind me. I'd made models of famous spaceships, and put rocket units in some of them until the neighbours raised a fuss. In my room I'd got hundreds of photographs—not only most of the ships you care to name but all the important places on the planets as well.

  Mom and Pop didn't mind, but they thought it was something I'd grow out of. 'Look at Joe Donovan,' they'd say (Joe's the chap who runs the 'copter repair depot in our district). 'He, was going to be a Martian colonist when he was your age. Earth wasn't good enough for him! Well, he's never been as far as the Moon, and I don't suppose he ever will. He's quite happy here …' But I wasn't so sure. I've seen Joe looking up at the sky as the outgoing rockets draw then-white vapour trails though the stratosphere, and sometimes I think he'd give everything he owns to go with them.