Collected Short Fiction by Michael G. Coney

Author:Michael G. Coney [Coney, Michael G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jerry eBooks
Published: 2023-04-24T21:00:00+00:00

And now there was a sprinkling of snow drifting from the greying skies, and the mountains in the distance were blurred. I kicked idly at a clump of coarse grass which had thrust its way bravely through the decaying concrete, and thought about leaving; there was nothing for me here, now that I had done what I came to do. I had paid my last respects to the ships, and now I must get out before the desolation and the putrefaction impressed itself too deeply on me and erased the happier memories.

Number Four stood there like a cenotaph to my youth, and as I began to walk slowly towards the terminal building, I told myself I had done the right thing in coming here. I had obeyed the impulse, I had found—as I had expected to find—that things were not the same, and now I was going.

I had not expected to see anyone else here, yet.

I stopped, moved back beside the tunnel entrance as a hovercar came swaying across the concrete from the terminal buildings, heading fast in my direction. A nervousness tingled in my stomach. Maybe that was another memory, but nevertheless I was trespassing, and I had seen recently on Newspocket that the penalties for trespass had been increased lately, following a shortage of state prisoners. I couldn’t understand how they had spotted me—unless someone had been scanning the landing area with binoculars.

Then I noticed four black shapes in the southern sky, and I relaxed. The car was merely the advance guard of the wrecking team, coming to size the place up. They would hardly report a sightseer to the police. All the same, I withdrew into the tunnel entrance; there was no point in taking chances. The car pulled up and sank to the ground nearby; two men climbed out, watching the approach of the ungainly airborne cranes. They were too far away for me to hear what they were saying, but one of them was pointing at the helpless ships standing around, doubtless giving instructions.

The cranes were close now, black and sinister to my prejudiced eye as they hovered above the spaceport like giant vultures. They were functional in shape; skeletal arms projecting at all angles, hooks and magnets hanging, swinging. Their highly efficient antigravity units were almost soundless; just a thin whine drifted down with the snow. They were cold and unthinking, those cranes, robotic and heartless like all antigrav vehicles, and I wanted to get away. I could not bear to witness this, their final victory over their evolutionary predecessors, this destruction of everything my childhood held beautiful.

The two men turned and walked towards me; they saw me standing there but merely nodded briefly; no doubt they were accustomed to idle bystanders at wrecking operations. The smaller man was speaking. His voice was harsh and confident, the voice of authority. He looked up, his sharp features profiled against the grey sky, a faint thin smile on his lips—and the years slipped away. . . .

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