Divinity

Divinity, by William Morrison

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Title: Divinity
Author: William Morrison
Illustrator: Freas
Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22623]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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DIVINITY
BY WILLIAM MORRISON

ILLUSTRATED BY FREAS
Bradley had one fear in his life. He had to escape regeneration. To do
that, he was willing to take any chance, coward though he was--even if
it meant that he had to become a god!
Bradley seemed to have escaped regeneration. Now he had only death
to worry about.
Ten minutes before, he had been tumbling through the air head over
heels, helpless and despairing. And before that--
He remembered how his heart had been in his mouth as he had crept
down the corridor of the speeding ship. He could hear Malevski's voice
coming faintly through one of the walls, and had been tempted to run
back, fearful of being shot down on the spot if he were caught. He had
fought back the temptation and kept on. No one had seen him as he
crept into the lifeboat.
"This is your one chance," he told himself. "You have to take it. If they
get you back to port, you're finished."
Luck had been with him. They were broadcasting the results of the
Mars-Earth matches at the time, and most of the crew were grouped
around the visors. He had picked the moment when news came of a
sensational upset, and for a minute or two after the lifeboat blasted off,
no one realized what had happened. When the truth did penetrate, they
had a hard time swinging the ship around, and by then the lifeboat was
out of radar range. He was free.
He had exulted wildly for a moment, until it struck him that freedom in
space might be a doubtful gift. He would have to get to some civilized
port, convince the port authorities that he had been shipwrecked and
somehow separated from the other crew members, and then lose
himself quickly in the crowd of people that he hoped would fill the
place. There would be risks, but he would take them. It would be better
than running out of air and food in space.

[Illustration]
It had been the best possible plan, and it had gone wrong, all wrong. He
had been caught, before he knew it, in the gravity of a planet he had
overlooked. The lifeboat had torn apart under the combined stresses of
its forward momentum and its side rockets blasting full force, and he
had been hurled free in his space suit, falling slowly at first, then faster,
faster, faster--
The automatic parachutes had suddenly sprung into operation when he
reached a critical speed, and he had slowed down and stopped tumbling.
He fell more gently, feet first, and when he landed it was with a shock
that jarred but did no real damage.
* * * * *
Slowly he picked himself up and fumbled at the air valve. Something in
the intake tubes had jammed under the shock of landing, and the air
was no longer circulating properly. Filled with the moisture of his own
breath, it felt hot and clammy, and clouded the viewplates.
If he had kept all his wits about him he would have tried to remember,
before he took a chance, whether the planet had an oxygen atmosphere,
and whether the oxygen was of sufficient concentration to support
human life. Not that he had any real choice, but it would have been
good to know. As it was, he turned the air valve automatically, and
listened nervously as the stale air hissed out and the fresh air hissed in.
He took a deep breath. It didn't kill him. Instead, it sent his blood racing
around with new energy. Slowly the moisture evaporated from his
viewplates. Slowly he began to see.
He perceived that he was not alone. A group of people stood in front of
him, respectful, their own eyes full of fear and wonder. Some one
uttered a hoarse cry and pointed at his helmet. The unclouding of the
viewplates must have stricken them with awe.
The air was wonderful to breathe. He would have liked to remove his

helmet and fill his lungs with it unhampered, expose his face to its soft
caress, expand his chest with the constriction of the suit. But these