CONSERVATION
BY CHARLES L. FONTENAY
The people of Earth had every means of power
at their command, yet they used none of it. Was
it due to lack of knowledge and technique; or
was there a more subtle, dangerous reason?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, April 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The yellow sands of the spaceport stretched, glaring and empty, inevery direction. There was no sign of life from the little group ofbuildings a mile away.
In the control room of the tall, round-nosed starship, technicianslabored and officers conferred while the red needles that showed rockettube temperatures sank slowly toward zero on their dials.
"Maybe Earth's depopulated, Tom," suggested John Gray, the executiveofficer. He ran his fingers through close-cropped red hair and peeredthrough the port with thoughtful gray eyes.
"Hardly, John," replied Commander Tom Wallace, frowning. "The scoutrockets showed some good-sized cities, with smoke."
"I was off duty then and haven't had time to read the log," apologizedJohn. "What gets me is that they should have a robot-controlledspace relay station orbiting outside the atmosphere, and a desertedspaceport. It just doesn't jibe."
"That's why we have to be just as careful as though we were landingon an alien planet," said the commander. "We don't know what theconditions on Earth are now. How long has it been, John?"
"Two hundred and fifty-eight years," answered John. "Ten years, ourtime."
"Pick three for briefing, John. This is going to be a disappointinghomecoming for the crew, but we'll have to send out an explorationparty."
The landing ramp slid out from just above the rocket tubes, and thearmored car clanked down to the sand. John steered it across the wideexpanse of the spaceport toward the group of buildings. Above andbehind him, a woman swept the terrain with binoculars from the car'sobservation turret. In the body of the car, another woman and a manstood by the guns.
The buildings were just as lifeless when they drew near, but therewas an ominous atmosphere about them. They were windowless, of heavyconcrete. Through slits in their domed roofs, the noses of a dozencannon angled toward the ship.
"John, there's someone there," said the girl in the turret, tensely."You can't see it through the windshield, but there are some smallerguns poking out near the ground and they're following us."
John stopped the car and switched on the loudspeaker.
"Hello, the spaceport!" His amplified voice boomed out across the sandand reverberated against the buildings. "Is anybody there? We come inpeace."
There was no reply. The big guns still angled toward the starship, thelittle ones focussed on the car.
"They may be robot-controlled," suggested Phil Maxwell, the gunner onthe side of the car toward the forts. "Any sign of an entrance, Ann?"
"Nothing but the gunports," replied the girl in the turret.
"Don't fool with them, John," said Commander Wallace, who was tunedin from the ship on the car's communications system. "If they'rerobot-controlled, they'll be booby-trapped. Move out of range andcontinue with your exploration."
Two days later, the car emerged from the desert into comparativelyfertile country. The four explorers found a broken concrete highway andfollowed it between rolling, treeless grasslands. Near dusk, they s