The Wind Between the Worlds Read online

  The Wind Between the Worlds

  Lester Del Rey

  About the Story: Del Rey wrote the original (and much longer) version of this novella many years earlier, was unable to place it and only hauled it from the trunk when Horace Gold in mid-1950 solicited something for his new magazine. THE WIND BETWEEN THE WORLDS is at least in conception a standard ASTOUNDING problem-solving story (interstellar matter transmitter is sabotaged; Earth and alien ports are in danger, resourceful engineer-protagonist figures out the solution) with a standard STARTLING STORIES subplot (engineer and his pretty female assistant are deeply attracted but he’s too dedicated to his job to get fresh). The premise however is ingenious - alien cultures intervene and as a result of this Earth is given the means for interstellar trade before the planet has even achieved space travel. Teleportation as an instrument of routine commerce (and profit) was a fairly original concept at the time this story was published. Del Rey’s altered culture is lived-in, letting the story act as a letter from the future. Gold wanted the story significantly cut and del Rey of course complied; in THE EARLY DEL REY he used the original version and appended some notes on the nature of Horace’s intervention.

  About the Author: Lester del Rey (1915-1993) was born Leonard Knapp (but this became known only long after his death), somewhere in the Midwest and after a spotty, abbreviated education and itinerant existence headed to New York where he became almost immediately a significant constituent of ASTOUNDING and John Campbell’s celebrated GOLDEN AGE. Del Rey sold his first story to John Campbell in the first months of Campbell’s editorship and over the next several years he sold him many more, including his female-android story HELEN O’LOY (1938), perhaps the first true science fiction romance and NERVES (1942, novelized in 1956), a brilliant novella of atomic pile disruption, amazingly prescient of Three Mile Island and Chernobyl. Del Rey’s apostosaic and profoundly controversial short novel FOR I AM A JEALOUS PEOPLE (1956), positing a malevolent Deity, is also very well known. Del Rey worked (at the same time as Damon Knight and James Blish) in the Scott Meredith Fee Department in the late 1940’s, edited science fiction magazines in the early 50’s, published some noted juveniles (THE RUNAWAY ROBOT) in the mid-fifties and eventually became the founding editor of Del Rey Books, a fantasy & science fiction imprint under the aegis of Ballantine. In collaboration with his third wife, Judy-Lynn, del Rey’s imprint became the most successful fantasy & science fiction publisher in history. The two of them nurtured fantasy writers like Stephen Donaldson, Anne McCaffrey and Terry Brooks to bestselling status. In 1991, del Rey was named a Grand Master of the Science Fiction Writers of America. He died only a few months after his retirement from Ballantine.

  About The Galaxy Project: Horace Gold led GALAXY magazine from its first issue dated October 1950 to science fiction’s most admired, widely circulated and influential magazine throughout its initial decade. Its legendary importance came from publication of full length novels, novellas and novelettes. GALAXY published nearly every giant in the science fiction field.

  The Galaxy Project is a selection of the best of GALAXY with new forewords by some of today’s best science fiction writers. The initial selections in alphabetical order include work by Ray Bradbury, Frederic Brown, Lester del Rey, Robert A. Heinlein, Damon Knight, C. M. Kornbluth, Walter M. Miller, Jr., Frederik Pohl, Robert Sheckley, Robert Silverberg, William Tenn (Phillip Klass) and Kurt Vonnegut with new Forewords by Paul di Filippo, David Drake, John Lutz, Barry Malzberg and Robert Silverberg. The Galaxy Project is committed to publishing new work in the spirit GALAXY magazine and its founding editor Horace Gold.

  Lester del Rey

  THE WIND BETWEEN THE WORLDS

  The Galaxy Project

  Series Editor Barry N. Malzberg

  IN A GLASS BRIGHTLY: The Wind Between the Worlds by Lester del Rey

  The novella Nerves by Lester del Rey appeared in the September 1942, issue of Astounding. It was a triumph, universally praised to a degree that not even Robert Heinlein’s work was afforded. According to Campbell, every reader who ranked the stories in that issue chose Nerves as the best, a unanimity which del Rey claims he saw equaled only once.

  Nerves wasn’t merely successful in its own day. In the early 1970s, the membership of the Science Fiction Writers of America voted it as one of the ten best novelettes and novellas in the field.

  John W. Campbell, the editor of Astounding, probably wasn’t surprised that del Rey had written a masterpiece, since he had been a strong supporter of del Rey since receiving his first story in 1937. Campbell sent del Rey encouraging letters and requests for more stories, and he frequently paid him the bonus the editor reserved for stories which he particularly liked.

  Many other people must have been surprised, however—including, I think, del Rey himself, though he doesn’t explicitly say that. His production of fiction slacked off a great deal following the success of Nerves. After World War II ended, he took a job as an agent and stopped writing science fiction.

  Despite Campbell’s enthusiasm for him, del Rey had been a journeyman writer who had gotten everything right one time. The fact that many people (almost certainly including Campbell himself) asked del Rey to duplicate Nerves was both irritating and frustrating.

  Then in 1949 something changed: Horace Gold asked del Rey to write a science fiction suspense story like Nerves for the new magazine he planned, Galaxy. Del Rey agreed to try after seven years of refusing such requests.

  It would be easy to say that the difference was that Gold was offering three cents a word, a pay rate never before seen in the science fiction field. Campbell had raised Astounding’s pay to two cents/word a few years earlier, which was twice (or more) the rate of any fantasy or science fiction magazine since the failure of the Clayton chain in 1933. The Magazine of Fantasy (after the first issue, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction) had just appeared and matched Astounding’s rate, but Gold was offering half again as much as the best.

  I am inclined to doubt that money alone changed del Rey’s mind. Campbell had, after all, doubled his rate after Nerves was published without enticing del Rey to try to repeat his success.

  The high word rate was only part of the new magazine. Galaxy was going to be really different, new, exciting; in Gold’s mind, it was going to read like a general news magazine of the next century and compete for sales not with existing science fiction magazines but with Time and Look on the newsstands of the present.

  Gold was selling the future, not only to readers but to the authors he wanted for his new magazine. Lester del Rey was one of the authors Gold recruited, and he bought Gold’s vision.

  Del Rey went to work. On his description, it appears that the only editorial requirements were that the story have the effect of Nerves—that is, that it be a fast-paced science fiction suspense story—and that it be 15,000 words. Unlike John Campbell’s frequent behavior, Gold didn’t suggest a particular theme or development for the author to follow.

  The (short) length was a problem, however. Nerves had been 30,000 words, and even so del Rey felt that he could have used more room. (In 1956 he expanded the novella to book-length.) Still, he proceeded.

  Del Rey had created a written formula and charts on how to develop suspense in a story before he plotted Nerves. He had lost those materials during a move, however. On his telling it, he did not first reread the earlier novella and break it down into elements to build up into the new framework. Instead he played with ideas on paper until he found one which he thought would work. The differences between the structures of the two stories are significant and support his description.

  Nerves involves a disaster at a plant making nuclear isotopes. The precise cause of the trouble
remains uncertain at the end of the story, but it is certainly natural: impurities of some sort caused a reactor to run out of control. The description of the plant and the processes appear to be modeled on those of an oil refinery, and the description of nuclear materials is very similar to that in Twelve Eighty-Seven, a novel by John Taine (pseudonym of Dr Eric Temple Bell) which had been serialized in Astounding in 1935.

  The viewpoint character of Nerves is an older man, an MD, who (though an important figure) is entirely an observer of the efforts to control the disaster (his duty is to mitigate the harm caused to individuals). Love interest is provided by a young medical assistant (who later turns out to have technical training) and his devoted wife.

  Instead of that real-world-of-the-future setting, del Rey built his new story—The Wind Between the Worlds—on an explicitly fictional premise: aliens have arrived on Earth and set up a matter transmitter system. The system links Earth with other planets whose intelligent life forms have reached a stage of civilization only slightly more advanced than ours. The transmitter sites are built of material which human science cannot affect.

  On its face, this change is detrimental. Nerves got much of its power from the grimy industrial setting with which most readers would have been familiar, at least from stories and newsreels. Wind’s processes are magic, and the facility is built of Unobtainium.

  Although del Rey does not say so, there is a very good reason why he might have made the choice he did. By creating a wholly fictional technological background for Wind, del Rey avoided the danger of being overtaken by events.

  Nerves describes the growing horror and panic of a reactor failure in a fashion which present-day familiarity with Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, and now Fukushima makes even more chilling than a reader in 1942 would have found it. The science, however, is complete nonsense. Del Rey wrote Nerves while nuclear reactors were top secret. The petroleum cracking-plant model cannot even be revised to work in light of greater knowledge, while the descriptions of isotopes, radiation burns, and similar matters have little connection with what a modern reader understands from the words.

  Del Rey’s second major change from Nerves was in choosing a classic hero as the viewpoint character of Wind: a young male troubleshooter who happens to be working on the site when the crisis occurs. He immediately takes charge of local efforts to contain the crisis and is soon promoted (by the aliens behind the scenes) to complete control of the system.

  The hero is aided by the female site manager, who has specialized expertise. She acts as the hero’s chief subordinate as well as providing love interest. Their physical relationship, while not particularly important to the story, is of considerable historical interest.

  1) The hero and heroine have sex (though the viewpoint quickly cuts away).

  2) The heroine is the aggressor.

  3) The heroine explicitly has begun the scene as a virgin.

  For the most part, Wind could have appeared in Astounding; indeed, Wind is in many fashions a more typical Astounding story than Nerves was. Campbell would never have permitted this sexual element, however—nor would any of the slick fiction magazines in 1951. Philip Jose Farmer’s The Lovers, involving a sexual relationship between a human and an alien, appeared the next year to great controversy, but in some ways Wind is (for its time) the more surprising.

  The final major difference is that the crisis in Wind is the result of sabotage rather than accident as was the case in Nerves. It is not clear whether this change was del Rey’s own idea or whether it was one suggested by Gold and accepted by the author.

  Herbert L Gold was a brilliant and successful editor, but he could be a difficult editor as well. According to A J Budrys, Gold literally rejected a story because he didn’t think Budrys looked like he could have written it. He was also probably the most intrusive editor in the science fiction field.

  By 1959, Isaac Asimov had become so angry at Gold’s editing that he was only willing to submit a story to Galaxy under the condition that Gold would either accept or reject it as written. The animus against Gold’s methods became so general that in February 1960, Gold publically extended Asimov’s terms to all professionals: he would henceforward accept or reject any story by a professional without meddling.

  This was an astounding concession in a field in which it was a given that an editor edits. I can explain it only in connection with the fact that Gold soon thereafter gave up the editorship completely as a result of PTSD from his service in the Philippines.

  In the case of Wind, however, Gold did not himself do the rewriting. Del Rey says that he submitted a rough draft to Gold, who responded with many editorial directions. The bulk of these changes improved the story in del Rey’s opinion, but Gold insisted that a member of the hero’s team be one of the saboteurs. When del Rey reprinted the story in a collection of his own, he eliminated that editorial change.

  The element of sabotage fits Wind’s background emphasis on hostility to aliens and anger at the economic disruption caused by matter transmission. That said, the cause of the crisis is wildly improbable as a means of intentional sabotage (a bottle has to shatter so that a large piece flies into exactly the right spot to hold a switch open) but it is the sort of thing that could happen through sheer bad luck.

  My opinion is that Gold requested the cause of the crisis be changed from an accident to sabotage, and that del Rey agreed with him. Another reader may come to the opposite conclusion on the basis of the same (lack of) evidence.

  Wind gains structurally by one change forced by having only half the available wordage compared to Nerves. Del Rey reduced the length by writing a very straightforward story. Nerves has a subplot which, though well handled, turns out to be completely extraneous to the real problem and its solution. By sticking instead to his core theme, del Rey keeps the focus of Wind on the situation which threatens life not only on Earth but also on the planet at the other end of the linked matter transmitters.

  Del Rey’s one dissatisfaction with Nerves was that it wasn’t the cover story of the issue in which it appeared (that honor went to a—minor—novelette by Anthony Boucher). The Wind Between the Worlds did have the cover (of the March 1951 Galaxy). The artist, Don Sibley, isn’t a name to conjure with in the field of science fiction illustration today. When I read the issue in 1961, however, my fifteen-year-old self found the painting evocative of the cosmic immensity of the threat which the story describes.

  Gold and del Rey set out to create a science fiction suspense story as effective as Nerves. Did they succeed? In the short term, no: The Wind Between the Worlds did not cause the sensation that the earlier story had. In the longer term, however, Wind holds up better than Nerves on close reading. Modern readers (or rereaders, like me) will find not only enjoyment but craftsmanship and thought-provoking questions.

  In sum, The Wind Between the Worlds is a deliberate reflection of its greater predecessor; but in some ways, the reflection is better than the original image.

  —David Drake

  I

  It was hot in the dome of the Bennington matter transmitter building. The metal shielding walls seemed to catch the rays of the sun and bring them to a focus there. Even the fan that was plugged in nearby didn’t help much. Vic Peters shook his head, flipping the mop of yellow hair out of his eyes. He twisted about, so the fan could reach fresh territory, and cursed under his breath.

  Heat he could take. As a roving troubleshooter for Teleport Interstellar, he’d worked from Rangoon to Nairobi—but always with men. Pat Trevor was the first of the few women superintendents he’d met. And while he had no illusions of masculine supremacy, he’d have felt a lot better working in shorts or nothing right now.

  Besides, a figure like Pat’s couldn’t be forgotten, even though denim coveralls were hardly supposed to be flattering. Cloth stretched tight across shapely hips had never helped a man concentrate on his work.

  She looked down at him, grinning easily. Her arm came up to toss her hair back, leaving a sm
udge on her forehead to match one on her nose. She wasn’t exactly pretty, but the smile seemed to illumine her gray eyes, and even the metal shavings in her brown hair couldn’t hide the red highlights.

  “One more bolt, Vic,” she told him. “Pheooh, I’m melting… So what happened to your wife?”

  He shrugged. “Married her lawyer right after the divorce. Last I knew, they were doing fine. Why not? It wasn’t her fault. Between hopping all over the world and spending my spare time trying to get on the moon rocket they were building, I wasn’t much of a husband.”

  Unconsciously, his lips twisted. He’d grown up before DuQuesne discovered the matter transmitter, when reaching the other planets of the Solar System had been the dream of most boys. Somehow, that no longer seemed important to people, now that the world was linked through Teleport Interstellar with races all across the Galaxy.

  Man had always been a topsyturvy race. He’d discovered gunpowder before chemistry, and battled his way up to the atom bomb in a scant few thousand years of civilization, before he had a worldwide government. Other races, apparently, developed space travel long before the matter-transmitter, and long after they’d achieved a genuine science of sociology.

  DuQuesne had started it by investigating some obscure extensions of Dirac’s esoteric mathematics. To check up on his work, he’d built a machine, only to find that it produced results beyond his expectations; matter in it simply seemed to disappear, releasing energy that was much less than it should have been, but still enough to destroy the machine.

  DuQuesne and his students had rechecked their math against the results and come up with an answer they didn’t believe. This time they built two machines and experimented with them until they worked together. When the machines were operating, anything within the small fields they generated simply changed places. At first it was just across a few yards, then miles—then half around the world. Matter was transmitted almost instantaneously from one machine to the other no matter how far apart they were.