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Updated: May 15, 2025
In other words, without cities, roads, canals, or other evidence of human handiwork or civilization. "I believe your instructions give you some of this information, but not all of it. This world, unnamed because of its uninhabited condition, is charted only as L-472. Your larger charts will show it, I am sure.
"I believe, Hanson," he said slowly, "I'd better get ... a little ... rest," and he slumped forward on the table in the death-like sleep of utter exhaustion. There the interesting part of the story ends. The rest is history, and there is too much dry history in the Universe already. Dival wrote three great volumes on L-472 or Ibit, as it is called now.
Kincaide, my second officer, turned and smiled as I entered the navigating room. "L-472 now registers maximum attraction, sir," he reported. "Dead ahead, and coming up nicely. My last figures, completed about five minutes ago, indicate that we should reach the gaseous envelope in about ten hours." Kincaide was a native of Earth, and we commonly used Earth time-measurements in our conversation.
And then, of course, there is his treatise on ocrite: how he happened to find the ore, the probable amount available on L-472 or Ibit, if you prefer and an explanation of his new method of refining it. I saw him frantically gathering specimens while we were getting ready to leave, but it wasn't until after we had departed that he mentioned what he had found.
"The Dorlos, as I suppose you know, was ordered to L-472 to determine the fate of the Filanus, which had been sent here to determine the feasibility of establishing a supply base here for a new interplanetary ship line. "It took us nearly three days, Earth time, to locate this clearing and the Filanus, and we grounded the Dorlos immediately.
I believe that's all Oh, yes! I had almost forgotten. "Here, in this envelope, are your orders and your course, as well as all available data on L-472. In this little casket is your comet, Hanson. I know you will wear it with honor!" "Thank you, sir!" I said, a bit huskily. I saluted, and Commander Jamison acknowledged the gesture with stiff precision.
That, considering the small size of our objective, meant we were much closer to L-472 than to any other regular body. Mechanically, I studied the various dials about the room.
The Terrible Tentacles of L-472 By Sewell Peaslee Wright It was a big mistake. I should not have done it. By birth, by instinct, by training, by habit, I am a man of action. Or I was. It is queer that an old man cannot remember that he is no longer young.
The universe has had enough and too much of dry history; these shall be adventurous tales to make the blood of a young man who reads them run a trifle faster and perhaps the blood of the old man who writes them. This, the first, shall be the story of the star L-472.
You know it to-day as Ibit, port-o'-call for interplanetary ships, and source of ocrite for the universe, but to me it will always be L-472, the world of terrible tentacles. My story begins nearly a hundred years ago reckoned in terms of Earth time, which is proper, since I am a native of Earth when I was a young man.
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