Read The Shores of Death for Free Online Page A

ornate Earth craft— seemed devoid of any non-functional design, unless the different shades of blue formed some sort of pattern.
    With a feeling of depression, Clovis watched the strange ship move through space, the picture changing from screen to screen as the cameras followed it.
    “It’s definitely heading for Earth,” the voice said.
    Clovis got up.
    “Shall I put out a message?” Yoluf said eagerly.
    “No,” said Clovis. “No. Not yet, Yoluf.”
    Damn! he thought as he left the Information Centre. What do they want with us? Mutual commiseration? I’ll be expected to deal with them, of course. Too many random factors cropping up. Take, the girl, and now this ship. I’m being slowed down—and I can’t afford to be.
    Then he thought: It could be an invasion ship. But he rejected the idea. What would be the point of invasion in the present situation? No point. Logical minds must have built that ship and they must realise that there would be no point. Then he wondered again: Alien minds—strange minds—unhuman minds. Damn! He didn’t want this. He wanted to finish what he’d started, nothing else.
    He got into his aircar and made for the Great Glade, his much-admired mind sick with confused thoughts.
    In the Great Glade, Narvo said to Fastina: “I’m sorry that Clovis couldn’t get here in time. I’ll just have to make the announcement anyway.”
    Almost every available seat was being used. Fastina looked around her. Tier upon tier of seats rising upwards in a great semi-circle, the multicoloured clothing of the people looking like a fantastic mosaic. And above them, shading the arena, the neatly parked aircars, as varied in colouring as the costumes of their owners.
    Narvo glanced at the young mediator who stroked his moustache and nodded. Narvo mounted the dais and began to speak.
    “This morning we inspected the last intergalactic ship,” he said slowly. “Its passengers were all death. They were in a similar state to those who went out in the previous ships. We expected nothing else.” He paused.
    “Therefore I have this to suggest to you—to our race—that we should build a gigantic transmitter far larger than anything we have ever built before. By means of this transmitter we can send out a message to the universe. A message that will travel forever. A message that will survive after we have perished and will tell any intelligences there may be that the human race once lived.”
    ‘What is the message?” several voices asked.
    “Simply this: We Are Here!”
    Narvo looked around the tiers of seats. There was no immediate reaction from the assembly—just a rustling, a stirring, a murmuring as the words were repeated.
    “We Are Here! ” called Narvo. “We will shout it through eternity. A message that will be picked up by all manner of creatures—perhaps some will be like us. It will convey our pride in our existence—in the accident that made us reason.”
    Most of the assembly had now caught some of his enthusiasm. Fastina smiled, admiring the old man’s simplicity, his idealism—his nobility. Though logically his suggestion seemed odd and pointless, emotionally it meant a great deal to her and, she could see, to the rest of the assembly. The words and the idea went below the ordinary conscious levels of their minds and struck a chord.
    “We Are Here! ”
    Now the voices changed from a murmur to a shout as the words were repeated like a war cry. Some wept, some laughed, some had rapt expressions that Fastina found indescribable, as if the people had sensed a vision, some truth that was so pure that it shocked them.
    What was it that Narvo had said that conjured up such strong emotions?
    We Are Here—the words seemed to open up a vision in her, also—a vision she could not define. She wept with those who wept, she laughed with those who laughed.
    And her face was the face of a saint.
    No need for experiments, no need for ships and the waste of men. No need for wild parties. No