The Weapon Too Dreadful to Use
Karl Frantor found the prospect a terribly dismal one. From low-hanging clouds fell an eternal misty rain; squat, rubbery vegetation with its dull reddish-brown color stretched away in all directions. Now and then a Hop-scotch Bird fluttered wildly above them, emitting plaintive squawks as it went.
Karl turned his head to gaze at the tiny dome of Aphrodopolis, the largest city on Venus.
“God,” he muttered, “even the dome is better than this awful world out here.” He pulled the rubberized fabric of his coat closer about him. “I’ll be glad to get back to Earth again.”
He turned to the slight figure of Antil, the Venusian.
“When are we coming to the ruins, Antil?”
There was no answer, and Karl noticed the tear that rolled down the Venusian’s green, puckered cheeks. Another glistened in the large, lemur-like eyes—soft, incredibly beautiful eyes.
The Earthman’s voice softened. “Sorry, Antil, I didn’t mean to say anything against Venus.”
Antil turned his green face toward Karl. “It was not that, my friend. Naturally, you would not find much to admire in an alien world. I, however, love Venus, and I weep because I am overcome with its beauty.”
The words came fluently, but with the inevitable distortion caused by vocal cords unfitted for harsh languages.
“I know it seems incomprehensible to you,” Antil continued, “but to me Venus is a paradise, a golden land—I cannot express my feelings for it properly.”
“Yet there are some that say only Earthmen can love.”
Karl’s sympathy was strong and sincere.
The Venusian shook his head sadly. “There is much besides the capacity to feel emotion that your people deny us.”
Karl changed the subject hurriedly. “Tell me, Antil, doesn’t Venus present a dull aspect even to you? You’ve been to Earth and should know. How can this eternity of brown and grey compare to the living, warm colors of Earth?”
“It is far more beautiful to me. You forget that my color sense is so enormously different from yours. How can I explain the beauties, the wealth of color in which this landscape abounds?”
He fell silent, lost in the wonders he spoke of, while to the Terrestrial the deadly, melancholy grey remained unchanged.
“Someday,” Antil’s voice came as from a person in a dream, “Venus will once more belong to the Venusians. The Earthlings shall no longer rule us, and the glory of our ancestors shall return to us.”
