Asimov, Isaac (ed.) - Catastrophes! / Азимов, Айзек (ред.) - Катастрофы! [1981, FB2, ENG]

The Last Trump / Трубный глас by Isaac Asimov No Other Gods by Edward Wellen The Wine Has Been Left Open Too Long and the Memory Has Gone Flat / Вино слишком долго простояло открытым, воспоминания выветрились by Harlan Ellison Stars, Won't You Hide Me? by Ben Bova Judgement Day by Lloyd Biggle, Jr. The Custodian / Хранитель by William Tenn Phoenix / Феникс by Clark Ashton Smith Run from the Fire / Бегство от огня by Harry Harrison Requiem / Реквием by Edmond Hamilton At the Core / В глубине души by Larry Niven A Pail of Air / Ведро воздуха by Fritz Leiber King of the Hill / Царь горы by Chad Oliver The New Atlantis / Новая Атлантида by Ursula K. Le Guin History Lesson / Экспедиция на Землю by Arthur C. Clarke Seeds of the Dusk / Посев сумрака by Raymond Z. Gallun Dark Benediction / Тёмное благословение by Walter M. Miller, Jr. Last Night of Summer by Alfred Coppel The Store of the Worlds / Лавка миров by Robert Sheckley How It Was When the Past Went Away / Как всё было, когда не стало прошлого by Robert Silverberg Shark Ship (= Reap the Dark Tide) / Корабль-акула by C. M. Kornbluth

It was a spore, microscopic in size. Its hard shell-resistant to the utter dryness of interplanetary space-harbored a tiny bit of plant protoplasm. That protoplasm, chilled almost to absolute zero, possessed no vital pulsation now-only a grim potentiality, a savage capacity for revival, that was a challenge to Fate itself. For years the spore had been drifting and bobbing erratically between the paths of Earth and Mars, along with billions of other spores of the same kind. Now the gravity of the Sun drew it a few million miles closer to Earth’s orbit, now powerful magnetic radiations from solar vortices forced it back toward the world of its origin. It seemed entirely a plaything of chance. And, of course, up to a point it was. But back of its erratic, unconscious wanderings, there was intelligence that had done its best to take advantage of the law of averages. The desire for rebirth and survival was the dominant urge of this intelligence. For this was during the latter days, when Earth itself was showing definite signs of senility, and Mars was near as dead as the Moon. Strange, intricate spore-pods, conceived as a man might conceive a new invention, but put into concrete form by a process of minutely exact growth control, had burst explosively toward a black, spacial sky. In dusty clouds the spores had been hurled upward into the vacuum thinness that had once been an extensive atmosphere. Most of them had, of course, dropped back to the red, arid soil; but a comparative few, buffeted by feeble air currents, and measured numerically in billions, had found their way from the utterly tenuous upper reaches of Mars’ gaseous envelope into the empty ether of the void. . . .