The Crabs from Taurus - A story by Wilhelm Peter Herzog ca. 1965 (Part 1)

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For about 20 years, I hunted for this story on the net without success. Didn't quite remember the title, only that it appeared in the series mentioned above and the general story line.

A week ago, I went hunting again and finally found a site with a partial listing of the book series. http://www.mediagrill.de/universum/ After going through them one by one, I found the story in #83 from 1966 http://www.mediagrill.de/universum/Inhaltsverzeichnisse/Inhalt_083.htm

Found it at an online used book store, literally arrived this evening. I'm over the moon.

I've OCRed, DeepL translated and proof-read two pages of the story. The rest will follow.

Some pics: Jacket Story title Story illustration 1 Story illustration 2 Bonus Even in the 1960s, fusion was only twenty years away.

Story

The Crabs from Taurus (Die Krabben aus dem Stier) by Wilhelm Peter Herzog, ca. 1965

The sun burst into quintillions of pieces, and in the fiery blast of the atomic explosion, its planets flared up like dry tinder. After a long, long time, the supernova became a gas nebula with reddish filaments, while at the core of it, a tiny star of unimaginable density remained. The light carrying the news of the catastrophe flew from solar system to solar system in the silence of space. The light message was followed by a capsule. Its pilot did not waste a glance on the cosmic fireworks glowing behind him at a safe distance. Pointless curiosity was foreign to the pilot; cameras and measuring instruments in the capsule made the necessary recordings. Even the civilization on one of the planets of the exploded sun, which had vanished in an instant, did not move the pilot, especially since this civilization was by no means completely extinguished. Unimpressed by curiosity and emotion, the pilot's concern was solely focused on a small container in the capsule's cockpit. The capsule flew on a necessarily arbitrary course into the starry vault of the galaxy, surrendering itself to the corpuscular radiation of countless suns, flying from solar wind to solar wind at a speed close to that of light. But space and time were meaningless quantities; they had no influence on the pilot's sense of meaning. The only thing that mattered was a certain key number from the measurements taken by the instruments that were part of the capsule's equipment. Countless times the pilot added up the summands; countless times the sum was greater or less than the correct number. Then came the moment when the individual messages rounded off to the key number. Signals glowed. The pilot vibrated with excitement. He calculated a suitable circular orbit and steered the capsule into it. The planet at the center of this circular orbit pulled the capsule along with it as it revolved around its sun. The pilot spent many of those years in the capsule observing the phenomena and manifestations of the new world and storing the accumulated experiences in his brain. The abundance of the vital substance on the new world greatly impressed the pilot. Although he also received unfavorable information, the information relevant to his task carried greater weight. The goal seemed to have been achieved; the pilot decided to land. On the night side of the planet, the capsule plunged through the atmosphere into the coveted substance, ready to spring back at any moment. But the analysis yielded excellent results. The other life zone was also close enough to be easily analyzed later. The unfavorable news came from there. It originated from an apparently undeveloped life form, primitive enough to allow time for analysis. However, the pilot had not anticipated a dense network of plant fibers, as he was unfamiliar with the form and purpose of a fishing net.

The fisherman and the sphere

Etienne Tantin was satisfied with his catch that night. He hauled in the net and sorted the sea creatures he had caught. He threw the sea-green glass sphere — or whatever material it was made of — onto the bed in his cabin. The sphere was easy to make use of. Strangers liked to buy such hollow spheres, which were used to carry fishing nets, as souvenirs to enjoy the mysterious glitter of the glass at home.

Part 2: https://poal.co/s/scifi/788267 Part 3: https://poal.co/s/scifi/788308

I've read this story as a young man and it has been in the back of my mind ever since. It originally was published in a science and technology centered book series called "Das Neue Universum" that came out almost annually since 1880 in Germany. My grandpa must have had a subscription, because he had a number of them. (One had a bullet embedded in it from what I think was drunken antics by my Dad). https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Das_Neue_Universum For about 20 years, I hunted for this story on the net without success. Didn't quite remember the title, only that it appeared in the series mentioned above and the general story line. A week ago, I went hunting again and finally found a site with a partial listing of the book series. http://www.mediagrill.de/universum/ After going through them one by one, I found the story in #83 from 1966 http://www.mediagrill.de/universum/Inhaltsverzeichnisse/Inhalt_083.htm Found it at an online used book store, literally arrived this evening. I'm over the moon. I've OCRed, DeepL translated and proof-read two pages of the story. The rest will follow. Some pics: [Jacket](https://poal.co/static/images/b6bbd999e9e9e85a.jpg) [Story title](https://poal.co/static/images/de5e2e1f0f2f1f7e.jpg) [Story illustration 1](https://poal.co/static/images/ededececece6e6ec.jpg) [Story illustration 2](https://poal.co/static/images/ede5adaceeb6acec.jpg) Bonus [Even in the 1960s, fusion was only twenty years away.](https://poal.co/static/images/3e3f3f3632323232.jpg) Story >The Crabs from Taurus (Die Krabben aus dem Stier) by Wilhelm Peter Herzog, ca. 1965 > The sun burst into quintillions of pieces, and in the fiery blast of the atomic explosion, its planets flared up like dry tinder. After a long, long time, the supernova became a gas nebula with reddish filaments, while at the core of it, a tiny star of unimaginable density remained. The light carrying the news of the catastrophe flew from solar system to solar system in the silence of space. The light message was followed by a capsule. Its pilot did not waste a glance on the cosmic fireworks glowing behind him at a safe distance. Pointless curiosity was foreign to the pilot; cameras and measuring instruments in the capsule made the necessary recordings. Even the civilization on one of the planets of the exploded sun, which had vanished in an instant, did not move the pilot, especially since this civilization was by no means completely extinguished. Unimpressed by curiosity and emotion, the pilot's concern was solely focused on a small container in the capsule's cockpit. The capsule flew on a necessarily arbitrary course into the starry vault of the galaxy, surrendering itself to the corpuscular radiation of countless suns, flying from solar wind to solar wind at a speed close to that of light. But space and time were meaningless quantities; they had no influence on the pilot's sense of meaning. The only thing that mattered was a certain key number from the measurements taken by the instruments that were part of the capsule's equipment. Countless times the pilot added up the summands; countless times the sum was greater or less than the correct number. Then came the moment when the individual messages rounded off to the key number. Signals glowed. The pilot vibrated with excitement. He calculated a suitable circular orbit and steered the capsule into it. The planet at the center of this circular orbit pulled the capsule along with it as it revolved around its sun. The pilot spent many of those years in the capsule observing the phenomena and manifestations of the new world and storing the accumulated experiences in his brain. The abundance of the vital substance on the new world greatly impressed the pilot. Although he also received unfavorable information, the information relevant to his task carried greater weight. The goal seemed to have been achieved; the pilot decided to land. On the night side of the planet, the capsule plunged through the atmosphere into the coveted substance, ready to spring back at any moment. But the analysis yielded excellent results. The other life zone was also close enough to be easily analyzed later. The unfavorable news came from there. It originated from an apparently undeveloped life form, primitive enough to allow time for analysis. However, the pilot had not anticipated a dense network of plant fibers, as he was unfamiliar with the form and purpose of a fishing net. > > The fisherman and the sphere > Etienne Tantin was satisfied with his catch that night. He hauled in the net and sorted the sea creatures he had caught. He threw the sea-green glass sphere — or whatever material it was made of — onto the bed in his cabin. The sphere was easy to make use of. Strangers liked to buy such hollow spheres, which were used to carry fishing nets, as souvenirs to enjoy the mysterious glitter of the glass at home. Part 2: https://poal.co/s/scifi/788267 Part 3: https://poal.co/s/scifi/788308

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