Min pappa berättade om en novell som han en gång läste. Det måste vara äldre som före 1986.
Det är inte en perfekt match, men jag tror att du letar efter "The Dead Planet" , en kort historia av Edmond Hamilton . Den publicerades först i Förtrollande historier , våren 1946 , som finns tillgängligt på Internetarkiv . Översatt till nederländska som "De Dode Planeet" , framträdde det i 1969-antologin Science-Fiction Verhalen .
Det handlar om två män som reste genom rymden och hittade en död planet.
Det här är den del som inte matchar. Planeten är död okej:
The system ahead did look discouraging for wrecked star explorers. Here in a thin region at the very edge of the galaxy, it centered around a sun that was somber dark red, ancient, dying.
Six worlds circled that smoldering star. We were dropping toward the innermost of the six planets, as the most possibly habitable. But now, we could clearly see that life could not exist on it. It was an airless sphere, sheathed in eternal snow and ice.
Men det finns tre rymdresenärer, inte två:
Tharn was at the controls. All three of us had put on our pressure suits in the hope that they might save us if the crash was bad. In the massive metal suits we looked like three queer, fat robots, like three metal globes with jointed mechanical arms and legs.
Och de är inte exakt "män":
We looked at each other, we three tall bird-men of Rigel, as Dril handed us the glasses of pink sanqua. On Tharn's beaked face, in his green eyes, was an expression that told me we all were thinking of the same thing.
He raised the glass that he held in his talons.
"To that great dead race to whom our galaxy owes all," he said. "We will drink to their world by their name for it. We will drink to Earth."
På det var det han kallar ett supermuseum. De satte upp det som ett arv / arv för dem i universum som var intelligenta nog för att hitta den.
"It annihilated the last of us also. But we had already prepared this buried city, and in it had gathered all that we knew of science and wisdom to be garnered by future ages. Some day new forms of life will rise to civilization in the galaxy, some day explorers from other stars will come here.
"If they are not intelligent enough to make benign use of the powers we have gathered here, our telepathic attacks should frighten them away. But if they are intelligent enough to discern the clues we leave for them, they will understand that all is but hypnotic illusion and will press forward into this tower of our secrets.
"You, who listen to me, have done this. To you, whoever and of whatever future race you may be, we bequeath our wisdom and our power. In this building, and in others throughout the city, you will find all that we have left. Use it wisely for the good of the galaxy and all of its races. And now, from us of the past to you of the future—farewell."