“Cadet, eh?” Platt remarked.
Bowen nodded. “Have to serve here a year to earn my stars as navigator, and another two on government freighters before I receive a commission.”
Searles said, “It’s a lousy system. But I suppose it keeps the applicants down and insures that no half-baked fledgling takes a ship on a suicide flight.”
Bowen stared out through the thick glassite window which encircled the room. His eyes were fixed upon the striped immensity of Jupiter edging above the horizon. But he didn’t see it, for he was thinking. Thinking of Earth, millions of miles across the void, and the girl who was waiting for him there.
He name was Alice, and she had brown hair that was copper in the sunlight. Her red lips were turned up impishly at the corners, and her eyes were grey-green. He remembered how clear they were, and how the lights within them changed—one moment sparkling, the next soft and tender.
Three years, he decided bitterly, is a long time to wait when you are young and in love. But there was some consolation in the fact that, though the wait seemed unbearable in the present, the rewards would be rich in the future. His salary would be larger than that of most Earth-bound men, and he would be able to support a wife more than amply. An astronaut is a man of distinction and prestige, commanding respect and admiration everywhere. That, too, would be his.
It had been the government which had made necessary the four year training period before one could become a licensed rocket pilot. The number of space disasters which had accompanied the unrestrained growth of rocket travel had reached such an appalling height by 2152 that the Earth Council had put forth the decree that future rocket pilots would have to undergo an intensive training period before they would be allowed to sit at the controls of a ship. This edict had been astonishingly successful. Where before hardly a week had gone by without the televideo shrieking the news of some accident, now many months passed. The new rocket pilots were not only highly skilled in their trade, but were fully competent both physically and mentally.
CLAY BOWEN had already spent a year in the ground schools, where cadets learned what made the star cruisers tick. Now he had entered his second year of training as tender of one of the great space beacons, the lighthouses of star-seas. At its conclusion, and if his record was all right, the silver stars of an astronaut would be pinned to his coat. Then he would serve his last two years as pilot of one of the lumbering government freighters. He would be graduated as a full fleged and licensed pilot, with a commission to take over the controls of one of the great liners which plied the Earth, Mars, Venus routes, at a quite lucrative salary.
But—three years! An eternity, with Alice waiting for him.
“Funny place, Io,” remarked Searles, who had followed. Bowen’s gaze and was glancing out the circular glassite window. “Heard that the atmosphere is largely neon.”
Bowen jerked his mind back to reality.
“It is,” he replied. “But it’s pretty thin and at a pressure too low to be of any use.”
“Reminds me of one of them funny tubes—what do you call ’em?—that the scientists monkey around with,” Platt observed.
“You mean vacuum or cathode tubes?” Bowen supplied.
Andy Platt nodded sagely. “Yeah. Well, this place kinda makes me feel as though I was livin’ in one.”
“It’s his intuition,” Searles grinned. Of a sudden, his gaze jerked back to the window. He stiffened, staring. “Good Lord—almost caught napping! Andy, here’s were we start earning our salaries. There’s a ship landing out there—and you know all craft were prohibited from-landing at beacon stations!”
Bowen moved with Platt as the latter, leaped to his feet. He found himself looking at a strange, cubical silver ship which was landing not fifty yards from the station.
“One of our mysterious pirates, I’ll bet!” Platt rapped. “Come on!”
But he and Searles never reached the door. For, staring, Bowen saw a pale beam leap out from the mysterious ship. In the next second, his skin was tingling, going numb. He had time only to gasp out a strangled warning before blackness swept over his brain and he fell sprawling to the floor.
CLAY BOWEN awakened with a suddenness and sensation of complete awareness which for a second left him doubting that he had ever been unconcious at all. He sat up, staring about him. Then he froze into incredulous immobility.
Five figures stood in an ominously, silent group near the control panel. Their weapons were pointed with menacing steadiness at Bowen and the two Rangers.
Searles and Platt had awakened almost simultaneously with Bowen. Now they were half sitting up, their uniformed bodies statuesque with the tension that gripped them. Their eyes were widened in dismay and amazement. But mostly amazement.
For everything about the five figures confronting them was chillingly alien. They weren’t men. They were things, repulsive and hideous.
The creatures stood upon four, stumpy tentacle-like limbs. Another two gripped strange weapons. They had no heads, only a solid, rectangular trunk of slimy grey, covered with what appeared to be huge, red warts. Each of them was enveloped in thick, transparent coverings.
With a sensation of eery wonder, Clay Bowen realized that he was facing an extra-terrestrial likeform.
“Jumpin’ asteroids!” Andy Platt whispered in horror, “What—what are they?”
As though the sound of his voice had set off a signal, one of the strange beings stepped forward. It was holding three triangle-shaped devices, a black box, and what seemed to be a short staff topped by a cube. With a caution that was not without a hint of menace, the creature handed one of the triangular devices to Bowen, making motions toward the upper part of his trunk. Bowen interpreted this as a sign to place the device about his head.
He hesitated, his lips tightening to a white line. Was this some apparratus for torture? Would some strange death strike into his brain?
Bowen looked at Searles and Platt. His gaze shot about the room. There was no escape. The weird beings were standing in attitudes of tense watchfulness. Their tentacular arms, holding weapons, waved like uneasy snakes.
The creature standing before Bowen became insistent. Its tentacles waved commandingly. Somehow, he got the impression that he was not to be harmed.
Abruptly, he shrugged, reached for the device which the creature held before him. He placed it slowly over his head. His head pounding, he watched.
The creature now placed the black box upon the floor. It made adjustments. Then it straightened up, placed the cube part of the staff against the upper part of its trunk.
And then Bowen recoiled with a gasp of incredulous surprises For, crystal clear and as startling as an unexpected explosion, a thought rang in his mind. He couldn’t explain how he understood what was being said to him. He only knew that he understood.
“You will tell your fellow creatures to do likewise. They need riot fear harm.” The thought was imperative, harsh.
SPEAKING SOFTLY, Bowen made known to Searles and Platt what was demanded of them. Searles’ lips peeled back from his teeth in a fighting grin.
“Telepathic apparatus, eh? Okay, I’m game. Tell the what-is-it to hand them over.”
Gingerly, the two Rangers donned the devices. The first thought they shared with Bowen crackled with anger. The alien had learned of Searles’ last remark through Bowen’s mind.
“You will address us with respect, savage!” the alien snarled. “Should you once more fail to show us due humility, I’ll blast the life-force from your ugly body!”
Carefully the three men masked, their thoughts. They recognized the fact that the least slip in their thinking would bring death.
The alien flicked a tentacle at Bowen.
“You are garbed differently from the other two here, creature. What is your status in this barbaric society? What are your duties?”
Bowen answered warily, holding back all information save what the alien wanted to know.
“And you two,” it asked, tur
ning to Searles and Platt. “What are you?”
“Interplanetary Rangers,” Searles replied shortly. “Police to you; We knock hell out of the guys who break our laws.”
“How quaint! As I have earlier, and quite correctly surmised, your race is indeed at a very low level of development. Laws and guardians!” The alien’s thoughts were tinged with contempt. “Just a race of savage bipeds, hopping feebly to and fro on the closer members of their planetary system. Still, a very rich race. Particularly in the heavy metals,” it added cryptically.
The alien removed the cube from its trunk and turned to the other four. They entered upon a discussion by a method of communication which the three men could not discern.
Bowen’s thoughts were racing. Where had these grotesque creatures come from? What were they doing in the Solar System? He found something dark and ominous about that last question.
What were these beings from out of the unguessable reaches of the Void doing in the Solar System?
Bowen watched them, lines gathering about his mouth. He was dimly aware that Searles and Platt were holding a hurried, whispered conversation. With a pang of hope, he turned his attention to them.
Platt glanced swiftly at Bowen. He spoke without moving his lips.
“Kid, trouble’s goin’ to pop. We don’t know what these ginks are up to, but it ain’t goin’ to be nothin’ good. They’re watchin’ us like hawks, an’ most likely’ll burn us down to a man before we can make a play. Our only bet is that the pirates attack. If they do, it’ll give us a chance to do something.”
BOWEN’S eyes lighted grimly. Here was something he had overlooked. Pirates were due to attack the station. If they came now, they would create a diversion which would enable him and the two Rangers to reach the huge weapons, which had been installed, and blast the aliens out of existence. A slim, far-fetched hope—yet the only hope there was.
The two Rangers were, wearing only side-arms. Bowen himself was unarmed. They might possibly dispose of three of the aliens in an outright break, but death from the other two was sure to be the result.
An outside attack was the only hope. It would give Bowen and the others the opportunity they wanted.
It was funny, Bowen thought, but only a short time before, he had been dreading the arrival of the pirates. Now he was praying for them to come.
The leader of the aliens swung around to the three men, placing the cube once more against its trunk. Bowen hastily changed the course of his thoughts. The aliens must never learn of the pirates until the attack came. In order to cover up any slip which might be made by the two Rangers, he made his thoughts questioning.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Where have you come from? What are you doing here?”
“You show undue temerity!” the answering thought snapped. “However, I see no harm in satisfying your primitive curiosity. Who we are would be meaningless to you. But I believe you might understand me when I say that we are a race from another galaxy. Originally, we were part of a great prospecting expedition, but we happened to stray from the main body of vessels and became lost. Through the sheerest good fortune, we stumbled across your planetary system. It was a find rich beyond all the wildest hopes aroused by our desperate situation.”
A chill premonition raced through Bowen. The alien’s last thought had been exultant, gloating.
“A rich find?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
“I shall attempt to explain, savage—but take care that you do not weary me too far. Know you that we are an old, old race, great and powerful in our age. All the intelligent peoples of our galaxy pay us homage But in the course of time, the resources of our planetary system, as well as the systems of our subject races, have become exhausted; and we are at present confronted not only with social and economic collapse, but the eventual disintegration of our galactic empire.
“The only solution to this problem was to find a new source of raw materials, both metal and mineral beyond our galaxy. It was to this end that the expedition was organized. And through an accident, it has be fallen my lot to be the savior of my race. Your system is tremendously rich—each and every world a veritable treasure trove!
“The resources of your system will give us new strength. Quickly, will we crush any rebellions which might have taken place among our subjects. And after we conquer your system and establish ourselves, then”—and the alien’s thoughts trembled with fanatical fervor—“then will come domination of the entire Universe!”
BOWEN’S thought stabbed back. “You’re mad! We’re not animals to be trodden under. We’re intelligent beings with a science and civilization, though they may not be as far advanced as your own. But what we may lack in advancement, we’ll make up for in courage. We’ll fight your race until every last one of us is down.”
“We’ll put up one hell of a fight,” Searles broke in grimly.
“Spoken like true savages!” the alien mocked. Then its thoughts hardened. “Seek neither to intimidate, nor to compromise us! All that I have said is based not upon madness, but upon facts drawn from intensive investigation of the science of your peoples.
“We have spent much time in your system, studying your science and civilization. And we were not detected. Even now our presence is unknown. We have captured, looted, and destroyed your vessels, retaining a number of them as samples of your technical development, together with their cargoes and the finest specimens of their crews. We have broken into your beacon stations and carried away large quantities of metals and equipment.
“And mind you this, savages, we were not hindered the slightest bit in our depradations. We have encountered no opposition worth thought. If your capacity to fight us were as great as you claim, we should have been destroyed long ago. It is you who are mad.”
Bowen’s mind was whirling with an awful realization. Dimly, he caught repercussions from Searles and Platt. He gritted his teeth against the bitter disappointment and chagrin which welled up within him.
It was the aliens standing here before him who were the mysterious pirates that had been terrorizing the System!
“We’re fools! Blind fools!” Searles raged.
“Indeed, you are,” the alien sneered. “What more evidence do we need of the barbaric stupidity of your race?”
Bowen slumped against the wall, feeling sick and defeated. Pirates would not attack the station, for they were already present. There would be no opportunity for him and the two Rangers to reach the weapons. They would be murdered as had been the men in the other beacon stations. Earth would go unknowing of the disaster that was coming.
But suddenly he was coldly, furiously angry. If he had to die, he would take as many of the aliens into extinction with him as he could. His life didn’t count. Alice didn’t count. The only thing that mattered was the System—millions of lives that had to be saved.
This group of five aliens constituted the sole menace. If they were removed, the others would never know about the Solar System. The rebellion of their subject races would preclude any possibility of another expedition finding the System again.
“Enough of this!” the alien ground out harshly, confused and angered by the chaotic play of thought from the three men. “The main purpose of our visit here was to obtain another specimen of your race to replace one who has just died. The fact that there are three of you makes it all the more satisfactory. We need you as subjects for our scientists to experiment on in order to determine what types of weapons will be the most effective upon your race.
“Remove your telepathic devices and come with us. Offer no resistance. Our deaths will avail you nothing, for though I refrained from mentioning it before, a companion vessel awaits us just off one of the satellites you know as Ganymede. There were really two vessels lost from the expedition, you see.” The alien swayed forward, its tentacles reaching for the telepathic devices. It had laid aside the staff with which it had communicated with the men. Connection with them was broken.
BUT NOT among the three t
hemselves. Just before his headpiece was taken from him, Bowen caught a fragment of a lightning-like interplay of thoughts between the two Rangers. Fierce, desperate thoughts.
The faces of Searles and Platt were drawn and lined with a deadly resolve. Their eyes glittered with an almost feverish light.
The leader of the aliens took the telepathic headpieces from, them and turned toward the spiraling ladder. Brandishing their weapons, the four other aliens began to close in upon the men.
Even as they moved, Searles was speaking. His voice was gentle, insistent. It carried an undertone that brought an aching lump to Bowen’s throat.
“Bowen, you’re still young yet, see?” Searles was saying. “Platt and I have had enough of a fling. It’s our duty to die anyway. We’re going to jump these things. Your job is to get to our ship and warn the outpost on Callisto. You’ve got to do that, Bowen. These things must never return to where they came from.”
Bowen shook his head, his eyes filled with pain and a great admiration. But Searles gritted aside the words of protest that rose to his lips.
“Damn it, kid, you’ve got to do what I say! I’m a representative of the Earth Council, see? You’re a cadet, and as such are under the orders of the Council. I’m giving you orders, see? And you’ve got to obey them.”
Bowen’s face was suddenly old. He said nothing. But his eyes said things that went deeper than mere words.
“So long, kid,” Platt whispered.
They were at the ladder now. The two Rangers had maneuvered themselves so that Bowen was nearest it. The leader of the aliens had already started down. The other four were waiting for the men to descend.
And then Searles and Platt exploded into action.
They hurled themselves at the four aliens, their hands clawing for their holstered pneumatics.
That was the last Bowen ever saw of them. But he was always to remember them as they were in that moment when they catapulted forward, their faces set in expressions of indomitable determination, their eyes blazing. It was like an unforgettable scene from some fantastic televideo play. The rest was a kaleidoscopic whilr of sound and action.
The 47th Golden Age of Science Fiction Page 5