Star Smashers of the Galaxy Rangers

by Harry Harrison

  "At ease," said the creature who entered, and their arms dropped. "Name of ship, planet of origin, defensive armament, passports of crew, VD rate. Report."

  They could only gape. The alien was tremendous, standing over eight feet tall and glowering down at them. It had short, solid legs and a long, thick body, which it needed since it had four arms on each side, or eight in all. It wore a neatly cut uniform of dark black – what a tailor he must have had! – and a black helmet on its head. The head! Eight red eyes gleamed in a row below the helmet's lip, while below them was a nose shaped like a vacuum cleaner hose. To complete this singularly repulsive picture, his wide mouth was filled to overflowing with black teeth, most of which protruded like tusks at interesting angles.

  "Report!" it shouted, waving a clipboard it carried in one hand, a short sword, a pistol, a club, and lots of other things in its other hands, and it still had a couple of hands free to shake fists at them.

  Jerry reported. Listing everything they had, though he did manage to forget the cheddite projector, their only big secret.

  "Haven't you forgot something?" Sally said brightly,

  "The ched-" She wasn't sure who had given her the knee from behind so efficiently, but it stopped her. The ugly alien turned a couple of eyes her way.

  "She means the cheddar cheese in the galley, the bagels, the baked beans and other food supplies, but you don't want to hear about that, no!" John said brightly. For an instant of time that seemed to stretch to eternity the alien glared down at them, his eyes seeming to probe their innermost thoughts. Finally, it spoke, in a deep nasty rumble.

  "Split. If you aren't moving out of here at top speed within two seconds after we release the magnetic rays, you will be blasted into infinitesimal fragments."

  "Wait a minute!" Jerry shouted angrily. "You can't talk to us like that. . . ."

  "Oh, yes, I can."

  "Well, you can talk to us like that if you want to. But can't you at least explain what is happening?"

  "What is happening, as if you didn't know, ugly toofew-eyes, too-few-arms alien, is that you are in the outer shell of the attacking forces that have been attacking the Chachkas for the past two hundred and eighty-five years. We always welcome recruits to the fighting forces since a certain amount of fighting equipment is used up, and volunteers are accepted, and in proportion to their contribution of arms a similar percentage will be given in the occupied galaxy, which we will control as soon as we have Krakar-"

  "What is Krakar?"

  "Who knows? Except we know that it is written that he who controls it controls the galaxy, and that is what we aim to do. Your aim too, but you missed. Your strength is too slight to get even an infinitesimal cut of the galaxy, so now beat it. Your time has run out."

  The alien spun about on one thick heel and started for the exit.

  "Do you take bribes?" Chuck called after it.

  It spun about, weapons raised, and Sally fainted. For one eternal moment it stood there rattling its prominent teeth and death hovered low in the air.

  "Of course I take bribes," it gnashed. "Doesn't everybody? Make me an offer."

  "What do you want? Diamonds, gold, greenbacks, vodka, dirty books, jet fuel, oxygen, Hershey bars? You name it, we got it."

  "I spit on your dirty books, not enough arms for fun, but a cupful of diamonds will see me through until payday. What do you want in exchange?"

  "Just a chance to get into the fighting zone and let fly with all our weapons at the enemy; then we will head for home."

  "Won't do any harm – and I can use the loot. Pour them into this pocket," he said to Chuck who had gone to the safe and returned with a measuring cup full of bluewhites. The alien scratched quickly on the clipboard and tore off a chit and handed it to them. "Here's your clearance and coordinates. Get in there, fire your load, and be out within ten minutes or you have had it, buddy. That's as far as this tiny bribe goes."

  "Eternally at your service, sir," Jerry called after the retreating back as they lifted the ragged disk of metal into position and welded it back into place before they lost all of their atmosphere. The tube was sucked back into the battleship and they floated free.

  "I'm using the space warper drive to get us into position," Chuck said, spinning the controls. "We'll save the cheddite projector for an emergency, for if they have any clue to its existence, they will tear the ship apart upon the instant. Hold tight, folks, here we go."

  Space warped and was penetrated, and they appeared suddenly notched into position in a great globe of ships in space. As far as they could see in every direction, spaceships of every size and shape floated in this hollow globe formation and released a storm of weaponry at the object floating at the mathematical center of this sphere in space. It was hard to see just what was down there because of the fury of attack, the scintillating rays, the destructive vibrating beams, the explosive filled torpedoes and highpowered shells that were continuously rained down upon the target. They put on dark glasses and finally made out a golden sphere at the heart of all the activity. It could not have been more than a mile in diameter, yet it withstood the ravening might of the greatest engines of destruction ever assembled in the lenticular galaxy. And it fought back. Occasionally a thin red beam of light would lash up from the golden surface, and anything it touched instantly exploded with terrible effect. Entire ships went up this way, and one five-mile-long battleship bought it while they watched, blowing up so efficiently that it took four other ships with it in the explosion. Yet instantly, ships waiting in the second sphere filled the gaps, and the battle went on.

  "Whoever is down there sure has plenty on the ball," John breathed, speaking for them all.

  "Just two minutes left," Jerry said, eying the chronometer.

  "I'll bet you have the same idea I have." Chuck laughed

  "And me too," agreed John.

  "Right on! We set our coordinates exactly and appear inside that sphere with our trusty old bird here. All their weapons are pointed away from the golden sphere. If we get inside, the place will be ours, and we'll have Krakar!"

  "No!" Sally begged. "It is sure suicide. How can we weak Earthlings accomplish what the combined might of this alien space armada cannot?"

  "That's just the point," Jerry answered, and the others nodded agreement. "It just goes to show you that we are a lot better than them with their big battleships and extra arms and teeth and things. Give me a good old Earthman any day! Right, gang'!"

  Sally was brushed aside, and to enthusiastic cheers, the suicidally inclined men set the cheddite projector, calibrating it exactly at the center of the sphere, then pressed the actuating button just as their time was up.

  17

  LO! SUCH WONDERS STAND REVEALED

  There was a quick flick, and the scene changed – but really changed. An unmeasurable instant before they had been in interstellar space, part of the immense fleet that was attacking the golden globe. Now they were inside the globe, they had to be. So the plan had worked!

  The Pleasantville Eagle had appeared inside the space construction maybe a couple of feet above the floor. Now it fell and bounced in its undercarriage and its passengers bounced off each other, the lucky ones bouncing off Sally, who was by far the most pneumatic. There was a crash of broken glass from the galley; then everything was still.

  "Just look out there, will you!" Chuck enthused, pointing. "I have a feeling that we were not expected."

  It appeared that they were not. They were in the middle of an immense chamber whose curved walls were covered with hulking machines of mcomprehensible design, all made of gold. There were many viewscreens and controls among the machinery, and small creatures were at these controls; they were too far away to make out details, but they certainly had a nasty look. While they were taking in the details and strapping on loaded guns, Sally began to tremble and moan and salivate a bit. Chuck looked at her, then slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand.

  "Too late," he said. "Remember, guys, how w
e all put on mind shields before we came here so our minds would be shielded. Well, you remember Sally had to comb her hair. . . . Yeah, I guess her mind shield is still in her purse."

  Instantly all the guns pointed at her as she shivered, then began to speak in a deep and resonant voice.

  "You aliens may leave, and we will not harm you, for you are trespassing on our domain."

  "Try again," Jerry sneered for all of them.

  "This is simple research satellite, nothing more."

  "You're lying, aren't you?" John said.

  "Yes, I am lying," Sally said hoarsely, and her shoulders slumped. "We Chachkas can tell only the truth, and I will never live down the shame of telling that lie. In fact . . . it is too much. . . I cannot bear it, living with the shame. Good-bye, fellow Chachkas, good-bye, ugly soft aliens. It is a far, far better thing I do than I have ever done . . . arrrgh!"

  Sally swayed and almost fell, but before they could reach her, she pulled herself erect again and spoke in an even deeper voice.

  "Chachka Two has committed suicide, so I, Chachka Three take command. You must leave-"

  "Listen," Chuck broke in. "We don't like to deal with the hired help. Put Chachka One on the line."

  "Would that I could, he was a friend to us all. But he was crossing the floor when your monster machine appeared and dropped on him. One leg can be seen projecting from under your right front wheel."

  "Accidents happen," John consoled him. "In any case we are here, and this is the moment of truth. So speak. You are the guardians of Krakar, aren't you?"

  "We are," Sally intoned. "Carrying on our eons-old destiny. You see before you the last descendants of the Chachka, the oldest race in the lenticular galaxy. We were old when your planet was young. While the great saurians wallowed in the swamps of Earth, our empire was at its zenith, stretching from star to star, spanning the universe. We were mighty, and yet we fell, for the lesser races were jealous of our power and warred against us, and the wars grew more and more ferocious. But with age comes wisdom, and when, almost at the end, the ultimate weapon was invented, reason prevailed and it was never used. We retreated instead, from planet to planet, signing humbling peace agreements, until we had retreated to the solar system whence we had sprung. Then a racial rot set in, for we who had been so strong were now so humble, and youngsters were not born and the fields fell into disuse and we were doomed. Our race, you might say, died of a broken heart."

  "Then what are you doing here now?" Jerry asked.

  "If you'll shut up, I'll tell you. I was just getting to the best part. You see, having discovered the ultimate weapon and then not using it gave the best minds in our race a real mental lift. Most races think they are better than all the others; it just so happened that we knew it. So this golden sphere was constructed, holding within it the best of all the science we had ever known. Into it also went the best minds of the race to carry on the great work we had begun. It was agreed that just because we had no real need to use the ultimate weapon did not mean that at some future date there might not arise a situation where it might have to be used. Therefore, we watch and wait, but to date we have seen no occasion to even consider cracking it out of cold storage."

  "And the name of the ultimate weapon is Krakar?" John asked.

  "It is. Very bright of you; All the races that have heard of it have come here with lust and murder burning within them and have attempted to take it by force."

  "Not us," John said, letting his gunbelt drop to the floor so he could kick it under a chair. "We have nothing but peace within our hearts, we Galaxy Rangers, and have devoted our all to the destruction of the Lortonoi, who are dedicated to taking over the galaxy for their own slimy ends. We can sure use your old Krakar, so why not hand it over?"

  "Never!" Sally swayed. "We see the guns and cannons and the rest of the crap sticking out of your winged machine, not so peaceful that. No, we have to be convinced before we turn Krakar over to anyone. And we are geared to defend ourselves. You see how little effect those ships out there have upon our indestructible sphere. We are surrounded by a wall of energy that cannot be penetrated."

  "Well, we got in," Chuck said, proudly. "So your defenses aren't all that darned good."

  "We are aware of that. Your cheddite projector is a simple variation of our R-Shi, ray, which we discarded eons ago as a childish toy, then forgot about it."

  "Too bad," Jerry said, looking at his fingernails, then polishing them on his sleeve. "You should have kept it around, and then we wouldn't be inside here now and sort of insisting that you turn over Krakar to us."

  "Even that contingency has been considered. If any attempt is made to take Krakar in this fashion, any one of our race can press an instant destruct button that blows everything up. Krakar and the works will be gone forever. We would rather do that than have it fall into the wrong hands."

  "Sort of stalemate," John mused. "Look, why don't we sit down around a conference table like intelligent life forms and see what we can work out? And besides, Sally is going to have a sore throat after all this."

  "We are amenable," Three said after a moment's thought. "Would you be kind enough to leave your weapons behind when you emerge? You will find that our atmosphere is breathable by primitive creatures like yourselves. Over and out." Sally staggered and clutched at her neck. "Christ, my throat hurts!" she grated. While Sally gargled with salt water, the rest of the Earthlings dumped their weapons and exited. Three was waiting at the foot of the gangway to greet them.

  "Welcome," he said in the familiar deep voice.

  "Well I'll be hornswoggled." Chuck gaped for all of them. "These Chachkas look just like foot-long, black cockroaches with little pink hands on their front feet!"

  "Yes, and you humans look like great, soft gop-worms that used to live in our swamps and ate by standing on their heads and sucking in mud. Now if we can drop the racial slander, we can get on with the business at hand. While you were making your clumsy way out of your archaic vehicle, I had a conference with the other leaders. Since we can think about a hundred times faster than you primitive forms, you might say we had a day-long rap session and we have reached a conclusion. We have nothing against you, other than you look like gop-worms, that is, but we only hand over Krakar for like a real galaxy-wide emergency. So far you haven't convinced us. What might convince us is a complete knowledge of your antecedents, history, moral turpitude, intelligence, sexual deviations, culture, etc. If we had this we could decide if the present emergency justifies the use of Krakar."

  "You're not asking very much," John told him. "We could be here ten years and not supply all the info you need."

  "That is where you are wrong, primitive softling. If you permit us, we can make an instant print of all your memories, including your racial memories, and with that we can make a true evaluation in a couple of minutes more. Do you agree?"

  "What do we have to do?" Chuck asked suspiciously for all of them.

  "Just agree, that's all, since we Chachkas are not only incredibly honest but cannot take anytlling by force, including a memory. If you agree, why then brain-copying rays will instantly lash down, penetrating easily those primitive mind shields, and make a copy of everything you have lurking in the old gray matter. You will feel nothing."

  "Well, what do you say, guys?" Jerry asked. The others thought for a moment, then nodded agreement. "Okay, you can do it, Three."

  "It's already done. I told you it wouldn't hurt. Now, while the memories are being processed, may I offer you a little refreshment? We have a fine hundred-year-old Napoleon brandy, manufactured instantly from your memories by our reconstitutor machines and indistinguishable from the original Try it."

  They managed to work the ancient cork out and poured a golden measure into each snifter, then smacked and gasped and moaned with delight.

  "Keep the bottle, I don't drink," Three said with an offhand wave of its tentacle. "Ahh, the results are coming through. My, oh, my, you do have some loathsome material well s
ublimated in your subconscious minds, but that is neither here nor there. What is interesting is that the Lortonoi might very well be the galaxy-wide menace that Krakar will be needed to destroy, so you boys are in luck."

  "Then we get the weapon?" John asked, leaning forward expectantly.

  "You do not. Didn't you hear the operative might in that sentence? What we will do is give you an instant communicator that will enable you to contact us instantly from any part of the galaxy. If the situation is so desperate that it looks as if the Lortonoi are going to take over, you have simply to drop us the word, then press your head against the device. We'll make a memory copy to get up to date and decide then."

  "Is that your best offer?" Jerry asked.

  "Best offer we have made in a little over eight billion years, so consider yourself lucky. The communicator is now resting within your machine. So take it and leave and good riddance. Oh, yes, one thing before you go. Our incredible machinery is powered by a matter destruction generator that generates energy by the total destruction of matter. We will be running out of mass to burn in it in about a couple of hundred years. Just to be sure, we would like to have some extra on hand. If you are interested, we'll trade you a case of the Napoleon brandy for two hundred gallons of your jet fuel That should see us through the next thousand years."

  "A deal!" they shouted all together.

  "Fine. The brandy is already aboard, and we have removed the fuel Now good-bye, we have had about all of your primitive presences that we can stand."

  They waved cheery good-byes and tramped back into the Pleasantville Eagle, passing the bottle happily from hand to hand. A hoarse Sally emerged from the head, and they gave her a double slug to help her throat. Three had not lied, since he was incapable of it, and there on a seat in the front row was a case of the brandy, while in the seat next to it was a golden sphere about the size of a golfball with a single red button on it labeled "press me."