“No fooling, Fred. The thing came through the closed door of the locker, and ...”
“Look, Daly—we all got our troubles, right?” said Ebworth. “Now why don’t you go somewhere and sleep it off and we’ll forget the whole thing?”
“I’m telling you, Fred. This is serious. That creature is loose in the city—and it came out of one of our lockers. I never saw anything like it in my life before—we ought to do something, Fred.”
Fred Ebworth sucked his gums for a. moment. A man didn’t reach supervisor grade in the Snerd Locker Corporation if he was the type to be stampeded into rash decisions. “So how do you figure the situation, Daly?” he asked, at length.
“There’s only one possible explanation,” Daly said. “Some intelligent life-form from another dimension must have found its way through the locker.”
“Daly, we’ve been using these lockers for thirty years, and nothing like that ever happened,” said Ebworth soberly.
“Maybe so, but I’ll tell you something, Fred—this character was here for a purpose, and he knew where he was going!”
Ebworth sighed mightily. “And it had to happen in my section. All right, Daly—I’ll pass your report on to headquarters. In the meantime, stay right where you are and post Locker YH786 Out Of Order.”
* * * *
Morris Guzman scratched his coal-black beard and blinked enigmatically at Arthur Crunch through pebble-thick glasses.
“Well?” said Crunch, who had been chewing impatiently on a cigar butt all through a lengthy examination of the pink tricycle.
“Interesting ... very interesting,” murmured Guzman. “Where did you steal it?”
“Leon got it out of a downtown parking locker, using that plastic key card of yours.”
“Hmm...Now the question is whether I made a slight error in the design of the key card, or is this just a lucky accident?”
Lucky! Crunch stamped his cigar butt into the workshop floor. The question as far as he was concerned was the usual one: “What’s in this deal for Arthur Crunch?” But he knew better than to expect any interest in such worldly matters from Guzman.
“I think we can safely say that the machine doesn’t originate on this planet,” Guzman continued. “This being so, it must have somehow slipped through from another dimension into the parking locker—probably due to a distortion of the locker’s field through the use of the plastic card. The drive units appear to be some kind of force-field generator with a built-in nuclear power device. Certainly nothing of the kind exists on Earth, to my knowledge.”
“So what’s it worth ?” Crunch was able to contain himself no longer.
Guzman chewed his beard pensively. “Let me put it to you this way, Mr. Crunch. The principle involved in these units could be as big a leap forward in human technology as the invention of the wheel.”
“Like how?” asked Crunch.
“A larger model of this power unit would undoubtedly be superior to any spaceship drive yet invented,” suggested Guzman.
“And you could make such a unit?” Crunch asked eagerly.
Guzman shrugged. “Given time and the proper facilities. The drive units are sealed—I would first have to find a way of dismantling them without damaging their components. Then, a certain amount of research and experimentation would be necessary before attempting to build a larger unit.”
“And this would be worth while?”
“How many billions do the government spend on such projects each year? Here we have the principle for which they are searching without success.”
“We’ll turn this whole darned place into a laboratory for you,” Crunch said eagerly. “I’ll get you all the apparatus you need.”
“The side effects are very interesting also,” Guzman said thoughtfully.
“Side effects?”
Guzman nodded. “You must have noticed the way the machine appears to sink into the solid ground if the downward movement isn’t checked in time. This would suggest to me that a further effect of the force-field generators is a realignment of the atoms in the molecular structure.”
“Uh-huh ...” said Crunch.
“It seems to me more than probable that this machine would be capable of passing through so-called solid objects, without damage to itself or the object penetrated,” said Guzman. “Such an interpenetration was suggested as a theoretical possibility as far back as the nineteenth century. I can show you the equations, if you wish....”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Crunch, in his own way, was just as much of a specialist as Guzman, and somewhere in the back of his mind an idea was stirring. “You mean to tell me that this machine could go through a solid wall... ?”
Crunch stopped talking as Leon Pulver, who had been standing near by, respectfully listening to the conversation of his betters, emitted a gulping yell of considerable weirdness. He stood, one hand raised defensively, eyes bulging, as he stared at the wall behind Crunch and Guzman.
Crunch turned abruptly, in time to see a humanoid lizard on a pink tricycle flow through the wall and come to a halt about ten feet away.
“In just such a manner,” Guzman said, backing away cautiously. “Have a care. We may well be dealing with a very advanced civilization here...”
The humanoid lizard dismounted from his machine and walked with an oddly rolling gait towards the original pink tricycle, completely ignoring the presence of the three human beings.
It didn’t take a great deal of imagination on Crunch’s part to realize that, as of the arrival of the humanoid lizard, his possession of the pink tricycle was in some jeopardy— and as a consequence, the attainment of his dreams of wealth and power. Not normally a man of violence, save by proxy, he was moved to extreme action. Picking up a heavy wrench from a nearby workbench, he hurriedly approached the humanoid lizard from the rear and bopped him firmly. The alien slumped to the ground and lay there, out cold.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Morris Guzman.
“Shouldn’t have done it—Hell!” said Crunch. “Do you think I was going to stand by and let him take that machine away ? Anyway—now we’ve got two of them.”
“Maybe...” Guzman was dubious, and more than a little nervous. “But have you stopped to think that a race with their kind of technology would have some rather special weapons?”
* * * *
“Look, Colonel—we’ve been through this a dozen times already. It was man-shaped, with a lizard-like head and it came out of that locker. I didn’t notice whether or not it was carrying any weapons, and I have no idea of its intentions.” Daly had been in the Colonel’s office of the Mobile Command post for the past two and a half hours. He was impatient and tired of all the fuss.
Marron Street had been a quiet city backwater. Now it was transformed into something like an invasion beachhead. All buildings within a mile radius had been evacuated of civilians and the whole area was now a seething mass of military activity. Tanks and atomic cannon were stationed at every street corner and formed a solid ring round the parking lockers; squads of heavily armoured ground troops searched every building, weapons at the ready. Overhead, fighters and bombers, hastily assembled from the mothball squadrons, roared armed to the teeth with destruction.
In a world at peace for the last thirty years the role of a soldier had lacked both glory and action, but a career of parades and simulated battles had done nothing to dim the martial enthusiasm of Colonel Stephen Miller. A spare whippet of a man, with bony features and close-cropped grey hair, he fixed Daly with the stare that had made strong men quail on parade grounds all over the planet.
“You fail to realize the seriousness of the situation, Mr. Daly. For the first time in history Earth has been invaded by an alien life-form.”
“One odd-looking, but probably harmless creature hardly constitutes an invasion, Colonel,” said Jack Daly.
“Reconnaissance!” snapped Miller. “The enemy would hardly risk a landing in force without sending a scout in advance.”
“And on that basis you’re assuming that this creature is hostile?”
Colonel Miller rattled his bony fingers on the desk top. Civilians! No wonder the defence estimates dwindled year by year, pared down by complacent politicians. “We are dealing with the unknown, Mr. Daly. At any moment Parking Lockers all over the planet may start to disgorge hordes of these creatures, armed with what weapons we can only guess. As far as we know at the moment this is the one beachhead, but...”
“I think you’re making too much of an isolated incident,” Daly said. “There’s no sense in going off half cocked.”
“Half cocked!” Colonel Miller’s bony features were very pale. “Let me tell you ...” He broke off as there was a rap on the door and a worried-looking staff captain entered. “Yes, Hynam?” barked the Colonel.
“We’ve just had a message that the civilian police have traced the alien to a used car lot on the north-west side of the city,” said the captain. He moved over and indicated a position on a wall map. “Somewhere in this area.”
“Good! Tell them to hold everything and send two squadrons of tanks immediately. I want that scout alive, but if he puts up any resistance, blast him!”
“The civilian police say they’re closing in now,” said the captain unhappily.
“They what?” Colonel Miller rose to his feet roaring. “What do they think this is, a blasted traffic ticket? Tell communications I want to talk to the officer in charge of the civilian police operation immediately.” He stormed out of the room, shepherding the apologetic captain ahead of him.
* * * *
“Maybe, but if this one’s any sample, I don’t think they’re so smart,” said Arthur Crunch, indicating the prostrate form of the humanoid lizard. His successful use of violence had brought the Ghenghis Khan side of his personality to the fore.
Guzman tugged at his beard nervously. “I don’t like it, Crunch. If you want me to work on that drive ...”
“Nuts to the drive!” Crunch said. “I never did like that idea. Too close to the legitimate and too slow. I don’t care how the thing works, just so long as it does.”
“What do you mean?” Guzman asked.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Crunch said, easing his ample bulk onto the alien’s pink machine. “One of these vehicles can go right through anything solid and take its rider with it, right? So who wants to waste time and money experimenting and trying to build more ? We’ve got two machines now, so Leon and I can ride into any bank vault in the world and help ourselves. We don’t need you, Guzman.”
“Mr. Crunch, you are a genius, you’ll pardon me,” Leon said admiringly.
“Just practical thinking, Leon,” Crunch said modestly. “We’re in business like never before. But first we have to get rid of the evidence.” He touched the prostrate lizard man with his foot. There was no response.
“You can’t do that!” protested Guzman, as Crunch produced a blaster from the inside pocket of his jacket and levelled it at the prone figure.
“Can’t I?” Crunch eyed Guzman craftily. “Leon, take care of this witness, will you? We don’t want him lousing things up.”
“Yes, Mr. Crunch.” Leon pulled his own blaster and moved in on Guzman.
A massively amplified voice boomed through the workshop. “this is a police warning. come outside with your hands up. we shall be using tear gas in sixty seconds from now.”
“The police!” Leon rushed to the window. “They’ve got the whole place surrounded.”
“All right. Time to go, Leon,” Crunch said confidently. “They won’t touch us. Hop on the other machine. Like I said, we’re in business.” He lowered his blaster and turned his attention to the control panel of his tricycle.
“Wait a minute!” shouted Guzman. “You’re making a mistake, Crunch. That alien is wearing ...”
Arthur Crunch, master criminal, crouched over the handlebars of the pink tricycle and pressed the forward button down to its fullest extent. The machine headed for the back wall of the workshop with the speed of a bullet.
The machine went through the wall.
Leon Pulver, saved by his blessedly slow reflexes, looked at Guzman. “What happened, you’ll pardon me?”
Morris Guzman turned sickly from his contemplation of the revolting smear on the back wall of the workshop. “I tried to tell him. Look at the alien’s suit. Just as I thought— enclosure in that pink plastic is essential to the proper functioning of the realignment field.”
The alien stirred, then struggled shakily to his feet.
Leon, thoroughly demoralized by the loss of his leader, backed away from the pink tricycle trembling. The alien ignored him. Getting on the machine he headed it quickly through the back wall of the workshop—delicately avoiding the remains of the past president of the Adolf Hitler Society.
* * * *
Back at the beachhead, Jack Daly was in the busy communications centre of the Command Post.
“What do you mean, you’ve lost him ?” bellowed Colonel Miller, glaring at the image of a crestfallen police captain. “I told you to wait until my tanks got there, you drivelling idiot!”
“Message from one of our spotter planes, sir,” said an earphoned communications sergeant. “The alien has been seen heading in this direction.”
Miller turned his back on the image of the policeman. “Right! Now we’ll have a chance to do the job properly. Obviously the enemy will try and get back through the locker he used to enter our dimension, so all we have to do now is wait. As soon as he appears, all guns will be trained on him, but there’s to be no firing until I give the order. I want him alive, if possible.”
Daly stood with the officers at the blastproof observation window as a loudspeaker on the wall behind gave second by second reports on the approach of the alien.
“C Company stand by!” commanded the colonel.
“Stand by, sir.”
“Be ready to fire one round, in the path of the enemy, but not close enough to harm him.”
“Very good, sir.”
The tension in the Command Post was like a physical pressure. The only sound was the hiss of the live loudspeaker on the wall. Daly had a sinking feeling that he was going to be present at one of mankind’s more historic pieces of stupidity.
“There he is!” gasped a sweating captain.
The alien flowed through the wall of the building opposite the lockers. He was riding one machine and towing the other behind him.
“Company C—fire!” barked Colonel Miller.
An explosion reverberated along the street and when the debris and smoke had cleared away a crater some six feet across had appeared in the pavement, some fifteen yards in front of the alien.
The humanoid lizard stopped his machine and surveyed the assembled might of Earth’s military power.
Jack Daly felt as though a stream of ice water was being poured very slowly down his spine.
Colonel Miller picked up a microphone, “stay where you are. you are my prisoner!” his voice boomed down the street.
The alien glanced in the direction of the Command Post, then back towards the line of tanks that barred his way back into Locker No. YH786. Slowly, almost casually, like a man brushing away a fly, he raised his hand.
Three massive tanks disappeared in a soundless explosion.
Before the shocked gasps in the Command Post had died away, the alien punched the control panel of his machine. A micro-second later, he and both machines had disappeared through the closed door of Locker YH786.
“What now, Colonel?” Jack Daly said shakily. “He’ll be back ... him and a few million others...”
* * * *
Earth’s population was shocked when, in the year 2009, the world government ordered the immediate destruction of all Snerd Extra Dimensional Parking Lockers. No explanation for this sudden decision, made under Emergency Security Regulations, was given; neither has one been forthcoming since. And no compensation has ever been paid to the owners of the millio
ns of vehicles thus abandoned in another dimension. There was in consequence of this action, a five-year boom in the world automobile industry, and today we face a traffic situation beside which the problems of the late twentieth century pale into insignificance. ...
(Ibid.)
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* * * *
SUB-LIM
Keith Roberts
There have been a number of interesting s-f stories concerning subliminal advertising during the past few years but none quite so intriguing as the almost-possible conception envisaged here by Keith Roberts. Are you quite sure those TV commercials are all they seem to be?
New Writings in SF 4 - [Anthology] Page 12