"Just stay at ease, Mister Cain, until we're out of this!"
Mason watched the scanner's distorted image as the Scout hurtled
through a curved pencil of four-point Space; she didn't have a
fraction of a powerful Explorer's speed, and her small powerframe
physically limited her to that of light. Yet it could be fast enough,
for the aliens might know nothing of Transition technique, or could be
as wary as Earthmen of the Rim. His precautions could be needless. But
he had seen them and they were war-like, and he had no intention of
being followed, either back to the Explorer, or ultimately to Earth
itself. He'd have to maintain the diverged course until he was
certain.
There was a black pip on the fog-colored scanner. Judith saw it even
as he did. There was a fleeting look of fright on her intent young
face that she hadn't been able to mask.
Cain saw it too.
"You got a tail, skipper!" he said, and the grin was back on his big
freckled face.
Cain was right. The alien was capable of Transition. And he obviously
had little fear of the Rim. His ship grew larger in the scanner.
Mason felt his fingers grow cold again.
* * * * *
Lance told the girl to eject the tape of co-ordinates from the
nav-computers, and he took over manually, hoping the comps would keep
up. It would be up to him where they went, and up to the comps to keep
track of the Scout's position relative to both the Solar System and
the Explorer.
His fingers played across the control-banks as though they were the
keyboards of a great organ, and he felt his insides writhe as he
slipped the hurtling ship back into E-Space, then back to R-level
again. He played the tiny craft between levels as though it were a
stone skipping across water, and altered course with each Transition
with no attempt at plan or pattern. Rivulets of ice water trickled
down across his ribs, and the flesh of his thin face was stiff.
"Wrong again," he heard Cain saying. "At least we can tell the brain
trust that their precious R-factor is constant beyond the Rim ...
maybe that'll be worth a buck or two. At least those kids back there
are playing around in this galaxy like it was their own front yard. Go
on, skipper, take a look yourself!"
Mason didn't have to look. He knew that he hadn't lost the alien; had
known somehow that he wouldn't be able to. Too apparently, their own
galaxy, near as it was to the Milky Way, was of the same Space, its
continuum forged in the same curvature matrices.
"Shall I order our m-guns placed, sir?" It was Judith, and he knew she
had grasped the implications of the situation as quickly as she always
did. Sometimes he wondered if she were a computer herself, clad in the
graceful body of a young woman rather than in a shell of permasteel.
And other times....
He didn't even think about his answer. The "No" was automatic.
"I'll give the order, then, myself!" Cain said flatly.
"As you were, Mister Cain!"
"So it's rank, now, is it?" And he was grinning that damn grin again.
"Take it any way you want. If you think three meson cannon will stop a
ship that's obviously built for battle, you're hardly thinking well
enough for the responsibilities of your post."
"Well listen to who's sounding off! So we're just going to let 'em
overhaul us; just let 'em blast us out of Space, or come tramping
aboard if they want to!"
Mason didn't reply. He looked at the scanner, and now the alien craft
was no longer a dot, but taking definite shape. It would be a couple
of hours, yet, perhaps. And then it would have to be the way Cain had
said.
The alien overhauled them hardly a billion miles inside the Rim, and
Mason offered no resistance when he felt their magnetics touch the
Scout and draw it gently to the flank of their great ship. It was
necessary to scale down the scanner's field to see the huge shape in
its entirety. Beside it, the Scout was like a sparrow's egg.
He punched the stud that would swing in the outer lock as the two
craft touched with but the slightest jar.
Cain's ham-like fists were knotted at his sides, and Judith stood
quietly, as though waiting for nothing more than the presence of an
inspecting officer. But her delicate face was white, and Mason
wondered if the brain under that crisp, dark hair was still
functioning as a well disciplined piece of machinery, or if it felt
the same fear that was in his own. He knew what was in Cain's
thoughts. But at least when he'd told their small crew the score, they
had accepted his decision--and his order to keep the m-guns where they
were. So maybe this time it was Cain who was wrong.
The three of them stood in the compact confines of the control bubble,
silent, waiting.
And when the alien stepped through their inner airlock port and faced
them, Mason knew he was not succeeding in keeping his surprise from
his features.
The alien could have been human. Even clad in his Spacegear, he was
little taller than Cain, and his hair and eyes could have been those
of an Earthly Viking of another day. Humanoid, so far as physical
appearances went But in thought--?
There was a smile on the Viking face as the alien removed the
transparent globe of his helmet. He seemed to realize instinctively
that Mason was the Scout's commander.
"I am Kriijorl," he said. "I extend the greetings of Ihelos." And he
proffered his right hand, Earth fashion, toward Mason!
Lance grasped it as he tried to organize the sudden scramble of his
thoughts. It was a strong hand. He could feel the sinews of it beneath
its gauntlet; like Cain's, yet different, somehow. "You are peacefully
received, and welcome," he said. But there was a hollow sound to his
words that he had not been able to help.
The smile still played on the alien's sun-darkened face.
"Thank you. I hope that I use your language not too clumsily. Our
teleprobes may leave something to be desired in the matter of
semantics. You will, I hope, forgive us for taking the liberty of
their use. But since you employed no protective screens, and because
of the necessity of our meeting--"
Cain broke in without hesitation. "I don't know what you've been up to
while you've been tagging us, mister, but I--"
"At ease, Mister Cain!" Mason snapped. "We must allow our guest to
explain his action and his mission."
The alien nodded slightly, glanced at Judith.
* * * * *
"It was your woman officer aboard," he began. "When we became aware
that you also represented a bi-sexual race, as do we, we realized at
once that you afforded us an unexpected opportunity. Otherwise, we
should have remained at our business and spared you this intrusion.
"We of Ihelos, as you doubtless have noted, are at war. It is perhaps
not war as your culture understands it; it is perhaps more accurately
described by your word 'feud,' I think, and it has continued between
us and our only similar neighbor, the planet of Thrayx, for many
thousands of your years.
"We have been quite self-sufficient cultures for all that time, and
have taken great care that our conflict not infect any other area in
either our galaxy or yours, for neither of us, by inherent nature, is
war-like in the sense of aggressiveness. Our conflict is between us
and us alone.
"However, we of Ihelos recently received a staggering setback from our
traditional enemy due to a certain unexpected innovation in their
battle techniques, and we realized that our cause could end only in
eventual defeat. As it shall, unless your people will help us."
There was a moment of silence, and Mason found himself wondering how
often this had happened in Earth's own bitter past. It was, wherever
men lived, an old story.
"What," Cain was asking, "is in this for us?"
"Could you tell us," Judith said before the alien could answer Cain,
"just why you chose us? Certainly, you must have noticed our
techniques of warfare are quite inferior to your own. We have not
employed them for more than two hundred years--"
"Nor," Mason finished for her, "do we intend to again. You must seek
help elsewhere, sir."
"That, for us, would be quite impossible," the alien replied slowly.
"The chances of finding other life forms like our own are billions to
one, the immensity of both our galaxies notwithstanding. Had you not
ventured within range of our screens we would in all probability never
known you existed. And to organize a search...." and now the smile on
his lips was almost a sad thing, "a search of two galaxies--it would
take us aeons, even at a thousand times the speed of light, simply to
cover the vast distances involved, to say nothing of finding a similar
life and thought form. And we do not have aeons, Lieutenant. We have
but two--three, at most--generations.
"There is too little time to search for allies. We have no other
choice, as you can see, than to take what advantage we can of those
upon whom we may chance."
"But as my sergeant has already pointed out," Mason said, "our arms
would be worthless to you. And, more importantly, we wish no more part
in warfare. I am afraid, in that respect, you must excuse us, sir....
It has been a pleasure to have you aboard."
And suddenly, the smile was gone from the alien's face.
"I must demand of you, then--force you, if necessary--to take us to
your planet, Lieutenant. For you can quite obviously help us. It is
not your arms we want."
"I fail to understand you sir." Mason felt the icy sweat start again,
repressed a shiver as it trickled the length of his spare body.
"Our planet, as our enemy's, is encircled by a wide ring of floating
cosmic debris," the alien said. "In both instances, the rings are
remnants of what once may have been satellites. In the ring which
encircles us, we have successfully secreted refrigerated,
lead-sheathed stores of male sperm, quite impossible for our enemy to
locate. That is a necessity, of course, for any race that is
constantly at war and is obliged to take all possible safeguards to
insure its continued existence. We assume that Thrayx has done the
same.
"However, our cell stores are useless if they lack ova to fertilize.
On their last attack, Thrayxite ships succeeded in penetrating our
innermost planetary defenses, and heavily damaged a number of our
cities. Many of our women and young were victims.
"We therefore evacuated our planet's entire female population to an
uninhabited world far distant. It was a young world and covered with
thick forests, much like the labor planetoid which circles Thrayx, and
we believed our breeders would be quite sufficiently camouflaged."
"Breeders?" Cain broke in.
"Our philosophy concerning women is slightly different than your own,"
the alien said. And then he resumed, "But in our haste we
underestimated our enemy's cleverness. Thrayxite scouts located the
planet, destroyed it, our women, and our seeds.
"And that is why you will take us to Earth, Lieutenant. We do not want
your arms or your men. What we must ask for is--ten thousand of your
women!"