"Very well, Mr. Kincaide," I said at length. "Set a course for her.
We'll give her a glance, anyway."
"Yes, sir," replied Kincaide promptly. One of the best officers in the
Service, Kincaide. Level-headed, and a straight thinker. He was a man
for any emergency. I remember--but I've already told that story.
* * * * *
I turned back to my reports, and forgot all about this wandering
Strobus. Then I turned in, to catch up somewhat on my sleep, for we had
had some close calls in a field of meteors, and the memory of a
previous disaster was still fresh in my mind.[1] I had spent my "watch
below" in the navigating room, and now I needed sleep rather badly. If
the scientists really want to do something for humanity, why don't they
show us how to do without food and sleep?
[1] See "The Ghost World" in the April issue of Amazing
Stories.--Ed.
When, refreshed and ready for anything, I did report to the navigating
room, Correy, my first officer, was on duty.
"Good morning, sir," he nodded. It was the custom, on ships I
commanded, for the officers to govern themselves by Earth standards of
time; we created an artificial day and night, and disregarded entirely,
except in our official records, the enar and other units of the
Universal time system.
"Good morning, Mr. Correy. How are we bearing?"
"Straight for our objective, sir." He glanced down at the two glowing
charts that pictured our surroundings in three dimensions, to reassure
himself. "She's dead ahead, and looming up quite sizeably."
"Right!" I bent over the great hooded television disk--the ponderous
type we used in those days--and picked up Strobus without difficulty.
The body more than filled the disk and I reduced the magnification
until I could get a full view of the entire exposed surface.
Strobus, it seemed, bore a slight resemblance to one view of my own
Earth. There were two very apparent polar caps, and two continents,
barely connected, the two of them resembling the numeral eight in the
writing of Earth-men; a numeral consisting of two circles, one above
the other, and just touching. One of the roughly circular continents
was much larger than the other.
"Mr. Kincaide reported that the portions he inspected consisted
entirely of fluid sir," commented Correy. "The two continents now
visible have just come into view, so I presume that there are no
others, unless they are concealed by the polar caps. Do you find any
indications of habitation?"
"I haven't examined her closely under high magnification," I replied.
"There are some signs...."
* * * * *
I increased power, and began slowly searching the terrain of the
distant body. I had not far to search before I found what I sought.
"We're in luck, Mr. Correy!" I exclaimed. "Our friend is inhabited.
There is at least one sizeable city on the larger continent and ...
yes, there's another! Something to break the monotony, eh? Strobus is
an 'unknown' on the charts."
"Suppose we'll have trouble, sir?" asked Correy hopefully. Correy was a
prime hand for a fight of any kind. A bit too hot-headed perhaps, but a
man who never knew when he was beaten.
"I hope not; you know how they rant at the Base when we have to protect
ourselves," I replied, not without a certain amount of bitterness.
"They'd like to pacify the Universe with never a sweep of a
disintegrator beam. 'Of course, Commander Hanson' some silver-sleeve
will say, 'if it was absolutely vital to protect your men and your
ship'--ugh! They ought to turn out for a tour of duty once in a while,
and see what conditions are." I was young then, and the attitude of my
conservative superiors at the Base was not at all in keeping with my
own views, at times.
"You think, then, that we will have trouble, sir?"
"Your guess is as good is mine," I shrugged. "The people of this
Strobus know nothing of us. They will not know whether we come as
friends or enemies. Naturally, they will be suspicious. It is hard to
explain the use of the menore, to convey our thoughts to them."
I glanced up at the attraction meter, reflecting upon the estimated
mass of the body we were approaching. By night we should be nearing her
atmospheric envelope. By morning we should be setting down on her.
"We'll hope for the best, sir," said Correy innocently.
I bent more closely over the television disk, to hide my smile. I knew
perfectly what the belligerent Correy meant by "the best."
* * * * *
The next morning, at atmospheric speed, we settled down swiftly over
the larger of the two continents, Correy giving orders to the
navigating room while I divided my attention between the television
disk and the altimeter, with a glance every few seconds at the surface
temperature gauge. In unknown atmospheres, it is not difficult to run
up a considerable surface temperature, and that is always uncomfortable
and sometimes dangerous.
"The largest city seems to be nearer the other continent. You should be
able to take over visually before long. Has the report on the
atmosphere come through yet?"
"Not yet. Just a moment, sir." Correy spoke for a moment into his
microphone and turned to me with a smile.
"Suitable for breathing," he reported. "Slight excess of oxygen, and
only a trace of moisture. Hendricks just completed the analysis."
Hendricks, my third officer, was as clever as a laboratory man in many
ways, and a red-blooded young officer as well. That's a combination you
don't come across very often.
"Good! Breathing masks are a nuisance. I believe I'd reduce speed
somewhat; she's warming up. The big city I mentioned is dead ahead. Set
the _Ertak_ down as close as possible."
"Yes, sir!" snapped Correy, and I leaned over the television disk to
examine, at very close range, the great Strobian metropolis we were so
swiftly approaching.
* * * * *
The buildings were all tall, and constructed of a shining substance
that I could not identify, even though I could now make out the details
of their architecture, which was exceedingly simple, and devoid of
ornament of any kind, save an occasional pilaster or flying buttress.
The streets were broad, and laid out to cut the city into lozenge-shaped
sections, instead of the conventional squares. In the center of the
city stood a great lozenge-shaped building with a smooth, arched roof.
From every section of the city, great swarms of people were flocking in
the direction of the spot toward which the _Ertak_ was settling, on
foot and in long, slim vehicles of some kind that apparently carried
several people.
"Lots of excitement down there, Mr. Correy," I commented. "Better tell
Mr. Kincaide to order up all hands, and station a double guard at the
port. Have a landing force, armed with atomic pistols and bombs, and
equipped with menores, as an escort."
"And the disintegrator-ray generators--you'll have them in operation,
sir, just in case?"
"That might be well. But they are not to be used except in the greatest
emergency, understand. Hendricks will accompany me, if it seems
expeditious to leave the ship, leaving you in command here."
"Very well, sir!" I knew the arrangement didn't suit him, but he was
too much the perfect officer to protest, even with a glance. And
besides, at the moment, he was very busy with orders to the men in the
control room, forward, as he conned the ship to the place he had
selected to set her down.
But busy as he was, he did not forget the order to tune up the
disintegrator-ray generators.
* * * * *
While the great circular door of the _Ertak_ was backing out ponderously
from its threaded seat, suspended by its massive gimbals, I inspected
the people of this new world.
My first impression was that they were a soldiery people, for there
were no jostling crowds swarming around the ship, such as might have
been expected. Instead, the citizenry stood at ease in a sort of
military formation of numerous small companies, each apparently in
charge of an officer. These companies were arranged to form a long wide
avenue, leading to the city, and down this avenue a strange procession
was coming toward the ship.
I should make it clear at this point that these Strobians were, in
form, very similar to Earth-men, although somewhat shorter in stature,
and certainly more delicately formed. Perhaps it would be better to say
they resembled the Zenians, save for this marked difference: the
Strobians were exceedingly light in color, their skins being nearly
translucent, and their hair a light straw color. The darkest hair I saw
at any time was a pale gold, and many had hair as colorless as
silver--which I should explain is a metal of Earth somewhat resembling
aluminum in appearance.
The procession was coming toward the ship slowly, the marchers
apparently chanting as they came, for I could see their lips moving.
They were dressed in short kirtles of brilliant colors--scarlet, green,
orange, purple--and wore brilliant belts suspended about their waists
by straps which crossed over their breasts and passed over each
shoulder.
Each marcher bore a tall staff from which flew a tiny pennon of the
same color as his chief garment. At the top of each staff was a metal
ornament, which at first glance I took to be the representation of a
fish. As they came closer, I saw that this was not a good guess, for
the device was without a tail.
* * * * *
"The exit port is open, sir," reported Hendricks. "The people seem far
from hostile, and the air is very good. What are your orders?"
"There will be no change, I think," I said as I hurried toward the now
open door. "Mr. Kincaide will be in command of the guard at the port.
You and I, with a small landing force, will advance to meet this
procession. Make sure that there are a number of extra menores carried
by the escort; we shall need them."
"Yes, sir!" Hendricks snapped a command and the landing force fell into
place behind us as we passed through the circular doorway, and out onto
the rocky ground of Strobus.
The procession stopped instantly, and the chanting died to a murmur.
The men forming the living wall on each side bowed their heads and made
a quick sign; a peculiar gesture, as though they reached out to shake
an invisible hand.
The leader of the procession, a fine-featured man with golden hair,
walked forward with bowed head, chanting a single phrase over and over
again in a voice as sweet as a woman's: "_Toma annerson ... toma
annerson ... toma annerson...._"
"Sounds friendly enough," I whispered to Hendricks. "Hand me an extra
menore; I'll see...."
The chanting stopped, and the Strobian lifted his head.
"Greetings!" he said. "You are welcome here."
* * * * *
I think nothing ever surprised me more, I stared at the man like a
fool, my jaw dropping, and my eyes bulging. For the man spoke in a
language of Earth; spoke it haltingly and poorly, but recognizably.
"You--you speak English?" I faltered. "Where--where did you learn to
speak this language?"
The Strobian smiled, his face shining as though he saw a vision.
"Toma annerson," he intoned gravely, and extended his right hand in a
greeting which Earth-men have offered each other for untold centuries!