A babble from the street lifted Humboldt Grossman's eyes from shrewd
perusal of his ledgers. He frowned, rose to investigate the tumult,
then stood stock-still in his tracks, startled as the door of his
private chamber burst open.
A stunted troll with four, gnarled, dangling arms--a native
Titanian--served as spokesman for the excited group.
"A marvel, Master!" he jabbered. "Behold, a marvel! It was found by one
of us in the sand-pits north of the city, captured and brought to you
immediately. See, O Master, its height, its bulk, its strength."
He stood aside and into the room a score of tugging natives hauled a
bound and helpless creature.
Bound and helpless creature?
Bound ... yes. With yards upon yards of tightly laced metal cord
which even now stretched taut over bulging sinews. Helpless ...
perhaps. It stood quietly, struggling not, but in its very quiescence
Factor Grossman found a swift, disturbing menace. It was still as
flood-waters are still, ere, angered, they burst with fury the puny
dams constraining them. It was motionless as powerful machines are
motionless before, spurred to deed, they ravage all before them.
A creature it was. But such a creature. Humanoid in form ... male ...
but dull of eye as a brain-fogged idiot. It was seven feet tall and
half as broad of shoulder, heavy of thigh and iron-strong of bicep. A
Hercules, an Atlas of a man.
Grossman stared at it strangely. Then he turned to his native visitors.
"It is a marvel, yes. A great man. But what has it to do with me?"
The spokesman cringed forward hopefully.
"It has power, O Master. You promised us vengeance and freedom when we
found you one with strength to fight our cause."
Grossman's thick face mottled with disdain. "Fool!" he spat. "Do you
call this creature power enough to wage a war? One halfwit giant
against a well-armed garrison of humans? Take it away. This is not the
power I asked for!"
The Titanian inched another step forward. "Wait, O Master!" he advised.
"Wait and see what we have seen! For not yet do you understand. He is
still growing!"
Grossman stared, his tiny, pig-like eyes bewildered.
"Growing? This giant--growing?"
"_Yes, Master. He is as yet a babe! This monster is less than two
hours old...._"
V
The gunner said, "This yere now four-headed animule jest sorta wriggled
its fur, like, an' presto! all of a sudden it ain't no beast a-tall,
but a bird! Yessirree, jest as sure as I'm tellin' the gospel truth,
it turned smack into a purple bird with six green wings an' a lavender
tail--"
He stopped and aimed an accurate stream of Venusian _mekel_-juice
at a hapless insect. The insect floundered helplessly. So did Rocky
Russell--inwardly--with his desire to laugh out loud. But he restrained
himself, nodding his head sagely as he jotted a transcript of the old
trooper's narrative in his little black notebook.
At his side, Lynn Graham protested, "Oh, Gunner, but _really_! I mean
you must be mistaken! Animals simply don't turn into birds and fly
away--"
"This un did!" swore Gunner solemnly. "Hope to drop dead in my--I
mean, cross my heart! An' that ain't all the curious sights I seen in
my life, neither. If the Puffessor would like to hear another little
story--"
"I'm sure," said Rocky primly, "it would be most interesting. But I
hate to trouble you--"
"No trouble, Puffessor. No trouble a-tall. 'Course my throat is gettin'
a mite dry-like from talkin' so much. I might could use a sip o'
water ... or mebbe a drap o' likker to sorta loosen my tongue--"
Rocky dug deep, and a coin passed between him and his informant.
"Please allow me, Gunner. And many thanks. We'll have another little
chat soon. I'm afraid I must be running along now, though."
Followed by his two companions, he climbed from the pill-box embrasure
in which he had been interviewing the not-too-reliable old Patrolman.
* * * * *
Two days had passed since "Dr. Roswell" and his aide had taken up
residence in the Base. In that time, Rocky had wandered much, talked
much, and learned much. Slowly he was beginning to gather that
accumulation of facts which, he hoped and believed, would ultimately
bring the weight of the Law to bear on Factor Humboldt Grossman.
Exactly what Grossman's racket was, he _still_ didn't know. But from
various and sundry sources he had heard tales of the fat man's greed
and cunning, his autocratic domination over a number of the lower-class
Titanians. In his own small way, and to those rebels he had gathered
about him, Humboldt Grossman was emperor of New Boston. It remained to
be proven whether or not he could extend his control to embrace the
whole of the satellite.
Emerging from the sunken gunnery pit, the trio found themselves upon
one of the metal highways which criss-crossed the little world.
To their left lay the squat, grim rows of structures which comprised
Fort Beausejour, the Solar Space Patrol base on Titan. Barracks,
administration and ordnance headquarters, messhalls, dumps and depots
mingled in gray heterogeneity behind a strong defense-in-depth
calculated to withstand months of siege or any known form of military
attack.
To their right, several miles distant at the far end of the highway,
lay the city of New Boston. It was a strange city, a curious
commingling of ancient and modern, savage and cultured, alien and
civilized. It boasted two tremendous skyscrapers of ultramodern design
constructed by Earth colonists, but about and around these, clustered
like mud-daubers' nests, clung rows upon rows, thousands upon countless
thousands, of tiny, dingy, one-story hovels ... the dwellings of the
natives.
It was into this city Rocky Russell's investigations now led him. He
glanced at his wrist chronometer.
"Bless my soul! Very nearly time for my appointment with Factor
Grossman. You are sure we can use a roller, Miss Graham?"
"Positive," answered the girl cheerfully. "I asked Daddy yesterday. You
wait here; I'll get it and come back."
She moved away, giving the two S.I.D. men their first moment of privacy
in hours. Bud Mulligan sighed and fumbled for a cigarette.
"So we're really gonna get to see Grossman at last? Good! How'd he
sound when you audioed him for an interview?"
"Friendly enough," answered Rocky. "He said he was very busy, but he'd
be glad to give me a few minutes."
"Did he know what you wanted?"
Rocky grinned a slow, lopsided grin. "Everybody on Titan knows by now,"
he drawled, "that there's a myth-chasing crackpot roaming loose. I'm
Public Joke No. One. Which suits me just fine."
"Yeah," snorted Bud disgustedly, "but when this job's done, I'm gonna
backtrack and do a little plain and fancy nose-punchin'! Like that old
spacerat we talked to a few minutes ago--did you ever hear such lyin'
in your life? A bird with purple wings an'--"
"Cheer up!" chuckled Rocky. "Gunner thought he was giving me the
runaround, and for a generally unimaginative old codger he didn't do
such a bad job of yarn spinning. He'd be surprised to learn, though,
that his wild story is not half so fantastic as some of the honest
tales I've heard since I began this masquerade."
Bud nodded grudgingly.
"That's true enough. An', boy, I really got to hand it to you. You talk
that Doctor-o'-Mythology patter like you really _was_ one. Sometimes
you sound like you really believed in it yourself!"
"And the funny part of it is," said Rocky, "I almost _do_! As for
talking the patter ... well, no wonder! I studied comparative
mythologies for three solid months under the best experts in the field
before I undertook this job, Bud. I know more about hamadryads and
demigods and winged horses than old man Bulfinch himself! Well--" He
nodded significantly, and his voice lifted to the high-pitched tones of
"Dr. Rockingham Roswell"--"here comes Lynn. Off we go!"
Bud shot a swift, appraising glance at him. "Oh-ho! So it's 'Lynn',
now, eh?"
Fortunately, Rocky Russell did not have time to concoct an alibi for
that slip of the tongue. Because the roller was drawing up beside them,
Lynn was motioning them in. And in a few minutes they were on their way
to New Boston.
* * * * *
"You understand," said Factor Grossman, "I have never _seen_ this
creature myself, Dr. Roswell. I am merely repeating the description
given me by some of my friends."
Rocky nodded, busily jotting in his ubiquitous black notebook the facts
just told him by the fat man. "A furry animal," he repeated, "with the
netherparts of a horse and the torso of a human. Two curly black
horns ... cloven hoofs ... is occasionally glimpsed in damp, woodland
dells ... excellent!"
He looked up, smiling. "Very interesting, sir. You have perhaps
already noted the similarity between this ... er ... thing and the
'Centaur' of Greek mythology? Amazing, isn't it, that we should find
the same ... er ... legendary monster on two worlds separated by so
many millions of miles? Well, we must organize an expedition to search
for this creature. Now, have you any other fables to add to my little
collection?"
He poised his pencil expectantly, his eyes vaguely eager and excited.
"We-e-ell, let me see--" Grossman stroked a sleek, fleshy jaw--"I heard
one the other day about--Yes? What is it, Grushl?"
A Titanian had pressed open the door of the factor's private office. He
glanced at the guests nervously.
"If you please, sir--the Thing-that-Grows! It has broken its--"
"_That will do!_" Grossman's voice crackled like the snap of a
bulldozer's whip. He rose hastily, bowed apology to his visitors. "If
you will excuse me a moment--"
He strode to the door, propelled his underling out of sight and
hearing. The three guests stared after him in astonishment.
"Well!" exclaimed Lynn Graham. "Whatever came over him so quickly? Why,
he turned positively pale!"
"You're telling me?" grunted Bud. "He looked like he seen his
grandmother's ghost ... or his own. What did that guy say?
'Thing-that-Grows'? What would _that_ be? And what would it break?"
"Shhh!" warned Rocky. "He's coming back.... Ah, there Factor!
Everything all right?"
* * * * *
Grossman had been gone but a few seconds, but in that time a change had
come over him. His eyes were dark with ... Rocky could not tell just
what. Excitement? Or fear? A thin film of perspiration overspread his
cheeks, his forehead, his upper lip. He tried to put reassurance into
his voice, but the effort didn't quite jell.
"Quite all right, Doctor. A little trouble with ... with a small
horticultural experiment we are conducting. But I'm afraid I must ask
you to leave now. I have work to do."