Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online
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Transcriber's Note:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the
U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
WANDL THE
INVADER
by
RAY CUMMINGS
ACE BOOKS, INC.
23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N.Y.
Copyright ©, 1961, by Ace Books, Inc.
Magazine version serialized in _Astounding Stories_,
Copyright, 1932, by Clayton Publications, Inc.
* * * * *
1
"It's a planet," I said. "A little world."
"How little?" Venza demanded.
"One-fifth the mass of the Moon. That's what they've calculated now."
"And how far is it away?" Anita asked. "I heard a newscaster say
yesterday...."
"Newscasters!" Venza broke in scornfully. "Say, you can take what they
tell you about any danger or trouble and cut it in half; and even then
you'll be on the gloomy side. See here, Gregg Haljan."
"I'm not giving you newscasters' blare," I retorted. Venza's
extravagant vehemence was always refreshing. The Venus girl glared at
me. I added: "Anita mentioned newscasters; I didn't."
Anita was in no mood for smiling. "Tell us, Gregg." She sat upright
and tense, her chin cupped in her hands. "Tell us."
"For a fact, they don't know much about it yet. You can call it a
planet, a wanderer."
"I should say it was a wanderer!" Venza exclaimed. "Coming from heaven
knows where beyond the stars, swimming in here like a comet."
"They calculated its distance yesterday at some sixty-five million
miles from Earth," I said. "It isn't so far beyond the orbit of Mars,
coming diagonally and heading very nearly for the Sun. But it's not a
comet."
The thing was indeed inexplicable; for many weeks now, astronomers had
been studying it. This was early summer of the year 2070 A.D. All of
us had recently returned from those extraordinary events I have
already recounted, when we came close to losing Johnny Grantline's
radiactum treasure on the Moon, and our lives as well. My ship, the
_Planetara_, in the astronomical seasons when the Earth, Mars, and
Venus were within comfortable traveling distances of each other, had
carried mail and passengers from Greater New York to Ferrok-Shahn, of
the Martian Union, and to Grebhar, of the Venus Free State. Now it was
wrecked on the Moon.[1]
[Footnote 1: See "Brigands of the Moon", Ace Book, D-324]
I had been under navigating officer of the _Planetara_. Upon her, I
had met Anita Prince, whose only living relative, her brother, was
among those killed in the struggle with the brigands; Anita and I were
soon to marry, we hoped.
I was waiting now in Greater New York upon the decision of the Line
officials regarding another spaceship. Perhaps I would have command of
it, since Captain Carter of the _Planetara_ had been killed.
It was a month or so before that adventure, April, 2070, that this
mysterious visitor from interstellar space first appeared upon our
astronomical horizon. A little thing, at first, a mere unusual dot, a
pinpoint on a photo-electric star diagram which should not have been
there. It occasioned no comment at the time, save that some thought it
might be another planet beyond Pluto; but this was not taken seriously
enough to get into the newscasts. None of us had heard about it as
late as May, when the _Planetara_ set out on what was to be her final
voyage.
Presently, it was seen that the object could not be a planet of our
solar system; Coming in at tremendous speed, it daily changed its
aspect, gathering velocity until soon it was not a dot, but a streak
on every diagram-plate.
In a week or so the thing passed from an astronomical curiosity to an
item of public news. And now, early in June, when it had cut through
the orbit of Jupiter and was approaching that of Mars, fear was
growing. The visitor was a menace. No astronomical body could come
among us, with a mass as great as a fifth of the Moon, without causing
trouble.
The newscasters, with a ready skill for lurid possibilities, were
blaring of all sorts of horrible events impending.
I told the girls all I knew of the approaching wanderer. The density
was similar to that of Earth. The oncoming velocity and the calculated
elements of its orbit now were such that within a few weeks more the
new planet would round our Sun and presumably head outward again. It
would pass within a few million miles of us, causing a disturbance to
Earth's orbit, even a change of the inclination of our axis, affecting
our tides and our climate.
"So I've heard," Venza interrupted me. "They say that, and then they
stop. Why can't a newscaster tell you what is so mysterious?"
"For a very good reason, Venza: because you can't throw people into a
panic. This whole thing, up to today, has been withheld from the
public of Earth and Venus. The Martian Union tried to withhold it, but
could not. Every heliogram between the worlds is censored."
"And still," said Venza sarcastically, "you don't tell us what is so
mysterious about this wanderer."
"For one thing," I said, "it changes its direction. No normal heavenly
body does that. They calculated the elements of its orbit last April.
They've done it twenty times since, and every time the projected orbit
is different. Just a little at first, but last week the accursed thing
actually took a sudden turn, as though it were a spaceship."
The girls stared at me. "What does that mean?" Anita asked.
"They're beginning to make wild guesses but we won't go into that."
"What else is mysterious?" Venza demanded.
"The thing isn't normally visible."
Venza shifted her silk-sheathed legs. "Don't talk in code!"
"Not normally visible," I repeated. "A world one-fifth as large as the
Moon could be seen plainly by our 'scopes when well beyond Pluto. It's
now between Jupiter and Mars, invisible to the naked eye, of course,
but still it's not very far away. I've been out there myself. With
instruments, we ought to be able to see its surface; see whether it
has land and water, inhabitants perhaps. You should be able to
distinguish an object on its surface as large as a city, but you
can't."
"Why not?" asked Anita. "Are the clouds too thick? What causes it?"
"They don't even know that," I retorted. "There is something abnormal
about the light-waves coming from it. Not exactly blurred, but a
distortion, a fading. It's some abnormality of the light-waves."
A swift rapping on our door-grid interrupted me, and Snap Dean burst
in.
"Hola-lo, everybody! Is it a conference? You look so solemn."
He dashed across the room, kissed Venza, pretended that he was about
to kiss Anita, and winked at me. He was a dynamic little fellow,
small, wiry, red-headed and freckle-faced, and had been the
radio-helio operator of the ill-fated _Planetara_. He was a perfect
match for Venza, for all the millions of miles that separated their
native lands. Venza, too was small and slim, her manner as readily
jocular as his.
"And where have you been?" Venza demanded.
"Me? My private life is my own, so far. We're not married yet, since
you insist on us going to Grebhar for the ceremony."
"Do stop it," protested Anita. "We've been talking of...."
"I know very well what you've been talking about. Everybody is. I've
got news for you, Gregg." He went abruptly solemn and lowered his
voice. "Halsey wants to see us, right away."
I regarded him blankly and my mind swept back. No more than a few
short weeks ago Detective-Colonel Halsey of Divisional Headquarters
here in Greater New York had sent for us, and we had been precipitated
into the Grantline affair. "Halsey!" I burst out.
"Easy, Gregg." Snap cast a vague look around Anita's draped apartment.
An open window was beside us, leading to a tiny catwalk balcony. It
was moonlit now, and two hundred feet above the pedestrian viaduct.
But Snap continued to frown. "Easy, I tell you. Why shout about
Halsey? The air can have ears."
Venza moved and closed and sealed the window.
"What is it?" I asked, more softly.
But Snap was not satisfied. "Anita, do you have a complete isolation
barrage for this room?"
"Of course I haven't, Snap."
"Well, Gregg do you have a detector with you?"
I had none. Snap produced his little coil and indicator dial. "It's
out of order, but let's see now. Shove over that chair, Gregg."
He disconnected one of the room's tube-lights and contacted with the
cathode. It was a makeshift method, but as he dropped to the floor,
uncoiling a little length of his wire for an external pick-up, we saw
that the thing worked. The pointer on the dial-face was swaying.
"Gregg!" he muttered. "Look at that. Didn't I tell you?"
The pointer quivered in positive reaction. An eavesdropping ray was
upon us.