Of all Terra's bloodily brawling billions, only
mighty scientist Jon Saxon sensed the Others.
Even as he swung his fists and dodged the tearing
dart guns, his skin crawled weirdly. Who--_who_--was
so coldly watching this war-torn, hell-bent planet?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1948.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Quiet!" Jon Saxon's voice was a breath in the night as he cautioned
the girl. A warning prickle of danger had run over his skin like
gooseflesh. He was a big man, over six feet, with thick brawny
shoulders and arms like a blacksmith. Before the girl could cry out,
Saxon swept her into the deep shadow of a doorway. His dark gray eyes
probed the street but he could see no one.
This seventh level thoroughfare of Adirondaka appeared utterly
deserted. Only occasional street lamps revealed glimpses of the
magnificent architecture of the post-atom capitol of Earth. Down the
center of the boulevard the public conveyor swept silently, endlessly
without a passenger anywhere along its ribbon-like length.
"Where are they?" the girl whispered.
He shook his head. "I can't see them." But his skin continued to
prickle its warning. Somewhere in the shadows were men, several of
them, stalking him soundlessly.
He became aware of an alien quality about the figures ringing in him
and the girl, figures he could sense but not see. Still nothing moved
in the street. The girl, he realized, was strangely quiescent.
Then, sharp as speech, her thought impinged on Jon Saxon's
consciousness. "_The fools! And after I told Emil not to let them crowd
him!_"
Jon Saxon's eyes narrowed. So the girl thought the invisible figures
were G.A.'s men. He had known, of course, from their first meeting
that the girl was a General Atomic spy. But by not so much as a hint
had he let her suspect that her very thoughts betrayed her.
The tingling sensation intensified, warned him that the shadows were
closing in. The feel of alienism was stronger, as if they were not
quite human. His heart pumped faster, the pulse throbbing in his ears.
The moon was rising, he saw, competing indifferently with the street
lights. Its rays streamed down through the ninety-eight levels of the
capitol, down through crystal plastic roadways into the dense blackness
of the pit itself.
Again he became aware of the girl's thought, "_Why, there's nothing
here! He's imagining things!_" It was accompanied by a wave of relief,
and at the same time she whispered,
"What is it Jon? What do you see?"
"Hold it, Ileth!"
His hands gripped her slender shoulders, silenced her. The public
conveyor still swept past without a sound.
Bewilderment grew in him.
The alien entities were close, all about them, apparently without
substance. The tingling sensations were like hot and cold flashes
now, signaling him of something present, something which he couldn't
identify.
They were not the girl's men, whatever she thought. He would have
recognized them by their feel.
No, these escaped classification. He had never experienced anything
like them before. His strange sixth sense, the first extra-human sense
which he had begun to develop inexplicably in his twenty seventh year,
could perceive nothing beyond their presence.
He took his hand from Ileth's shoulders, groped for the button
controlling the door against which they crouched.
"_Stop!_"
The thought rang like a bell in his skull.