Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep261: Episode 261: Alien Invasion Horror Stories

Episode Date: July 27, 2025

First up this evening we have the classic ‘The Terrible Tentacles of L-472’, an old-school work by the wonderful Sewell Peaslee Wright, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/29255/pg29255-images.html#p332  Our second tale of terror is the classic ‘The Earthman's Burden’, an old-school work by the wonderful R. F. Starzl, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/31893/pg31893-images.html#The_Earthmans_Burden  We round things off with the classic ‘The Gate to Xoran’, an old-school work by the wonderful Hal K. Wells, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/30177/30177-h/30177-h.htm#xoran

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Welcome to Dr. Creepen's Dungeon. Alien life forms scare us because they represent the ultimate unknown. Beings that may not think, feel, or behave in any way we understand. Unlike familiar threats, aliens could possess technologies far beyond ours, motives we can't comprehend and forms that defy biology as we know it. They challenge our sense of control and place in the universe, forcing us to confront the possibility that we're not alone, that whatever is out there might not be friends.

This fear taps into our deepest anxieties about invasion, extinction and the fragility of human existence, as we shall see in tonight's three feature-length stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution, tonight's tales may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. The terrible tentacles of L-472. By Sewell Peasley Wright, Commander John Hanson of the Special Preyield,

Patrol service records another of his thrilling interplanetary assignment. Well, it was a big mistake. I shouldn't have done it. By birth, by instinct, by training, by habit. I am a man of action. Oh, well, I was. Strange that an old man cannot remember that he's no longer young. It was a mistake for me to mention that I'd recorded for the archives of the council

the history of a certain activity of the Special Patrol. A bit of secret history. which may not be mentioned here. And now they insist, and by they I refer to the chiefs of the Special Patrol Service, that I write of other achievements of the service, other adventures worthy of note. Perhaps that's the penalty of becoming old. From Commander of the Booty, one of the greatest of the Special Patrol ships,

to the duties of recording ancient history for younger men to read and dream about. Well, that's a shrew blow to one's pride. But if I can in some small way, add luster to the record of my service. It will be a fitting task for a man grown old and grey in that service. Work for hands too weak and palsied for sterner duties. But I shall tell my stories in my own way. After all, they are my stories. And I shall tell the stories that appeal to me most.

The universe has had enough and too much of dry history. These shall be adventurous tales to make the blood of a young man who reads them run a trifle faster and perhaps the blood of the old man who writes them. This, the first, shall be the story of the star L-472. Well, you know it today is Ibids, port of call for interplanetary ships, and the source of Eucrite for the universe. But to me it will always be L-472, the world of terrible tentacles.

My story begins nearly a hundred years ago, reckoned in terms of Earth time, which is proper since I am a native of Earth, when I was a young man. I was a sub-commander at the time of the Khalid, one of the early ships of the Space Patrol. We've been caught to Xenia on special orders, and Commander Jameson, after an absence of some two hours, returned to the Khalid with his face shining,

one of his rare smiles telling me in advance that he had news, and good news. He hurried me up to the deserted navigator, room and waved me to a seat hanson he said i'm glad to be the first to congratulate you you are now commander john hanson of the special patrol ship carlid sir i gasped do you mean his smile broadened and the breast pocket of the trim blue and silver uniform of our service he drew a long crackling paper "'You're a commission,' he said. "'I'm taking over the Borrelis.'

It was my turn to extend congratulations then. The Borrelis was the newest and greatest ship of the service. We shook hands, that ancient gesture of good fellowship on earth. But as our hands unclasped, Jameson's face grew suddenly great. "'I have more than this news for you, though,' he said slowly. you're to have a chance to earn your comet hardly. I smile broadly at the mention of the comet, the silver insignia worn over the heart

that would mark my future rank as commander, replacing the four-rate star of a sub-commander, which I now wore on my tuning. Tell me more, sir, I said confidently. You've heard of the Special Patrol ship Philanus? asked my late commander, gravely. "'Hm,' reported lost in space, "'I replied fromly.

"'And the, uh, Dara Loss?' "'Why, yes, she was at base here at our last call,' "'I said, searching his face anxiously. "'Peter Wilson was second office, or one of my best friends. "'Why'd you ask about her, sir?' "'The, uh, Dora Loss is missing also,' said Commander Jameson solemnly. "'But of those ships were sent upon a particular mission, Neither of them has returned.

It's concluded that some common fate has overtaken them. The garlet, under your command, is commissioned to investigate these disappearances. You're not charged with the mission of these other ships. Your orders are to investigate their disappearance. The course, together with the official patrol orders, I shall hand you presently, but with them go verbal orders. You are to lay and keep the cost designated, which will take you well out of the beaten path

to a small world which has not been explored, but which has been circumnavigated a number of times by various ships remaining just outside the atmospheric envelope are found to be without evidence of intelligent habitation. In other words, without cities, roads, canals, or any other evidence of human handiwork or civilization.

I believe your instructions give you some of this information, but not all of it. This world, unnamed because of its uninhabited condition, is charred it only as L-472. Your larger charts will show it, I'm sure. The atmosphere is reported to be breathable by inhabitants of Earth and other beings having the same general requirements. Vegetation is reported as dense, covering the five continents of the world, to the edges of the northern and southern polar caps, which are small. Topographically, the country is rugged in the extreme, with many different. peaks, apparently volcanic, but now inactive or extinct, on all of its five large continents.

And, um, I'm to land there, sir. I asked eagerly. Your orders are very specific upon that point, said Commander Jameson. You are not to land until you've carefully and thoroughly done a recon from above at low altitude. You'll exercise every possible caution. Your specific purpose is simply this, to determine, if possible, you're not. the fate of the other two ships and report your findings at once the chiefs of the service will then consider the matter and take whatever action may seem advisable to

him jameson then rose to his feet and thrust out his hand in earth's fine old salute to farewell now i must be going hanson he said i wish this patrol were mine instead of yours you were a young man for such a responsibility but I replied with the glowing confidence of youth. I have the advantage of having served under Commander Jameson. He smiled as we shook again and shook his head. Discretion can be learned only by experience, he said. But I wish you success, handsome, on this undertaking and on many others.

Supplies are on their way now. The crew will return from leave within the hour. A young Xenian by the name of Deval, I believe, It's detailed to accompany you as scientific observer. Purely unofficial capacity, of course. He's been ordered to report to you at once. You are to depart as soon as feasible. You know what that means.

Oh, I believe that so. Oh, yeah, I'd almost forgotten. Here in this envelope are your orders and your course, as well as all available data on L472. And this little casket is your comet, Hansen. "'I know your word with honour.' "'Thank you, sir,' I said, a bit huskily. "'I saluted then, and Commander Jameson acknowledged the gesture with stiff precision.

"'Commander Jameson always had the reputation of being something of a martinet. "'When he'd left, I picked up the thin blue envelope he'd left me. "'Cross the face of the envelope, to my mind, "'jagged and unbeautiful universal script was my name, "'followed by the proud title. commander special patrol ship carlid my first orders i was a small oval box of blue leather with a silver crest of the service in base relief on the lid i opened the case and gazed with shining eyes at the gleaming silver comet that nestled in there and slowly i unfastened the four-eight star on my left breasts and placed in instead the insignia of my commander's ship worn smooth and shiny now it's still my most precious possession. Kincade, my second officer,

turned and smiled as I entered the navigating room. L-472 now registers maximum attraction, sir, he reported, dead ahead and coming up nicely. My last figures, who bleed at about five minutes ago, indicate that we should reach the Gassius envelope in about ten hours. Kincaid was also a native of Earth, and we commonly used Earth-time measurements in our conversation. As is still the case, ships of the Special Patrol Service were commanded without exception by natives of Earth,

and the entire office of personnel held largely from the same planet, although I have had several Zenian offices of rarability and courage. I nodded and thanked him for the report. Maximum attraction, eh? All that, considering the small size of our objective, meant me well much closer to L472 than to any other regular body. Mechanically, I studied the various dials about the room. The attraction meter, as Kincaid had said, registered several degrees of attraction, and the red

slide on the rim of the dial was squarely at the top, showing that the attraction was coming from the world at which our nose was pointed. The surface temperature gauge was normal. Internal pressure, normal. Internal moisture content, a little high. Kincaid, watching me, spoke up. I've already given orders to dry out, sir, he said. Very good, Mr. Kincaid.

It's a long trip, and I want the crew in good condition. I studied the two charts, one showing our surroundings laterally, the other vertically. All bodies about us represented as glowing spots of green light, of varying sizes, and the ship itself is a tiny scarlet spot. Everything's ship-shaped, perhaps a degree or two of elevation when we were a little closer. may i come in sir broke in a gentle high-pitched voice certainly mr deval i replied answering in the universal language in which the request had been made you're always very welcome dival was a typical zinian of the finest type slim very dark and with the amazingly intelligent eyes of his kind his voice was very soft and gentle and like the voice of all his people clear and high-pitched Thank you, he said.

I guess I'm over-eager, but there's something about this mission of ours that worries me. I seem to feel... He broke off abruptly and began pacing back and forth across the room. I studied him, frowning. The xenians have a strange way of being right about such things. Their high-strung, sensitive natures seem capable of responding to these delicate, vagrant forces, which even now are only incompletely understood and classified. You're not used to work of this sort, I replied,

as bluffly and heartily as possible. There's nothing to worry about. The commanders of the two ships that disappear probably felt the same way, sir, said Deval. I should have thought the chiefs of the special patrol surface would have sent several ships on a mission such as this. Easy to say, I laughed bitterly. "'Well, if the Council would pass the appropriations we need,

"'we might have ships enough so that we could send a fleet of ships when we wished. "'And instead of that, the Council, in its infinite wisdom, "'bills greater laboratories and schools of higher learning, "'unless the patrol get along as best it can. "'It was from the laboratories and the schools of higher learning "'that all these things sprang,' replied Devald, quietly, "'glancing around at the array of instruments which made navigation in space possible. "'True,' I admitted rather shortly.

"'We must work together. "'As for what we shall find upon the little world ahead. "'We shall be there in nine or ten hours. "'You may wish to make some preparations. "'Nine or ten hours. "'That's earth-time, isn't it? "'Let's see. "'It's about two and a half in aros.'

"'Correct,' I smiled. "'The universal method of reckoning in time "'had never appealed to me.' For those of my readers who may only be familiar with earth-time measurements, an Enara is about 18 earth-days, an an iron, a little less than two earth-days, and an Enaro, nearly four and a half hours. The universal system has the advantage, I admit, of a decimal division, and I found it clumsy always.

They may be stubborn and old-fashioned, but a clop-faced with only ten numerals and one hand still strikes me as being unbeautiful and inefficient. Two and a half in our own, repeated Deval thoughtfully. I believe I shall see if I can get a little sleep now. I should not have brought my books with me, I'm afraid. I read when I should sleep. Will you call me, should there be any developments of interest? I assured him that he would be called as he requested, and he left.

A decent sort of chap, sir, observed Kincaid. glancing at the door through which Deval had just departed. A student, why nodded, with the contempt of violent youth for the man of gently pursuits the mine and turn my attentions to some calculations for entry in the law. Busied with the intricate details of my task, time passed rapidly. The watch changed and I joined my offices in the tiny arch-dialing salon.

It was during the meal that I noticed for the first time a sort of tenseness. Every member of the mess was unusually quiet. Though I would not have admitted it then, I was not without a good deal of nervous restraint myself. Gentlemen, I remarked when the meal was finished. I believe you understand our present mission. Primarily, our purpose is to ascertain, if possible, the fate of two ships that were sent here and who have not returned.

We're now close enough for reasonable observation by means of the television disc, and I should take over its operation myself. There's no gainsay in the fact that whatever fate overtook the two other patrol ships might also lay in way for us. My orders are to observe every possible precaution and to return with a report. I'm going to ask that each of you proceed immediately to his post and make ready, so far as possible, for any eventuality. Warn the watch which has just gone off to be ready for instant duty.

The disintegrator ray generators should be started and be available for instant emergency use, maximum power, and have the bombing crews ready for standby. What do you anticipate, sir? asked Corey, my new sub-commander. The other officers waited tensely for my reply. I don't know, Mr. Carrey, I admit it reluctantly. We have no information upon which to base an assumption. We do know that two ships have been sent there, and neither of them have returned. heard. Something prevented that return. We must endeavor to prevent that same fate from overtaking

the carlitt and ourselves. Part two. Horing back to the navigating room, I posted myself beside the cumbersome old-fashioned television instrument. Well, 472 was near enough now to occupy the entire field, with a range hand at maximum. One whole continent and parts of two others were visible. Not many details could be made out, though. I waited grimly while an hour, then two hours went by. My field narrowed down to one continent, then to a part of one continent. I glanced up at the surface temperature gauge and noted that the hand was registering a few degrees above normal. Corrie, who had relieved Kincaid as navigating officer, followed my gaze. "'Shall we reduce speed, sir?' he asked crisply.

To twice atmospheric speed, I nodded. When we enter the envelope proper, reduced to normal atmospheric speed, order your course upon entering the atmosphere proper, and work back and forth along the emerging twilight zone, from the north polar cap to the southern cap, and so on. Yes, sir, he replied, and repeated the orders to the control room forward. I pressed the attention signal of Deval's cubicle, and informed him that we were entering the outer atmosphere,

repringe. Thank you, sir, he said eagerly. I shall be with you immediately. In rapid succession, I called various officers and gave terse orders. Double crews on duty in the generator department. The ray projectors, the atomic bomb magazines, and the release tubes. Observers at all observation posts, operators at the two smaller television instruments to comb the terrain

and report instantly of out any object of interest. With the three of us searching, it seemed incredible that anything could escape us. At atmospheric altitudes, even the two smaller television instruments would be able to pick up a body the size of one of the missing ships. Deval entered the room as I finished giving my orders. A strange world, Deval, I commented, glancing towards the television instrument. Covered with trees, even the mountains, and what I presume to be volcanic peaks. They crowd right down to the edge of the water. He adjusted the focusing lever slightly, his face lighting up with the interest of a scientist

gazing at a strange specimen, whether it be a microbe or a new world. Strange, strange, he muttered. A universal vegetation, no variation of type from equator to polar cap, apparently. And the water, did you know his color, sir? Purple, why not? It varies on the different worlds, you know. I've seen pink, red, white, and black seas, as well as the green and blue of earth. And no small islands, he went on, as though he'd not even heard me.

Not in the visible portion at any rate. I was about to reply when I felt the peculiar surge of the car lid as she reduced speed. I glanced at the indicator, watching the hand drop slowly to atmospheric speed. "'Keep a close watch, Deval,' I ordered. "'We should change our course now to comb the country "'for traces of two ships we're seeking. "'If you see the least suspicious sign, "'let me know immediately.'

"'He nodded, and for a time there was only a tense silence in the room, "'broken at intervals by Corrie as he spoke briefly into his microphone, "'giving orders to the operating room. "'Perhaps an hour went by. "'I'm not sure. "'It seemed like a longer time than that, though. Then Deval called out in sudden excitement, his high, thin voice stabbing the silence. Here, sir, look. A little clearing, artificial, I judge. And the ships, both of them.

Stop the ship, Mr. Corrie. I snapped as I hurried to the instrument. Deval, take those reports. I gestured towards the two attention signals that were glowing and softly humming and thrust my head into the shelter of the television instrument's big hood. An old Deval had made no mistake. Directly beneath me, as I looked, was a clearing, a perfect square with rounded corners, obviously blasted out of the solid forest by the delicate manipulation of sharply focused disintegrator rays, and upon the naked, pitted surface thus exposed, side by side in orderly array, were the missing ships. I studied the strange scene with a heart that thumped excitedly against my ribs.

What should I do? Return a report? To send and investigate. There was no sign of life around the ships and no evidence of damage. If I brought the Khalid down, will she make a third to remain there to also be marked lost in space on the records of the service? And reluctantly I drew my head from beneath the shielding hood.

What were the two reports deval? I asked, and my voice was thick. The other two television observers. Yes, sir. They report that they cannot positively identify the ships with their instruments, but feel certain that they are the two that we seek. Very good. Tell them please to remain on watch, searching space in every direction, and to report instantly anything suspicious. Mr. Kari, we'll descend until this small clearing becomes visible through the port to the unaided eye.

I'll give you the corrections to bring us directly over the clearing. I read the finer scales of the television instrument to him. He rattled off the figures, calculated an instant, and gave his orders to the control room, while I kept the television instrument bearing upon the og clearing on the two motionless, deserted ships. As we settled, I can make out the insignia of the ships, could see the pitted, stained earth of the clearing, brown with the dust of disintegration. I could see the surrounding trees very distinctly now. They seem really similar to our weeping willows on earth, which I perhaps should explain,

since it's impossible for the average individual to have a comprehensive knowledge of the flora and fauna of the entire known universe, is a tree of considerable size, having long, hanging branches arching from its crown, and reaching nearly to the ground. These leaves, like typical willow leaves, were long and slender, and a rusty green colour. The trunks and branches seemed to be black or dark brown. and the trees grew so thickly that nowhere between their branches was the ground visible. Five thousand feet, sir, said Kari. Directly above the clearing.

Should we descend further? A thousand feet at a time, Mr. Kari, I replied, after a moment's hesitation. My orders are to exercise the utmost caution. Mr. DeValle, please make a complete analysis of the atmosphere. I believe you're familiar with the traps provided for the purpose. Yes, you propose. to land, sir? I proposed to determine the fate of those two ships and the men who brought them here, I said with sudden determination. Deval did not reply, but as he turned to obey orders,

I saw that his presentiment of trouble had not left him. Four thousand feet now, sir, said Corrie. I nodded, studying the scene below us. A great hooded instrument brought it within, apparently, fifty feet of my eyes, but the great detail revealed nothing of interest. The two ships lay motionless, huddled close together. The great circular door of each was open, as though open that same day, or maybe a century before. Three thousand feet, sir, said Corrie. Proceed at the same speed, I replied.

Whatever fate had overtaken the men of the other ships had caused them to disappear entirely, and without sign of a struggle. But what conceivable fate could that be? Two thousand feet, sir, said Corrie. Good, I say grimly. Continue with the descent, Mr. Corrie. Deval hurried into the room as I spoke. His face was still clouded with foreboding.

I have tested the atmosphere, sir, he reported. It is suitable for breathing by either men of earth or zinia. No trace of noxious. gases of any kind. It is probably rather rarefied, such as one might find on Earth or Xenia at high altitudes. One thousand feet, sir, said Corrie.

I hesitated for an instant. Undoubtedly, the atmosphere had been tested by the other ships before they landed. In the case of the second ship, but to any rate, those in command must have been on the alert against danger. And yet both of those ships lay there motionless, vacant. deserted. I could feel the eyes of the man on me. My decision must be delayed no further. We will land, Mr. Corrie, I said grimly, near the two ships, please.

Very well, sir, nodded Corrie, and spoke briefly into the microphone. I might warn you, sir, said Devald quietly, to govern your activities once outside, free from the gravity pads of the ship, on a body of such small size, an ordinary step will probably cause a leap of considerable distance. Yeah, thank you, Mr. Deval. That is a consideration I'd overlooked. I shall warn the man. We must be...

At that instant I felt the slight jar of landing. I glanced up. Met Corey's grave glance squarely. Grounded, sir, he said quietly. Very good, Mr. Carrey. Keep the ship ready for instant action, please, and call the landing crew to the forward exit. Will you accompany us, Mr. Deval?

Certainly, sir. Good. You understand your orders, Mr. Carrey. Yes, sir. I then returned his salute, and led the way out of the room. Deval close on my heels. The landing crew was composed of all men not at regular stations, nearly half of the Khalid's entire crew they were equipped with the small atomic power pistols

as sidearms and there were two three men disintegrator race squads we all wore minors which were unnecessary in the ship but decidedly useful outside oh i might add that the menor of those days was not the delicate beautiful thing that it is today it was comparatively crude and clumsy band of metal in which were embedded the vital units in the tiny atomic energy generator and was worn upon the head like a crown. But for all its clumsiness, it conveyed and received thought, and after all, that was all we demanded of it. I caught a confused jumble of questioning thoughts as I came up, and took command of the situation promptly. It will be understood, of course, that in those days men had not learned to blank their minds against the manure, as they do today. I took

generations of training to perfect that ability. Open the exit, I ordered Kincaid, who was standing by the switch, key in the lock. Yes, sir, he thought promptly, and unlocking the switch, release the lever. The great circular door revolved, backing slowly on its fine threads, gripped by the massive gimbals, which, at last, the ponderous plug of metal freed itself from its threads, swung the circular door aside, like the door of a vault. fresh clean air swept in and we breathed it gravely science can revitalize air take out impurities and replace used-up constituents but it cannot give the freshness of pure natural air even the science of today mr kinggate you'll stand by with five men under no circumstances are you to leave your post until ordered to do so no rescue parties under any circumstances are to be sent out unless you should be sent out unless you are to leave your post until ordered to do so no rescue parties under any circumstances are to be sent out unless you you have those orders directly from me.

Should any untoward thing happen to this party, you will instantly reseal this exit, reporting at the same time to Mr. Corrie, who has his orders. You will not attempt to rescue us, but will return to the base and report in full, with Mr. Corrie in command. Is that clear?

Certainly, came back his response instantly, but I could sense the rebellion in his mind. Kincaid and I were old friend as one of his fellow officers. I smiled at him reassuringly and directed my orders to the waiting man. You are aware of the fate of the two ships of the patrol that have already landed here. I thought slowly, to be sure they understood perfectly. What fate overtook them, I did not know. That's what we're here to determine.

Now, it's obvious that this is a dangerous mission. I'm not ordering any of you to go. Any man who wishes to be relieved from landing duty may remain inside the ship and without reproach. Those who do go should be constantly on the alert and keep information, the usual column of twos. Be very careful when stepping out of the ship to adjust your stride to the lessen gravity of this small world. Watch this point. And then turned to Deval, motioned him to fall in at my side. With at a backward glance we marched out of the ship, treading very carefully to keep from leaping into the air with each step.

Twenty feet away, I glanced back. there were fourteen men behind me not a single man of the landing crew had remained in the ship i am proud of you men i thought heartily and no emanation from any minor was ever more sincere cautiously eyes roving ceaselessly made our way towards the two silent ships it seemed a quiet peaceful world an unlikely place for tragedy the air was fresh and clean although as devourable ships it seemed a quiet peaceful world an unlikely place for tragedy the air was fresh and clean although as devour had predicted, rarefied like the air at an altitude. The willow-like trees that hemmed us in rustled gently, their long, frond-like branches with their rusty green leaves swaying. Do you notice, sir? Came a gentle thought from Deval, an emanation that could hardly have been perceptible to the men behind us.

There is no wind, and hid the trees, are swaying and rustling. I glanced around, startled. I hadn't noticed the absence of a breeze. I tried to make my response reassuring. There's probably a breeze higher up. It doesn't dip down into this little clearing, I ventured. At any rate, it's not important. These ships are what interests me.

What will we find there? We shall soon know, replied Deval. Here's the door loss, the second of the two, was it not? Yes. I came to a halt beside the gaping door There was no sound from within Evidence of life there

No sign that men had ever crossed that threshold Save that the whole fabric was the work of man's hands Mr Deval and I will investigate the ship With two of you men I directed The rest of the detail will remain on guard And give the alarm at the least sign of any danger You first two men follow us

The indicated man nodded in step forward forward. There, yes sirras, came surging through my menor like a single thought. Cautiously, with Deval at my side and the two men at our backs, we stepped over the high threshold into the interior of the door-law, part three. The eton tubes overhead made everything as light as day, and since the door-loss was a sister-ship of my own calliate, they had not the slightest difficulty in finding my way about. There was no sign of a disturbance anyway. Everything was in perfect order.

From the evidence, it would seem that the officers and men of the Dallos had deserted the ship of their own accord and failed to return. Well, nothing of value here, I commented to Deval. We might as well. There was a sunk commotion from outside the ship. Startled shouts rang through the hollow hole, and a confusion. fuse medley of excited thoughts came pouring in. With one accord, the four of us dashed to the exit, Deval and I in the lead.

At the door we paused, following the stricken gaze of the men grouped in a rigid knot just outside. Oh, some forty feet away was the edge of the forest that hemmed us in. A forest that was now lashing and writhing as though in the grip of some terrible hurricane, trunks bending and whipping, long branches writhing, curling, lushing out. To the men, sir, shouted a non-commissioned officer of the landing crew, as we appeared in the doorway. In his excitement, you forgot his menor, and resulted to the infinitely slower but more natural speech.

Some sort of insect came buzzing down, like an earth-bee but larger. One of the men slapped it and jumped aside, forgetting the low gravity here. Well, he shut into the air, and another of the men made a grab for him. They both went sailing into the trees. Look! But I'd already spotted the two men. The trees had them in their grip. Long tentacles curled around them.

A dozen of the great willow-like growth apparently fighting for possession of the prizes. And all around, far out of reach, the trees of the forest were swaying restlessly, their long, pendulous branches like tentacles, lashing out hungrily. "'The race, sir,' snapped the thought from Deval, like a flash of lightning. "'Concentrate the beams. Strike at the trunks.'

"'Right.' "'My orders emanated on the heels of the thought more quickly than one word could have been uttered. The six men who operated the disintegrator race were stung out of their startled immobility, and the soft hum of the automatic power generators deepened. Strike of the trunks of the trees. beams narrowed to a minimum, action at will. The invisible rays swept long gashes into the forest as the trainer squatted behind their sights, directing their long, gleaming tubes.

Branches crashed to the ground, suddenly motionless, thick brown dust dropped heavily. A trunk, shortened by six inches or so, dropped into its stub and fell with a prolonged sound of rending wood. The trees against which it had fallen tugged, angrily at their trapped tentacles. One of the men rolled free, staggered to his feet and came lurching toward us. Trunk after trunk dropped onto its severed stub and fell among the lashing branches of its fellows. The other man was caught for a moment in a mass of dead and motionless

wood, where cunningly directed Ray dissolved the entangling branches around him, and he lay there, free but unable to arise. The rays played on ruthlessly. the brown heavy powder was falling like greasy soot trunk after trunk crashed to the ground slashed into fragments right cease action i ordered and instantly the eager whine of the generators softened to a barely discernible hum two of the men under orders raced out to the injured man while the rest of us clustered around the first of the two to be freed from the terrible tentacles of the trees his menorah was gone his tight-fitting uniform was in shreds and blotched with blood. There was a huge crimson world across his face, and blood drips slowly from the tips of his fingers. God, he muttered unsteadily, as kindly arms lifted him with eager tenderness. They're alive like snakes, and they're hungry. Take him to the ship, I ordered. He used to receive treatment immediately. I turned to the detail that was bringing in the other victim. The man was unconscious and moaning, but suffering more from shock than anything

else. A few minutes under the Helio emanations and he be fit for light duty. As the men hurried him to the ship, I turned to Deval. He was standing beside me, rigid, his face very pale, and his eyes fixed on space. What do you make of it, Mr. Deval? I questioned him. After trees? He seemed startled, as though I aroused him from deepest thought. They are not difficult to comprehend her. There are numerous growths that are primarily carnivorous. We have the fintill vine on zina, which coils instantly when touched and thus traps many small animals which it wraps about with its folds and digest through succor-like growths. On your own earth there are, we learn hundreds of varieties of insectivorous plants, the Venus flytrap, known otherwise as Dionia musculpula, which has a leaf hinged in the

median line with teeth-like bristles. The two sections of the leaf snapped together with considerable force when an insect alights upon the surface, and the soft portions of the catch are digested by the plant before the leaves open again. The pitcher plant is another native of Earth, and several varieties of it are found on Xenia, and at least two other planets. It traps its game without movement, but is nevertheless insectivorous. You have another species on Earth that is, or was very common the mimosa pudica perhaps you know it as the sensitive plant doesn't trap insects but it has a very distinct power of movement and is extremely irritable so it's not at all difficult to understand a carnivorous tree capable of violent and powerful motion this is undoubtedly what we have here a decidedly interesting

phenomena but not difficult to comprehend well it seems like a long explanation as I recorded here, but emanated as it was, it took by an instant to complete it. Mr. Deval went on without a pause. I believe, however, that I have discovered something far more important. How is your menorah adjusted, sir? With minimum. Turn it to maximum, sir. I glanced at him curiously, but obeyed. The new streams of thought poured in upon me. Kincaid. The ginkade. The guard at the exit and, well, something else. I blanked out Kincaid and the man, feeling DeVar's eyes searching my face.

There was something else, something. I focused on the dim, vague aminations that came to me from the circlet of my menor, and gradually, like an object seen through heavy mist, I perceived the message. Wait, wait, we're coming through the ground, the trees disintegrate them all of them all you can reach but not the ground not the ground Peter I shouted turning to Deval that's Peter Wilson second officer of the

Doros Dvall nodded his dark face alight let's see if we can answer him he suggested and we concentrated all of our energy on a single thought we understand we understand. Well, the answer came back instantly. Thank God. Sweep them down, Hansen. Every tree. Kill them.

Kill all of them. Kill them. The emanation fairly shook with hate. We're coming to the clearing. Wait, and while you wait, use your rays upon those accursed, hungry trees. Grimly and silently, we hurried back to the ship. Deval, the savant. snatching up specimens of earth and rock here and there as he went.

The disintegrator rays of the portable projectors were no more than toys compared with the mighty beams that Carlydard was capable of projecting, with her great generators to supply power. Even with the beams narrow to the minimum, they cut a swath a yard or more in diameter, and their range was tremendous. Although working rather less rapidly as the distance and power decreased,

they were effective over a range of measurements. many miles. From there blasting beams the forest shriveled and sank into tumble chaos. The haze of brownish dust hung low over the scene, and I watched with a sort of awe. It was the first time I'd ever seen the rays at work on such wholesale destruction. The startling thing became evidence soon after we began our work. This world which we had thought to be void of animal life proved to be teeming with it. from out of the tangle of broken and harmless branches, thousands of animals appeared.

The majority of them were quite large, perhaps the size of full-grown hogs, which earth animal they seemed to resemble, save that they were a dirty yellow colour and had strong, heavily glawed feet. These were the largest of the animals, but there were myriads of smaller ones, all of them pale or neutral in colour,

and apparently unused to such strong light, for they ran blindly, while they seeking shelter from the universal confusion. Still, the destructive beams kept about their work, until the scene had changed utterly. Instead of resting in the clearing, the collage was now in the midst of a tangle of fallen, wilting branches that stretched like a great still sea as far as the eye could see.

Cease action, I ordered suddenly. I'd seen all thought I'd seen, a human figure moving in the tangle not far from the edge of the clearing. Corrie relayed the order and instantly the rays were cut off. My menor, free from the interference of the great atomic generators of the Khalid, emanated the moment the generators ceased functioning. Enough, answer. Cut the rays. We're coming. We've ceased action. Come on now.

I hurried to the still open exit. Kincaid and his guards were staring at what had been in the forest. They were so intent that they didn't notice I'd jogging. join them, and no wonder. A file of men were scrambling over the debris, gaunt men with dishevelled hair, practically naked, covered with dirt and the greasy brown dust of the disintegrator ray. In the lead, hardly recognisable, his menorah, awry upon his tangled locks, was Peter Wilson. "'Wilson!' I shouted.

And in a single great leap I was at his side, shaking his hand, one arm about his scarred shoulders, laughing and talking excitedly, all in the same breath. Wilson tell me, in God's name, what has happened? He looked up at me with shining happy eyes, deep in black sockets of hunger and suffering. The part that counts, he said hoarsely, is that you're here, and we're here with you. My man need rest and food.

Not too much food at first, but we are starving. I'll give you the story of as much of it as I know. while we eat I sent my orders ahead for every man of that pitiful crew of survivors there were two eager men of the Carlyde's crew to minister to them in the little dining salon of the office's mess Wilson gave us a story while he ate slowly and carefully keeping his ravenous hunger in check that's a weird sort of story he said I'll cut it as short as I can I'm too weary for details now the door lost as I said suppose you know, was ordered to L-472 to determine the fate of the phyllis, which had been sent

here to determine the feasibility of establishing a supply place here for a new interplanetary ship line. It took us nearly three days, Rethtime, to locate this clearing and the philinous, and we grounded the door loss immediately. Our commander, you probably know him Hansen, David McClellan, big red-faced chap. Why not it? And Wilson continued. Oh, Commander McClellan was a caloric person, as courageous a man has ever wore the blue and silver of the service, and very thoughtful of his men. We had a bad trip. Two swarms of meteorites had worn our nerves thin, and a faulty part in the air purifying apparatus had nearly done us in. While the exit was being unsealed, he gave the interior crew permission to go off duty, get some fresh air,

with orders, however, to remain close to the ship, under my command. Then, with the use of the usual landing crew, he started for the filament. He forgotten under the stress of the moment that the force of gravity would be very small on a body no larger than this. The result was that as soon as they hurried out of the ship, away from the influence of our own gravity pads, they hurled into the air at all directions. Wilson paused, and several seconds passed before he could go on. Well, the trees, I suppose you know, summit about them, reached out and swept up three of them.

Oh, McClellan, and the rest of the landing crew rushed to their rescue. They were caught up, man. Oh, God, I can see them, I can hear them even now. I couldn't stand there and see that happen to them. With the rest of the crew behind me, we rushed out, armed with only our atomic pistols. We didn't dare use the rays. A dozen men caught up everywhere in those hellish tentacles. I don't know what I thought we could do.

I knew only that I must do something. Our leaps carried us over the tops of the trees that were fighting for the, for the bodies of McClellan and the rest of the lining crew. I saw then, when it was too late, there was nothing we could do. The trees had done their work. They, um, they were feeding. Perhaps that's why we escaped. We came down in a tangle of whipping branches, several of my men were snatched up. The rest of us saw how helpless our position was, and there was nothing we could do.

We saw, too, that the ground was literally honeycombed, so we dove down these burrows, out of the reach of the trees. There were 19 of us that escaped. I can't tell you how we lived, and I wouldn't if I could. The burrows had been dug by the pig-like animals that the trees live upon, and they led eventually to the shore where there was water. got horrible bitter stuff, but not salty and apparently not poisonous. We lived on these pig-like animals, and we learned something of their way of life. The trees seemed to sleep or at least become inactive at night. Unless their touch do they lash out with their tentacles.

But night the animals feed, largely upon the large, soft fruit of these trees. Of course, large numbers of them make a fatal step each night, but they are prolific, and their ranks don't take. suffer. Well, of course, we tried to get back to the clearing and the door loss. First by tunneling, well, that was impossible we found, because the rays used by the filinous in clearing a landing place had acted somewhat upon the earth beneath. It had turned to powder. Our burrows fell in upon us fast and then we could dig them out. Two of a man lost their lives that way. Then we tried creeping back by night, but we couldn't see as can the other animals here. And we quickly found

out it was suicide to attempt such tactics. Two more of the men were lost in that fashion, and that left 14 of us. We decided then to wait. We knew there'd be another ship along sooner or later. Luckily one of the men had somehow retained his menor, and we treasured that as we treasured our lives. Today when deep in our runways beneath the surface we felt or hurt the crashing of the trees, we knew the service had not forgotten us. So I put on our run. the menor I think you know the rest now gentlemen there were 11 of us left here we are on this left at the door lost group we found no trace of any survivor of the philinas unaware of the possibility of danger they were undoubtedly all victims of the trees wilson's head dropped forward

on his chest he straightened up with a start and an apologetic smile i believe hansom he said slowly I'd barely get a little rest and he slumped forward on the table in the death-like sleep of utter exhaustion and there the interesting part of the story ends the rest is history

and there's too much dry history in the universe already DeVar wrote three great volumes on L472 or ibit as it's called now one of them tells in detail how the presence of constantly increasingly increasing quantities of volcanic ash robbed the soil of that little world of its vitality, so that all forms of vegetation except the one became extinct,

and how through a process of development and evolution those trees became carnivorous. The second volume is a learned discussion of the tree itself. It seems that a few specimens were spared for study, isolated on a peninsula on one of the continents, and turned over to devolve for observation and dissection. All I can say for the book is that it's probably accurate. Certainly it's neither interesting nor comprehensible. And then, of course, there is his treatise on Ocrite.

How he happened to find the Oar, the probable amount available on L472, or Ibit, if you prefer, and an explanation of his new method of refining it. I saw him frantically gathering specimens when we were getting ready to leave, but it wasn't until after we'd departed that he mentioned what he'd found. I have a set of these volumes somewhere. Deval autographed them and presented me with them. They established his position, I understand,

in this world of science, and of course the discovery of this new source of Okrecht was a tremendous find for the whole universe. Interplanetary transportation wouldn't be where it is today if it weren't for this inexhaustible source of power. And yes, Deval became famous and very rich. I received the handshakes and the gratitude of the eleven men we rescued, and exactly nine words of commendation from the chief of my squadron.

You are a credit to the service, Commander Hanson. Well, perhaps, to some who read this, it will seem that Devalve fared better than I. But to men who have known the comradeship of the outer space, the heartfelt gratitude of eleven friends is a precious thing. And to any man who has ever worn the blue and silver uniform of the special patrol service, Those nine words from the chief of squadron will sound strong. Chiefs of squadrons in the Special Patrol Service, at least in those days,

gave scant praise. But it might be different in these days of soft living and political pull. The earthman's burden. Denny O'Lear was plain blackjack when the colonel's orderly found him. He hastily buttoned his tunic, and in a few minutes, alert and very military, was standing at attention in the little office

on the ground floor of the Denver IFP barracks. His swanky blue uniform fitted without a wrinkle. His little round skull cap was perched at the regulation angle. O'Leer, said the colonel, they're having a little trouble

at the blue river station, Mercury. Trouble? Oh! O'Lear said placidly. The colonel looked him over. He saw a man past his first youth, 35, possibly 40. O'Leer was well knit, sadly haired not over five feet six inches in height. His hair was close cropped, his features flammatic, his eyes are light blue with thick, short, light-coloured lashes. His teeth excellent.

The scar, dead white on a brown cheekbone, was a reminder of an encounter with one of the numerous Sorians of Venus. I'm sending you, explained the colonel, because you're more experienced and not like some of these kids, always spoiling for a fight. There's something strange about this affair. Moronis, factor of the Blue River Post, reports that his assistant has disappeared, vanished, simply gone. But only three months ago, the former factor, Ramonus was his assistant, disappeared too. No hide nor hair of him. Moron is reported to the company the Mercurian trading concession, and they call me. Something they think is definitely rotten.

Yes, sir. I guess I needn't tell you, the colonel went on, that you have to use tact. People don't seem to appreciate the false. What with the lousy politicians begrudging every cent we get And a bunch of suspicious foreign powers Afraid we'll get too good Yeah, I know Tacked, that's my motto

No rough stuff He saluted, turned on his heel Just a minute The colonel had arisen He was a fine, ascetic type of man He held out his hand Goodbye, Oliya, watch yourself When O'Lear had taken his matter-of-fact departure, the Colonel ran his fingers through his widening hair.

In the past several months he had sent five of his best men on dangerous missions, missions requiring tact, courage, and so it seemed very much luck. And only two of the five had come back. In those days, the interplanetary flying police did not enjoy the tremendous prestige it does now. The mere presence of a member of the force is enough, these humdrum days of interplanetary law and order, to quell the most serious disturbance anywhere in the solar system. But it was not always thus. This astounding prestige had to be earned with blood and courage,

in many a desperate and lonely battle. It had to be snatched from the dripping jaws of death. O'Leay checked over his flying ovoid, got his bearings from the port astronomer, set his coordinate navigator, and shoved off. Two weeks later, he plunged into the thick, misty atmosphere on the dark side of Mercury. Ancient astronomers had long suspected that Mercury always presented the same side to the sun, though they were ignorant that the little planet had water and air.

Its sunward side is a dreary, sterile, hot and hostile desert. Its dark side is warm and humid, and resembles to some extent the better-known jungles and swamps of Venus. But it has a favourite bird. some hundreds of miles wide around its equator, where the enormous sun stays perpetually in one spot on the horizon. Sunward is the blinding glare of the desert. On the dark side, enormous banks of lowering clouds.

On the dark margin of this belt are the ringstorms, violent thunderstorms that never cease. They are the source of the mighty rivers which irrigate the tropical habitable belt and plunge out, boiling far into the desert. O'Lear's little ship passed through the ringstorms, and he didn't take over the controls until he recognised the familiar mark of the trading company, a blue comet on the aluminum roof of one of the larger buildings. Visibility was good that day, but despite the unusual clarity of the atmosphere, there was a suggestion of the sinister about the lifeless scene,

the vast, irresistible river, the riotously coloured jungle roof. The vastness of nature dwarfed man's puny work. One horizon flashed incessantly with livid lightning, the other was one blinding blaze of the nearby sun, and almost lost below in the savage landscape was man's symbol of possession, a few metal sheds in a clear, fenced space of a few acres. O'Lea cautiously checked speed, skimmed over the turbid surface of the Great River and set her down on the ground within the compound. With his pencil-like ray tube in his hand, he stepped out of the hatchway. A Mercurian native came out of the residence, his hands together in the peace sign. For the benefit of earth-lubbers whose only knowledge of mercury is derived from the

teleview screen, it should be explained that Mercurians are not human, even if they do slightly resemble us. They hatch from eggs, pass one life phase as frog-like creatures in their rivers and in the adult stage turn more human in appearance but their skin remains green and fish belly white there's no hair on their warty heads their eyes have no lids and have a particular dead staring look when they sleep and they carry a peculiar fishy odor with them at all times this mercurian looked at O'Lear seemingly without interest whereas moronous the officer inquired "'Maronis,' the native piped in English. "'Inside, he's busy.

"'All right, I'm coming in.' "'He's busy.' "'Yeah, move over.' Though the native was a good six inches taller than O'Leer, he stepped aside when the officer pushed him. Men and Mercurians had a way of doing that when they looked into those colourless eyes. They were not as flammatic as the face. Moronis was sitting in his office.

Well, I'm here, O'Lear announced, helping himself to a chair. Yes, he said, sourly. Who invited you? O'Lear looked at the factor levelly, appraising him, a big fat man, but the fat was well distributed. Saturnine face, dark hair, dark and bristly beards. The kind that thrived where other men became weak and fever-ridden. Also, to, judge by his present appearance, an unpleasant companion and a nasty enemy. Well, I don't see what difference it makes to you.

O'Leer answered in his own good time, but the company invited me. Ah, they would, Maronis growled. His eyes flickered to the door, and, quick as a cat, O'Lear leapt to one side, his ray pencil in his hand. Well, Moronis hadn't moved. In the door stood the native, motionless and without expression. Moronis laughed nastily. Kind of jump, eh? What is it, Nargill?

Nargill burst into a burbling succession of native phrases, which O'Lear had some difficulty following. But Nagil wants you to move your ship into one of the sheds, but the activator key is gone. Yeah, I know, O'Lear assented. casually. I've got it. Leave the ship until I get ready, and I'll put it away. Get out, Nargil. The native hesitated. Then on the lift of Maroni's eyebrows, he departed. Oliya shifted a chair so that he could watch both Maronis in the door. He reopened the conversation easily.

Well, um, we understand each other. You don't want me here, and I'm here. I'm here. So what are you going to do about it? Moronez flushed. He struggled to keep his temper down. What do you want to know? What happened to the factor who was here before you? I don't know. The translucent wasn't coming in like it should.

Samis went out into the jungle for a palava with the chiefs to find out why and he didn't come back. You didn't find out where he went. I just told you, Morone said impatiently. He went out to see the native chiefs. Alone. Of course alone. There were only two of us earthmen here.

I couldn't abandon this post of the Wally's, could we? Not that it'd make much difference. Well, except for Nogiel, none will come near. And, um, you never heard of him again. No, damn it, no! Say, didn't they have any dumber strappers around than you? I told you once. I'll tell you again, I never saw hide nor hair of him after that.

All right, all right. Oler regarded Moronis placidly. So you took the job of Factor and radioed for an assistant, and when the assistant came, he disappeared too. Moronis grunted. He went out to get acquainted with the country and didn't come back. Oler masked his close scrutiny of the factor under his idle and expressionless gaze. He wasn't ready to jump to the conclusion that Moronis' uneasiness sprang from a sense of guilt.

Guilty or not, he had a right to feel uneasy. The man would be dense indeed if he didn't realize he was in line for suspicion, and he didn't look dense. Indeed, he was obviously a shrewd character. Let me see you, Lucy. Moronis rose. Despite his bulk, he stepped nimbly. He had the nimbleness of a feeling. a Saturnian bear, which is great as some of the earlier explorers learned to their dismay.

That's the first sensible question you've asked, Maronis snorted. Take a look at our loose scene. Have a good look. He led the way across the compound, waved his hand before the door of a strongly built shed in a swift, definite combination, and the door opened, revealing the interior. He waved him in, invitingly. "'Well, you go first,' O'Lea said. With a sneer, Maroni stepped in. "'Ah, you're safe, boy, you're safe.'

O'Lea looked at the small pile on the floor in astonishment. Instead of the beautiful, semi-transparent chips of translucine, the dried sap of a mercurian tree which is invaluable to the world as the source of an unfailing cancer cure, well, there were only a few, dirty, dried-up shape. savings, hardly worth shipping back to Earth for refining. The full significance of the affair began to dawn on the officer. The translucent trees grew only in this favoured section of mercury,

and the Earth Company had a monopoly on the entire supply. Justly, for only Earth was cancer known, and it was on the increase. That small, almost useless pile on the floor connoted a terrible drug famine for the human race. Maronis's smile might have been a grin of satisfaction At O'Lea's question Is that all you've brought since the last raider was here? It is, he replied.

The last lord went off six months ago, and this here shed should be full to the eaves. They'll be hell to pay. Well, it may not be tactful, O'Lear amount, but if you've got your takings cashed away somewhere to hold up the earth for a big ransom, You better come across right now. You can't get away with that fellow.

You should have close to six million dollars worth of it. You can't get away. You just can't. But this, Moronis controlled his anger with some effort. Like any dumb strapper, you've made your mind up, ain't you? Oh, go ahead. Get something on me. Here I was almost set to give you a lead that might get you somewhere.

And you're coming off. trying to make out I stole the Lucene and killed those two fellas, eh? Go ahead. Get something on me. But not on company grounds, no, you're leaving now. And with that, he made a lunge at the officer, quite beside himself with rage. O'Leer could have burnt him down, but he was far to experience for such an amateurish trick. Instead, he ducked the evade Moronis' blow. But the big man was as agile as a panther.

In mid-air, so it seemed, he changed his direction of attack. The big fist swept downward, striking O'Lea's head, a glancing blow. But the men of the force have always been fighters, whatever their shortcomings as diplomats. O'Lea countered with a strong right of the body, thudding solidly, for Moronis' softness did not go far below the surface. The fact of whirled instantly, but not quite fast enough to bar the door. O'Lear was out and inside his ship in a few seconds, slamming the hatch. Attacked, he grinned to himself, inserting the activator key. Attacked is what a fellow needs.

The little spaceflyer shot aloft until the tiny figure of the factor stopped shaking its fist and entered the residence. The post had a flyer of its own, of course, but Moronis was too wise to use it in pursuit. O'Lear considered what was best to do. Of course, he could have placed Moronis under arrest. Still could. But that wouldn't solve the mystery of the two deaths and the missing Lucene. If the choleric factor was really guilty of the crimes, it'd be better to let him go his way in the hope that he'd betray himself.

O'Lear regretted that he'd not kept his tongue under closer curb. But there was no use regretting. perhaps after all he ought to turn back to pump moronis for some helpful information his mind made up he descended again until he was hovering a few feet from the ground moronis he called moronus he held the hatch open maronis came to the door of the residence he had a tube in his hand a long-range weapon moronis "'Only I had declared pompously, "'I'd place you under arrest.' "'Well, the effect was instantaneous. "'Mirones lifted the tube

"'and a glimmering, iridescent beam sprang out. "'The ship was up and away in a second, "'lurching and shivering uncomfortably "'every time the beam struck it in its upward flight. "'A good few seconds continued impingement, "'but a miss is as good as a light year. "'Miles high, O'Lea looked into his tell ends.

Moronis had laid aside his tube and was working with an instrument like a twin transit, plotting the ship's course naturally. O'Lea said his course for the earth, and kept on it for a good twenty-four hours. Mironis, if he was still watching him, would think he'd gone back for reinforcements. Of course, such an assumption would be incredible now, that was before the IFP had achieved its present tremendous reputation. Beyond observation range, O'Lear curved back toward Mercury again, and was almost inside its atmosphere when he made a discovery that caused him to lose for a moment his natural indifference,

and to clamp his jaws in anger. The current oxygen tank had become empty, and when he removed it from the rack and put in a new one, he found that someone had let out all of his essential gas. The valve of every one of his spare tanks had been opened. Had O'Lear actually continued on his way to Earth, he would have perished miserably of suffocation long before he could have returned to the Macquariean atmosphere. The officer whistled tunelessly through his teeth, as he considered this fact.

The visibility was by this time normal, well, that is, so poor it would not have been possible to land very close to the trading station. When O'Lear was taking no chances, it came down a good three earth miles away. The egg-shaped hull sank through the glossy, brilliant treetops, through twisted vines, and was buried in the dank gloom of the jungle. Here it might remain hidden for a hundred years. The twilight of the jungle was almost darkness. There were no landmarks, but Alir made a few small inconspicuous marks on the trees with his knife

until he came to an outcropping of rock. He'd noticed the scar-like white of its slashing through the jungle, from the air, and used it as a guide to direct his stealthy return to the trading post. His bell chronometer told him it would be about time for Moronis to get up from his night's sleep. A little discreet observation might tell much. Long before he reached the compound, O'Lear heard the rushing of the Great Blue River in its headlong plunge to the corrosive heat of the desert. And then, through the mists, he glimpsed the white metal walls of the company's

sheds. He climbed a tree and for a long time watched patiently, lying prone on a limb. Blood-sucking insects tortured him, and flat tree lice resembling discs with legs crawled over him inquisitively. O'Leer tolerated them with stoic indifference until at last his patience was rewarded. Morones was coming out of the compound. He was alone and obviously did not suspect that he was being watched, but he stepped out briskly. Once in the jungle he walked even faster, watching out warily for the panther-like carnivora that were the most dangerous to man on Mercury.

O'Lear shined to the ground and followed cautiously. Moronis had his raid tube with him, as any traveller in these jungles should. O'Leer could and did draw fast, but a dead trader would be valueless to him in this investigation. So he stought him with four. every faculty strained to maintain complete silence. Often in occasional clearings where the brown darkness grew less,

he had to grovel on the slimy ground, picking up large bacteria that could be seen with a naked eye, and which left tiny, festering red marks on his skin. The trader seemed to be heading for the higher ground, for the path led ever upward, though not far from the tossing waters of the river. And then, suddenly, he disappointed. appeared. O'Lear didn't immediately hurry after him. A canny fugitive, catching sight of his pursuer, might suddenly drop to the ground and squirm to the side of the trail, there to wait and catch his

pursuer as he passed. So O'Lear sideled into the all but impenetrable underbrush and slowly, with infinite caution, wormed his way along. Presently he came to the little rise of ground where Moronis had disappeared. But a painstaking search did not reveal the factor. There were, however, a number of other trails that joined the very faint trail that he'd been following, and now there was a well-defined track which continued to lead upward. With a grimace of disgust, O'Lea again plunged into the odorous underbrush, and travelled parallel to the trail.

That was well he did so, for several Mercurians passed swiftly, intense so it seemed, it answering to a shrill call that at times came faintly to the ear. They carried slender spears. Several more Mercurians passed. The growth was thinning out, and O'Lear did not dare to proceed further. However, from his hiding-place he could discern a number of irregular cave openings, apparently leading downward. They were apparently the entrances to one of the native cavern colonies, or perhaps, a meeting-place. No earthman had ever entered one, but it was thought that they had underground openings into the river.

As the cape openings were obviously natural, O'Leer conjected that there might be others that were not used. After an anxious search he found one, narrow and irregular, well hidden under the broad glossy leaves of some uncatalogued vegetation. As it showed no evidence of use, O'Lear unhesitatingly slid down into it. It was very narrow and irregular, so that often he was barely able to squeeze through. The roots of trees choked the passage for a dozen feet or so, requiring the vigorous use of a knife. Bathe in sweat his uniform a filthy mass of rags. O'Leer at last saw light. The passage ended abruptly near the roof of a large natural cavern.

Lights glistened on stalactites which cut off O'Lear's larger view, and voices came from below. By craning his neck, the officer could look between the pendant icicles of rock and see a fire burning on a huge oblong block of stone. Figures were sitting on the floor around this block, hundreds of mercurians. The leaping flames made their white and green faces

and bodies look frog-like and less human than usual. But the figure that dominated the whole assemblage, both by its own hugeness and the magnetic power, power that flowed from it was not of mercury but of Pluto. Ah, for the benefit of those who have never seen a stuffed plutonian in our museums, and they are very rare, let me refer you to the pious book still to be found in ancient library collections. The ancients personified their fears and hates in a being they called the devil. The resemblance between the devil of their imagination and a plutonian is really a stemmed.

sounding, horns, hooves, tail, almost to the smallest detail, the resemblance is clearly there. Our philosophers have written books on the coincidence in appearance of the ancient devil and the modern decadent plutonians. The plutonians were once numerous and far advanced in science, and no doubt they called on the earth many times in prehistoric days, and the so-called devil was a true picture of those vicious invaders. who were somewhat less human than usually portrayed. What was once classed as superstition was therefore a true racial memory. Long before our ancestors came out of their caves to build houses, plutonians had mastered interplanetary travel,

only to forget the secret until human ingenuity should reveal it once more. The modern plutonian in that dank cave was over ten feet tall, and it's easy to see why he dominated the assemblage. His black visage was set in an evil smile His ebony body glistened in the firelight He held a three-pronged spear in one hand And sat on a pile of rocks A sort of rough throne

So that he towered magnificently above all others He spoke the Macurian language Although the liquid intonations came harshly from his sneering lips Ah, he assembled frogfolk That ye may hear the decision of your thoughts thinking once, he asked. A respectful, peeping chorus signified assent. But in that there was a hint of unrest, even of fear.

Speak, ye thinking one, your commands. Hear me first. An old Macurian, unusually tall, faded and dry-looking. His thick hide wrinkled like crushed leather, rose slowly to his feet and stepped before the oblong stone. His back was to the plutonial. is faced to the crescent of chiefs. Ah, the wise one!

A twittering murmur went around the assemblage. Here the old wise one. My people, I like this not, began the ancient. The lords of the green star have dealt with us fairly. Each phase they have brought us the things we wanted. He touched his spear and a few gaudy ornaments on his otherwise naked body. in exchange for the worthless white sap of our trees. If we longer offend the Lords of the Green Star,

a raucous laugh interrupted the Maccurian's feeble voice, and it echoed eerily from the walls of the chamber. Valueless, you call the white sap, Snit the Plutonian. You hear me. That sap you call valueless is dearer than life itself to the Lords of the Green Star. For they are afflicted in great numbers with a stinking death they call cancer.

It destroys their vitals and nothing, nothing in this broad universe can help save them. Save this white sap that you give them. In your hands you have the power to bring the proud lords of the green star to their knees. They would fill this chamber many times with the most priceless treasures for the sap you give them so freely. With all the sap, your thinking ones may go to the same. the green star itself to rule over its lords. They are desperate. Their emissaries may even now be on the way to beg your pleasure. Speak, thinking ones. Would you not rule the green star? But the chiefs failed to become enthused. One of them rose in the dress, the plutonium. Oh, Lord of the outer

orbit, for near one full phase have you dwelt among us, and well, should you know we have no desire for conquest we fear to go to the green star to rule then let me rule for you exclaimed the plutonian instantly my brothers will abide with you as your guests shall see that you receive a fair reward for the white sap and i will convey your commands to the lords of the green star to this the old wise one raised his withered hands so the uncertain twittering of voices which follow the plutonian and suggestion subsided. "'I, children,' "'pipe with a feeble old voice. "'The black lord has spoken, cunning words, "'but they are false.

"'It's plain to see he desires to rule the Green Star, "'and our welfare does not concern him. "'If so, it be that the White Sap is of great value "'to the Lords of the Green Star, "'it is still of no value to us. "'And if the gifts they bring us "'are of no value to them, "'they are dear,

to us. The Plutonian sneered at this. Dearer than the paste of strange dreams. The startled hush fell among the assembled Macquarians. They look guiltily at one another, avoiding the eyes for the old wise one. What is this? he shrilled, turning furiously to the plutonian. Have you brought the paste of evil to Aribode, knowing well the strict prescription of our tribe? fool, your death is now upon you.

While the plutonian only grinned and spread his glistening, black hands in a careless gesture. High overhead, peering through the stalactites, O'Leia instantly understood the plutonian's strange power, the paste of strange dreams, a fearsome narcotic of that far-swinging dark planet. More insidious and devastating than any drug ever produced on Earth, it had wrought frighten. full havoc among many solar races. The Earth man had opened the lanes, broken the age or barriers of distance, so that the harpies of evil could traffic their poison from planet to planet. So the paste of strange dreams was added to the Earthman's burden.

Seize him! The evil one! shrieked the old chief, but the Macurian sat solemn and silent, and the Plutonian sneered. finally one of the chiefs arose and with an effort faced the old wise one and said the strange dreams are dearer to us than all else do as he says the piping voices rose in eager acclamation

but the old wise one held up his claws waiting until silence returned wait wait before you commit this folly hear the green star man many times as he demanded demanded audience had him come in it's not permitted demurred one of the chiefs he permitted this being of evil to enter let him enter also he is in the outer chambers now one of

the guards spoke his face is like the center of a ringstorm let him enter and so Moronis strode into the room angrily blinded by the fire after the darkness of the antechambers. He didn't at first see the plutonium. He strode up to the ancient chief and glared at him. Does the old wise one learn wisdom at last? He rasped. The ancient shrank away from him, as did the nearer of the lesser chiefs. The old wise one thinks less of his wisdom, he replied wearily. Behold! He pointed to the enthroned plutonian. Moronis started. His hand flashed to his side and came away empty. Deaf fingers had extracted his ray tube.

But he was a man of courage, and never could he be said to his shame that an earthman cringed in the sight of lesser races. So, it's you, my friend. He snarled in English. The plutonian, accomplished lingrish, replied. As you see, you don't look very happy, Mr. Moronis. Moronis regarded him impassively, his eyes frosty. That explains everything, he said at last with cold deliberation.

First Samis, then Boyd. Gonna finish me next, I suppose. The plutonian twisted the end of an eyebrow and smiled. Interested in them? What do with their bodies? The plutonian jerked his thumb carelessly. Ah, the river you call the brood. blue is swift and deep, but before you follow them, there is certain information I wish to

care from you. Where is the soldier who came to visit you? A crafty light came into Maronis's face. Oh, he's not far from here, and waiting for me. O'Lea, in his cramped hiding-place, could not help feeling a warm glow of admiration for Marones' nerve, because Maronis thought his... him well on his way to earth. Nagil,

what did your master do with the visitor? Drove him back to the green star. Nagil said promptly. And the oxygen shanks, did you empty them? I let them hiss. Nagil's grin was sharkish.

News to you, hey, Moronis. Your officer's corpse has probably dropped into the sun by this time. "'Tell me, why did you drive him off?' Marona sagged perceptibly. "'To gain a little more time,' he said truthfully. "'And you, I should be blamed and ruined for life. "'I didn't know you were here, damn you.

"'I hoped to get this mess with the natives straighten up "'before he'd come back with reinforcements.' "'Yes, well, you owe some months of life already. "'Your presence here has been more or less embarrassing. But I had to let you live, or I'd have the whole IFP here to investigate. Now that you've failed in keeping them from getting interested, you may do me one more service. The black giant then grinned.

I often wondered at the Earthmen's prestige all over the solar system. Even tonight, soft and helpless as you are, these natives fear you. You will therefore be an object lesson in the helplessness of earthen. earth man. Moronus was pale but courageous. With contempt in every line of him he watched some of the less frightened chiefs at the command of the plutonian push aside some of the blazing blocks of fungus on the stone to make room for his body. At last he raised his hand. Frog folk, he cried. If you do this thing, the laws of the green star will come. They'll come with fires hotter than the sun, and they'll

You'll blast your rivers with a power greater than the thunder of the ringstorms. I'll fill your caves with a purple smoke that turns your bones to water. Shrill cries of fear almost drowned out his words. All the Macquarians had seen evidence of the dreadful power of the earthmen. They began milling around and then stood rooted by the roar of the plutonians' voice. Lies, oh lies, he bellowed. See, they are weak as egglets. he stepped down picked moronis up by one shoulder and held him dangling high over the heads of all moronis clawed and tore at the brawny arm but he made a ludicrous picture soon the simple natives made a sniffling sound of mirth and the plutonian satisfied at last set him down again he tells the truth the old wise one climbed to the top of the stone block the lords of the green star have their power

not in their bodies, but it is great. It's greater far than the frog-folk. It's greater than the lords of the outer orbit. Oh, they will come, even as the surly one has said, and great shall be our sorrow. It's not too late yet. Release him, release him, and deliver to him the white sap. Seize this evil one.

And so the feeble, fickle minds were being swayed again. In a gust of impatience, the plutonian step, down seized the aged chief skinny body in his great black hands and snapped him into there was a rough tearing of cords and tissue and the two halves fell into the fire for an instant the McCurions were stunned then some of them vented hissing sounds of rage while others prostrated themselves on the floor the black giant watched them narrowly for a moment and turned his attention back to Moronis. He seized him by the arm and drew slowly and irresistibly to him. The murder of the old wise one had been done so quickly that O'Leer was unable to prevent

it. Had he been able to use his ray weapon, he could have burned the plutonian down, but it had been bent at one of the narrow turns of the crevice he'd come down. So it was that the need for extreme lightness in weapons was rather overdone in those early times, and just a little little rough handling made them useless. So now O'Leah, weaponless except for the service night at his belt, began the hazardous undertaking of climbing among the stalactites to a position approximately above the plutonians' head.

This job required judgment. Some of the stone masses were insecurely anchored and would crash down at the slightest touch. Some were spaced so closely together he couldn't get between them, but others were so far apart, it was difficult to get from one to another. yet he made it somehow and unnoticed for all eyes were being turned on the tense drama being enacted below from almost directly overhead he saw marona's being drawn upward

you saw the plutonian was saying triumphantly in mercurian you saw me unmake your old fool now you'll see that a lord of the green star is even softer even weaker Moronus, in that pitiless grasp, turned his face to the hateful, grinning visage above him. In his last extremity, he was still angry. "'You devil!' Moronis shouted. "'You may murder me, but they'll get you. They will get you.' "'Oh, get me!' The plutonian purred silkily, deferring the pleasure of the kill for another moment. Moronis was having trouble with his breathing.

his face was red, lolling from side to side, his eyes rolled in agony. But suddenly, he saw O'Lear. Unbelieving, he relaxed. Oh, I'm seeing things, he breathed. Oh, get me, persisted the plutonian, applying a little more pleasure. The IFP, Maronis gasped. Oh, you love. Little son of a...

O'Leah thought. And then he jumped. He landed a straddle, the neck of the plutonian, which was almost like forking a horse. One brawny arm seized a horn. The other, with a lightning swift dart, brought the point of the long service knife to the pulsating black throat.

Put him down. O'Lear spoke in the great pointed ear. Easy now. Back on his feet, Moronis began bellowing at the Maccurians. Utterly demoralized, they fled pell-mell. But Moronis came back and said, Nothing to tie him up with. That's all right, O'Lear replied,

studiously keeping the knife-point at exactly the right place. I'll ride him in. You get going and be tactful when you go through the door, or this sticker of mine might slip. With extreme care, the Plutonian did exactly as O'Lear had ordered him to. It was necessary to radio for one of the larger patrol ships to take O'Lear's enormous prisoner back to Earth for his trial. The officer testified, of course, and the Plutonian was duly sentenced to death for the murder of the old Macurian. Execution by dehydration was decreed, so that the body would be uninjured for scientific study,

and today it's considered one of the finest specimens extant. In his testimony, however, O'Leer so minimised his own connection with the case that he received no public recognition. It wasn't until some months afterward when Moronis, on leave, rode back with a shipload of translucent that the whole story came out, emphatically and profanely.

O'Lear finally consented to speak a few words for the Telephoto News Corporation, and as he stepped off the little platform, deferential hands tried to push him back. "'You haven't taught them who you are,' protested the announcer. "'Give them your name and rank.' "'Ah, they don't have to do that,' O'Leer rejoined, keeping on going. They know it's one of the force, and that's all they have to know.

And besides, there's a blackjack game going on, and I'm losing money every minute I'm out of it. The gate to Zora. He sat in a small half-darkham booth, well over in the corner. The man with a strangely glowing blue-green eyes. The booth was one of a score that circled the walls of the Maori hut, a popular nightclub in the San Fernando Valley some five miles over the hills from Hollywood.

It was nearly midnight. Half a dozen couples danced lazily in the central dancing space. Other couples remained tetan. in the secluded booze. In the entire room only two men were dining alone. One was a slender, grey-haired little man with a weirdly glowing eyes. The other was Blair Gordon, a highly successful young attorney of Los Angeles. Both men had the unmistakable air of waiting for someone.

Blair Gordon's college days were not so far distant that he'd yet lost any of the splendid physique that had made him an all-American tackle. In any physical combat with a slight grey-haired stranger, Gordon knew that he should be able to break the other in two with one hand. Yet, as he studied the stranger from behind, the potted palms that screened his own booth, Gordon was amazed to find himself slowly being overcome by an emotion of dread so intense that it verged upon sheer fear. There was something indescribably alien and utterly sinister in that dimly seen figure in the corner booth. The faint eerie light that glowed in the stranger's deep-set eyes was not the lambent flame seen in the chetoyant orbs of some night-prouling jungle beast. Rather, it was the blue-green glow of phosphorescent witchlight that flickers and dances in the night mists above steaming tropical swamps.

The stranger's face was classically perfect in its rugged outline as that of a Roman war god. Yet those perfect features seemed utterly lifeless. In the twenty minutes that he had been in. intently watching the stranger, Gordon could have sworn that the other's face had not moved by so much as the twist of an eyelash. Then a new couple entered the Maori hut, and Gordon promptly forgot all thought of the puzzlingly alien figure in the corner. The new arrivals were a vibrantly beautiful blonde girl and a plump, cello-faced man in the early 40s. The girl was Leia Kee, Hollywood's latest screen sensation, and the man was Dave Redding, her director. A waiter seated Lea, and her escort in a booth directly across the room from that of Gordon.

It was a manoeuvre for which Gordon had tipped lavishly when he first came to the hut. A week ago, Leia Keith's engagement to Blair Gordon had been abruptly ended by a trivial little quarrel that two volatile temperaments had fanned into flames which apparently made reconciliation impossible. A miserably lonely week had finally ended in Gordon's present trip to the Maori hut. he knew that Lear often came here and he had an overworming longing to at least see her again even though his pride forced him to remain unseen

now as he stared glumly at Lear through the palms that effectively screamed his own booth Gordon heartily regretted that he'd ever come the sight of Lear's clear fresh beauty merely made him realise what a fool he'd been to let that ridiculous little quarrel come between them then with a sudden tingling thrill Gordon realized that he was not the only one in the room who was interested in Leah and her escort.

Over in the half-darkened corner booth, the eerie stranger was staring at the girl with an intentness that made his weird eyes glow like miniature pools of shimmering blue-green fire. Again, Gordon felt that vague impression of dread, as though he were in the presence of something utterly alien to all-human experience. Gordon turned his gaze back to Leia, then caught his breath sharply in sudden amazement. The necklace about Leah's throat was beginning to glow with the same uncanny blue-green light that shone in the stranger's eyes.

Faint, yet unmistakable, the shimmering radiance pulsed from the necklace in an aura of nameless evil. And with the coming of that aura of weird light around her throat, a strange trance was swiftly sweeping over there. She sat there now as rigidly motionless as some exquisite statue of ivory and jet. Gordon stared at her in stark bewilderment. He knew the history of Leah's necklace. It was merely an oddity and nothing more,

a freak piece of costume jewellery made from fragments of Arizona meteorite. Leo had worn the necklace a dozen times before without any trace of the weird phenomena that was now occurring. Dancers again thronged the floor to the blaring music while Gordon was still trying to force his whirling brain into a decision. He was certain that, Leo was in deadly peril of some kind, yet the nature of that peril was too bizarre for his mind to imagine. Then the stranger with the glowing eyes took matters into his own hands.

He left his booth and began threading his way through the dancers toward Leia. As he watched the progress of that slight grey-haired figure, Gordon refused to believe the evidence of his own eyes. The thing was too utterly absurd, and yet Gordon was positive that the strong outfloor of the dancing space was visibly swaying and creaking beneath the stranger's mincing tread. The stranger paused at Lear's booth only long enough to utter a brief, low-voice command, and then Lear, still in the grip of that strange trance, rose obediently from her seat to accompany him. Dave Redding rose angrily to intercept her. The stranger seemed to barely brush the IREC director with his fingertips, and yet Redding reeled back so struck

by a power-driver. Leah and the stranger started for the door. Redding scrambled to his feet again and hurried after them. It was only then that Gordon finally shook off the stupor of utter bewilderment that had held him. Springing from his booth, he rushed after the trio. The dancers in his way delayed Gordon momentarily. Lear and the stranger were already gone when he reached the door. The narrow little entrance hallway to the hut was deserted, save for a figure sprawled.

there on the floor near the outer door. It was the body of Dave Redding. Gordon shuddered as he glanced briefly down at the huddled figure. A single mighty blow from some unknown weapon had crumpled the director's entire face in like the shattered shell of a broken egg. Gordon charged on through the outer door just as a heavy sedan came careening out of the parking lot.

He had a flashing glimpse of layer and the stranger in the front seat of that big car. Gordon then raced for his own machine, a powerful low-slung roadster. A single vicious jab at the starting button and the big motor leaped into roaring life. Gordon shot out from the parking lot onto the main boulevard. A hundred yards away the sedan was fleeing toward Hollywood.

Gordon tramped hard on the accelerator. His engine snarred with the unleashed fury of a hundred horsepower. The gap between the two cars, was swiftly lessening. Then the strangers seemed to become aware for the first time that he was being followed. The next second, the big sedan accelerated with the hurtling speed of a flying bullet.

Gordon sent his own foot nearly to the floor. The road to jump to 80 miles an hour, yet the sedan continued to leave it remorselessly behind. Two cars started up the northern slope of Cahuanga Pass, with the sedan nearly 200 yards ahead, and gaining all the time. Gordon wondered briefly if they were to flash down the other side of the pass and on into Hollywood at their present mad speed. Then, at the summit of the pass, the sedan swerved abruptly to the right, and fled west along the Mulholland Highway. Gordon's tire

screamed as he swerved the roadster in hot pursuit. The dark winding mountain highway was nearly deserted at the hour of the night, save for an occasional automobile, swirred frantically to the side of the road to dodge the roaring onslaught of the racing cars. Gordon and the stranger had the road to themselves. The stranger seemed no longer to be trying to leave his pursuer hopelessly behind. He allowed Gordon to come within a hundred yards of him, but that was as near as Gordon could get, in spite of the road to his best efforts.

Half a dozen times Gordon trod savagely upon his accelerator in a desperate attempt to close the gap, but each time the sedan fled with the swift grace of a scudding phantom. Finally, Gordon had to content himself with merely keeping his distance behind the glowing red telllight of the car ahead. They passed Laurel Canyon, and still the big sedan bored on to the west. Then, finally, half a dozen miles beyond Laurel Canyon, the stranger abruptly left the main highway and started up a narrow private road to the crest of one of the lonely hills. Gordon slowly gained in the next two miles.

When the road ended in a winding gravel driveway into the grounds of what was apparently a private estate, the roaster was scarcely a dozen yards behind. The stranger's features as he stood there stiffly in the vivid glare of the rooster's headlights was still as devoid of all expression as ever. The only things that really seemed alive in that mask of a face were the two eyes,

glowing eerie blue-green fire like twin entities of an alien evil. Gordon wasted no time in verbal sparring. He motioned briefly to layer Keith's rigid form in the front seat of the sedan. Miss Keith is returning to Hollywood with me, he said curtly. Would he let her go peaceably, or shall I? He left that question unfinished, but its threat was obvious. Or you shall do what? asked the stranger quietly.

There was an oddly metallic ring in his low even tones. His words were so precisely clipped that they suggested some origin more mechanical than human. Or I shall take Miss Keith with me by force. Gordon flared angrily. You can try to take the lady by force, if you wish. There was an unmistakable jeering note in those metallic tones. The taunt was the last thing needed to unleash Gort and, volatile temper. He stepped forward and swung a hard left hook at that expressionless mask of a face.

But the blow never landed. The stranger dodged it with uncanny swiftness. His answering gesture seemed merely the gentlest possible push with an outstretched hand, and yet Gordon was sent reeling backward of four dozen steps by the terrific force of that apparently gentle blow. Recovering himself, Gordon grimly returned to the attack. A stranger again flung out one hand in the contemptuous gesture which one would brush away a troublesome fly. But this time Gordon was more cautious. He neatly dodged the stranger's blow, then swung a vicious right squarely for his adversary's unprotected jaw. The blow smashed solidly home with all of Gordon's weight behind it.

The stranger's jaw buckled and gave beneath that shattering impact. Then abruptly his entire face crows. crumpled into distorted ruin. Gordon staggered back a step and sheer horror at the gruesome result of his blow. The stranger then flung up a hand to his shattered features, when his hand came away again, his whole face came away with it.

Gordon had one horror-stricken glimpse of a featureless blob of rubbery, bluish-grey flesh in which fiendish eyes of blue-green fire blazed in malignant fury. and then the stranger fumbled at his collar, ripping the linen swiftly away. Something lashed out from beneath his throat, a loathsome, snake-like object, slender and forked at the end.

For one ghastly moment, as the writhing tentacles swung into line with him, Gordon saw its fort ends glow with strange fire. One of vivid blue, the other a sparkling green. And then the world was, was abruptly blotted out for Blair Gordon. Consciousness returned to Gordon as swiftly and painlessly as it had left him. For a moment he blinked stupidly in a dazed effort to comprehend the incredible scene before him. He was seated in a chair over near the wall of a large room that was flooded

with livid red light from a single globe overhead. Beside him sat Lea Keepe, also staring with dazed eyes in an effort to comprehend her surroundings. directly in front of them stood a figure of stark nightmare horror the weirdly glowing eyes identified the figure as that of the stranger at the Maori hut but there every point of resemblance ceased only the cleverest of facial masks and body padding could have ever enabled this monstrosity to pass unnoticed in the world of normal human beings and now that disguise was completely stripped away his slight frame was revealed as a grotesque parody of that of a human being, with arms and legs like pipe stems, a bald oval head that merged with necklace rigidity directly into a heavy-shouldered body that tapered into an almost wasp-like slenderness at the waist. He was naked, save for a loincloth of some metallic fabric. His bluish-gray skin had a dull, oily sheen, strangely suggestive of fine-grained, flexible metal.

The creature's face was hideously unlike anything human. Beneath the glowing eyes was a small circular mouth or a fist with a cluster of gill-like appendages on either side of it. Patches of lighter-coloured skin on other side of the head seemed to serve as ears. From a point just under the head, where the throat of a human being would have been, dangled the foot and a half-long tentacle whose fault tip had sent Gordon into oblivion. behind the creature Gordon was dimly aware

of a maze of complicated and utterly unfamiliar apparatus ranged along the opposite wall giving the room the appearance of being a laboratory of some kind Gordon's obvious bewilderment seemed to amuse the bluish-gray monstrosity

May I introduce myself he asked with a mocking note in his metallic voice I am Arlock of Zoran I am an explorer of space and more particularly an opener of gates. My home is upon Zoran, which is one of the eleven major planets that circle about the giant blue-white sun that your astronomers call Rigon. I am here to open the gate between your world and mine.

Gordon placed a reassuring hand over Leah. All memory of their call was obliterated in the face of their present parent. He felt a slender fingers twined. firmly with his. The warm contact gave both of them new courage. We of Zoran need your planet and intend to take possession of it. Arlott continued, but the vast distance which separates Rangel from your solar system makes it impracticable to transport any considerable number of our people here in space cars for, though our space cars travel with practically the speed of light, it requires over 540 years for them to cross that great void.

So I was sent as a lone pioneer to your earth to do the necessary work here in order to open the gate that will enable Zoran to cross the barrier in less than a minute of your time. That gate is the one through the fourth dimension. For Zoran and your planet, in a four-dimensional universe, are almost touching each other, in spite of the great distance separating them in a three-dimensional universe. We, of Zoran, being three-dimensional creatures like you earthlings, cannot even exist on a three-dimensional. four-dimensional plane. But we can, by the use of apparatus, open a gate, pass through a thin sector of the fourth dimension, and emerge in a far distant part of our three-dimensional universe. The situation of our two worlds, Arlock continued, is somewhat like that of two dots

on opposite ends of a long strip of paper that's curved almost into a circle. To two-dimensional beings capable of only realizing and traveling along the two dimensions of the paper itself, those dots might be many feet apart, yet in the third dimension straight across free space, they might be separated by only the thousandth part of an inch. In order to take that shortcut across the third dimension, the two-dimensional creatures of the paper would have only to transform a small strip of the intervening space

into a two-dimensional surface like their paper. They could do this, of course, by the use of proper vibration-creating machinery, for all things in a material universe, are merely a matter of vibration. We of Zoran planned across the barrier of the fourth dimension by creating a narrow strip of vibrations powerful enough to exactly match and nullify those of the fourth dimension itself.

The result will be that this narrow strip will temporarily become an area of three dimensions only, an area over which we can safely pass from our world to yawls. Arlock indicated one of the pieces of the apparatus on the opposite wall of the room. It was an intricate arrangement of finely wound coils with wires leading to scores of needle-light points which constantly shimmered and crackled with tiny blue-white flames. Thick cables ran to a bank of concave reflectors of some gleaming greyish metal. There is the apparatus which will supply the enormous power necessary to nullify the vibrations of the four-th-dimensional barrier, Arlock explained. It is a condenser and adapter of the cosmic force that you call the Milliken race. In Zoran, a similar apparatus is already set up and finished, but the gate can only be opened

by simultaneous actions from both sides of the barrier. That is why I was sent on my long journey through space to do the necessary work here. I am now nearly finished. A few more hours will see the final opening of the gate, and then the fighting hordes of Zoran can sweep through the barrier and overwhelm your planet. When the gate from Zoran to a new planet is first opened, Arlock continued. Our scientists always like to have at least one pair of specimens of the new world's inhabitants sent through to them for experimental use.

So tonight, while waiting for one of my final castings to cool, I improved the time by making a brief raid upon the place you call the Maori hut. The lady here seemed an excellent type of your earthling women, and the meteoric iron in her neck. I made a perfect focus for electric hypnosis. Well, her escort was too inferior a specimen to be of value to me, so I killed him when he attempted to interfere. When you gave chase, I lured you on until I could see whether you might be usable.

You proved an excellent specimen, so I merely stunned you. Very soon now I shall be ready to send the two of you through the gate to our scientists in Zora. A cold wave of sheer horror swept on. over Gordon. It was impossible to doubt the stark and deadly menace promised in the plan of this grim visitor from an alien universe, a menace that loomed not only for Gordon and Lear, but for the teeming millions of a doomed and defenseless world. Let me show you Zoran, Arlock offered. Then you may be better able to understand. He turned his back carelessly upon his two captive and strode over to the apparatus along the opposite wall.

Gordon longed to hurl himself upon the unprotected back of the retreating Zoranian, but he knew that any attempt of that kind would be suicidal. Arlock's deadly tentacle would strike him down before he was halfway across the room. He searched his surroundings with desperate eyes for anything that might serve as a weapon, and his pulse quickened with sudden hope. There on a small table near Leia was the familiar bulk of a forty-five caliber revolver, loaded and ready for use. It was included in a miscellaneous collection of other small earthly tools and objects

that Arlock had apparently collected for study. There was an excellent chance that Leia might be able to secure the gun unobserved. Gordon pressed her fingers in a swift attempt at signalling, then jerked his hand ever so slightly toward the table. A moment later the quick answering pressure of Leia's fingers told him that she'd understood his message. From the corner of his eye, Gordon saw Lear's other hand begin cautiously groping behind her for the revolver. Then, both Gordon and Lear froze into sudden immobility as Arlock faced them again from beside an apparatus slightly reminiscent of an earthly radio set.

Arlock through a switch and a small bank of tubes glowed pale green. A yard square plate of bluish grey metal on the wall above the apparatus glowed with milky fluorescence. "'It is easy to penetrate the barrier with lightways,' Alok explained. "'That is a gate that can readily be opened from either side. "'It was through it that we first discovered your earth.' "'Alock then threw a rheostat on to more power. "'The luminous plate cleared swiftly. "'And there, Earthlings, is Zora,'

"'Aulok proclaimed proudly. "'Ley and Gordon gasped in sheer amazement as the glowing plate became a veritable window into another world, a world of utter and alien terror. The livid light of a giant red sun blazed mercilessly down upon a landscape from which every vestige of animal and plant life had apparently been stripped. Naked rocks and barren soil stretched endlessly

to the far horizon in a vast monotony of utter desolation. Olock twirled the knob of the apparatus and another scene flashed into view. In this scene, great gleaming squares and cones of metal rose in towering clusters from the starkly barren land. Hordes of creatures like Arlox swarmed in and around the metal buildings. Giant machines whirled countless wheels in strange tasks. From a thousand great needle-like projections on the buildings spurted shimmering sheets of crackling flame, bathing the entire scene in a whirling mist of fiery vapors.

Gordon realized dimly that he must be looking into one of a little. the cities of Zoran, but every detail of the chaotic world of activities was too utterly unfamiliar to carry any real significance to his bewildered brain. He was as hopelessly overwhelmed as a savage would be if transported suddenly into the heart of time square. I look again, twirled the knob. The scene shifted, apparently, to another planet. This world was still alive, with rich verdure and swarming millions of people strangely like those of Earth. But, It was a doomed world. The dreaded gate to Zoran had already been opened here.

Legions of bluish-gray Zoronians were attacking the planet's inhabitants, and the attack of those metallic hosts was irresistible. The slight bodies of the Zoranians seemed as impervious to bullets and missiles as though armor-plated. The frantic defence of the beleaguered people of the doomed planet caused hardly a casualty in the Zoran ranks. The attack of the Zeranians was hideously effective. Clouds of dense yellow fog belched from countless projectors in the hands of these bluish-gray hosts, and beneath that deadly miasma, all animal and plant life on the doomed planet was crumbling, dying and rotting into a liquid slime.

Then even the slime was swiftly obliterated, and the Zeranians were left triumphant upon a world starkly desolate. That was one of the minor planets in the swarm that make up the solar system of the sun that your astronomers call canopus. Alok explained. Our first task in conquering a world is to rid it of the unclean surface scum of animal and plant life. When this noxious surface mould is eliminated, the planet is then ready to furnish us sustenance, for we's Iranians live directly upon the metallic elements of the planet itself. Our bodies are of a substance of which your scientists have never even dreamed.

Deathless, invincible, living metal. Our look again twirled the control of the apparatus, and the scene was shifted back to the planet of Zora, this time to the interior of what was apparently a vast laboratory. Here scores of Zoranian scientists were working upon captives, who were pathetically like human beings of Earth itself, working with lethal gases and deadly liquids as human scientists might experiment upon noxious pests. The details of the scene were so utterly revolting,

the tortures that were being inflicted so starkly horrible that Leia and Gordon sank back in their chairs, sick and shaken. Arlock snapped off a switch, and the green light in the tubes died. That last scene was the laboratory to which I shall send you to presently, He said callously as he started back across the room toward them. Gordon lurched his feet, his brain a seething whirl of hate in which all thought of caution was gone as he tensed his muscles to hurl himself upon that grim monstrosity from the bleak and desolate realm of Zora. Then he felt Leia tugging surreptitiously at his right hand.

The next moment the bulk of something cold and hard met his fingers. It was the revolver. Lear had secured it while Arlock was busy with his interdimensional televisor. Arluck was rapidly approaching them now. Gordon hoped against hope that the menace of that deadly tentacle might be diverted for the fraction of a second necessary for him to get in a crippling shot. Leia seemed to divine his thoughts.

She suddenly screamed hysterically and flung herself on the floor, almost at Arlock's feet. Arlok stopped in obvious wonder and bent over, Lear. Gordon took instant advantage of the Zoranian's diverted attention. He whipped the revolver from behind him and fired point-blank at Arlock's unprotected head. The bullet struck squarely. But Arlock barely even staggered. A tiny spot of bluish-gray skin upon his oval skull gleamed faintly for a moment under the bullet's impact.

Then the heavy pellet of lead thoroughly flattened as though it had struck the triple armour of a battleship, dropped spent and harmless to the floor. Arlock straightened swiftly. For the moment he seemed to have no thought of retaliating with his deadly tentacle. He merely stood there quite still with one thin arm thrown up to guard his glowing eyes. Gordon sent the remainder of the revolver's bullets crashing home as fast as his finger could press the trigger. At that murderously short range, the smashing rain of lead should have dropped a charging gorilla. but for all the effects Gordon's shots had upon the Zeranian

his ammunition might as well have been pellets of paper Arlock's glossy hide merely glowed momentarily in tiny patches as the bullet struck and flattened harmlessly and that was all his last cartridge fired Gordon flung the empty weapon squarely at the blue monstrosity's hideous face Alok made no attempt to dodge the heavy revolver struck him high on the forehead, then rebounded harmlessly to the floor.

Arlock paid no more attention to the blow than a man would to the casual touch of a wind-blown feather. Gordon then desperately flung himself forward upon the Zeranian in one last mad effort to overwhelm him. Arlok dodged Gordon's wild blows, then gently swept the earthman into the embrace of his thin arms. For one helpless moment, Gordon sensed the incredible strength, and adamantine hardness of the Zoranian slender figure, together with an overwhelming impression of colossal weight in that deceptively slight body. Then Arlock contemptuously flung Gordon away from him.

As Gordon staggered backwards, Arlock's tentacle lashed upward and levelled upon him. His twin tips again glow bright green and livid blue. Instantly, every muscle in Gordon's body was paralysed. He stood there as rigid at a statue, his body completely deadened from the neck down. Beside him stood Leia, also frozen motionless in that same weird power. Earthling, you were beginning to try my patience, Arlock snapped. Can you not realize that I am utterly invincible in any combat with you?

The living metal of my body weighs over sixteen hundred pounds in your measurements. The strength inherent in that metal is sufficient to tear a hundred of your earth men to shreds. But I don't even have to touch you to vanquish you. The electric content of my bodily structure is so infinitely superior to yours, and with this tentacle organ of mine, I can instantly short-circuit the feeble currents of your nerve impulses and bring either paralysis or death as I choose. But enough of this.

Our luck broke off abruptly. My materials are now ready, and it is time that I finish my work. I shall put you out of my way for a few hours until I am ready to send you through the gate to the laboratories of Zora. The green and blue fire of the tentacles tips flamed to dazzling brightness. The paralysis of Gordon's body swept swiftly over his brain. Black oblivion engulfed him. When Gordon again recovered consciousness, he found he, He was lying on the floor of what was apparently a narrow hall, near the foot of a stairway.

His hands were lashed tightly behind him, and his feet and legs were so firmly pinioned together that he could scarcely move. Beside him lay layer, also tightly bound. A short distance down the hall was the closed door of Arlock's workroom, recognisable by the thin line of red light gleaming beneath it. Moonlight through a window at the rear of the hall made objects around Gordon fairly clear. He looked at Lear and saw tears glistening on her long lashes. Oh, Blair, I was afraid you'd never waken again, the girl sought.

I thought that the fiend had killed you. Her voice was breaking hysterically. Steady, darling, Gordon said soothingly. You simply can give up now, you know. If that monstrosity ever opens that a cursed gate of his, then our entire world is doomed. There must be some way to stop. him. I've got to find that way and try it, even if it seems only one forlorn chance in a million.

Gordon shook his head to clear the numbness, still lingering from the effect of Arlock's tentacle. The Zeranian seemed unable to produce a paralysis of any great duration with his weird natural weapon. Accordingly, he'd been forced to bind his captives like two trust fowls while he returned to his labors. lying as close together as they were, it was a comparatively easy matter for them to get their bound hands within reach of each other. But after fifteen minutes of vain work, Gordon realized that any attempt at untieing the ropes was useless.

Arlock's prodigious strength had drawn the knots so tight that no human power could ever loosen them. Then Gordon suddenly thought of one thing in his pockets that might help them. It was a tiny cigarette lighter, of the spring. trigger type. It was in his vest pocket, completely out of reach of his bound hands, but there was a way out of that difficulty. Gordon and Lear twisted and roared their bodies like two contortionists,

until they succeeded in getting into such a position that Leia was able to get her teeth into the cloth of the vest pocket's edge. A moment of desperate tugging, and the fabric gave way. The lighter dropped from the torn pocket to the floor, where Leia retrieved it. Then they twisted their bodies back to back. Liam managed to get the lighter flaming in her bound hands. Gordon groped in an effort to guide the ropes on his wrists over the tiny flickering flame.

Then there came the faint, welcome odor of smouldering rope as the lighter's tiny flame bit into the bonds. Gordon bit his lips to suppress a cry of pain as the flame seared into his skin as well. The flame bit deeper into the rope, and a single strand snapped. Then another strand gave way. To Gordon the process seemed endless as the flame scorched rope and flesh alike.

A long minute of lancing agony that seemed hours and then Gordon could stand no more. He tensed his muscles in one mighty agonized effort to end the torture of the flame. The weakened rope gave way completely beneath that pain, maddening lunge. Gordon's hands. hands were free it was now an easy matter to use the lighter to finish freeing himself and leon they made they

they way swiftly back to the window at the rear of the hall it slid silently upward then a moment later they were out in the brilliant moonlight free they made their way around to the front of the house behind the drawn shades of one of the front rooms an eerie glow of red light marked the location of arloch's workroom They heard the occasional clink of tools inside the room, as the Zoranian diligently worked to complete his apparatus. They crept stealthily up to where one of the French windows of Orlock's workroom swung slightly ajar. Through the narrow crevice they could see Arloch's grotesque back as he laboured over the complex assembly of the apparatus against the wall. One heavy stone flung through the window would probably wreck that delicate mechanism completely. yet the two watches knew that such a respite would only be a temporary one

as long as Arlock remained alive on this planet to build another gate to Zoran Earth's eventual doom was certain complete destruction of Arlock himself was Earth's only hope of salvation the Zoranian seemed to be nearing the end of his labours he held the apparatus momentarily and walked over to a workbench where he picked up a slender rod-like tool Donning a heavy glove to shield his left hand, he selected a small plate of bluish-gray metal and pressed a switch in the handle of the tool in his right hand.

A blade of blinding white flame, seemingly as solid as a blade of metal, spurted the length of a foot from the tool's tip. Arlop began cutting the plate with the flame, the blade shearing through the heavy metal as easily as a hot knife shears through butter. The sight brought a sudden surge. of exultant hope to Gordon. He swiftly drew Lear away from the window, far enough to the side that their low-voiced conversation

could not be heard from inside the workroom. Well, there's our one chance. He explained excitedly. That Blue Feint is vulnerable, and that flame tool of his is the weapon to reach his vulnerability. Did you notice how careful he was to shield his other hand with a glove before he turned the tool on? He can be hurt by that blade of flame,

and probably hurt badly. Leia nodded in quick understanding. If I could lure him out of the room for just a moment, you could slip in through the window and get that flame tool, Blair, she suggested eagerly. That might work, Gordon agreed, reluctantly. But Leia, don't run any more risks than you absolutely have to. He then picked up a small rock.

Here, take this with you. Open the door into the hall, attract Arlock's attention by throwing the rock at his precious apparatus. Then the minute he sees you, try to escape through the hall again, he'll leave his work to follow you. When he returns to his workroom, I'll be in there waiting for him. I'll be waiting with a weapon that can stab through even that armor-plated hide of his. They separated then, layer to enter the house, Gordon to return to the window. Arluck was back over in front of the apparatus, fitting into place the piece of the piece of

of metal he'd just cut. The flame tool, his switch now turned off, was still on the workbench. Gordon's heart pounded with excitement as he crouched there, with his eyes fixed upon the closed hall door. The minutes seemed to drag interminably. Then suddenly Gordon's muscles tensed. The knob of the hall door had turned ever so slightly. Leah was at her post. The next moment the door was flung open with a violence that sent its slamming back against the wall. The slender figure of Leia stood framed in the opening, her dark eyes blazing as she flung one hand up to hurl her missile. Arlock whirled around just as Lear through the rock straight at the intricate gate-opening appellates. With incredible speed, he saw Anya and flung his

own body over to shield his fragile instruments. The rock thudded harmlessly against his metallic chest. And then Arloch's tentacle flung out like a striking cor. opera, its fork-tipped flaming blue and green fire as it focused upon the open door. But Leah was already gone. Gordon heard her flying footsteps as she raced down the hall. Arluck promptly sped after her in swift pursuit. As Arluck passed through the door into the hall, Gordon flung himself into the room and sped straight for the workbench. He snatched the flame tool up, then darted over to the wall by the door. He was not a second too soon.

The heavy tread of Arlock's return was already audible in the hall just outside. Gordon prepared to stake everything upon his one, a slim chance of disabling that fearful tentacle, before Arlock could bring it into action. He pressed the tiny switch in the Flame Toll's handle just as Arlok came through the door. Arlok, startled by the glare of the Flametools Blazing Blade, whirled toward Gordon, but too late.

that thin searing shaft of vivid flame had already struck squarely at the base of the Zoranian's tentacle A seething spray of hissing sparks marked the place With the flame bit deeply home Arlock screamed A ghastly metallic note of anguish like nothing human The Zoranian's powerful hands clutched at Gordon But he leaped lightly backward out of their reach

Then Gordon again attacked the flame-tall shining blade licking in and out like a rapier. The searing flame swept across one of Arlock's arms and the Zeranian winced. Then the blade stabs swiftly at Arlok's waist. He half-doubled as he flinched back.

Gordon shifted his aim with lightning speed and sent the blade of flame lashing in one accurate, terrible stroke that caught Arlok squarely in the eyes. Again Arlok screamed in intolerable agony as that tearing flame darkened forever his glowing eyes. In berserker fury, the tortured Zoranian charged blindly toward Gordon. Gordon warily dodged to one side.

Arlock, now sightless, and his tentacle crippled, still had enough power in that mighty metallic body of his to tear a hundred earthmen to pieces. Gordon stung Arlock's shoulder with the flame, then desperately leaped just to one side in time to dodge a flailing blow, that would have made pulp of his body had it landed. Arlock went stark wild in his frenzied efforts to come to grips with this unseen adversary. Furniture crashed and splintered to kindling wood beneath his threshing feet.

Even the stout walls of the room shivered and cracked at the incredible weight of Arlock's body as it crooned against them. Gordon circled lively around the triple-blue monstrosity like a timber wolf circling a wounded moose. he began concentrating his attack upon Arlock's left leg Half a dozen deep slashes with a searing flame And suddenly the thin leg crumpled and broke And Arlock crashed helplessly to the floor Gordon was now able to shift his attack to Arlock's head

Dodging the blindly flailing arms of the Zeranian He stabbed again and again at that oval-shaped skull The searing thrusts began to have their effect Arlock's convulsive movements became slower and weaker. Gordon sent the flame stabbing in a long, final thrust in an attempt to pierce through to that alien metal brain. With startling suddenness, the flame burned its way home to some unknown centre of life-force in the oval skull. There was a brief but appalling gush of bright purple flame from Arloch's eye-sockets and mouth orifice, and then his twitching body stiffened.

His bluish-gray hide darkened with incredible swiftness into a dull black. Arlock was dead. Gordon sickened at the grisly ending to the battle, snapped off the flame tool and turned to search for Leia. He found her already standing in the hall door, alive and unhurted. I escaped through the window at the end of the hall, she explains. Arloch quit following me as soon as he saw that you two were gone from where he left us time.

She shuddered as she looked down at the Zoranian's mangled body. I saw most of your fight with him, Blair. It was terrible, awful. But Blair, we've won. Yeah, now we'll make sure of the fruits of our victory. Gordon said grimly, starting over toward the gate-opening apparatus with the flame tool in his hand.

Only a few minutes work with the shearing blade of flame reduced the intricate apparatus to a mere tangled pile of twisted metal. Arlock, gate opener of Zoran, was dead, and the gate to that grim planet was now irrevocably closed. Blair, did you feel it too? That eerie feeling of countless eyes still watching us from Zoran. There was Frank Orrin Leah's half-whispered question. Do you know Arlok said that they'd watched us for some of the same?

centuries from their side of the barrier. I'm sure they're watching us now. Will they send another opener of gaze to take up the work where Arlock failed? Gordon took Leia into his arms. I don't know, dear. He admitted gravely. They may send another messenger, but I doubt it. This world of ours has had its warning and will heed it. The watches of Zorin must know that in the 540 years it would take their next messenger to get here, the earth will have done more than enough to prepare an adequate defense for even Zoran's minutes. I doubt if they'll ever again be an attempt made

to open the gate of Zoran. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place,

and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.