Space Beagle- the Complete Adventures

by A. E. van Vogt

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “How in the name of all the hells can anything live in intergalactic space?” The voice, strained and unrecognizable, came through the communicator of Grosvenor’s space suit as he stood with the others near the air lock. It seemed to him that the question made the little group of men crowd closer together. For him, the proximity of the others was not quite enough. He was too aware of the impalpable yet inconceivable night that coiled about them, pressing down to the very blazing portholes.

  Almost for the first time since the voyage had begun, the immensity of the darkness struck home to Grosvenor. He had looked at it so often from inside the ship that he had become indifferent. But now he was suddenly aware that man’s farthest stellar frontiers were but a pin point in this blackness that reached billions of light-years in every direction.

  The voice of Director Morton broke through the scared silence. “Calling Gunlie Lester inside the ship . . . Gunlie Lester . . .”

  There was a pause; then, “Yes, Director?”

  Grosvenor recognized the voice of the head of the astronomy department.

  “Gunlie,” Morton went on, “here’s something for your astro-mathematical brain. Will you please give us the ratio of chance that blew out the drivers of the Beagle at the exact point in space where that thing was floating? Take a few hours to work it out.”

  The words brought the whole scene into even sharper focus. It was typical of mathematician Morton that he let another man have the limelight in a field in which he himself was a master.

  The astronomer laughed, then said in an earnest tone, “I don’t have to do any figuring. One would need a new system of notation to express the chance arithmetically. What you’ve got. out there can’t happen, mathematically speaking. Here we are, a shipload of human beings, stopping for repairs, halfway between two galaxies—the first time we’ve ever sent an expedition outside our own island universe. Here we are, I say, a tiny point intersecting with pre-arrangement, exactly the path of another tinier point. It’s impossible, unless space is saturated with such creatures.”

  It seemed to Grosvenor that there was a more likely explanation. The two events could conceivably be in the simple relationship of cause and effect. A huge hole had been burned in the engine-room wall. Torrents of energy had poured out into space. Now they had stopped to repair the damage. He parted his lips to say as much, and then closed them. There was another factor, the factor of the forces and probabilities involved in that assumption. Just how much power would be needed to drain the output of a pile of a few minutes? Briefly, he considered the formula applicable, and shook his head slightly. The figures that came through were so enormous that the hypothesis he had intended to offer seemed automatically ruled out. A thousand coeurls amongst them couldn’t have handled energy in such quantities, which suggested that machines, not individuals, were involved.

  Someone was saying, “We ought to turn a mobile unit on anything that looks like that.”

  The shudder in his voice stirred a like emotion in Grosvenor. The reaction must have run along the communicators, because, when Director Morton spoke, his tone indicated he was trying to throw off the chill of the other man’s words. Morton said, “A regular blood-red devil spewed out of a nightmare, ugly as sin—and possibly as harmless as our beautiful pussy a few months ago was deadly. Smith, what do you think?”

  The gangling biologist was coldly logical. “This thing, as far as I can make it out from here, has arms and legs, a development of purely planetary evolution. If it is intelligent, it will begin to react to the changing environment the moment it is inside the cage. It may be a venerable old sage, meditating in the silence of space where there are no distractions. Or it may be a young murderer, condemned to exile, consumed with desire to get back home and resume life in his own civilization.”

  “I wish Korita had come out with us,” said Pennons, the chief engineer, in his quiet, practical fashion. “His analysis of pussy on the cat planet gave us an idea of what we had to face and—”

  “Korita speaking, Mr. Pennons.” As usual, the Japanese archaeologist’s voice came over the communicators with meticulous clarity. “Like many of the others, I have been listening to what is happening, and I must admit I am impressed by the image I can see of this creature on the vision plate before me. But I’m afraid analysis on the basis of cyclic history would be dangerous at this factless stage. In the case of pussy, we had the barren, almost foodless planet on which he lived, and the architectural realities of the crumbled city. But here we have a being living in space a quarter of a million light-years from the nearest planet, existing apparently without food, and without means of spatial locomotion. I suggest the following: Keep the screen up, except for an opening for the cage to be taken out. When you have your creature actually in the cage, study him—every action, every reaction. Take pictures of his internal organs working in the vacuum of space. Find out everything about him, so that we shall know what we are bringing aboard. Let us avoid killing, or being killed. The greatest precautions are in order.”

  “And that,” said Morton, “is sense.”

  He began to issue orders. More machines were brought up from inside the ship. They were set up on a smooth, curving expanse of the outer surface, except for a massive fluorite camera. That was attached to the mobile cage.

  Grosvenor listened uneasily while the Director gave final instructions to the men guiding the cage.

  “Open the door as wide as possible,” Morton was saying, “and drop it over him. Don’t let his hands grab the bars.”

  Grosvenor thought, It’s now or never. If I have any objections, I’ve got to offer them.

  There seemed nothing to say. He could outline his vague doubts. He could carry Gunlie Lester’s comment to its logical conclusion and say that what had happened could not be an accident. He might even suggest that a shipload of the red, devil-like beings was probably waiting in the distance for their fellow to be picked up.

  But the fact was that all the precautions against such eventualities had been taken. If there were a ship, then by opening the protective screen only enough to admit the cage, they were offering a minimum target. The outer skin might be seared, the men on it killed. But the vessel itself would surely be safe.

  The enemy would find that his action had served no useful purpose. He would find arrayed against him a formidable armed and armored vessel, manned by members of a race that could pursue a battle to a remorseless conclusion.

  Grosvenor reached that point in his speculation, and decided to make no comment. He would hold his doubts in reserve.

  Morton was speaking again. “Any final remarks from anyone?”

  “Yes.” The new voice belonged to von Grossen. “I’m in favor of making a thorough examination of this thing. To me, thorough means a week, a month.”

  “You mean,” said Morton, “we sit here in space while our technical experts study the monster?”

  “Of course,” said the physicist.

  Morton was silent for several seconds, then he said slowly, “I’ll have to put that up to the others, von Grossen. This is an exploratory expedition. We are equipped to take back specimens by the thousand. As scientists, all is grist for our mill. Everything must be investigated. Yet I feel sure that the objection will be made that if we sit out in space an entire month for each specimen we plan to take aboard, this journey will take five hundred years instead of five or ten. I do not offer that as a personal objection. Obviously, every specimen must be examined and dealt with on its own merits.”

  “My point,” said von Grossen, “is let’s think it over.”

  Morton asked, “Any other objections?” When none was made, he finished quietly, “All right boys, go out and get him!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ixtl waited. His thoughts kept breaking up into kaleidoscopic memories of all the things he had ever known or thought. He had a vision of his home planet, long ago destroyed. The picture brought pride, and a gathering con
tempt for these two-legged beings who actually expected to capture him.

  He could remember a time when his race could control the movement of entire sun systems through space. That was before they dispensed with space travel as such and moved on to a quieter existence, building beauty from natural forces in an ecstasy of prolonged creative production.

  He watched as the cage was unerringly driven towards him. It passed successfully through an opening in the screen, which closed instantly behind it. The transition was smoothly made. Even had he wanted to, he could not have taken advantage of the opening in the screen during the brief moment it existed. He had no desire to do so. He must be careful not to make a single hostile move until he was inside the ship. Slowly the metal-barred construction floated towards him. Its two operators were wary and alert. One held a weapon of some kind. Ixtl sensed that it discharged an atomic missile. It made him respectful, but he also recognized its limitations. It could be used against him out here, but they would not dare to employ such a violent energy within the confines of the ship.

  More sharply, more clearly, that focused his purpose. Get aboard the ship! Get inside!

  Even as the determination struck deeper, the gaping mouth of the cage closed over him. The metal door snapped noiselessly shut behind him. Ixtl reached for the nearest bar, caught it, and held on grimly. He clung there, dizzy from reaction. For he was safe! His mind expanded with the force of that reality. There was a physical as well as a mental effect. Free electrons discharged in swarms from the chaos of spinning atom systems inside his body, and frantically sought union with other systems. He was safe after quadrillions of years of despair. Safe on a material body. No matter what else happened, control of the energy source of this power-driven cage forever freed him from his past inability to direct his movements. He would never again be subject to the pull and equally feeble counter-pull of remote galaxies. Henceforth, he could travel in any direction he desired. And that much he had gained from the cage alone.

  As he clung to the bars, his prison started to move toward the surface of the ship. The protective screen parted as they came to it, and closed behind them. Close up, the men looked puny. Their need of space suits proved their inability to adapt themselves to environments radically different from their own, which meant that they were physically on a low plane of evolution. It would be unwise, however, to underestimate their scientific achievements. Here were keen brains, capable of creating and using mighty machines. And they had now brought up a number of these machines, evidently with the purpose of studying him. That would reveal his purpose, identify the precious objects concealed within his breast, and expose at least a few of his life processes. He could not allow such an examination to be made.

  He saw that several of the beings carried not one but two weapons. The instruments were attached to holsters, which were fitted in with the hand-arm mechanisms of each space suit. One of the weapons was the atomic-missile type with which he had already been threatened. The other had a sparkling, translucent handle. He analyzed it as a vibration gun. The men on the cage were also armed with the latter type of weapon.

  As the cage settled into the hastily arranged laboratory, a camera was pushed towards the narrow opening between two of the bars. That was Ixtl’s cue. With effortless ease, he jerked himself to the ceiling of the cage. His vision intensified, and became sensitive to very short frequencies. Instantly, he could see the power source of the vibrator as a bright spot well within his reach.

  One arm, with its eight wirelike fingers, lashed out with indescribable swiftness at the metal, through it; and then he had the vibrator from the holster of one of the men on the cage.

  He did not attempt to readjust its atomic structure as he had adjusted his arm. It was important that they should not be able to guess who had fired the weapon. Straining to maintain his awkward position, he aimed the weapon at the camera and at the group of men behind it. He pressed the trigger.

  In one continuous movement, Ixtl released the vibrator, withdrew his hand, and, by the act, pushed himself to the floor. His immediate fear was gone. The purely molecular energy had resonated through the camera and had affected to some extent most of the equipment in the makeshift laboratory. The sensitive film would be useless; meters would have to be reset, gauges examined, and each machine tested. Possibly the entire lot of paraphernalia would have to be replaced. And best of all, by its very nature, what had happened would have to be regarded as an accident.

  Grosvenor heard curses in his communicator, and he guessed, with relief, that the others were fighting, as he was, the stinging vibration that had been only partly stopped by the material of their space suits. His eyes adjusted slowly. Presently, he could see again the curved metal on which he stood, and beyond that the brief, barren crest of the ship, and the limitless miles of space—dark, fathomless, unthinkable gulfs. He saw, too, a blur among the shadows, the metal cage.

  “I’m sorry, Director,” one of the men on the cage apologized. “The vibrator must have fallen out of my belt and discharged.”

  Grosvenor said quickly, “Director, that explanation is unlikely in view of the virtual absence of gravity.”

  Morton said, “That’s a good point, Grosvenor. Did anybody see anything significant?”

  “Maybe I knocked against it, sir, without noticing,” volunteered the man whose weapon had caused the turmoil.

  There was a spluttering from Smith. The biologist muttered something that sounded like “The erysipelatous, strabismic, steatopygean . . .” Grosvenor didn’t catch the rest, but he guessed that it was a biologist’s private curse. Slowly, Smith straightened. “Just a minute,” he mumbled, “and I’ll try to remember what I saw. I was right here in the line of fire—ah, there, my body has stopped throbbing.” His voice became sharp as he went on. “I can’t swear to this, but just before that vibrator shocked me, the creature moved. I have an idea he jumped to the ceiling. I admit it was too black to see more than a blur, but . . .” He left the sentence unfinished.

  Morton said, “Crane, turn the cage light on, and let’s see what we’ve got here.

  With the others, Grosvenor faced about as a blaze of light showered down upon Ixtl crouching at the bottom of the cage. And then he stood silent, shocked in spite of himself. The almost red metallic sheen of the creature’s cylindrical body, the eyes like coals of fire, the wirelike fingers and toes, and the over-all scarlet hideousness of it startled him.

  Through the communicator, Siedel said breathlessly, “He’s probably very handsome—to himself!”

  The halfhearted attempt at humor broke the spell of horror. A man said stiffly, “If life is evolution, and nothing evolves except for use, how can a creature living in space have highly developed legs and arms? Its insides should be interesting. But now—the camera’s useless. That vibration would have the effect of distorting the lens, and of course the film has been ruined. Shall I have another sent up?”

  “No-o-o!” Morton sounded doubtful, but he continued in a firmer tone, “We’ve been wasting a lot of time; and after all, we can recreate vacuum of space conditions inside the ship’s laboratories, and be travelling at top acceleration while we’re doing it.”

  “Am I to understand that you are going to ignore my suggestion?” It was von Grossen, the physicist. He went on. “You will recall that I recommended at least a week’s study of this creature before any decision is made about taking him aboard.”

  Morton hesitated, then said, “Any other objections?” He sounded concerned.

  Grosvenor said, “I don’t think we should jump from the extreme of precaution to no precaution at all.”

  Morton said quietly, “Anybody else?” When no one replied, he added, “Smith?”

  Smith said, “Obviously, we’re going to take him aboard sooner or later. We mustn’t forget that a creature existing in space is the most extraordinary thing we’ve run across. Even pussy, who was equally at home with oxygen and chlorine, needed warmth of a kind, and would have found the
cold and lack of pressure in space deadly. If, as we suspect, this creature’s natural habitat is not space, then we must find out why and how he came to be where he is.”

  Morton was frowning. “I can see we’ll have to vote on this. We could enclose the cage in metal that will take an outer screen. Would that satisfy you, von Grossen?”

  Von Grossen said, “Now we are talking sensibly. But we shall have more arguments before the energy screen is taken down.”

  Morton laughed. “Once we’re on our way again, you and the others can discuss the pro and con of that from now till the end of the voyage.” He broke off. “Any other objections? Grosvenor?”

  Grosvenor shook his head. “The screen sounds effective to me, sir.”

  Morton said, “All those against, speak up.” When no one spoke, he directed a command to the men on the cage. “Move that thing over here, so we can start preparing it for energization.”

  Ixtl felt the faint throb in the metal as the motors started. He saw the bars move. Then he grew conscious of a sharp, pleasant tingling sensation. It was a physical activity inside his body, and while it was in progress it hampered the working of his mind. When he could think again, the cage floor was rising above him—and he was lying on the hard surface of the space ship’s outer shell.

  With a snarl, he scrambled to his feet as he realized the truth. He had forgotten to readjust the atoms in his body after firing the vibrator. And now he had passed through the metal floor of the cage.

  “Good heavens!” Morton’s bass exclamation almost deafened Grosvenor.

  A scarlet streak of elongated body, Ixtl darted across the shadowy reach of the impenetrable metal of the ship’s outer wall to the air lock. He jerked himself down into its dazzling depths. His adjusted body dissolved through the two inner doors. And then he was at one end of a long, gleaming corridor, safe—for the moment. And one fact stood out.