The Almost Complete Short Fiction

by Don Wilcox

  Out of hearing Kirk found himself muttering aloud.

  “Performing starfish! Great stars and planets! How can a space man like Lester Allison fiddle his time away trying to make pets of these fifty-ton brutes? It don’t make sense!”

  As Kirk’s plane lifted, he circled for elevation and got another sight of the pen from overhead. A huge six-point star of light showed through the fog. Allison must have been busy at the switches, for the points were being made to wave around in different positions. But the most startling thing was that a huge black starfish could be seen directly below the lights, waving its arms. The one great arm remained stationary. The other five continued to shift positions, and with every shift of the starfish Allison was making the lights change accordingly.

  “Now isn’t that a happy little game?” Kirk muttered in disgust. “The starfish calls the tune and Les plays it on his organ of electric lights.”

  CHAPTER XXIV

  Rewards for the Gang

  Allison was dead right about one thing. These great gray monsters with their six flapping arms were the servants of the immense green creatures of the outside world.

  This was proved a few days later. An alarm from the vigilant watchers at one of the observatories first sighted the invasion of these smaller foreign creatures. The warnings spread around the world in a flash. The great shadows from outside the shell had cut an opening on one side and had released through that opening fifty or sixty of the flying starfish.

  Newspaper presses hummed. Extras were on the streets within a few minutes. And newer underground cities came to life with the fearful realization that they were no safer than the rest of the world. This might be the beginning of a much greater invasion.

  The civilized world knew by this time that these creatures were no strangers. From the earlier samples, people had retained their mental images of the long, shadowy, gray creatures.

  Rewards were offered at once.

  If there were only fifty or sixty invading starfish, the space hunters might make short work of them. Along mountain ranges and waterways many hunters gathered to keep watch. The coast artilleries of some countries were mobilized. These creatures would be fair game, and the reward was enough to make the hunt worth anyone’s while.

  Every few minutes the radios would report that a flock of strange birds had been sighted in this region or that. Kirk Riley excused himself from a conference with the central committee of the Migration Planners. He made for his airplane and headed straight for the Ohio Zoo. He radioed ahead. But he could get no answer from the Zoo’s office. Why not?

  Before he landed he know that his hunch was a good one. Other visitors were ahead of him, and they had come, Kirk was sure, to make trouble. They had brought an army tank. A truck might have been too light. They had come to steal a reward.

  Kirk landed on the field at the edge of the Zoo grounds. He made sure the revolver he carried was loaded. As he bounded up the steps toward the tiers of hillside cages, he could hear the clanking of steel against steel. He dashed toward the old pen which Allison had made his cliff side home.

  “Allison! Allison! Are you up there? Do you know what’s happening?”

  No answer. Kirk raced up the cliff-side path and ducked under the ledge. A little yellow light was burning. The electric wires and switches were in a tangle. Kirk could see, from the rumpled condition of the burlap rugs, that there had been a scuffle. Fresh scratches marked the dust down the side of the ledge.

  “Allison! Are you down there?”

  Kirk looked for something to hold him in his climb down the step bank. He seized upon a stray electric wire, fastened an end of it around a pillar of rock, knotted a loop in the other end and swung down.

  Now he discovered bloodstains on the lower ledge of concrete, and a little farther on he came upon the figure of Lester Allison, lying in a heap.

  “My stars and comets! What have they done to you?”

  He bent down to slip an arm under Allison’s shoulders. The poor fellow had toppled and fallen, like a wedge between stone. Must have cut his breathing to almost nothing. Kirk worked on him.

  Allison began to groan and gave with a heavy sigh. His lips were bleeding; there were minor gashes on the side of his head. His eyes were half open.

  “Come out of it, Les. Wait, I’ll get some water. Take it easy now.”

  When Kirk came back with the handkerchief he had soaked in a nearby pool, Allison was sitting upright.

  “Here, I’ll take it,” said Allison. “Don’t mind me. Go after those rats.”

  “You’d better lie down and forget about them. I knew the minute I heard about the reward that Champ and Bill Kite and the gang would be right over here.”

  “Have they caught any yet?”

  “They are about to get one.”

  Kirk looked across the hilltop. The seven or eight men had succeeded in fastening a chain on one arm of a starfish. The other end of the chain was attached to the army tank. Now the men were trying to break a wide opening through the bars so they could drag the beast through.

  “Don’t let them get away,” Allison groaned. “Shoot ’em if necessary. Wait, I’ll go with you.”

  “You’ll stay right where you are,” Kirk demanded. “Leave it to me.”

  “Go back to my cave,” said Allison. “There’s a revolver back on the shelf at the left. A little more of this water and I’ll be back on my feet. I’m not hurt, just stunned. They pounced on me without warning. I think they’ve knocked out the whole camp.”

  Kirk made his way back to the cave and found the extra gun. But when he returned to Allison, the latter was lying down.

  “That’s good,” said Kirk. “You stay right here. I don’t think they’ll come back—”

  “You stay, too,” said Allison. “Get down—out of sight!”

  “But I’ll be careful. I’ll slip up on the blind side—”

  “Get down, I tell you,” Allison snapped. “Do you see that cloud—that streak?”

  Kirk fell silent. He was looking up into the sky, trying to locate whatever it was that Allison saw. But now his attention was distracted by the curious antics of one of the starfish nearest the end. The creature was waving its many arms in slow rhythmic regularity. Its longest arm remained motionless. The others kept swishing through the air, as if participating in some weird ritual.

  Then Kirk saw the dark streak overhead. It was no cloud. It was a line of flying starfish.

  Suddenly he and Allison were aware that the whole line was swooping downward, straight toward the pen. Wider and wider their flapping arms grew as they skyrocketed down.

  Across the hilltop the busy figures of Champ and Kite and their cronies suddenly became motionless. They saw it coming—a swift retribution for their misdeeds.

  The line of starfish swept down upon them. For a moment there was a swarm of waving gray arms. Somewhere beneath that mass of starfish, Bill Kite and his gang were fighting for their lives. Gunfire sounded, along with the yelling and cursing.

  But apparently gunfire was not enough. In a moment the line of beasts swung upward. The first seven or eight had grabbed as many victims.

  Kirk could hear the low shout of Champ changing into a choked squeal as the gangster was carried off into the sky. The whole gang was gone. The flying starfish became a dim streak of darkness drifting over the horizon.

  And Allison’s pets, still safe in their pen, drifted around silently as if nothing had happened.

  CHAPTER XXV

  Souvenirs from the Captive Electron

  The new stand on the thoroughfare attracted a great deal of attention, partly because of Lyon’s bluster, partly because there was something of genuine interest to be seen.

  “You have never seen anything like it. They are the daintiest little creatures that ever came under a microscope. Here they are, my fellow fleas, waiting for your inspection.”

  Lyon held up a tiny glass box that reflected the green of his fingertips.

  “Don’t
let your eyes deceive you. This box looks empty, but it contains hundreds of them. Step right up and pay the price of admission. In a moment I will place these creatures under the microscope, and you will see their pictures projected on the screen.”

  The fellow fleas crowded around, squinting their eyes at the glass box. They could not see anything. This talk of two-legged, flea-like creatures sounded like a fake. But the gullible and the skeptical alike paid the price and entered Lyon’s dark room to see for themselves.

  “They are like fleas!” the crowd was soon gasping. “Look at them walk. There’s one running. See them chase back into the corner. They act scared.”

  “There you have it,” said Lyon, “the most remarkable demonstration of invisible life that has even been seen.”

  “How much for the lot?” someone sang out.

  “I will sell them individually,” said Lyon, and he named his price.

  “It’s a hold-up. What are they good for? They are only a microscopic novelty.”

  “All right,” Lyon agreed, “they are a microscopic novelty. When you see them once you have seen the whole show. Don’t ask me to sell them. I will keep them myself. But let me tell you something. This little batch of invisible life will be a most valuable collection as time goes on. They are the first to be captured from the first electron ever imprisoned, and if you don’t like my price I will hold them for an investment.”

  “What was that price you quoted?” someone asked.

  This time Lyon doubled the figure. The crowd roared.

  “All right, they are not for sale. The time will come when the graduate microbes and even their masters will have instruments delicate enough to see these little beings. And then what a handsome price I will command! My monopoly—”

  Lyon broke off suddenly. Prince Zaywoodie and his friends were coming along the thoroughfare. The Prince called out a greeting.

  Lyon told his crowd to wait. He would be right back. He went out to meet the Prince.

  “You are taking good care of those little creatures, I trust,” said Prince Zaywoodie. “We don’t want any of them to get away until we have further requests from our masters higher up.”

  The Prince went on, and Lyon returned to his customers. “The price I quoted you still goes,” said Lyon. “Now, do I have any buyers?”

  A few of the fleas made purchases. They were instructed to go elsewhere for glass boxes in which to house their pets. When they returned their merchandise would be ready. The more money Lyon took in, the more loudly he shouted.

  Within their group there was a grumbler, the cynic named Zeerat. He was scornful of Lyon’s knowledge of the little creatures. His sly talk drew listeners.

  “I have it straight from the one-cells that these little fellows are very remarkable. In fact, if I knew them as well as I know my fellow fleas, I might be able to admire them just as much as I admire you—and you—and you.”

  Lyon did not like Zeerat’s talk. He stormed loudly. What was this—an attempt to belittle the greatness of the fleas? The walls shuddered with Lyon’s shouting.

  “I only said,” Zeerat replied, “that these little electron dwellers may have virtues of their own. I learned from a one-cell that they have machines to make their voices loud or soft. Think of it—a machine to soften the voice! We might use that to advantage on some of our loud flea mouths!”

  This enraged Lyon so that he hurled the first thing he could get his hands on straight at the cynic.

  Zeerat jumped, as any flea would, to keep from getting hit. The little glass box smashed against the wall and the splinters flew.

  What happened to the microscopic creatures inside was more than any monster flea could hope to guess.

  * * *

  The teacher passed out some reports which his pupils received in their seven-fingered hands.

  “The latest data upon our probing into the atom,” said the teacher, “are indeed amazing. We learn that the electron has been successfully isolated, and that its inhabitants are being removed.”

  “Is there more than one inhabitant to an electron?” a pupil asked.

  “According to the estimates set forth in this report,” said the teacher, “there may be two billion of them on this particular electron. It was indeed a fortunate choice.”

  “Are they easily captured? Don’t they even have the simple instinct to escape danger?”

  “They seem to be powerless to help themselves. They are completely trapped. But a few of the more vigorous specimens are said to be flying against the sides of their trap, with machines, trying to break out.”

  “What will become of them?”

  “This report suggests that they are to be sold as souvenirs. In fact, this traffic has already begun.” The teacher shook his head and folded his great hands sadly. “We may never know whether such infinitely small beings are capable of feeling hurt or wronged by this action.”

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Goodbye to the Pets

  Somewhere in the continent of America June Allison was appealing to her hero-husband with all her heart.

  “Please, Lester. Come away from the Zoo. The Migration Planners are about to give up. Every hour there are reports of new captures.”

  “But no killings?”

  “How can we know what these flying starfish do with their human prisoners? They take them outside the shell, and that’s the end of it. They keep coming back in droves, and wherever they find people they sail down and scoop them up and sail away.”

  Allison looked up at his flying starfish pets. “Interesting, isn’t it, that our captive starfish are so quiet and well-behaved. You’d think they would try to break out when their brothers keep coming over in flocks.”

  “Lester, how can you be so—so devoid of feeling?”

  “But my pets just look up and wave at their brothers and let it go at that.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “I do hope, June,” Allison went on, “that the human prisoners outside the shell are getting as good treatment as I’ve given these brutes. But I—Wait, June. Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know.” She was walking away from him as fast as she could go. She called back angrily. “But I do know we’ll never see Diana and Kirk again.”

  “What’s that?” Allison shouted, hurrying to catch her.

  “They were working at the shell with a Battering Ram crew. But they and the space ship are all gone now.” There were tears in June’s eyes. “Oh, I wish our Mercury friends were here—Smitt and the Wakefields and Mary and—”

  “June, believe me,” Allison spoke earnestly. “I’ve been gambling my time on a hunch. Not until this hour have I been sure enough to try—”

  “Look!” June cried. “Your pets! They’re flying away!”

  “I bought off the Zoo,” said Allison, “and had them open the gate . . . Yes, there they go. They’re pretty, flying, aren’t they?”

  “Then maybe you have come to your senses.”

  “We’ll see,” said Allison. “Come on, let’s find a telephone. I’ll know in a few minutes whether Professor Haycox learned his lesson of co-operation. These flying starfish slipped through his fingers and Ubruff’s. But I’ve told those two gents how to save their reputations. By getting together and putting over a big job—”

  “Haycox and Ubruff are deadly enemies,” June gasped.

  “If there’s any goodness in human nature, those enemies have come through like a pair of pals. They agreed to have all the electric power companies in North America all set for me and ready to go.”

  “Electric power companies?” This was too much for June. She gestured helplessly as her husband dashed toward the Zoo office telephone.

  A minute later he was conferring over some vague business concerning the switches of an electric light organ.

  “That’s correct, Haycox. Only one switch for the point in Canada. It remains constant. . . All right, then the whole network is complete and the organ is ready to go . . .�
��

  June pressed her forehead with both her hands. “What next? Organ grinding?” she thought. “Maybe I ought to coax him into a cage and lock the gate.”

  CHAPTER XXVII

  Message Through Microscopes

  “This is most remarkable,” said the teacher, rubbing his seven-fingered hands in delight. “It is the most amazing thing I have ever encountered. The inhabitants on the captured electron are signalling.”

  He read the report, and his pupils listened with breathless interest.

  “There we have it—a completed chain of communication from one universe to another. Let me summarize.

  “One: We have learned to talk with the graduate microbes, which are too small for us to see.

  “Two: The microbes, infested with parasitic fleas, sorted out the intelligent ones and utilized their smallness for scientific purposes. Through a common code of symbols the fleas passed knowledge up to their master microbes, who have passed it on to us.

  “Three: The fleas have invisible servants, we have recently learned. Though the fleas can see them only through microscopes, these smaller creatures, known as one-cells, are, in their own peculiar way, very brainy. They talk by waving the points of their star-shaped bodies, and the fleas understand.

  “And so do the microbes.

  “And so do we.

  “And now comes the final link in this marvelous chain. The infinitely small creatures on the newly captured electron have already learned to communicate in the code of the one-cells.”

  After an impressive silence the curious pupils began questioning. What would such creatures have to say? Did they possess genuine thoughts of their own or were they simply parroting the actions of the one-cells? And how could they perform these actions?

  Did they also possess star-shaped bodies?

  “They talk by means of lights,” said the teacher. “Our latest report tells us this: So highly organized is their system of co-operation that they are able to turn on millions of separate lights all over the face of the ball on which they live.