Star Smashers of the Galaxy Rangers

by Harry Harrison

  "Approximately one-third of our needed altitude," Jerry intoned in a hollow voice. "Still inside the deep atmosphere which interferes with the kappa radiation." John was no longer smiling as he uneasily eyed the great, cocked fist of Chuck that was slowly being drawn back into firing position. Jerry came between them and calmed them down.

  "Easy does it. Anyone can make a mistake – and we've gotten out of worse pinches before. Remember that old king of the Titanians and what happened to him!" They all laughed at that memory, and the tension was eased. John lowered his head, chagrined.

  "Gee, I'm sorry. Something must have snapped inside my head for me to goof up like that. We'll get out of this. Land on that planet, align the cheddite projector, then take off, and home we go!"

  "And we can put some more ice in the head with Sally. She'll keep OK."

  After that it was just waiting as they fell. The cabin heaters were on, and fresh Titanian oxygen was being pumped into the air, and soon they could peel off the extra layers of clothing. Chuck found some cans of cola, and they thawed and drank them, pretending not to notice when John poured seven miniatures of bourbon into his. They knew he felt bad about the mistake, and they were good enough sports not to rub it in. More frozen oxygen was packed in with Sally, still exhibiting a look of frozen horror, and they took turns grabbing a little shut-eye, not knowing what would befall them on the planet ever growing larger below. When the first wisps of atmosphere began to whistle against the skin of the ship, Chuck took the controls and waggled them.

  "Almost there. Better strap in because this might be a bit rough. I think we picked up some velocity in the fall." They certainly had. Air tore at the wings until the edges began to glow and the deicer boots burned away. Chuck stayed rock-firm at the wheel and sent them bouncing in a great arc out into space again only to fall back once more into the atmosphere. Again and again he did this until their great speed was slowed to under a thousand miles per hour, and only then did he let the ship sink deeper into the atmosphere.

  "Oceans, continents," Jerry said. "Almost like Earth. Makes you kind of homesick."

  "That big continent, the one there," John said, pointing.

  "I think that one looks the most like North America."

  "Sure enough," Chuck agreed. "And that's the way we are going to head."

  Heavy cloud layers covered the continent in question as they swooped in low over what could have been one on Earth – how far away now! A great storm center seemed to be active here and Jerry pulled up to go over the top of it. Apparently thunderstorms were worse on this planet than on Earth, for lightning glared and exploded continually within the clouds and the rumble of thunder could be heard even through the insulated cabin walls. They went on seeking clear weather on the far side of the immense storm.

  "Good news, guys," Jerry chortled. "I've turned off the oxygen flow since this atmosphere seems to have more than enough to run the engines on."

  "You know," Chuck mused, "there is something kind of funny about that thunder and lightning. If the idea wasn't so downright dim and stupid I would almost say that-" The great 747 bucked suddenly, and there was a solid thud felt through the metal fabric and a hole more than a yard in diameter appeared in the port wing.

  "-those were explosions out there, shells and bombs and stuff, as though a war were going on." While he mused over this, Jerry had pulled back on the wheel and fed full power to the engines and the leviathan of the skies roared up and away from the tumult below.

  "I don't think we should mix in a war," John opined. Jerry nodded agreement. "Particularly since that hole in the wing ruptured our main fuel tank and we only have about fifteen minutes' fuel left."

  "That is annoying," Chuck agreed. "Better buckle your seat belts, guys," and he turned on the 'seat belts' and 'no smoking' signs as he said this.

  The Pleasantville Eagle clawed its way back into the sky reaching for altitude to stretch its meager fuel supply to the upmost, fighting to clear the immense area of the strange battlefield below. They were above the clouds, droning away merrily, while the fuel needles loudly clicked, one by one, against their bottom pins. Then came the moment they had awaited and feared as, one by one, the greedy engines sucked in the last drops of fuel, then gurgled and gasped into silence. The instant the powerful thrust stopped the ship fell off into a dive, plunged toward the woolly clouds below it, diving into their misty embrace. None of the three comrades said anything, but if pulses hammered faster and jaws were clenched more firmly, who was to blame them? Anything could be waiting below the clouds.

  What was waiting, they saw when they plunged through the bottom of the fleecy layer, was not very much of anything at all. From horizon to horizon, shadowed by the thick clouds above, lay a sandy waste barren of life of any kind.

  "I don't think we should land down there," John said, speaking for all of them.

  Jerry stretched the glide with all his considerable talent, but though he could fight, he could not win against the inexorable grip of gravity that clutched at the 747 with greedy fingers. The featureless desert flashed by below them, ever closer, and dimly far ahead a range of mountains appeared.

  "Quick, the glasses!" Chuck exclaimed, leaning forward and peering intently into the distance. John slapped them into his hand, and in an instant he had them trained on the ground. "There's a fort there of some kind, I can see a flag waving over it, and explosions all around it, more fighting I guess. Yes, there are vehicles of some kind circling it, firing, and guns on the wall firing back. I can see the defenders now! Why, they're almost human except maybe they have an extra couple of arms, but what does that matter!"

  "Who are they fighting?" Jerry asked, concentrating firmly on the controls.

  "Hard to tell – wait – one of their cars just got blown over, the driver is crawling out and . . . ugggh!"

  "Ugggh?"

  "That's the word for it. A thing with a sort of repulsive purplish yellow body like a tree trunk with sort of openings all over it, four legs like smaller tree trunks and black tentacles sprouting on top where a real person would have a head."

  "Well that's enough for me!" Jerry shouted for them all.

  "We just have to come in on the side of the humanoids

  "and show those uggghs what real humans can do."

  "Right!" Chuck agreed. "But what can we do?"

  "You've got a point there. Any ideas, guys?"

  It was John, trained spy and saboteur, who quickly came up with the answer. "All the seats dismount easily. Make a turn and come back over the enemy and we'll show them what men can do against those purple scum." And show them they did. As the Pleasantville Eagle swooped down like its avenging namesake, from the opened emergency doors on each side dropped a stream of metal seats. Dropped straight and true as though aimed by computing bombsights, each seat plunging headlong onto one of the fleeing vehicles.

  And the ruse worked. It was not obvious how much damage the chairborne attack had done, but it had apparently broken the spirit of the enemy, for they now fled with their tentacles tucked between their legs, across the desert to vanish in the range of hills. Cheers broke out in the cabin, and through the whistling slipstream, echoing cheers could be heard from the defenders below. Jerry whipped the plane about in a tight turn and with their last bit of speed brought the Eagle safely home to roost on the smooth desert floor, braking to a stop in the shadow of the fort's high walls.

  "Here," Jerry said, passing on the electric razor to the others after he had used it. "Let's neaten up, give these guys the right impression."

  They all agreed on this, and by the time they had used deodorant too and brushed the last green stain of Titanian ichor from their clothing, combed their hair and renewed Sally's frozen oxygen a reception committee was waiting for them at the foot of the folding stairway that automatically slipped out of the plane's side when the entrance was opened. Step by step they descended to the historical moment when humanoid met humanoid for the first time across the trackless oceans
of space. Each group examined the other with unabashed curiosity. What the aliens saw was, of course, the three Americans. What the Americans saw were three aliens. They had very smooth, white, shining skin, and when the first one raised his steel helmet in greeting, they saw that the humanoids were hairless as well. The pupils of their eyes were shaped like the number 8 and were bright pink. They wore no clothes but instead were draped about with a leather harness from which were suspended a number of weapons as well as other items not easily identifiable. Then, upon a shouted signal from their leader – the one in front whose helmet was gold instead of black like the others – they pulled out their swords and raised them in salute. The three Americans jumped to attention and returned the salute snappily, although John raised his clenched fist first before remembering and quickly touching his forefinger to his brow, hand and forearm straight, longest way up and shortest way down, like the others. Then the steel of the swords rasped back into the scabbards, and the leader stepped forward:

  "Sdrah stvoo ee tyeh," he gurgled in a deep voice.

  "Though we are strangers from across the deeps of space and do not speak your fine though incomprehensible language, nevertheless we come in peace and bring you greetings from the men of planet Earth, and particularly the United States," Jerry answered.

  "Daw braw yeh oo traw," John said. "He was just saying hello in Russian, and I told him good morning back."

  "Jumping Jehoshaphat," Chuck whispered. "You don't think they're Commies, do you?" They all stepped backward cautiously.

  "No Commies," the leader said, smiling a toothless grin, since he had a bony ridge instead of teeth, and raising his helmet again in greeting. "We are the Ormoloo who battle against the repulsive Garnishee from whom you saved us and for which we will be internally grateful."

  "You speak English pretty well for an Ormoloo," Jerry said.

  "For many years our powerful radio receivers have been picking up radio transmissions from your planet, and we have studied them and have learned your language. Men of Earth and of the great country the United States of America, I return your greetings and welcome you in peace to our planet Domite. Everything we have is at your disposal on this most momentous occasion. A banquet has been prepared in your honor, and we beg you to grace our table with your noble democratic presences."

  "Lead the way," Chuck said, and they did.

  The three Earthmen looked around with wonder at the inside of the fort. In some way it was very much like a desert fort on Earth with plastered walls and a crenellated top above the firing step. But here the resemblance ended, for the Ormoloo had a fantastic assortment of strange weapons, some of which defied description. They then and there determined to examine these later to see how they worked. The leader, who had introduced himself as Steigen-Sterben, turned and smiled his toothless grin back at them.

  "Later you must examine our weapons and see how they work," he said.

  They nodded agreement and entered the banquet hall, where each was conducted to a place of honor at the long table. The table was bare except for a clay bowl before each place filled with cool water. After they were all seated, Steigen-Sterben raised his hand and all of the heads were lowered as he spoke.

  "Oh, Great Spirit who lives in the Other World above, we thank you for what you have provided." The prayer over, they raised their heads, and Chuck nudged Jerry in the ribs and whispered.

  "They must be great guys, with religion and everything," and Jerry agreed.

  Now the waiters appeared carrying great baskets, and with three-pronged tines, they scooped out mounds of what looked like green grass and deposited them on the bare table before each diner. As soon as they had all been served, Steigen-Sterben signaled, and they all fell to with a will, bending over and munching up mouthfuls of the grass. All except the three Earthmen, who were not sure what to do until Jerry broke the ice and picked up some of it and put it in his mouth and chewed and swallowed quickly, then drained his water bowl.

  "Jumping horseflies," he whispered, "That grass is grass."

  "I see you are not eating," Steigen-Sterben said. "I must apologize for our simple fare, but we Ormoloo are strict vegetarians, for religious principles of course, and never vary our diet."

  "Well, some of my best friends are vegetarians," Jerry rushed to explain so no insult would be felt. "But we guys here we're, well, omnivores for the most part. But go ahead and eat, don't let us stop you."

  "No insult felt," Steigen-Sterben mumbled through a luscious mouthful. "We'll be through pretty soon." The three companions looked around at the blank walls and sipped their water, and sure enough, inside of a minute the Ormoloo had finished their banquet, the last blade lapped up and the table licked clean.

  "Let me tell you about this war," Steigen-Sterben lowed, licking a last green fragment from his lips. "For over ten thousand of your Earth years we have been locked in this struggle, for the Garnishee are ruthless demons and would kill us all, horribly, if they had their way. So back and forth the war rages, for we are evenly matched, and it appears it will go on for ten thousand years more."

  "Would you mind my asking why you are fighting?" Chuck asked.

  "No, I wouldn't."

  "Why are you fighting?"

  "We fight to maintain our free way of life, to worship the Great Spirit in our own manner and to wipe out to the last evil individual of the hideous Garnishee."

  "Would you mind my asking why you dislike them?" Jerry said. "I mean other than the fact they are pretty nasty-looking and all that."

  "I hesitate to tell you, to profane your ears with the horrors of their way of life."

  "We can take it, "John said, speaking for them all.

  "Rather than tell you, for it is hard to speak the unspeakable, let me show you."

  At a signal the lights dimmed, and a hidden movie projector sprang to life, using one white wall as a screen. Strange music sobbed and wailed, and credits and titles in an unknown script appeared. The film was in color and seemed to be well made, except that the voice over was in a totally incomprehensible language. When the credits ended, the three friends gasped because the speaker was a disgusting Ormoloo, with all his repulsive details in living color. His black tentacles waved, and it could be seen that one of the openings in the central trunk was a mouth that opened and closed. A ring of eyes ran around what would have been the creature's waist, had it had a waist.

  "Ugly beggar," Jerry said, and the others nodded agreement.

  "Not only that," Steigen-Sterben said, "but they smell very badly as well."

  Now the creature on the screen rose, and picking up a stick, it stumped over on its four postlike legs to a diagram, which it began to point at with the stick. The diagram was a simple drawing of an Ormoloo with dotted lines across many different parts of his body.

  "What does it mean?" John asked.

  "Unhappily" – Steigen-Sterben sighed – "you will find out quickly enough."

  They did, indeed, find out quickly enough. The scene changed, and a dead Ormoloo was stretched out on a wooden block while the speaker sawed him apart with a powerful bandsaw.

  "Enough!" Jerry shouted, springing to his feet and knocking over his chair. The film vanished, and the lights came back on. Steigen-Sterben sat with head lowered and, finally, explained in a hushed voice.

  "This was what I dared not speak of. The Garnishee seek only to capture us and eat us, for they are monsters."

  "Monsters indeed!" Chuck roared, jumping up and knocking over his chair. "I know I speak for us all when I say that we will give you every aid within our power to wipe these fiends from the face of your fair planet!"

  All the Earthmen nodded solemn agreement, and as one, the Ormoloo jumped to their feet and saluted and cheered themselves hoarse, shouting, "Hip, hip, HOORAY!" over and over again.

  "And I think I know a way to do that," Jerry said thoughtfully. "I am considering a weapon far stronger than anything you have here, a weapon I could build that would wipe out your enemies to the
last fiend."

  "You wouldn't," Steigen-Sterben said, smiling broadly and putting a friendly arm or two around Jerry's shoulders, "care to tell me about it, would you, old man?"

  "Not just yet. I have to work some bugs out of it before I do that. But first we have something more pressing to worry about. Before the frozen oxygen runs out, we have to do something about Sally."

  "Could I examine your hospital?" John asked.

  "Of course," Steigen-Sterben said, "but you must not expect it to be up to the fine standards of a hospital like your Pleasantville General Hospital and Rest Home. . . ."

  "You've heard about that here?" Chuck gasped.

  "Of course. I listened to the radio program myself about its unique modern wonders and remember it clearly. That is why I say ours are crude by comparison. You see we Ormoloo have no pain nerves or bloodstream as you do." To prove the point he drew his sword and plunged it through the body of the Ormoloo next to him who never batted an eyelid but went on licking a grass blade from his hand. When the sword came out, only a tiny hole could be seen that instantly sealed up. "Our blood goes from cell to cell by osmosis so we need neither heart nor blood vessels. Also, our bodies are very resistant to infections. Our hospitals are, well, just a sort of wooden table, a couple of knives and saws and a lot of needles and thread. If parts are too damaged to save, we hack them off, that's about all."

  "Yes, I understand," John mused. "But I had something a little more complex in mind for Sally. Look – you must have machine shops and tools, things like that?"

  "Of course. There is a complete machine shop here for servicing our weapons and machines."

  "Then that's the answer. I can make the instruments I will need; it won't take long. I'll fix things up while you guys get Sally in here."

  He was as good as his word, for no sooner had the two others put on their insulated gloves and carried Sally in from the refrigerated john than they found him in the middle of a well-equipped hospital room.

  "I'll need some help. Are either of you up to assisting?"