Star Smashers of the Galaxy Rangers

by Harry Harrison

  "All?" Jerry asked. "Not quite all."

  "Yoo-hoo!" A powerful thought blasted through every mind at once. "I see you!"

  Now their eyes were drawn across the room and down. Down toward the table. Down toward the bowl of water. Down to the little green turtle that was waving its tiny claws at them.

  "Pishky . . . you!" Troceps gasped.

  "Lord Pishky, if you don't mind. Member of the Lortonoi Council of ten, now rulers of the galaxy. How we fooled you – and how we hate you! You, you great lumbering creatures with fingers and hands and tentacles and that kind of thing. While we, with the greatest brains the galaxy had ever seen, are trapped in these tiny worthless bodies. How we loathe you! We have tried to breed for size and such, but whenever we do, like the turtles we planted on Earth, size brings with it mindless stupidity, so that experiment has stopped. We decided instead to use our powers to enslave and destroy you all, and at last, after millennia of effort, the day of conquest is at hand. The Lortonoi have won!"

  After the first numbed surprise every creature in the ship surged forward, each fighting for the chance to get the Lortonoi under his heel. But their efforts were doomed. For, still laughing, the tiny green turtle gripped their minds and threw them back. It was defeat indeed.

  "I don't want to die! I'm getting out of here!" John gasped, and turning the cheddite projector on himself, he vanished.

  "The first rat leaves the sinking spaceship," Lord Pishky sneered, which is very hard to do if you are a turtle. "He has gone back to the fleet, but since the fleet is due to be destroyed in a few microseconds, it will do him no good. Already we Lortonoi are taking over the opposing Fligigleh space fleets and making them one. How we have laughed at you from our security as your pets! We controlled your thoughts so that you liked us and kept us around, preparing yourselves for the moment of your destruction. Now the end is at hand, the fleet approaches, so if any of you want to have a last prayer – I won't allow it! Ha-ha! How we hate you God freaks. Prepare yourself, for the end is at hand."

  "Oh, no, it's not," John said, appearing suddenly in the middle of the cabin. He was dressed in a spacesuit and was carrying a sack over one shoulder. "You'll never get away with this conquest, not while I have this!"

  He reached into the sack and withdrew a long, red, succulent shape and waved it over his head.

  It was a kosher garlic salami!

  20

  THE SECRET OF THE SALAMI

  "Are you out of your mind?" Jerry gasped, speaking for all of them, free to speak for himself again now that the Lortonoi no longer needed him for a mouthpiece.

  "Not as mad as you think, Jerry, my boy. When you all tried to attack Pishky, the mad little green turtle Lortonoi, awhile back there, I had the glimmerings of an idea deep down. I acted instantly before Pishky could read my mind and while it was still mostly involved in holding you all off. I suppressed the thought and instead felt immense fear, which, you will understand, was not hard to do. Then I thought of escape, fleeing to the fleet, grabbing a ship and running, yes, I would do that! I turned the cheddite projector on myself, and the Lortonoi, fooled for the moment, let me go. But once back in the fleet, I abandoned all thoughts of flight and set about my real task. I got into a spacesuit and used the cheddite projector to go back to the space battle around the Chachka golden sphere. I almost didn't make it, the battle is raging worse than ever, but I managed to align the projector precisely and made it inside the dome in one jump. After that the rest is obvious. The Chachkas read my mind, discovered what had happened, and upon the instant decided that the time had come at last, after all the millennia, to use Krakar." He waved the salami again. "And Krakar is here, within the salami, which is a disguise."

  "Well, it will never be used." Pishky radiated the powerful thought, and instantly everyone in the ship was frozen. "Except perhaps by us. Now – hand over that salami, and you, get a knife and let us see what this device looks like."

  But no one moved, despite the waves of thought that radiated out from the bowl where the green turtleLortonoi swam around distractedly. There was a stir from the sack still suspended from John's shoulder and up out of it crawled a familiar, black, cockroach-shaped form that stopped on his shoulder and stared down at the bowl.

  "It is Three of the Chachkas!" Chuck shouted. "We are saved!"

  "Yes, you are saved," the creature said, "but no, I am not Three but Four. Three was busy. But I can handle this job myself. Know this, Oh, vile Lortonoi, we have been watching your evil race for millennia. Rather we weren't watching you, even our magnificent minds could not penetrate the mind barrier erected around your secret headquarters, but we were watching what you were doing and didn't like it at all. A long time ago we decided that if Krakar were ever used, it would be used against you swine, and our decision has proved correct. Now you have exposed your real identity so we can wage war upon you and destroy you down to the last fragment of shell. . ."

  Four's words were interrupted by a bolt of mental energy hurled at it by the creature in the bowl. So great was this thrust that every mind in the ship blacked out for an instant, and all the lights went out as well. Then the emergency lights came on, and they gasped as they saw the burned hole in the carpet where the strength of Four's brain had deflected the bolt.

  "That was your turn," Four said calmly. "Now it is mine."

  With these words they were locked in silent, mental conflict, giant brain against giant brain. There was a tension in the air that they all sensed, for this was the battle to determine the fate of the galaxy. Who would win? The creatures, fighting turtle, gallant cockroach, seemed equally matched as the seconds, then minutes, flew by and there was no change.

  But was there? Why was Pishky swimming around the bowl in that agitated manner and trying to climb up the glass sides? Was that a tiny streamer of vapor rising from the water.

  "Great Cacodyl," Lord Prrsi choked out. "The Chachka is holding his own in the mental battle, I can detect that, but so mighty is its brain that it is diverting part of its mental energy to heat up the water in the bowl so that it is rapidly approaching the boiling point!"

  They watched in frozen silence as the tiny, yet extremely evil creature paddled about furiously as the water began to bubble. The end was not long in coming. There was a mental cry of despair that swept through their minds and then was gone – and with it went that evil presence that had sought to destroy them all.

  "We've won," Jerry said, stepping forward slowly and picking up the bowl. "Not only that, but we have some turtle soup."

  "If you wanted some sandwiches, though how you could after that big banquet," Sally said, coming into the room, "why didn't you wake me and tell me? You know the kind of mess you always make. You want the salami on rye?" she asked, plucking the elongated form from John's fingers and putting it on the cutting board and raising a knife.

  "Stop!" a number of voices cried at one time, and stop she did, since every mind capable of mind control was now fighting to control hers and to stop the knife from ascending. She bounced and jiggled, and the knife dropped from her fingers, and John bent and picked up the salami carefully.

  "In my hands," he intoned, "I hold the fate of the known universe."

  "I thought it was a kosher salami," Sally said, but no one was listening.

  With infinite care, under Four's mental instructions, he removed the skin and carefully made a long slice into the meat. Then, slowly and carefully, he reached into the opening and took out Krakar.

  "If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have believed it!" Jerry said, his jaw dropping loosely.

  "Me neither!" Chuck agreed.

  "It looks like a spray can of oven cleaner," Sally said, unimpressed.

  "Its physical shape does not matter," Four said in no uncertain terms. "For this is Krakar!"

  "Could you tell us how it works – and quickly?" John said, eyeing the subspatial radar. "Because the combined fleets of the Fligigleh are now coming this way at full blast"

  "I c
annot possibly explain to your childish minds how the device works, though of course there is a wiring diagram painted on the can. But I can tell you how to operate it and what it does. You hold it on one hand and point the orifice at the enemy and press the plastic button on top."

  "I told you, just like stove cleaner spray," Sally said, but was glared into silence by the others and left the cabin, miffed.

  "What Krakar is is a temporal catalyst that unites its target with the time flow that sweeps through the universe. But it unites it backward to the normal flow so that a blockade is set up. Well, as you know, nothing can stand against the time flow so the blockade instantly becomes a temporal tornado that whirls faster and faster and sucks in all matter for a couple of light-years in every direction as it gathers speed; then, when it hits top revolutions, it blasts through the fabric of time itself and hurtles in reverse for approximately thirty-one trillion years. . . ."

  "The figure is exact?" Chuck asked.

  "Of course."

  "Big bang?"

  "Obviously, and I am pleased that at least one entity here knows what the hell I am talking about I can see by your bulging eyes and hanging jaws that I had better supply a little more detail. Not only must Krakar be used against a mortal enemy of the galaxy, but it must be used, and at that only used once. So you see why we were so careful about it Because the fleet of ships hurled into the past will pick up temporal energy on the way, and when it emerges at that early date it will explode with a really big bang and that will be the birth of the universe. I'll leave you to ponder on the philosophical permutations of that for a bit while I install this mind screen." He dived back into the bag that John was still holding and emerged with a black sphere from which sprang a length of cord and a two pronged plug. "You got a hundred-and-ten-volt outlet here?"

  John pointed it out, then climbed out of his spacesuit to help him plug it in. The Chachka made delicate adjustments on the device, then threw a switch.

  "It is working," he said. "Now the Lortonoi will not be able to control the mind of anyone in this ship no matter how hard they try."

  "What difference does that make?" Jerry asked. "Since they'll be sucked into the temporal tornado in a couple of minutes."

  "I will explain. You may recall that I said that the temporal tornado sucked in everything within two light-years. Krakar has to be fired at a distance of one point nine light-years from its target. So whoever fires it goes along with it. I suggest you draw straws or something and pick yourself a volunteer, quickly, while the rest of us get cheddite-projected back to the fleet."

  There was a shuffling of feet, backward for the most part, since the desire to get trapped in a temporal tornado and whisked back to blow up and start the universe going did not seem to be a strong one.

  But – there are some individuals who are big enough to face the idea of sacrifice for a cause, particularly for a cause as worthy as this one. These are the individuals who alter the destiny of worlds, and they are few and far between indeed. But when the need arises, they are ready to step forward, and step forward they do or the history of intelligence and civilization would not be where it is today. Not one. Not two. But three stalwart figures stepped forward grimly, volunteering for certain death, volunteering to die so that the universe might live.

  "One will be enough," Four said.

  "Who will choose between us?" Jerry said, and John and Chuck smiled at this, and as one man, they put out their hands and clasped them together, comrades all.

  "We will do it together," Chuck said. "It is our responsibility."

  "The rest of you, go," John said. "It sure has been nice knowing you."

  Quickly the Galaxy Rangers filed by, clasping the hands of their leaders in silence, knowing that this was the greatest day in the history of the galaxy. Many-eyed SlugTogath shook a tentacular good-bye, web-fingered Pipa croaked his adieu with a tear in each large eye, Lord Prrsi soaked the tip of his great claw in ice water – ignoring the pain – so he too could have it shooken by them, while Troceps, clacking his great beak with emotion, shook hands as well and gave each of them one of his wing feathers for a souvenir. It was a heart-stopping, throat-choking moment. And as each Ranger stepped away, the cheddite projector whisked him back to the fleet which was already in full flight before the coming thunder of the temporal tornado. Number Four of the Chachkas was the last to go, and before he did, he injected a single note of hope.

  "I make no guarantees, but you will remember I said that you will be caught up by the edge of the temporal tornado. There is no escaping from the heart of the storm, but at the edge, once you are in it, you may be able to rewire Krakar to get you out. Maybe. No one of course knows, and it would take a genius to figure the thing out in time, but there you are. Even a billion-to-one odds chance, like this one, is better than no chance at all. So listen, say good-bye quick because I see the space armada, the greatest the universe has ever known, tearing down on you at top speed, so I have to go."

  And he went, and the good companions were alone.

  "Will you look at that!" Chuck said, and look they did indeed.

  Space ahead was full, but full. Wall-to-wall spaceships. Ships such as had never been seen before away from the endless battle around Cotorra. Battleships that were twenty miles long and had gun turrets every eighty feet of their length. Ship after ship, fleet after fleet, squadron after squadron, all bearing down on the little shining form of the Pleasantville Eagle, every gun firing, every projector ravening rays, every torpedo zeroed in on them. Space was filled with hurtling death that rushed down on them with the force of destiny.

  "You know," Chuck mused. "It makes you feel kind of humble."

  "It makes me feel like pressing the goddamn button," Jerry said.

  "Only three more light-years to go," added John.

  "Well, you might have told me," Sally said; walking in with a great plate of salami sandwiches. "Here I've gone to all this trouble and everyone has left."

  "I thought you went with the others!" John gasped.

  "And that you were crying too hard to say good-bye."

  "Send her back with the cheddite projector!" Jerry shouted, diving for it.

  "No time!" Chuck said, finger ready on the button.

  "One point nine light-years exactly. . . now!" He pressed the button down savagely, and the can hissed slightly, and nothing else happened.

  "It doesn't work!" more than one voice cried out, but more than one voice has been wrong before.

  Because something was happening out there in interstellar space. Something that absorbed the energies of the ravening rays, rockets, shells, and torpedoes, eating them like candy, absorbing them into what can only be described as a black hole in the blackness of space, a new kind of blackness that hurt the eye to look upon. Beyond the hole the space armada sent out thousand-mile-long plumes of fire as they tried to brake and change course, but they could not. With frightening speed the black hole grew, absorbing them, eating them, growing larger all the time. Then, as ihe last great ship vanished, the blackness rushed out toward the Pleasantville Eagle, and Sally screamed at its terrible presence, and it was upon them.

  For an unmeasurable instant time went mad. First it froze, and they were paralyzed and felt their hearts stop beating and the clocks stopped and even the molecules of matter stopped spinning. And then everything reversed. It is impossible to describe the sensation, except to say that it was not a nice one. They staggered, released suddenly from the temporal paralysis, and it was Jerry who pointed out the front window and shouted, "Look!"

  What a sight! Here at the rim of the temporal tornado it was relatively calm. Just an occasional bump when they ran over a minute or a clatter on the hull when they sailed through a cloud of seconds, nothing to bother over. But in the heart of the tornado it was a different matter! All the ships were being whirled about and buffeted together, glowing hotter and hotter as they did, already beginning to melt and run together into the primordial matter that would explode and
form the universe.

  "Might I ask just what is going on?" Sally asked.

  "Let's get to work on the diagram," Jerry said, and an instant later he and Chuck were bent over the table scratching out equations. Therefore, it was John's unhappy duty to take Sally by the hand and take her aside and explain what had happened. She instantly burst out crying, and he let her weep upon his shoulder and stroked her smooth hair and made soothing noises. Soon her crying became a soft sobbing, and then she wiped her eyes and attempted a weak smile at him, and he smiled back and took a salami sandwich – he knew she would like that – then he took a second and a third and wolfed them down because this sort of thing gave him an appetite.

  "Great sandwiches," he said, kindly.

  "Thanks, John, I did my best." The little smile played across her tear-stained features and was as quickly gone.

  "But do we stand any chance at all of getting out of this thing?"

  "Well, the odds are a billion to one, and those aren't what I call great betting odds. But Jerry and Chuck are geniuses, and if anyone can put Krakar into reverse gear and get us out of this, it is those two guys. Great guys."

  "They are. And you are a great guy too."

  "Aww, you're just saying that because it is the end of everything."

  "Maybe, but one can't lie when everything is coming to an end? I feel honored to be loved by three such great guys as you three. Yes, John, I know, it was easy to tell, there is no need to blush and turn away. You are blushing, aren't you? Yes, I thought so." She took his great hand in her tiny one and squeezed just as Jerry jumped up shaking a piece of paper and shouted.

  "Eureka!"

  "What does that mean?" Sally gasped.

  "I don't know, it's Greek. But we have it. Chuck did the math, and I have worked out a new circuit. Now, a bit of quick work with the old soldering iron, and we will see if the theory works."