Astounding Science Fiction Stories: An Anthology of 350 Scifi Stories Volume 2 (Halcyon Classics)

by Various

  Dameri Tass said, "Faith, and what goes on?"

  The general's eyes bugged still further. "He talks!" he accused.

  "Yes, sir," Dermott said. "He had some kind of a machine. He put it over Tim's head and seconds later he could talk."

  "Nonsense!" the general snapped.

  Further discussion was interrupted by the screaming arrival of several motorcycle patrolmen followed by three heavily laden patrol cars. Overhead, pursuit planes zoomed in and began darting about nervously above the field.

  "Sure, and it's quite a reception I'm after gettin'," Dameri Tass said. He yawned. "But what I'm wantin' is a chance to get some sleep. Faith, an' I've been awake for almost a decal."

  * * * * *

  Dameri Tass was hurried, via helicopter, to Washington. There he disappeared for several days, being held incommunicado while White House, Pentagon, State Department and Congress tried to figure out just what to do with him.

  Never in the history of the planet had such a furor arisen. Thus far, no newspapermen had been allowed within speaking distance. Administration higher-ups were being subjected to a volcano of editorial heat but the longer the space alien was discussed the more they viewed with alarm the situation his arrival had precipitated. There were angles that hadn't at first been evident.

  Obviously he was from some civilization far beyond that of Earth's. That was the rub. No matter what he said, it would shake governments, possibly overthrow social systems, perhaps even destroy established religious concepts.

  But they couldn't keep him under wraps indefinitely.

  It was the United Nations that cracked the iron curtain. Their demands that the alien be heard before their body were too strong and had too much public opinion behind them to be ignored. The White House yielded and the date was set for the visitor to speak before the Assembly.

  Excitement, anticipation, blanketed the world. Shepherds in Sinkiang, multi-millionaires in Switzerland, fakirs in Pakistan, gauchos in the Argentine were raised to a zenith of expectation. Panhandlers debated the message to come with pedestrians; jinrikisha men argued it with their passengers; miners discussed it deep beneath the surface; pilots argued with their co-pilots thousands of feet above.

  It was the most universally awaited event of the ages.

  By the time the delegates from every nation, tribe, religion, class, color, and race had gathered in New York to receive the message from the stars, the majority of Earth had decided that Dameri Tass was the plenipotentiary of a super-civilization which had been viewing developments on this planet with misgivings. It was thought this other civilization had advanced greatly beyond Earth's and that the problems besetting us--social, economic, scientific--had been solved by the super-civilization. Obviously, then, Dameri Tass had come, an advisor from a benevolent and friendly people, to guide the world aright.

  And nine-tenths of the population of Earth stood ready and willing to be guided. The other tenth liked things as they were and were quite convinced that the space envoy would upset their applecarts.

  * * * * *

  Viljalmar Andersen, Secretary-General of the U.N., was to introduce the space emissary. "Can you give me an idea at all of what he is like?" he asked nervously.

  President McCord was as upset as the Dane. He shrugged in agitation. "I know almost as little as you do."

  Sir Alfred Oxford protested, "But my dear chap, you've had him for almost two weeks. Certainly in that time--"

  The President snapped back, "You probably won't believe this, but he's been asleep until yesterday. When he first arrived he told us he hadn't slept for a decal, whatever that is; so we held off our discussion with him until morning. Well--he didn't awaken in the morning, nor the next. Six days later, fearing something was wrong we woke him."

  "What happened?" Sir Alfred asked.

  The President showed embarrassment. "He used some rather ripe Irish profanity on us, rolled over, and went back to sleep."

  Viljalmar Andersen asked, "Well, what happened yesterday?"

  "We actually haven't had time to question him. Among other things, there's been some controversy about whose jurisdiction he comes under. The State Department claims the Army shouldn't--"

  The Secretary General sighed deeply. "Just what did he do?"

  "The Secret Service reports he spent the day whistling Mother Machree and playing with his dog, cat and mouse."

  "Dog, cat and mouse? I say!" blurted Sir Alfred.

  The President was defensive. "He had to have some occupation, and he seems to be particularly interested in our animal life. He wanted a horse but compromised for the others. I understand he insists all three of them come with him wherever he goes."

  "I wish we knew what he was going to say," Andersen worried.

  "Here he comes," said Sir Alfred.

  Surrounded by F.B.I. men, Dameri Tass was ushered to the speaker's stand. He had a kitten in his arms; a Scotty followed him.

  The alien frowned worriedly. "Sure," he said, "and what kin all this be? Is it some ordinance I've been after breakin'?"

  McCord, Sir Alfred and Andersen hastened to reassure him and made him comfortable in a chair.

  Viljalmar Andersen faced the thousands in the audience and held up his hands, but it was ten minutes before he was able to quiet the cheering, stamping delegates from all Earth.

  Finally: "Fellow Terrans, I shall not take your time for a lengthy introduction of the envoy from the stars. I will only say that, without doubt, this is the most important moment in the history of the human race. We will now hear from the first being to come to Earth from another world."

  He turned and gestured to Dameri Tass who hadn't been paying overmuch attention to the chairman in view of some dog and cat hostilities that had been developing about his feet.

  But now the alien's purplish face faded to a light blue. He stood and said hoarsely. "Faith, an' what was that last you said?"

  Viljalmar Andersen repeated, "We will now hear from the first being ever to come to Earth from another world."

  The face of the alien went a lighter blue. "Sure, an' ye wouldn't jist be frightenin' a body, would ye? You don't mean to tell me this planet isn't after bein' a member of the Galactic League?"

  Andersen's face was blank. "Galactic League?"

  "Cushlamachree," Dameri Tass moaned. "I've gone and put me foot in it again. I'll be after getting kert for this."

  Sir Alfred was on his feet. "I don't understand! Do you mean you aren't an envoy from another planet?"

  Dameri Tass held his head in his hands and groaned. "An envoy, he's sayin', and meself only a second-rate collector of specimens for the Carthis zoo."

  He straightened and started off the speaker's stand. "Sure, an' I must blast off immediately."

  Things were moving fast for President McCord but already an edge of relief was manifesting itself. Taking the initiative, he said, "Of course, of course, if that is your desire." He signaled to the bodyguard who had accompanied the alien to the assemblage.

  A dull roar was beginning to emanate from the thousands gathered in the tremendous hall, murmuring, questioning, disbelieving.

  * * * * *

  Viljalmar Andersen felt that he must say something. He extended a detaining hand. "Now you are here," he said urgently, "even though by mistake, before you go can't you give us some brief word? Our world is in chaos. Many of us have lost faith. Perhaps ..."

  Dameri Tass shook off the restraining hand. "Do I look daft? Begorry, I should have been a-knowin' something was queer. All your weapons and your strange ideas. Faith, I wouldn't be surprised if ye hadn't yet established a planet-wide government. Sure, an' I'll go still further. Ye probably still have wars on this benighted world. No wonder it is ye haven't been invited to join the Galactic League an' take your place among the civilized planets."

  He hustled from the rostrum and made his way, still surrounded by guards, to the door by which he had entered. The dog and the cat trotted after, undismayed by the furor about them.


  They arrived about four hours later at the field on which he'd landed, and the alien from space hurried toward his craft, still muttering. He'd been accompanied by a general and by the President, but all the way he had refrained from speaking.

  He scurried from the car and toward the spacecraft.

  President McCord said, "You've forgotten your pets. We would be glad if you would accept them as--"

  The alien's face faded a light blue again. "Faith, an' I'd almost forgotten," he said. "If I'd taken a crature from this quarantined planet, my name'd be nork. Keep your dog and your kitty." He shook his head sadly and extracted a mouse from a pocket. "An' this amazin' little crature as well."

  They followed him to the spacecraft. Just before entering, he spotted the bedraggled horse that had been present on his landing.

  A longing expression came over his highly colored face. "Jist one thing," he said. "Faith now, were they pullin' my leg when they said you were after ridin' on the back of those things?"

  The President looked at the woebegone nag. "It's a horse," he said, surprised. "Man has been riding them for centuries."

  Dameri Tass shook his head. "Sure, an' 'twould've been my makin' if I could've taken one back to Carthis." He entered his vessel.

  The others drew back, out of range of the expected blast, and watched, each with his own thoughts, as the first visitor from space hurriedly left Earth.

  * * *

  Contents

  SPAWN OF THE COMET

  By H. Thompson Rich

  Tokyo, June 10 (AP).--A number of the meteors that pelted Japan last night, as the earth passed through the tail of the Mystery Comet have been found and are puzzling astronomers everywhere.

  About the size of baseballs, orange in color, they appear to be of some unknown metal. So far, due to their extreme hardness, all attempts to analyze them have failed.

  Their uniformity of size and marking gives rise to the popular belief that they are seeds, and, fantastic though this conception is, it finds support in certain scientific quarters here.

  Jim Carter read the news dispatch thoughtfully and handed it back to his chief without comment.

  "Well, what do you make of it?"

  Miles Overton, city editor of The New York Press, shoved his green eye-shade far back on his bald head and glanced up irritably from his littered desk.

  "I don't know," said Jim.

  "You don't know!" Overton snorted, biting his dead cigar impatiently. "And I suppose you don't know they're finding the damn things right here in New York, not to mention Chicago, London, Rio and a few other places," he added.

  "Yes, I know about New York. It's a regular egg hunt."

  "Egg hunt is right! But why tell me all this now? I didn't see any mention of 'em in your report of last night's proceedings. Did you see any?"

  "No, but I saw a lot of shooting stars!" said Jim, recalling that weird experience he and the rest of humanity had passed through so recently.

  "Yeah, I'll say!" Overton lit his wrecked cigar and dragged on it soothingly. "Now then, getting back to cases--what are these damn things, anyway? That's what I'd like to know."

  "So would I," said Jim. "Maybe they are seeds?"

  Overton frowned. He was a solid man, not given to fancies. He had a paper to get out every day and that taxed his imagination to the limit. There was no gray matter left for any such idle musings as Jim suggested. What he wanted was facts, and he wanted them right away.

  "Eggs will do!" he said. "Go out and get one--and find out what's inside it."

  "Okay, Chief," said Jim, but he knew it was a large order. "I'll have one on your desk for breakfast!"

  Then, with a grave face that denied his light words, he stepped from the city room on that fantastic assignment.

  * * * * *

  It was the television broadcast hour and crowds thronged the upper level of Radio Plaza, gazing, intently at the bulletin screen, as Jim Carter emerged from the Press tower.

  News from the ends of the earth, in audio-picture form, flashed before their view; but only the reports on the strange meteors from the tail of 1947, IV--so designated by astronomers because it was the fourth comet discovered that year--held their interest. Nothing since the great Antarctic gold rush of '33 had so gripped the public as the dramatic arrival and startling behavior of this mysterious visitant from outer space.

  Jim paused a moment, halfway across the Plaza, to take a look at the screen himself.

  The substance of the Tokyo dispatch, supplemented by pictures of Japanese scientists working over the baffling orange spheres, had just gone off. Now came a flash from Berlin, in which a celebrated German chemist was seen directing an effort to cut into one of them with an acid drill. It failed and the scientist turned to declare to the world that the substance seemed more like crystal than metal and was harder than diamond.

  Jim tarried no longer. He knew where he was going. It was still early and Joan would be up--Joan Wentworth, daughter of Professor Stephen Wentworth, who held the chair of astro-lithology at Hartford University. It was as their guest at the observatory last night that he had seen 1947, IV at close range, as the earth passed through her golden train with that awesome, unparalleled display of fireworks.

  Now he'd have the pleasure of seeing Joan again, and at the same time get the low-down from her father on those confounded seeds--or eggs, rather. If anyone could crack one of them, he'd bet Professor Wentworth could.

  So, hastening toward the base of Plaza Airport, he took an elevator to ramp-level 118, where his auto-plane was parked, and five minutes later was winging his way to Hartford.

  * * * * *

  Throttle wide, Jim did the eighty miles to the Connecticut capital in a quarter of an hour.

  Then, banking down through the warm June night onto the University landing field, he retracted the wings of his swift little bus and motored to the foot of Observatory Hill.

  Parking outside the Wentworth home, he mounted the steps and rang the bell.

  It was answered by a slim, appealing girl of perhaps twenty-two. Hers was a wistful, oval face, with a small, upturned nose; and her clear hazel eyes were the sort that always seem to be enjoying some amusing secret of their own. Her hair was a soft brown, worn loose to the shoulders, after the style then in vogue.

  "Joan!" blurted Jim.

  "What brings you here at such an hour, Jimmy Carter?" she asked with mock severity.

  "You!"

  "I don't believe you."

  "What then have I come for?"

  "You've come to interview father about those meteorites."

  "Nonsense! That's purely incidental--a mere by-product, you might say."

  "Yes, you might--but I wouldn't advise you to say it to father."

  "All right, I won't," he promised, as she led him into the library.

  Professor Wentworth rose as they entered and laid aside some scientific book he had been reading.

  A man of medium height and build, he had the same twinkling hazel eyes as his daughter, though somewhat dimmed from peering at too many stars for too many years.

  "Good evening, Jim," he said. "I've rather been expecting you. What is on your mind?"

  "Seeds! Eggs! Baseballs!" was the reply, "I don't know what. You've seen the latest television reports, I suppose?" said Jim, noting that the panel on the receiving cabinet across the room was still lit.

  "I've seen some of them. Joan has been keeping an eye on the screen mostly, however, while I refreshed my mind on the known chemistry of meteorites. You see, I have a few of those eggs myself, up at the observatory."

  "You have?" cried Jim.

  He was certainly on the right track!

  "Yes. One of my assistants brought them in this afternoon. Would you like to see them?"

  "I'll say I would!"

  "I rather thought you might," the professor smiled. "Come along, then."

  And as Jim turned, he shot a look at Joan, and added:

  "You may come too, my de
ar, if you want."

  * * * * *

  They went out and up the hill to where the great white dome glistened under the stars, and once inside, Jim Carter of The New York Press was privileged to see two of those strange objects that had turned the world topsy-turvy.

  As the Tokyo dispatch and the Berlin television flash had indicated, they were orange in color, about the size of baseballs.

  "Weird looking eggs, all right!" said Jim. "What are they made of, anyway?"

  "Some element unknown on earth," replied Professor Wentworth.

  "But I thought there were only ninety-two elements in the universe and we'd discovered them all."

  "So we have. But don't forget this. We are still trying to split the atom, which nature has done many times and will doubtless do many times again. It is merely a matter of altering the valence of the atoms in an old element; whereupon it shifts its position in the periodic scale and becomes a new element. Nature accomplishes this alchemy by means of great heat, which is certainly to be found in a meteor."

  "Particularly when it hits the earth's atmosphere!"

  "Yes. And now then, I'd like to have you examine more closely this pair I have here."

  Jim lifted one and noted its peculiar smoothness, its remarkable weight for its size; he noted, too, that it was veined with concentric markings, like a series of arabesques or fleurs-de-lis.

  The professor lifted the other, calling attention to the fact that the size and marking of both were identical, as hitherto reported.

  "Also, you'll observe that they are slightly warm. In fact, they are appreciably warmer than when they were first brought in. Curious behavior, this, for new-laid cometary eggs! More like seeds germinating than meteorites cooling, wouldn't you say?"

  "But good Lord!" Jim was somewhat taken aback to hear this celebrated scientist apparently commit himself to that wild view. "You don't really think they're seeds, do you?"

  "Why not?"

  "But surely no seeds could survive the temperature they hit getting here."