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Title: What Inhabits Me?

Author: Robert Moore Williams

Illustrator: Ed Emshwiller

Release date: February 11, 2021 [eBook #64519]

Language: English

Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHAT INHABITS ME? ***




                           WHAT INHABITS ME?

                       By ROBERT MOORE WILLIAMS

                _What vast secrets would it hold? What
               startling discoveries ... what dire news
                 would it bring back after twenty lost
                years out in deep space? Fearfully men
                    watched the awesome_ Andromeda
                 _glide into the Plutonian spaceport_.

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                      Planet Stories March 1953.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Here the universe was so quiet you could hear space creaking and
groaning from its internal stresses. Here even the far-off stars seemed
to roar like blow torches.

Craig Randall, shivering from the cold of the observatory dome, snapped
shut the holders on the exposed plates, pulled them out and quickly
replaced them with new ones, opened the shutters on the 20-inch scope.
Out here on Pluto a 20-inch telescope did a much better job than a
200-inch scope did on Earth. This was one reason why Earth Government
maintained this station here on a wandering chunk of space-frozen rock.

Plates in hand, he fled into the semi-warmth of the development lab.
Here he developed them, compared them with previous plates, saw there
was no change, and quickly filed them. Then he fled again, this time to
the warmth of human companionship in the big lounge of Pluto Station.

Music from Earth came to him as he entered the room, warm and
throbbing, smells, tobacco smoke, the rattle of a pinball machine, the
riffle of a deck of cards being shuffled. In the lounge, devices to
combat boredom were in operation. As he entered the lounge old Adam
March looked up at him, hope suddenly gleaming in faded blue eyes, to
ask again the same eternal question.

"Anything new on the plates, Craig?" Everytime an astronomer came out
of the observatory, old Adam March asked this question, always with
renewed hope sounding in his voice.

Craig shook his head. "Sorry, Adam. Nothing."

At his words, hope began to go out of the faded blue eyes. "Not a sign
of the _Andromeda_?" the old man persisted.

"Not a sign. Why don't you ever ask about the _Perseus_ or the
_Hercules_? They went out into deep space too, you know."

"I know," Adam March nodded. "But the _Andromeda_ was the first one to
go out, she was the first deep-space ship. It seems logical that she
might be the first one back. That's why I always ask about her."

"She went out twenty years ago," Craig said, then caught himself.
Whatever it was that the old man sought in the _Andromeda_, there was
no point in reminding him that the ship had unquestionably smashed up
long ago. Let hope remain! "Sorry, Adam. Nothing, yet."

"They might not catch her until she was real close in," Adam March
persisted. "She wouldn't be using her drive until she got in real close
and you probably wouldn't catch her until the drive was turned on. Let
me know, will you, if you catch anything?" The last was said quickly as
Craig Randall began to move away.

"Sure thing, Adam, you'll be the first to know," Craig answered.
Across the room, Mary Kirkham was trying to catch his eye, a needless
effort in this case. If she was in sight, she always had his eye. She
also had the eye of every other male in her vicinity, a quality which
occasionally gave Craig the impulse to destroy half the unmarried
men at the station. She was a bio-physicist, and a good one. She was
assigned to the bio-physical research laboratories that were a part of
the station. Mary pulled him down to the sofa beside her.

"Craig, we're going to get a whole new bio-physics lab here."
Excitement danced in her voice and glinted in her eyes.

"That's fine," Craig said. He knew how much this meant to her. "How do
you know?"

"The chief just got the news from Mr. Nuoy," Mary Kirkham answered.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Nuoy. Oh." Craig's voice dropped a notch as Nuoy's name came into the
conversation. He felt his mood shift. "If Nuoy has approved it, of
course it will go through. He's got enough pull to get special quarters
constructed for him here, at the expense of Earth Government, so he
can have the advantages of living under a light gravity. But he never
considers that two billion humans scattered through the Solar System
have kicked in with taxes so that he can enjoy life." Bitterness crept
into his voice as he spoke. "What are you going to do in your new
bio-physics lab--find a way to make Nuoy virile?"

"Craig!" She was hurt at what he said. "You're spreading rumor!"

"Of course," he agreed. What he had said was rumor, without
substantiation and without proof. If anyone had been careless enough
to try to prove such rumors, the results would have been unpleasant
for the investigator. Officially there was no connection between Nuoy
and Pluto Station, or between Nuoy and Earth Government. But at high
official levels, in wire pulling that went on so far above the heads
of the average man as to be beyond his comprehension, there was little
doubt that Nuoy owned Pluto Station, and a big chunk of the Solar
System as well.

"I hope you're wrong, Craig," the girl said, seriously. "I would hate
to think we have such monsters as that riding on the back of all of us."

"I hope I'm wrong too. But I'm afraid I'm not."

"Randall!" the public address system broke in. "Craig Randall. Come to
the main observation dome at once, please."

"The military calls," Craig said, rising. "Us lesser mortals must obey."

The military ran Pluto Station, manned it, supplied it, armed it, and
used it as a base for keeping watch for mythical intruders who might
come wandering into the system from the far-off seas of space. There
was not a scientist in the station who did not feel deep in his bones
that the military could be dispensed with, that they wasted much money
and time keeping watch for non-existent pirates from the depths of
space. But the military insisted that this watch was important. Sure,
there was peace now, but there might not always be peace. Who knew
what monsters might come in from the sea that had no other shore? If
space was infinite, the danger might be infinite also. So argued the
military. Earth Government backed them up to the extent of manning its
planet station with armed forces. On Mars and Venus, they were needed.
But here on Pluto what was needed was a way to keep from freezing.

"Probably one of the lieutenants has spotted me down here with you and
is trying to get me up to the main dome to look at a meteor while he
sneaks down here and makes passes at you."

"Darling, I believe you're jealous. In that case I'll go with you."

"Good," Craig said, vastly pleased.

They used the elevator to the top of the big building. A lieutenant,
his face serious, was waiting for them at the landing. He led them into
the top dome.

Above them, through the plastic cover, a million stars sparkled. Seen
through airless space, the stars were so brilliant they seemed to be
just outside the dome. Pluto Station itself was set in the middle of a
vast valley, with low hills surrounding it. On the left, were frozen
runways extending the length of the valley. Then ended in the vast hump
of the huge dome that served as a hangar for the space ships landing on
Pluto. The hangar itself was part of the cluster of buildings that made
up the station.

Up above the rocky surface of Pluto, slanting downward toward the
runways, was a pale blue glow.

"Hell, that's not a meteor!" Craig gasped. "That's a ship coming in
from deep space for a landing here."

"That's what I thought," the lieutenant answered. "But I wanted one
of you astronomy boys to make a positive identification for me before
I aroused the whole station." With one hand, the lieutenant pushed
the button marked _Call to Action Stations_. With his other hand, he
snapped open the inter-communication line that led directly to the
office of Cyrus Stanley, commanding general of Pluto Station.

The long watch of the military was finally paying off. Life was coming
in from the void to them. The entire station awakened to the sudden
violent jangle of alarm bells.

The military had everything prepared for a situation such as this. Plan
A went into operation at once. This plan called for the manning of the
powerful Z-beams mounted not only in the station but in the low hills
surrounding the vast valley. The same power that had made possible the
conquest of space had also made possible the building of weapons strong
enough to annihilate the targets against which they were directed.
Guided by radar, the Z-beams began tracking the incoming ship.

However, Plan A called for the peaceful reception of the visiting ship,
if that were possible. Life coming in from the vast void of space was
too important to be destroyed if there was any way to make contact with
it and to establish peaceful relations. A race that could come across
deep space itself probably had enough power at its disposal to warrant
cautious and careful handling.

As the alarm bells went into action, radio beams leaped out, attempting
contact with the ship. No reply was expected for any reply that came
would be a meaningless jumble of sounds. No one knew what a deep-space
tongue would sound like. But the attempt was a part of Plan A, and it
was made.

With the jangle of the alarm, a sudden flurry of anticipation ran
through the whole station. Deep in his heart every man here hoped
that some day life might come in from across the void, ending the
utter loneliness of the Solar System. Sol and his attendant planets
might encompass a fairly large area of space, but this area was
microscopically small in comparison to the vastness of the universe.
The human race was hungry for contact with another life form.

In his quarters General Stanley hastily donned his jacket.

In his private suite of rooms Meyer Nuoy heard the alarm. Here, the
jangle of the bells was a thin whisper of pleasant sound, suited to
his sensitive ears. He stirred restlessly in the padded contour chair
that had been specially made to fit his body. Irritation rose in him.
He hadn't given permission for an alarm to be sounded. He picked up the
private phone beside his chair.

"Stanley?" His voice was a growl.

"Why, yes, Mr. Nuoy," the general hastily answered.

"What's all this clatter about?"

"A ship is coming in, Mr. Nuoy."

"What of it? Ships land regularly, don't they? Is this any reason to
disturb us with alarm bells?"

"But this ship is not coming in from Earth. It's coming in from deep
space."

"Oh!" Nuoy was so startled by this news that he dropped the cigar
he was smoking. As he slapped at the coal, the general took the
opportunity to hang up. When he got the cigar slapped out and
discovered that the general had hung up, Nuoy was infuriated.

"I'll have that stupid fool transferred to Venus!" he thundered.

The general had had good reason for hanging up. Suddenly, an aide had
entered with the astonishing news that this ship was responding to
radio contact, and that the ship's operator was speaking English.

"Hell on wheels, do they know English in deep space?" the general
gasped.

       *       *       *       *       *

Up in the dome, Craig Randall and Mary Kirkham watched the glows move
through the sky as the ship approached. They could hear the clatter of
voices coming from the radio room as contact was attempted. Suddenly a
new voice came from the loud speaker in the radio room.

"Calling Pluto Station? Calling Pluto Station? Go ahead, please."

They heard the startled operator gasp as he caught his breath. "Holy
cats, the ship is talking back to me! This boat is not coming in from
deep space, not unless they speak English out there too!"

"Correction, please," the loud speaker answered. "This ship _is_ coming
from deep space."

"But--but--but--"

"This is the _Andromeda_ returning to the Solar System after twenty
years in space. Contact your commanding officer immediately and advise
him that we are preparing to land."

"Whoops!" Craig Randall shouted. "The _Andromeda_!"

The Solar System, like a vast ark riding the flood of infinity, had
sent doves into deep space. After twenty years, after all hope had been
given up, one of the doves was returning.

The jangling of the alarm bells went into quick silence as the startled
station prepared itself to welcome the wanderer home. Home, after years
between the stars, home after wandering the vastness of deep space
itself.

The Z-weapons in their hidden emplacements left off their tracking of
this visitor and the whole station turned itself from an armed camp
into a jubilant reception committee.

The _Andromeda_ came down to the runway, the vast outer doors of the
hangar swung ponderously open, and the _Andromeda_ came to a halt at
Pluto Station. From the waiting humans came the sound of a tremendous
cheer. A sloping runway was run up to the main lock of the _Andromeda_.
The lock opened. A tall man, dressed in light shorts and a shirt,
appeared in the lock. He was bronzed and lean and he looked thoroughly
fit. The only mark of authority on him was on the tattered cap that he
wore. The stars of a captain glittered there.

His voice was deep, like a bell. "I am Captain Martin of the
_Andromeda_," he said.

As he spoke, the cheer grew to a thunderous volume of sound.

General Stanley advanced. He and Captain Martin shook hands. Still
shaking hands, they moved down the runway and disappeared in the
direction of Nuoy's quarters.

In the throng, Craig caught a glimpse of Adam March. The old man had
been in the very first line had been cheering himself hoarse. When
Captain Martin had emerged, old Adam had stopped cheering. The old man
had stared at the captain as if he did not believe his eyes, then he
had seemed to shrink in upon himself, to become small and unimportant.

Then the crew came out of the lock. They were lean and bronzed, they
looked to be in perfect physical and mental health. As the last one
emerged, the lock swung ponderously shut behind them. The cheering grew
to a volume of sound that shook the I-beams of the vast hangar. The
members of the crew were taken immediately to the big lounge of the
station. Beer began to flow in vast quantities.

"I am sure Mr. Nuoy will want to hear what you have to say," General
Stanley said, over and over again, as he and Captain Martin moved away
from the ship. The general was a little uneasy because he had hung up
on Nuoy. Unless amends were made, he anticipated possible retaliation.
To the general's surprise, they were admitted instantly to Nuoy's
quarters. Nuoy seemed not to remember that the general had hung up
on him. When Captain Martin was introduced, Nuoy's face showed great
pleasure. Nuoy had a kind of compelling magnetism about him. When he
chose, he could be a completely gracious host. All of his personal
magnetism was turned on now. He ordered fine wines and foods to be
brought immediately. Servants hurried to obey him. Soft music began to
pour from speakers in the walls. Hidden jets began to blow pleasant
perfumes into the room.

Stanley had rarely been here, mere generals did not often get a chance
to enter Nuoy's private quarters. He was always surprised at the
pleasure dome vastly more heavenly than any ever decreed by Kubla Khan
in Asia existing here on the ice world of Pluto. Captain Martin gasped
in frank surprise. He gingerly tasted the wines and the foods, his
manner indicating that he was not quite certain that he was supposed
to consume such delicacies. Under Nuoy's urging, he tasted everything,
apparently with growing enjoyment.

"Now tell us what you discovered among the stars," Nuoy said.

"We made first landfall on a planet which we named Star Goal," Captain
Martin said. Leaning back in his chair, he began to talk. General
Stanley and Nuoy listened first in surprise, then in growing amazement,
then in startled bewilderment.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the big lounge, every man who could be spared from duty or who could
manage to sneak away from his assigned post, welcomed the crew of the
_Andromeda_. Beer flowed by the gallons. Vast quantities of pretzels
and hamburgers were consumed, largely by the staff of the station. The
crew of the _Andromeda_ tasted food and drink cautiously, in the manner
of men long unaccustomed to the modest comforts of civilized life.

"Poor creatures, they probably haven't had a decent meal in years,"
Mary Kirkham said, indignantly.

"Nor a chance to bury their snoots in a can of beer," Craig added. "But
when are we going to get the story of what they found out, what they
discovered, and what happened to them. Hey, George!" he spoke to the
nearest _Andromeda_ man. "Where did you land?"

"Sorry, Craig," the man answered, smiling. "You'll have to get your
information from Captain Martin."

"Damn the captain!" Craig said. "We want to know."

"I understand that," George answered. "But we got orders not to talk.
Wait until we've been cleared. We'll give you the whole story."

"But that means you'll have to go to Earth first and we'll get all the
information second hand," Mary protested.

The man spread his hand. "Sorry, I didn't make the rules."

The staff of the station became quite indignant when it became obvious
that they were not going to get any information from the crew.

"You might try making love to one of them," Craig said, in
exasperation, to Mary.

"I might at that," she answered. "They all look kind of cute to me."

"Then try making love to all of them," Craig said bitterly. "They'd
probably like it. It's been twenty years since they saw a woman. You'd
have the time of your life."

"Kindly restrict your allusions," Mary snapped, coloring.

Craig grinned. "You're a bio-physicist. None of the facts of life are
supposed to be allusions to a bio-physicist."

"I'll think it over," Mary said, darkly.

"Where's old Adam March?" Craig said suddenly. "Have you seen him?"

"Not since the ship landed," Mary answered. "He was up in the front
line cheering himself hoarse. Why?"

"For years he has been asking about the _Andromeda_. From the interest
he took in the ship you would think he owned it. Now the ship has
arrived, but he's not here taking part in the celebration." Mild
concern rose in him as he sensed something wrong in the old man's
absence. "I'm going to find him."

Asking questions, he discovered no one had seen Adam March. He went
directly to the old man's quarters. The door was closed. He rapped.
There was no answer. He tried the knob.

The door was locked.

"Who is it?" a voice quavered from inside.

"Craig Randall. Open up."

There was a moment's hesitation, then the door opened a crack. March
peered through the opening. It seemed to Craig that the old man had
aged years in hours. He had a heavy monkey wrench in one hand. "What's
wrong?" Craig said. "The _Andromeda_ is in?"

The old man opened the door. "Come in," he said. "Yes, the _Andromeda_
is in. That's what's wrong."

"What?"

March gestured in the direction of the hangar. "There's something wrong
in that ship."

"Why do you say that?"

"I have my reasons."

"But what makes you think so? What proof? If you know what you are
talking about--"

March recoiled at the words. "I knew you would think I did not know
what I was talking about."

"I'm sorry, Adam, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But you've got
to have some proof." He hesitated, as a sudden thought struck him.
"Or ... maybe you ought to drop in on one of the station doctors in the
morning. Maybe you've got a touch of space sickness. You've been here
on Pluto pretty long."

The old man recoiled even more. He clutched the wrench. "Leave me
alone, Craig," he said harshly. "Go away from me. I don't want to talk
to you."

Craig had no choice except to leave. The lock clicked in the door. He
hunted up Mary. "I'm going to take a look at the _Andromeda_. Want to
come along?"

The expression on his face must have revealed what he was thinking. Her
answer was quick. "Of course. But what's wrong?"

"I don't know. Adam thinks something is wrong but he won't talk." He
explained what the old man had said.

Her face fell. "I'm afraid you're right. It does sound an awful lot
like space sickness. I'm so sorry. He's such a nice old man."

"Maybe I'm wrong. We'll go check."

       *       *       *       *       *

In the dimly lighted hangar the ship dwarfed them, made them pygmies
in comparison to its huge bulk. No guard over the ship had been
established by the station. No guard was ever established over the
ships that landed here. None was needed. They went slowly around the
ship. The stout metal of the hull showed the pitting of meteoric dust
that had gotten through the screens. On the bow, pitted and faded but
still easily readable, was the word--_Andromeda_.

"Were you questioning that this is actually the _Andromeda_?" Mary
asked.

"Not questioning, just checking." He moved to the slanting ramp that
led upward to the lock from which the crew had emerged, stared at it.
"It's odd that the lock should be closed."

Usually ships in the hangar opened all locks, exchanging their
many-times-used air for the cleaner air of the station. They went up
the ramp. "If they left a guard, maybe he will open up for us," Craig
said. There was no opening in the lock but he knew that an observer
inside could detect their presence there.

"Open up," he said.

"What for?" a voice answered.

Craig jumped. The voice seemed to speak from the empty air beside him.

"Don't be startled," the voice said. "This is a simple communication
mechanism for transmitting voice tones. All space ships have them."

"All--" Craig caught himself. He had started to say that no space ship
had such a device, that he had never heard of a method of transmitting
a voice through a steel hull.

"What do you want?" the voice said.

"We want to talk."

"Talk to Captain Martin."

"This is hardly a matter for the captain. There's a party inside. We
thought perhaps you would like to join it. Your friends are having
themselves a whale of a time. We came to take over the duties of anyone
who remained in the ship so you can join them," Craig said, hastily
improvising.

"And while you are on duty, you would explore the ship! Is that your
plan?"

"What?" Craig gasped. His first dazed thought was that his mind was
being read.

"Well, of all things!" Mary said, her voice hot. "Is there something to
hide inside the ship?"

"Of course not!" For an instant, the voice sounded startled. Then it
quickly became the voice of a book salesman, suavely peddling holy
literature. "Your commanding officer will have an opportunity to
examine the ship, if he wishes!"

"Then why did you say we would explore the ship?" Mary continued. "If
there is nothing to hide, what difference does it make whether or not
we explore it?"

"Captain Martin would have my head if I let you take my place without
orders. Sorry. I can be relieved only on orders from him." The voice
lost its suavity and became stiff and hard.

"Okay," Craig said. "Come on, Mary. Let's go back and join the party."

Her face indicated she was inclined to continue this discussion but she
followed him down the ramp. At the bottom, she spoke quickly, "Craig,
you're scared. What's wrong?"

"Nothing that I can put my finger on. It's mostly Adam March. He saw
something that he didn't like but he wouldn't talk about it. Now, we
run into a closed lock, and a guard with a gimmick that he can use to
talk through the wall of the ship. Space ships never post a guard here,
they never keep the locks closed. Why is the _Andromeda_ doing it?"

"I don't know," Mary answered, hesitantly. "I don't like it either. I
keep getting a feeling that something is wrong but I don't know what."

"_Walk back up the ramp!_" the voice spoke from the air.

Both jumped. "What kind of a pick-up system are you using that can
detect our voices at this distance?" Craig demanded.

"A very efficient one. Walk up the ramp. And don't try running! You'll
run straight into a dead man if you do."

"Where's a dead man?" Craig gasped.

"You'll be the dead man!" the voice answered. "Walk up the ramp!"

They walked up the inclined runway. Ahead of them, the lock opened.
They entered. It swung shut behind them. Ahead, the inner door opened.

For the first time, they saw the source of the voice that had spoken
to them. Craig felt every muscle in his body contract. Mary uttered a
scream that was pure panic.

       *       *       *       *       *

In Nuoy's quarters Captain Martin was finishing with his story of what
they had found on Star Goal. General Stanley was almost falling out of
his chair as he leaned forward to listen. Nuoy's lips were opening and
closing and he was breathing in panting gasps. A slobbering sound was
coming from within his throat.

"There is no doubt but that the inhabitants of Star Goal are immortal,"
Captain Martin finished.

Nuoy swallowed. He swallowed again and again. A gleam came into his
eyes.

"Can you prove that statement, Martin?" he demanded.

"Of course!" the captain calmly answered.

Nuoy almost fell out of his chair at the words. He had expected
argument, hedging, perhaps compromise. In the world he knew, men told
lies to each other, then told other lies to get out of the first ones
they had told. As golden as Captain Martin's statement was, Nuoy had
thought it was a lie, that there was a catch in it somewhere. He had
expected the captain to try to lie out of it. He hardly knew what to do
when the captain did not try to lie.

"I would like to see your proof," Nuoy finally spoke.

"You're looking at some of it," Captain Martin answered.

"Eh? You? What kind of proof is that?"

"If you will check the records, you will discover that I was 32 years
old when the _Andromeda_ left the Solar System. I am now 52 years
of age. If you doubt what your own eyes tell you about my physical
condition, I suggest you have your doctors examine me."

"They have worked on you. They have made you immortal?"

"They have worked on the whole crew."

"They did?" Nuoy gasped. "How much did they charge?"

"Nothing," Captain Martin answered.

"What? No charge?" Nuoy sounded as if he did not believe his ears.

"No charge," the captain repeated.

"Uh--uh!" Nuoy opened his mouth, closed it, made up his mind, opened
his mouth again. "We'll have to change that," he said.

It was Captain Martin's turn to be surprised. "I don't understand you."

Nuoy was on his feet, making plans. "You and your ship will return to
Star Goal immediately. I will accompany you." The slurping sounds in
his throat were plainly audible.

"Eh?" the captain said.

Nuoy nodded firmly. "We will leave within two hours, as quickly as you
can stock the ship and as soon as my servants can transfer my things to
the vessel."

Captain Martin glanced out of the corner of his eyes at General
Stanley. The general looked in the other direction. "What about Earth
Government?"

"The government will authorize your return to Star Goal," Nuoy said,
his voice sharp. "They're in my vest pocket."

Again Martin glanced at Stanley. This time the general did not look
away. Pain showed on his face but he made no attempt to deny Nuoy's
statement.

"But why are we going back to Star Goal in such a rush?" Martin spoke.

"Don't be stupid, Martin," Nuoy answered. "If there is immortality to
be had anywhere in the universe, I intend to have it. Later, we will
establish a regular traffic between the Solar System and Star Goal. I
know a great many men around the system who will pay handsomely for the
privilege of visiting this planet you have discovered. We won't be such
fools as to give immortality away."

General Stanley managed to find his voice. "Perhaps Captain Martin does
not wish to return immediately. After all, he and his men have been
gone twenty years. They may have old friends they wish to see--"

"Captain Martin will take orders," Nuoy said crisply. "Just like you
do, Stanley."

The general was silent.

       *       *       *       *       *

The creature facing Craig and Mary was seated behind an elaborate
control panel that was set in an alcove in the wall of the corridor
leading into the ship. Craig Randall knew enough about space ships
to know that no such alcove belonged here. He did not need to know
anything about space ships to know that the creature in the alcove did
not belong there. Nor did it belong anywhere in the Solar System.

His first dazed impression was that the creature was made of metal;
it had a metallic sheen about it. His second impression was that the
creature was composed of many kinds of crystals of a color varying all
the ways from infra red to ultra violet. The crystals seemed to be
in rapid vibration. A glow like an aura came from it and the colors
changed very rapidly.

The creature was round, two feet in diameter. Appendages of linked
crystals extended to the controls on the panel. Apparently these
appendages could be extruded and withdrawn at will. As Craig stared, an
appendage was withdrawn from the control panel and another was extended
from the circular body. If it had eyes, they were not visible, if it
had ears, he could not see them. There was no mouth, no nose, there was
only this globe of shining pulsing crystals.

"Where--where is the man we were talking to?" Craig whispered. In his
mind was still the lingering thought that they had spoken to a man.

"You were talking to me." A slight orange pulsation passed over the
crystals as the voice came.

"Who--who--"

"I am Filo of the Sorodromes," the voice answered. The crystals glowed
with a deep red color as if being Filo of the Sorodromes was a great
thing. "Why did you think something was wrong in the ship?"

"Well--"

"Speak the facts. Have you humans grown suspicious?"

"Suspicious of what?"

"Of the existence of the Sorodromes. Has some member of the crew
revealed our existence?" The globe showed a violent green at the
question.

"No," Craig answered. "Not so far as I know."

"Then why did you think something was wrong?"

"It wasn't that we _knew_ something was wrong."

"You are in a position where lying will do you no good. What is
happening inside the station? Are our controls failing?"

"What controls? Do you mean that you can control the crew of the
_Andromeda_ from here?"

"What do you think?" Filo answered. "If there had been any important
loss of control, I would have known about it. But there may have been
hints, attempts to convey information, which I did not catch. Have
there been such attempts?"

Before Craig could answer another voice was whispering in the air,
calling urgently, "Great Filo? Please contact me immediately." The
voice was a thin whisper of sound, as if somewhere a man was thinking
and his thoughts were being built up to audible volume.

"Yes," Filo answered. "What is it?"

"Nuoy insists on coming aboard the ship. Please instruct me."

"Who is Nuoy?"

"He seems to think he is the top dog in the System."

"What does he want?"

"I have told him a part of the story of Star Goal and that the race
which lives on Star Goal possesses immortality. He insists on returning
immediately to Star Goal to obtain immortality for himself. After that
he plans to establish a regular traffic between Star Goal and the Solar
System to peddle immortality to those rich enough to pay for it." A
faint repugnance sounded in the whisper.

Filo digested this information. The color coming from him was almost
pure white. He seemed to be vibrating at a tremendously high frequency.

"I await your orders," the whisper came again. "Shall I bring him
aboard the ship?"

"I am considering the matter."

"He is very impatient. Please instruct me immediately."

"I must confer with my fellows," Filo answered. "I will have an answer
for you in minutes."

"Yes, Great Filo," the voice whispered.

Filo was silent behind the control panel. Craig had the impression that
some wordless conference was taking place with other Sorodromes located
elsewhere. He stared at Mary in growing horror.

"That whisper was coming from Captain Martin," the girl whispered. "He
is the only person from the _Andromeda_ who is with Mr. Nuoy. And that
means--"

"It means that Captain Martin and the crew are not in charge of this
ship."

"And that means--"

"That something latched on to the crew of the _Andromeda_ on this
planet they call Star Goal. It means that the ship's landing here was a
ruse to get into Pluto Station, maybe from here on into the whole Solar
System!" His voice grew grim. "It means that the fate the military was
always afraid of has finally come in upon us, and has gotten under our
guard. It means we have welcomed a race of monsters into Pluto Station.
It means that Adam--How did Adam know that something was wrong?"

"Who is Adam?" Filo spoke.

"Just a man," Craig faltered.

"Ah--" Filo was apparently going to ask more questions but he was
interrupted by the arrival of three other Sorodromes. Balls of glowing
crystals, they came floating down the corridor from the interior of the
ship. Energy seemed to flow from them. Craig felt his skin begin to
itch and burn. The three conferred with Filo in a weird, wordless flow
of communication between them. From the way their colors changed Craig
had the impression that they were laughing at some secret joke of their
own.

"Yes?" Captain Martin's voice whispered.

"Bring this human to us," Filo answered. "We will accommodate him in
his desire to return to Star Goal. We will also assist him to set up
traffic between our planet and his system." Again the colors changed as
laughter seemed to ripple through them.

"What if others want to come too?"

"Bring them to the number of twenty. Do they seem suspicious?"

"Not so far as I can tell. Nuoy is burning with impatience to be away.
He insists we start loading the ship immediately."

"Then we must cooperate with him," Filo answered. Again the surge of
color that was laughter surged through the Sorodromes. "Summon the crew
to load and operate the ship. We will be ready when you arrive."

Filo extruded a tentacle, touched a control on the panel in front of
him. A section of metal wall that had been folded back slid across the
alcove, hiding it from sight.

"My three comrades will direct you," Filo's voice spoke from the empty
air.

       *       *       *       *       *

Craig and Mary found themselves being herded down the corridor. They
turned a corner. A door leading into a storeroom was open. They were
herded through the door. It closed behind them, leaving them in total
darkness.

In that darkness was the soft sound of stealthy movement.

Captain Martin and Meyer Nuoy came through the lock. Nuoy was glowing
with eagerness.

As they passed through the lock Captain Martin glanced in the direction
of an alcove that he knew was hidden there. The expression on his face
was momentarily grim, but he said nothing.

"I'll take over your quarters, Captain Martin," Nuoy said. "Show me to
them so I can have my servants bring my belongings to them and make the
necessary changes as quickly as possible. Of course, I will want to
bring my own wines and foods, and I will bring my own staff of servants
with me, so I can have proper service on the trip. I understand the
accommodations on the deep-space ships are not elaborate."

"Of course, Mr. Nuoy," Captain Martin answered.

If he resented Nuoy's words or actions, no trace of it showed on his
face.

In the dark storeroom a voice hissed, "Who is it?"

"Adam!" Craig gasped. "It's us, Craig and Mary."

"Oh!" Craig heard Adam March breathe a sigh of relief. "It's a darned
good thing you spoke up. I almost let you have it."

"How--how did you get into the ship?"

"Through one of the discharge locks. I was coming along the passage
when I spotted you two coming. I didn't quite recognize you. What--what
was them danged things floating through the air behind you?"

Craig explained about the Sorodromes.

"I knew it was something like that, or worse, though I don't know what
the hell could be any worse! What are we going to do, Craig?"

"What _can_ we do?" Craig answered, desperation in his voice. "We've
got a military force here that is supposed to take care of creatures
like these--"

"Only, sometimes, it turns out that the ordinary citizens have got to
do the job the military was supposed to do, but didn't!" Bitterness
sounded in March's voice. "This is A deck, isn't it, the lowest deck in
the ship?"

"I suppose so. I don't know how many decks the _Andromeda_ has."

"Hmmm. And this storage room they've got us caught in is just inside
the main lock, isn't it. You come in through the main lock and go
straight down the passage and turn to the left and you're here. Isn't
that right?"

"I--I hardly noticed," Craig answered. He didn't add that he had too
many other things to think about to notice where they were being taken.

"That's right," Mary answered.

"If this is A deck--" the old man muttered. They heard him move away.
In the darkness he stumbled over a box and apologized to Mary for the
profanity. "Swear all you please, Adam," the girl said. "I'll swear
with you, if that will help. What are you trying to do?"

A light flared as the old man struck a match. He was down on his knees
against the far bulkhead. The match went out. Adam grunted. Metal
scraped in the darkness, thudded on the floor. A square opening was
revealed. Dim light came through it. Grunting with satisfaction, Adam
crawled through it. "Come on, you two," his voice came from the other
side.

They crawled through the opening and found themselves in what was
obviously one of the main holds. Adam March, the monkey wrench gripped
firmly in his hand, grinned at them.

"How did you know that opening was there?" Craig demanded.

"I kind of sensed it would be there."

"Sensed, hell! It strikes me that you know a devil of a lot about the
_Andromeda_. You knew how to get through a discharge port. You knew
where this opening was."

The old man blinked guileless eyes at him. "Do I? I'm just lucky, I
guess. We've got to figure out what we're going to do next."

"We'll get out of the ship and go straight to General Stanton," Mary
said.

"And what will we do when we get to the general?" Craig asked. "Tell
him about Filo and the Sorodromes? We'll get our heads examined by the
station doctors. By the time they have finished with us, the ship will
be gone. If anything is to be done, it has to be done right now."

"Why not let the ship go?" Mary argued. "All they've got is Nuoy and we
can sure stand to part with him."

"And have the Sorodromes come back at us, later, with all his power on
their side? Think again, Mary."

"But surely the general--"

"I'm afraid Craig's about right, Mary," old Adam interposed. "The
general is not a bad guy and he's not thick-headed, but he would need
some kind of evidence, something in the way of proof, before he would
believe any story we told him."

"The evidence is in an alcove just inside the main lock. I can point it
out to him."

"Yes, but who's going to pry Filo out of there?" Craig answered. "I've
got a hunch that Filo is not exactly helpless. If we break in on him,
all hell may break loose."

       *       *       *       *       *

The door of the hold opened. A voice ordered, "Dump those boxes in
here, men."

They moved as if they had one mind, taking refuge behind the remnants
of stores that were still in the hold. Directed by a member of the
crew, a file of men entered, dumped their loads and trotted out.

"Grab a box," Craig whispered. "We'll walk out of here. If anybody
questions us, we're stowing cargo."

Each carrying a box, no one challenged them.

"I want to go to the main control room," Adam whispered. "I've got an
idea."

"Do you know the way?"

"Sure. Follow the ramps up." The old man moved with a sure stride
toward an inclined runway. They followed. Again Craig was struck with
the realization that Adam was very familiar with the ship. He led them
upward as if he knew exactly where he was going.

The crew moved along the corridors, preparing the ship for flight. They
seemed unperturbed by this sudden order to return to deep space. They
paid no attention to the three Pluto Station people who were carrying
boxes up the ramps.

No Sorodromes were in sight.

"They're all in their hidey-holes," Adam March muttered.

As they reached the landing on C deck, Captain Martin was coming out of
the quarters directly across from them. "I'm sure everything will be
all right," Captain Martin said to someone inside the quarters.

"It had better be," Nuoy's voice came from inside.

Martin came directly toward them. Craig had the impression that Adam
tried to turn his face toward the wall. Captain Martin glanced at the
old man. A startled expression flitted across his features. His mouth
opened, he started to speak. Then he seemed to change his mind very
quickly. He went past them as if he had never seen them.

As if a ghost were after him, Adam went up the last inclined ramp to D
deck.

The main control room was before them. They entered it, found it empty.
Above them, through the tough plastic of the observation dome, they
could see the girders of the hangar. All around them were the controls
by which the ship was directed in flight. In the middle of the room,
with all controls in easy reach, was a single huge chair. It was the
control center of the ship. Off in small rooms around the control room
were plotting centers where the position of the ship in space was
mapped. In one small room was a large three-dimensional globe of the
heavens.

The crew had not yet arrived in the control room.

Adam dropped his box, went quickly around the control, stopped in front
of the big chair, touched it, touched the controls with gentle fingers.
He seemed almost entranced by what he was seeing here.

"This is the heart of the whole ship," he mused. "Everything is
controlled from here. Power generation, power routing and supply, the
auxiliary drives, the main drives, the steering drives--"

"Are you interested in the control room?" a voice spoke behind them.

Adam spun, his hand grabbing for the wrench in his pocket. Captain
Martin stood just inside the doorway. There was a smile on his face but
his eyes were fathomless.

"Uh, dang it, where did you come from?"

"I'll be glad to show it to you," the captain continued. "Of course, we
don't have much time at the moment. Are you going to take the long hop
with us?" Polite interest sounded in the voice but under the interest
Craig sensed a seething emotional state.

"Why, uh, hadn't thought about it. Yes, we'll take the long hop if we
get the chance," Adam answered. He looked like a man in a fog groping
desperately for some familiar landmark.

Smiling, Captain Martin moved to him. "This is the control chair, sir.
The operator of the ship sits here. Information is relayed to him--"
Swiftly he explained the use of all of the controls. Then his voice
dropped to a whisper. "You haven't a chance to lick the Sorodromes.
I've tried for years, all of us have tried, and we have failed! Forget
it!" His voice rose again to normal tones. Politely he continued his
explanations of the operation of the controls. "I'll have plenty of
time to explain everything to you on the long hop," he ended.

"But--lad--" the old man's voice was a pleading whisper.

"You'll just get yourself killed," Captain Martin whispered. "Believe
me. I know what I am talking about."

"Well--uh--" Adam March seemed to choke up. "What chance have we got on
the long hop?" he whispered.

"Probably none," Captain Martin answered.

Adam's face worked. It twisted into a grimace as some inward torture
passed through him. "Well ... well, could...." His face lit up as if
the inner turmoil had suddenly been resolved by some deep insight.
"Could I stay here while the ship is taking off? Could I, Captain? I've
always dreamed of being on the bridge of one of the deep-space ships
like the _Andromeda_ while she went free.... It'll be all right, won't
it, Captain?" A pleading note crept into the voice. "I won't be in the
way at all."

Martin frowned, then shrugged. "Well, all right. You understand that
the crew will be busy with their duties?"

"Of course, Captain. I won't be in the way at all. You go on and take
care of your duties. Have you got clearance papers from the general
yet? Then you had better get them. Craig, you and Mary keep on lugging
freight."

"Clearance papers?" Martin said, exasperation in his voice. "It's been
so long since I've taken off from a Solar System port that--"

"The captain of the clearing ship has to apply in person for clearance
papers," Adam said. "I mention it, because you might have forgot.
That's the regulation."

"Damn!" Captain Martin said. "Well, if I must, I must."

       *       *       *       *       *

Mary Kirkham and Craig Randall, the latter tremendously puzzled, were
already leaving the control room. "I don't understand it," Craig was
thinking, over and over again. "He knows too much--and seems to know
too little--there's a play going on here that is over my head--" He
shook his head, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"What are we supposed to do, just go get more boxes?" Mary questioned.

"I don't know. Play along and wait for your cue. Something is going to
happen."

"But I don't want to make the big hop. I don't want to go--" Her voice
went into silence as Captain Martin fell into step beside them. The
Captain's face was utterly blank. He walked like a man in a deep daze,
like a zombie, like a man in a trance. Once his eyes flicked toward the
wall. Following the direction in which the captain had glanced, Craig
caught the vague outline of a door covering an alcove. Craig shuddered.
Now he understood one reason why Captain Martin might be walking like a
man in a trance. But were there other reasons?

It was obvious that the Sorodromes had almost perfect control over the
captain and the crew.

They moved down the ramps. Members of the crew met them, saluted,
continued with their duties. Men from the station were carrying
supplies into the huge ship. They approached the main lock.

Craig Randall felt his flesh crawl as he saw the section of the wall
that hid Filo of the Sorodromes. What if Filo was watching them? Craig
kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall. He was walking like a man
in a trance himself, and he knew it. He held his breath, waiting for
the challenge of the voice from the air. It did not come. They passed
the hidden alcove; they passed through the lock; they were on the ramp
outside. Craig's suddenly furious breathing shook his lean frame to the
bones.

The bustle of the hangar was around them.

"Where will I get clearance?" Captain Martin muttered.

"Over there," Craig said, pointing.

They moved down the ramp. Craig stopped breathing again as a voice from
the ship's intercom system shouted from the lock behind them.

"ATTENTION, ALL HANDS."

The voice was an excellent imitation of Captain Martin. It spoke with
crisp authority and with sureness. It was a commanding voice. It caught
the attention of its hearers.

Captain Martin seemed to freeze on the ramp. Suddenly sensing what was
about to happen, Craig Randall also froze. The voice came again.

"Attention, all hands! Attention, all Pluto Station men on board the
_Andromeda_! A dangerous situation has been discovered in the drive
room of the ship. You are hereby directed to clear the _Andromeda_
instantly. A delay of a few seconds may mean the difference between
life and death."

The voice gained in volume, became more commanding.

"ALL HANDS CLEAR THE SHIP INSTANTLY!"

       *       *       *       *       *

In the seconds that elapsed while the voice was rolling from the ship's
communication system, Craig grasped what was going to happen next, and
what he was going to have to do about it.

Captain Martin spun back toward the open lock.

With all his strength, Craig slugged the captain on the side of the
jaw. The blow knocked Martin sideways and down to the ramp.

But it did not knock him out. Snarling, he came to his feet. Craig he
ignored, the man who had slugged him was not important to him at this
moment. Cursing, he started toward the open lock. Craig tackled him
around the legs. The captain fell heavily. Craig rolled with him to the
edge of the ramp, forced him over it. Both fell to the hard floor of
the vast hangar.

In obedience to the voice that had come over the intercom system, and
which had sounded very much like the voice of Captain Martin, men were
already pouring from the lock.

Beside the ramp, Craig and Captain Martin fought viciously.

In the captain's cabin, Nuoy heard the voice. He snapped open the
communication line between this cabin and the control room.

"What nonsense is this?" he shouted into the mike. "There is no way a
dangerous condition can develop in the drive of these ships!" He was
speaking the truth. Deep-space ships, all space ships, were hazard
proof so far as the drive was concerned. He expected an evasive denial.

"Of course no dangerous condition can develop," the voice from the
control room answered.

"Then what do you mean by making so stupid an announcement as this?
What are you trying to do, delay my departure? I'll have you stripped
of your rank for this piece of nonsense!"

Wrath was in his voice. Before this wrath captains, generals, even the
president of Earth Government, trembled.

The voice coming from the control room did not tremble. "Aw, go buy a
muzzle for your ugly face," it said, crisply. "Who in the hell do you
think you're giving orders to, Dog-face?"

Nuoy was utterly speechless. White with fury, he headed for the control
room. He'd teach Captain Martin proper respect for his betters.
Charging through the door of the control room, he found there a
doddering old man whom he vaguely recognized as having seen around
Pluto Station. The old man was sitting in the control chair, a monkey
wrench in his hand.

"Who the devil was that who was just speaking to me?" Nuoy demanded.

"Why, I don't know, Mr. Nuoy. No one was speaking from here."

Nuoy glared at him. His suspicions were aroused. "I believe you are
lying to me. I believe you were the one who was talking to me like
that. I'll have you know--" Nuoy advanced. While he explained what he
was going to do, he thrust his head down until it was within a foot of
the old man's face.

Adam March slugged him with the monkey wrench. Nuoy went down without
a sound. "That's why we call 'em monkey wrenches," March said,
satisfaction in his voice. "They're made especially for use on monkeys
like you!" Laying the wrench back on the arm of the chair, he ran his
fingers over the complex system of controls in front of him.

"Clear the ship, all hands!" his voice went out over the ship. Flipping
over to listening, he caught the sound of fleeing footsteps. He smiled
to himself. His orders were being obeyed.

"Are all hands clear?" he shouted. "Anyone who is still in the ship,
answer at once."

There was no answer. No running footsteps sounded. The ship was clear.

As if his neck had suddenly developed a will of its own, he felt it
turn on his shoulders as something entered the control room.

Coming through the open door was a glowing, vibrating, angry ball of
flowing crystal light.

Adam did what he had planned to do--what had to be done.

Beside the ramp, Craig knew he was losing the battle with Captain
Martin. The captain was tough, hard, strong. He fought like a wild
man. Using knees and elbows, he fought as if he was taking orders from
someone else and his life was of no consequence.

Kicking Craig in the head, he scrambled to his feet.

The last of the crew were rushing from the ship.

"Yes, Filo," Captain Martin was screaming. "Yes, yes, I know. A
horrible mistake has been made. I will correct it."

"See that you correct it immediately!" Filo's angry voice whispered in
the air.

Captain Martin leaped up the runway. "Back into the ship!" he shouted
at the crew. He ran up the ramp toward the open lock.

Ponderously, the lock swung shut in front of him.

He stopped, dazedly stared at it. The lock could be opened or closed
from the control room. He suspected he knew what had happened.

Filo's voice raged at him. "Get into this ship instantly."

"But, I can't! Open the lock for me."

"I can't open it, you fool! Someone has jammed the controls!"

"Ah--" Captain Martin said. The single sound had all the overtones of a
prayer.

Craig got to his feet, wobbled up the gangway in time to hear the last
of the conversation. He caught Captain Martin's arm. "We've got to get
out of the hangar," he whispered. "If we don't--" He whispered what
was going to happen next.

The captain stared at him from bewildered eyes.

A vast throb came from the ship.

"He's warming up the drive!" the captain said. "You're right. Where's
the general?"

       *       *       *       *       *

The _Andromeda_ went out of the hangar without waiting for the vast
doors to be opened. There was no time to wait for that, nor would the
request to open the doors have been obeyed even if it could have been
transmitted. There was a tremendous, thundering screech of tortured
metal as she tore the doors down. Then, with Adam March at the
controls, she mounted to the sky.

The thing in the air behind him was thrown completely off-balance by
the unexpected takeoff. It did not know what to do, consultation with
its comrades was necessary before action could be taken. The Sorodrome
spun back out of the control room.

Only minutes, perhaps less than minutes, were needed for the Sorodromes
to agree on what had to be done.

Filo made the decision. "Destroy that human in the control room!"

Adam March had dreamed all of his life of being at the control of a
deep-space ship. Now he had the privilege, now his dream had come true.
He felt the surge of vast power at the control of his finger tips as
the ship moved out of the hangar. He did not hear the crashing of the
big doors. The slight bumps they made in falling was not transmitted
through the ship to him. Before him were the bright clear skies of deep
space. He pointed the ship upward.

In the long run, he knew what the answer would be. The Sorodromes would
certainly conquer him. If they didn't do that, they would clamp down
over him the same strange control they had exercised over the men of
the _Andromeda_.

He did not anticipate that the long run would ever come into being. No!
There were men on Pluto who knew what to do and who would do it.

But, even so, he could savor this moment, when a ship of deep space was
under his fingers, taking him upward in a blaze of rising glory.

She was still taking him upward when the tracking Z-beams struck her.
She exploded in a blaze of light that was visible over most of the
Solar System.

       *       *       *       *       *

The screens in the command center of the station revealed the flare of
light that marked the passing of the _Andromeda_. The room was silent.
General Stanley turned back to Craig and Mary, asking them to repeat
again the story that had moved him to take this action.

Dazed, the general listened. When they had finished, he turned again to
Captain Martin.

"But this immortality you talked about on Star Goal?" he questioned.

"The immortality is there all right," Captain Martin answered. "It is
both real and unreal. There is no question that the Sorodromes can slow
changes in body cells which produces immortality. But the process they
use to do this gives them almost complete control over you. And the
immortality and the control go together. Once the control is broken,
the increased life span goes too. Also, if the control is broken, you
begin to age very rapidly, until you come up to your actual age. Thus
within the next year every man who flew with the _Andromeda_ will find
his body processes catching up with his chronological age."

The captain's face had become etched with lines during the past few
minutes, mute evidence of the process now beginning in him. But he did
not seem to mind the immortality he had lost, the price he had paid for
it had been too high.

"There's one blessing anyhow," the general said. "Nuoy went with the
ship." His eyes glowed at the thought of that. The Solar System would
be a better place to live for many men because Nuoy was no longer in
it.

"But I still don't understand about Adam March," Craig persisted. "He
knew too much about the _Andromeda_."

"Not too much," Captain Martin said. "He designed and built her."

"What?" Craig gasped.

The captain nodded. "In those days he was a deep-space ship designer.
His life's dream was to fly one of them, a dream he was too old to
realize. But he designed and built the _Andromeda_. The next best thing
to flying her, for him, was to have me fly her."

The general's face showed sudden interest.

"I see," Craig said. "If he designed the _Andromeda_, then he would
know about her." His brows wrinkled as a new thought came into his
mind. "But he was working here as a janitor. How--"

"Maybe several reasons," the captain answered. "His real life was the
_Andromeda_. He probably came here and took any job he could get,
because this would be her first landing if she ever returned to the
system. If she ever came back, he wanted to be on hand to welcome her."

"Oh," Craig said. In that brief explanation, most of the puzzle of Adam
March's actions became clear. "But how did he know that something was
wrong on the ship?"

Captain Martin's face grew grim. "I didn't see him when I came off the
ship, but I think he saw me. At the sight of me, he knew something was
wrong, knew it in a way that made it impossible for him to be mistaken.
He took her off alone, not only to save the station, but to save me."

"What?" Craig gasped. "He knew you, twenty years ago, before the
_Andromeda_ jumped into deep space?"

"Slightly," Captain Martin answered. "His name wasn't March then, it
was Martin. He was my father."



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