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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79266 ***
+
+
+
+
+                             Terror Station
+
+                           by Dwight V. Swain
+
+
+  It was sheer madness--monstrous creatures appearing out of nowhere at
+  a top-secret desert Base. Yet Stone knew it was not madness he was
+  fighting but a vicious enemy. The Stake: Earth!
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+He saw the woman first.
+
+Blindly, she stumbled out of the moonless desert night a hundred yards
+ahead, into the dim right edge of the path slashed by his headlights.
+Lurching, staggering, she scuffed through the gravel of the highway’s
+shoulder; reached the asphalt and took two short, uncertain steps out
+on it, swaying as if the sudden change to smoother footing had almost
+made her lose her balance.
+
+Stone jammed on his brakes.
+
+Only then, before the car could even start to stop, movement flickered
+in the murk from which the woman had emerged. Stone glimpsed a shifting
+scarlet glow, a dipping, twisting streak of color. Oozing through the
+backdrop of the night, it drew swiftly closer to the roadway and the
+woman ... then faded, swallowed up in the glare of the approaching
+headlights.
+
+But as it vanished, a spot of strange translucence materialized to
+replace it.
+
+Formless, almost without perceptible substance, the splotch moved
+faster now, gliding across the shoulder and out onto the highway.
+
+Beyond it, the woman half-turned; threw a frantic glance back along the
+way from which she’d come even as she took another stumbling step.
+
+In the same instant, the translucence swept down upon her.
+
+The woman’s face contorted. Sheer terror etched her features, so deep
+that even Stone could see it. She tried to lunge away.
+
+But now gleaming tendrils lanced forth from the translucence, curled
+about her, held her helpless.
+
+The woman screamed.
+
+That scream: It echoed even through the shriek of Stone’s scorching
+tires, seared itself into his brain so deep that he never would, never
+could, forget it.
+
+Then, abruptly, the scream cut off. The translucence swirled back
+towards the roadside and the shadows, dragging the woman with it.
+
+Savagely, Stone jerked the steering wheel right with all his might,
+trying to follow the horror with his headlights. Skidding, the car
+rocked round on two wheels. For a spine-chilling split second Stone
+thought it was going to go over. But at the last moment it righted
+itself and shuddered to a halt in a choking cloud of dust beyond the
+shoulder.
+
+Straight ahead, woman and translucence hung spotlighted less than fifty
+feet away.
+
+Stone snatched his Colt from its holster on the steering post. Leaping
+from the car, he raced forward.
+
+It was as if the sight of him gave the woman new strength. Her whole
+body convulsed. Tearing free from the monstrous thing that held her,
+she lurched towards Stone, blood streaming from a dozen wounds.
+
+The translucence seemed to swell and darken. Then, in a rush, it
+hurtled towards the woman.
+
+But now Stone was abreast of her. Cat-footed, he leaped between her and
+the monster; he blazed three fast shots into its center.
+
+The shining surface quivered. For the fraction of a second it drew back.
+
+Stone could see the creature more clearly now. Murkily transparent as
+oily water, it stood nearly a head taller than his own six feet.
+
+Except that it didn’t have any head.
+
+Instead, a barrel body splayed out into many thin, cable-like tentacles
+at top and bottom, each terminating in a round disc the size of a
+quarter. Its only truly opaque matter appeared to be concentrated in a
+narrow, dully scarlet band perhaps three inches wide that girded the
+center of its body.
+
+Staring at it, Stone wondered if he were somehow going mad.
+
+Then, abruptly, there was no more time for thinking, observation. With
+a rush, the monster lunged towards him, moving on its lower tentacles
+as if they were so many skillfully-coordinated feet.
+
+Behind Stone, the woman cried out: “The light--! Watch out for the
+light!”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stone glimpsed it as she spoke:
+
+A small, lensed cube or box that suddenly shot out at the end of one of
+the creature’s upper tentacles.
+
+He leaped sidewise.
+
+Almost in the same instant, a vivid purple streak blazed from the box.
+
+It missed Stone by inches. Desperately, he snapped a wild shot at the
+lens, then fired twice more in the onrushing monster’s midriff.
+
+This time, the thing didn’t even hesitate.
+
+Stone jerked the trigger again. A hollow click. The gun was empty.
+
+With a curse, Stone hurled it at the nightmare thing before him. Then,
+whirling, he raced headlong back towards his car.
+
+Like an evil, gleaming shadow, the monster sped after him. It moved
+fast--horribly, incredibly fast.
+
+Panting, Stone veered left, not even daring to look back. The
+headlights blazed blindingly into his eyes.
+
+Something brushed his shoulder. He felt his shirt rip.
+
+Then he was past the lights. Twisting, he dived headlong beneath the
+car, heedless of the gravel that slashed his face and chest and knees
+and shins and belly. Driving his elbows into the dirt, he whipped
+himself out on the far side of the vehicle.
+
+A tentacle groped for his heel.
+
+Savagely, he stamped the disc against a rock.
+
+The tentacle jerked back. Sobbing for breath, Stone scrambled to his
+knees and clutched the doorhandle.
+
+He got the door open just as another tentacle came through the window
+on the far side of the car, reaching for him.
+
+Cursing, he jerked back barely in time, slammed the door shut on the
+tentacle with all his strength.
+
+The latch caught. The car shook as the monster tried to writhe away.
+
+Stone spun about. In three steps he was at the trunk--clawing aside his
+luggage, breaking his nails on the jack.
+
+His hand closed around the axehandle in the same instant that the car
+gave a sudden lurch. There was a sound like that of a gigantic rubber
+band snapping. Then, like an echo, a tentacle-disc slapped against his
+right ribs just below the armpit.
+
+Clutching the axe, Stone leaped back.
+
+But the disc clung as if it were part of him. Agony exploded around it,
+tearing at his flesh. Before he could shake the red haze of pain from
+his eyes, the monster--free of the car now--was upon him.
+
+Convulsively, Stone swung the axe.
+
+It bounced off the barrel body as if it had struck solid rubber. More
+discs slapped at him.
+
+Stone staggered, axe sagging. The tentacles had him now--constricting,
+engulfing. He lurched against the monster; felt the discs’ pressure
+growing, seeking to rend his very body.
+
+Pain-knotted, barely conscious, he twisted the axe-blade against the
+opaque scarlet band that girded the creature’s midriff.
+
+Reflex-like, a disc low on his spine jerked him back, away.
+
+Stone forgot the agony, the pain-haze. Fiercely, he slashed out with
+the axe.
+
+A surge of triumph raced through him as its blade bit deep into the
+unshielded scarlet band.
+
+Now the tentacles tore at him in frenzy, clutched at the axe.
+
+Before they could seize it, Stone swung again--horizontally, this time,
+so that the rubbery body might have no chance to deflect the cutting
+edge from the nerve-band.
+
+The blade struck home with a sound like that of a melon shattering on
+pavement. Clear to the eye it sank--
+
+The tentacles hurled Stone backward, slamming him hard against the side
+of his car as they let go their hold. He sagged there, raw-nerved and
+sick and bleeding.
+
+Shambling, uncertain, the monster moved away--and towards the spot
+where the woman still lay prone and silent.
+
+With an effort, Stone dragged himself erect. Then, axe still in hand,
+he stumbled after the nightmare creature.
+
+The thing speeded its pace.
+
+Stone forced himself to a run, cutting wide around his adversary.
+
+Ten seconds later, he stood between it and the woman.
+
+The creature hesitated.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stone bared his teeth in a savage grimace. The fact that he had
+outdistanced the hideous thing; that it paused now, grasping and
+indecisive--such were more than enough to strip away his own pain and
+weariness.
+
+“Damn you!” he grated harshly. “We’ll see who gets her!”
+
+He lifted the axe; took a quick step forward.
+
+The monster fell back before him.
+
+Then, of a sudden, a tentacle speared out.
+
+--The tentacle with the lightbox.
+
+Stone charged in, swinging, as the purple streak blazed forth.
+
+The creature shifted, undulating away from the axe. The streak of
+purple fire missed Stone.
+
+Missed, by far too wide a margin to be coincidence.
+
+Like an echo, a choked cry of agony rose behind him.
+
+Stone spun about, numb panic flaring in him.
+
+The woman no longer lay limp and prostrate. Now, instead, her whole
+body jerked in a continuing spasm. Her hands clutched her side, and her
+lips spilled blood.
+
+Stone whirled again, back to the monster.
+
+But the creature was already fleeing--gliding out of the arc of the
+headlights’ beam, into the empty blackness of the desert. Even as Stone
+glimpsed it, the night swallowed it up.
+
+Only a lunatic would have followed.
+
+With a snarl of frustration, Stone ran to the woman; dropped on his
+knees beside her.
+
+Her whole side was burned black where the purple beam had struck. She
+clutched his hand, her nails biting deep. “Kill me, quick! Please! I
+can’t stand it--”
+
+Sweat stood out on Stone’s forehead. Desperately, he forced his voice
+gentle, level: “Easy, now. You’ll be all right. I’ll get you to my car.
+It’s only a couple of miles to the proving ground--”
+
+“No, no. I can’t stand it. I’m dying--” The woman’s voice trailed off
+in a bubbling scream. Her body twisted. Then: “Maybe--my husband--the
+robots--back there beyond the mesa--”
+
+“Easy....” Stone whispered. But his lips were dry.
+
+“My ... my husband....”
+
+A shudder ran through the woman’s body. Then, suddenly, she sagged limp.
+
+Dead.
+
+Sickness twisted at Stone’s belly. Gently, he crossed the woman’s arms
+across her breasts ... straightened the tormented twisted body ...
+wiped away the blood and smoothed the dark hair back from the small,
+plain face.
+
+She was young, he saw now; far younger than he’d thought--not more than
+twenty-five at most.
+
+So young ... and so dead.
+
+And somewhere, out there in the desert night, lurked the creature that
+had killed her.
+
+And what was it the dying woman had said, about robots on a mesa--?
+
+Stone’s spine prickled. Stiffly, he started to get up.
+
+Only then, out of the night, a voice clipped, “Hold it!”
+
+A chill, somehow familiar voice.
+
+Stone froze.
+
+“That’s it. And get your hands out where we can see ’em.”
+
+Wordless, Stone obeyed.
+
+“Now turn so the light shines on your face.”
+
+Again, obedience. “Well! If it isn’t our Mister Stone!” The words
+carried an ugly inflection. And then: “Come on, you guys....”
+
+Figures converged from the blackness--erect, helmeted, uniformed
+figures, armed with rifles and carbines.
+
+Soldiers.
+
+The tension drained out of Stone. Of a sudden he felt weak, wobbly,
+half-hysterical.
+
+And that voice--of course it was familiar!
+
+“Sergeant Bjornberg,” he announced, “I’ve never been so glad to see
+anybody in my life!”
+
+He dropped his hands.
+
+Instantly, a gun-barrel gouged his back. “Keep those hands out!”
+
+“What--?” Stone stared. “Sergeant, you know me....”
+
+“Do I? Don’t try to pull any fast ones on me, mister!” The sergeant
+moved into view as he spoke. His usually good-humored features showed
+heavy now, set in sullen lines. Striding over to the woman, he flashed
+a light onto her dead face. “Well, now! Ain’t this pretty!”
+
+With an effort, Stone held his temper. “The way she was killed was
+anything but pretty, sergeant. And the thing that did the job is still
+running loose. I’d suggest you post a heavy guard, then get me to
+headquarters as soon as possible.”
+
+The sergeant sneered openly. “_You’re_ telling _me_ what to do?”
+
+“I’m merely suggesting.” In spite of himself, Stone’s voice took on a
+brittle edge. “However, I do happen to have charge of certain aspects
+of security for this area, and I doubt that Captain Hayes would think I
+was out of line.”
+
+“Oh?” Sergeant Bjornberg grinned--an ugly grin, utterly without mirth.
+“Well, I think I got a better idea, _Mister_ Stone.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“I’ll post a guard, all right; and I’ll take you to headquarters.”
+
+“Fair enough.”
+
+“But I’ll do it my own way, you lousy civilian phony--and that’s under
+arrest, as a prisoner and a murder suspect!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Glines’ taste ran to richly aromatic tobaccos. Even now, long after
+midnight, his office hung heavy with the stink of the stuff.
+
+Stone wrinkled his nose in distaste, again shifted his weight in the
+hard chair, trying to ease his aching muscles. The welts where the
+monster’s discs had clutched him stung like new burns. Bruises and
+scratches plagued him every time he moved, a continuing, continuous
+irritation.
+
+And still Glines did not come.
+
+Now, in the silence, the ticking of the leather-embellished desk clock
+seemed to grow louder, till the sound of it echoed in Stone’s ears like
+an infuriating off-key drumbeat. He found himself resenting the desk
+itself, with its precise, too-neat arrangement of office trivia. The
+air the lazy ceiling fan pushed against his face pressed thick as warm,
+wet cheesecloth.
+
+Yet his mouth stayed dry. When a rill of icy sweat trickled from his
+armpit, it sent a tremor through his whole body.
+
+He gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes tight shut, trying to shut out
+the awful memory of the monster and the woman.
+
+But shutting his eyes only made the picture come back clearer, sharper.
+Better to leave them open....
+
+Once more, he shifted cursing under his breath as new pain pulsed
+through him.
+
+Besides, the chair creaked.
+
+Stone frowned. It was idiotic, the way he found himself giving way to
+every tiny irritation ... almost as if the whole base--this office
+especially--somehow had come to radiate tension.
+
+And tension was one thing he couldn’t afford just now.
+
+Grimly, he sucked in air--a deep breath that filled his lungs held it
+for the count of ten ... expelled it in a rush, letting himself go limp
+and jelly-like.
+
+The third time he did it, he knew that some of the raw-nerved stiffness
+was leaving him. Closing his eyes no longer conjured up macabre visions.
+
+Now, however, he found his mind turning to Bjornberg.
+
+The sergeant’s open hostility baffled him. In the past, they’d always
+been on a pleasant enough footing--friends, almost. Back in his service
+days, he’d even soldiered in some of the same places as had the
+sergeant. It gave them a common ground of past and interest, something
+to talk about over a beer.
+
+Yet tonight, Bjornberg had called him a “lousy civilian phony”.
+
+Stone shook his head slowly. It just didn’t make sense.
+
+He became aware that the clock’s tick was growing louder again ...
+fraying at his nerves--
+
+Then, abruptly, footsteps echoed in the hall outside. The door opened.
+Glines waddled in.
+
+It was typical that he should be freshly shaven and fully dressed,
+even to tie and clean white shirt. Emergencies might come and go; but
+if they wanted Glines’ attention, they’d have to wait till the last
+button was properly secured and the pink chops smooth and anointed with
+perfumed shaving lotion.
+
+With an effort, Stone kept his voice pleasant. “Hi, Herb. Sorry to drag
+you out with this nonsense.”
+
+“Nonsense--?” Glines’ fat face stayed stiff, his manner unbending. “I’m
+not sure I like your choice of words there, Stone.”
+
+Stone stared. “Herb! What is this? Just because you take over my job for
+two weeks while they call me in to Washington--”
+
+“Don’t evade the issue, Stone!” Glines posed, too erect, beside the
+desk. His lips pursed. “As I see it, neither your job nor your trip to
+Washington has anything to do with the things Sergeant Bjornberg’s told
+me.”
+
+“I see.” Stone clipped his words. “In that case, Glines, maybe we’d
+better get a few things straight. It happens I’m your superior here.
+And if I’m not ‘Carl’ to you, then I’m damn’ well ‘_Mister Stone_.’ Is
+that clear?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“What--?”
+
+“No, I said. It isn’t clear--not clear at all.” Glines stood openly
+defiant, insulting. Insolently, he thrust out his puffy lower lip. “You
+talk a lot about being my superior here, don’t you? Well, as of this
+moment, I’m not at all sure that you are.”
+
+Stone drew a deep, incredulous breath. Then, slowly--very slowly--he
+came up from his chair. When he spoke, his words were measured:
+“Glines, you’re either drunk or crazy. In either case, I’m sick of it.
+The MP’s have my statement of the facts of what happened tonight. I’m
+worn out, and I want to get a shower and have the medics disinfect
+these cuts and then go to bed. This cross-examination business can wait
+till morning.”
+
+He turned on his heel, strode towards the door.
+
+Behind him, a drawer rattled. Glines’ voice rang, shrill and angry:
+
+“Oh, no, you don’t!”
+
+Stone ignored him.
+
+“Stone! Stop or I’ll shoot!”
+
+Stone came up short; half-turned, staring.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Glines stood crouched behind the desk, his eyes black, beady slits
+above fat cheeks. He gripped an automatic, a heavy Army Colt, in one
+pudgy hand.
+
+“Back!” he cried shrilly. “Come back here, Stone, before I shoot you
+like you deserve!”
+
+Stone stood very still, trying without avail to fathom the things that
+seethed in the black eyes.
+
+First Bjornberg; now Glines. Had the whole base gone mad?
+
+“Easy, Herb,” he said soothingly. “Easy does it. I’ll come back.”
+
+Careful of every movement, he made his way to the desk. “You can put
+the gun down now, Herb. I won’t try to leave again till you say to.”
+
+“I’ll say you won’t!” Glines bared uneven teeth in a taunting smile.
+And then: “Oh, you were clever, all right, Stone. But not clever enough
+to fool me.”
+
+“I wasn’t?”
+
+“No. It all came to me in a flash as soon as Bjornberg told me about
+you and that woman, and the crazy story you tried to put out about
+fighting some monster.”
+
+Glines’ face grew more flushed as he spoke, his words and breathing
+jerky and uneven. The hand that held the gun quivered.
+
+New prickles of tension touched Stone’s spine. “Sure, Herb; sure....”
+
+It was as if his fat little aide hadn’t even heard him; as if the man
+were talking to himself, almost.
+
+“The minute I woke up, it all clicked into place. Just like that.”
+Glines giggled, high and ragged. “Oh, I’d been suspicious all along, of
+course. I checked your record while you were gone--the way you sneaked
+into security work, pretending to be an American agent while you fought
+with the Communists in Spain; the business of playing professional
+soldier in China; those years you spent with the OSS during the war.
+You cut quite a figure, all right. It made you look tough, dangerous,
+trustworthy, experienced. But it was all aimed at just one thing:
+This job here, in charge of civilian security on the country’s top
+top-secret project. You were willing to wait, to bide your time.
+Because you knew that when you got this spot here you could really do
+the job right when you betrayed us!”
+
+A numbness crept over Stone. It was incredible, this mad net of
+distortion Glines was weaving about him.
+
+Something was behind it, surely ... some dark and evil pattern.
+
+Yet what--?
+
+It was a question pregnant with frustration. Because he didn’t dare to
+argue; not with an obvious madman. He couldn’t even probe too deeply.
+
+He tried to speak calmly: “Did you figure out the rest of it, too,
+Herb?”
+
+“The rest--?”
+
+“Sure. How it all fits together. How the business about the woman and
+the monster could help me betray anything?”
+
+Scorn distended Glines’ eyes. He radiated contempt. “Do you think I’m
+completely stupid? I knew it the instant I woke up, of course, just
+like the rest. You wanted some kind of cover to hide behind so that
+no one would suspect you when news about the project got out. So you
+killed that poor woman, then made up the story about the monster. You
+knew that as soon as it got to the papers there’d be dozens of reporters
+swarming over the base; you can’t guard every inch of a government
+reservation as big as this one. Then you could blame the reporters for
+the leak on the project.”
+
+“I see.” Stone nodded slowly. “Well, I guess you’ve got it all, then.
+You might as well call in MacDougal.”
+
+“Don’t worry. I’ll call him.” Again Glines giggled. “Only first I’m
+going to wrap this all up good and tight. You’re too good a friend
+of his for me to take any chances. Besides,”--his eyes grew suddenly
+cold and wary--“besides, I’m not too sure where he stands. Even a base
+director’s suspect, when he’s friends with a traitor!”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stone made an elaborate business of shrugging. “That’s carrying it a
+little far, isn’t it, Herb? Mac’s going to have the final report to
+make on this business, and he might not like it if he thought you were
+trying to pull a fast one on him.”
+
+“If he knew, he might.” Glines’ eyes glittered. “But then, I plan
+to handle it more simply than that, without any red tape. Bjornberg
+understands. He’ll take care of it.”
+
+“He’ll--take care of it?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Glines smirked. “_Ley del fuego_, they call it in Spanish. The law of
+flight. Shot while attempting to escape.”
+
+Stone’s palms were suddenly slick with sweat. The ticking of the desk
+clock echoed in his ears like the knell of doom. He made it a point to
+breathe deeply, evenly. “That’s a big responsibility for a man to take,
+Herb.”
+
+“Let me worry about that, Stone. I think I’ll find it a pleasure.”
+
+As he spoke, Glines came round the desk, waddling as always.
+
+Ordinarily, the way Glines moved made Stone want to smile. Only now, of
+a sudden, it wasn’t funny.
+
+Especially when the gun the fat man held stayed so very steady.
+
+Abruptly, ignoring the weapons, Stone turned to the desk ... picked up
+the clock ... stared down at its face. “You’d better hurry, then, Herb.”
+
+“What--?”
+
+“Time’s running out. The sergeant goes off duty in a couple of minutes.”
+
+He lifted the clock so Glines could see it.
+
+The black, beady eyes flicked to the dial.
+
+Stone hurled the clock, square at Glines’ head.
+
+His aide jerked away, barely in time to dodge the missile.
+
+But in that split second of distraction, reflex movement, Stone lunged
+in--knocking Glines’ gun aside with a left-foreman block, driving a
+hard right into the pit of the fat man’s bulging paunch.
+
+Glines crashed back against the wall, tottered, and slid to the floor
+his face scarlet as he fought agonizedly for breath.
+
+Stone stomped down on his wrist; kicked the Colt aside. Then, scooping
+it up, he stood straining his ears, listening for some outside reaction
+to the scuffle.
+
+None came. Wordless, he strode to the door.
+
+Panting, now, Glines glared up at him eyes sparking hate. “Go--go
+ahead--Stone! See--how far--you get!”
+
+“Bjornberg?”
+
+“That’s right. I gave him orders to stand guard outside the
+building--and to shoot on sight!”
+
+Stone smiled thinly. “That’s why I’m not going out.” He threw the
+door’s heavy bolt in place. “You see, there’s just one catch to
+all your theories, Glines: They’re not true. So we’re going to get
+MacDougal down here right now and square things away.”
+
+As he spoke, he strode swiftly to the desk; picked up the phone, dialed
+the base director’s quarters number.
+
+Four rings. Then MacDougal’s sleep-thickened voice: “Base director
+speaking.”
+
+“Carl Stone, Mac. Get down to Glines’ office fast; this is urgent. And
+it might be smart to bring along a couple of guards.”
+
+The sleepiness faded from MacDougal’s voice. “Of course, Carl. If you
+say so.” A pause. “I didn’t know you were back. When did you get in?”
+
+“Awhile ago. But something’s happened I don’t want to talk about on the
+phone, and I can’t leave the office, here.”
+
+“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He made it in four--a big, shaggy man with shoulders like mine beams
+and John L. Lewis eyebrows. Two armed guards followed him in.
+
+“You’ve got troubles, Carl?”
+
+“You might say so. Glines, here,”--Stone gestured to the fat man, still
+sitting slumped against the wall--“has suddenly decided I’m a traitor.
+His solution to the problem was to arrange to have me shot while
+attempting to escape.”
+
+MacDougal’s shaggy eyebrows lifted. “Well, now! That’s one way of
+eliminating a problem, isn’t it?--Though I doubt that he’s actually got
+it in him to pull the trigger when the cards are down.”
+
+Stone shrugged. “He didn’t plan to.”
+
+“No?” The base director cocked his head. “Then who--?”
+
+“Sergeant Bjornberg. Whether he shares Glines’ delusions or not, I
+can’t say. But Glines tells me he stationed the sergeant outside the
+building, with orders to shoot me on sight.”
+
+MacDougal frowned. “Things really have been happening to you, haven’t
+they, Carl?” And then, turning to Glines: “How about this, Herb? Got
+anything to get off your chest?”
+
+The fat man scrambled to his feet and stood pompously erect in a
+belated effort to regain his dignity. His eyes sparked. “I certainly
+do, Mr. MacDougal. There’s not a word of truth in what he says--about
+the shooting part, that is. What actually happened was, Sergeant
+Bjornberg caught him down the road a couple of miles, crouched over a
+woman’s corpse. You can see how cut up he is”--a contemptuous gesture
+towards Stone--“as if they’d fought before he killed her. He tried to
+alibi himself with a wild story about them both being attacked by some
+bug-eyed monster--”
+
+MacDougal interrupted: “You can skip that part, Glines. The driver from
+the motor pool told me about it on the way over.”
+
+“Yes, sir.” Glines nodded tightly. “Well, anyhow, after he’d given his
+story to the MP’s, Sergeant Bjornberg still wasn’t satisfied. Under
+the circumstances, and all, and what with Stone acting so peculiar, he
+asked me to come over and talk to him. When I got here, Stone was ugly
+and insulting. He refused to talk to me, and insisted on going to his
+quarters. I was already worried about the way he was acting, so when he
+got so hostile I pulled a gun on him. After all”--he flushed--“we were
+alone here. I hadn’t thought to have a guard stand by.”
+
+“And then--?”
+
+“He attacked me. I didn’t want to shoot him, of course, and he’s
+stronger than I am. He got hold of the gun, and then called you.”
+
+MacDougal frowned; studied the floor briefly. Then, after a moment, he
+turned to Stone: “Well, Carl?”
+
+Stone could feel heat rising in his face. “What do you mean, ‘Well,
+Carl’? Glines picked a fight with me from the moment he walked into
+this room. He accused me of being a traitor, went through a long
+rigamarole about how I was to leak information on the project--”
+
+“If you’ll check his record, you’ll see that I have ample reason for
+thinking as I do, Mr. MacDougal!” Glines broke in sharply. “He fought
+with the Communists in Spain. He trained troops at Yenan. He went into
+Yugoslavia for the OSS; served more than a year with the Partisans.
+He’s a Communist and a traitor, I tell you--”
+
+Of a sudden, Stone’s patience ran out. Inside him, something snapped.
+In one long stride he closed the distance between him and Glines;
+caught the fat man by the coat-front. Savagely, he slapped the pudgy
+cheeks--once, twice, three times.
+
+The next instant the guards were upon him--dragging him back, slamming
+him against the wall.
+
+“Gentlemen!” MacDougal roared. “We’ll have no more of this!” His face
+was beet-red, his blue eyes flashing.
+
+With an effort, Stone slowed his breathing. “Sorry, Mac,” he
+apologized. “I guess I just haven’t had enough practice at being called
+a Communist.”
+
+“Nor in curbing your temper, Mr. Stone!” The base director’s voice rang
+ice-brittle. He pivoted to the panting, ruffled Glines. “Mr. Glines,
+I’d diagnose your aliment as jealousy, pure and simple. If I see any
+more symptoms of it, it may show up on your efficiency report.”
+
+“Yes, sir, Mr. MacDougal.” The fat man made jittery motions, smoothing
+and straightening his coat. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ignoring him, MacDougal swung back to Stone. “As for you, Carl--well,
+I’m still in doubt.”
+
+“In doubt--?” A cold knot seemed to draw tight in the pit of Stone’s
+stomach. Of a sudden he seemed to sense a change in his friend’s
+manner--a strange, rising tide of latent hostility like that he’d felt
+in Glines and Bjornberg.
+
+“Yes, in doubt.” MacDougal’s brows drew together into a shaggy
+hedgerow. “The dead woman, and this monster business ... your
+accusations and violence against Glines, here ... your expressed fear
+that Sergeant Bjornberg, one of your best friends on the base, plans to
+assassinate you--I don’t like the sound of such talk.”
+
+Stone stood mute, not trusting himself to answer.
+
+“Take your tale about Bjornberg,” MacDougal went on. “You claim he was
+on guard outside this building, waiting to kill you. But it so happens
+that when I called the motor pool for transportation, they sent him to
+drive me. He’d been there ever since he brought you to this office.”
+
+The walls seemed to close in about Stone. He knew every eye in the room
+was upon him; knew he had to speak. “So--?” he asked at last.
+
+MacDougal paced the floor, bigknuckled hands clasped behind him.
+
+“I don’t like to do this, Carl,” he said finally, “but considering
+the delicate nature of our work here, the high degree of secrecy
+surrounding our mission, I’m afraid I don’t have much choice.”
+
+The cold knot in Stone’s stomach drew tighter.
+
+MacDougal ended his pacing; dropped on one hip on the corner of the
+desk. His tongue moved slowly back and forth along his lower lip, and
+his eyes stayed focussed on the floor. When he spoke, his words were
+careful, casual.
+
+“Did you know we’d acquired a psychiatrist since you left for
+Washington, Carl?” he asked.
+
+“A psychiatrist--!” Stone burst out in spite of himself. He started
+forward.
+
+A guard’s restraining hand stopped him. “Yes. She’s here on a research
+project.” The base director’s eyes still studied the floor. “Supposed
+to be pretty good, too. Up on all the latest stuff.”
+
+Between clenched teeth Stone grated, “MacDougal, if you think
+I’m crazy, say so. But so help me, if you turn me over to some
+headshrinker, count on it that you’ll regret it to your dying day!”
+
+As if the words were a signal, the base director’s massive head came
+up, jaw jutting. The blue eyes shone hard and expressionless as
+marbles--shone with the same strange light that Stone had seen in
+Glines’ and Bjornberg’s.
+
+MacDougal said, “That’s all I needed, Carl: Your threats and hostility
+turned on me. That’s the convincer that you _do_ need help.” He turned
+to the guards: “Mr. Stone’s hereby ordered to the hospital for mental
+tests and observation, on my responsibility.
+
+“Take him away!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Dawn. A chill, grey desert dawn that made Stone shiver beneath his
+blankets.
+
+Or maybe it wasn’t the cold. Maybe it was the things in his mind, the
+thoughts and nightmares that kept him tossing, twisting, restless.
+There’d been little enough sleep for him, Lord knew--fitful moments
+only, from which he started up in wild-eyed terror, racked by aching
+bones and stinging cuts and the dark uncertainties that wormed
+insidiously through his brain.
+
+And now, the dawn.
+
+Fretfully, once more he squirmed and shifted--closing his eyes against
+the dim light, striving to find some new position that would ease the
+nagging restlessness that plagued him.
+
+But the thin-padded hospital cot only creaked the louder. New lumps and
+knots created pressure points against his body.
+
+With a curse, he gave it up. Rising, he shrugged on a robe and shuffled
+to the open window.
+
+If he could call a window open, when it was fitted with a safety screen
+so heavy that a man with an axe couldn’t break through it.
+
+He laughed aloud--short, harsh, without mirth.
+
+Outside, the base still lay bleak and silent, a hollow city with no
+excuse for being except The Project. The bare, regimented streets
+stretched deserted between their rows of characterless prefabricated
+housing. To the south, the tiny airstrip spread desolate, its lone
+helicopter strangely skeletal at this distance in the chiaroscuro of
+early morning.
+
+Stone crossed to the other window, the closed one; peered west, towards
+the bulk of the central Project Building.
+
+The next instant he stiffened.
+
+For where two weeks ago the structure had loomed square and squat, now
+a tower rose, from its center--a tower somehow disconcertingly unique
+in styling, not quite like anything he’d ever seen before.
+
+Protuberances of unfathomned purpose marred its symmetry. Catwalks
+rimmed it at half-a-dozen levels. Even the material of which it was
+constructed resembled nothing with which he was familiar.
+
+Stone frowned. True enough, there were plenty of things he didn’t
+know about The Project. That was as it should be, at a base at which
+security measures were so vital.
+
+Yet at the same time, it seemed strange that he’d have heard no hint as
+to a construction job of such proportions.
+
+It didn’t even fit in with the architectural plans. He’d seen those,
+and they contained no provision for a tower. None was needed. This was
+a development base, not a proving ground.
+
+Of course, plans changed. New discoveries and problems necessitated new
+measures, new approaches.
+
+Even new buildings.
+
+The trouble was, so many things seemed to have changed here in the
+brief span of his fortnight’s absence.
+
+The attitudes and atmosphere, for instance. And the people.
+
+People like Bjornberg and Glines and MacDougal.
+
+Or maybe it was he that had changed, the way they said.
+
+Maybe he was really crazy.
+
+He was still brooding about it when the door opened.
+
+The click of the lock took him unawares. There’d been no warning, no
+sound of footsteps.
+
+Instinctively, he spun about.
+
+Reva stood framed in the doorway.
+
+It rocked him, hard. So hard he could only stand gaping at her cool
+blonde loveliness, groping for words he couldn’t find.
+
+“Good morning, Carl.” Her face, her voice, were grave. Briskly, she
+stepped across the threshold, crisp and neat in a starched white smock,
+and closed the door behind her.
+
+The spell broke. “Reva--!” he choked. “Reva, what are you doing here?”
+
+Her manner stayed detached, impersonal. “I was assigned here nearly two
+weeks ago, Carl.” And then: “I’m _Doctor_ Adams now, you know.”
+
+“You mean--you’re the psychiatrist?”
+
+She nodded, grey eyes steady. “I’m afraid so, Carl. And I know it’s
+going to be difficult for both of us after the ... personal ...
+relationship. But I didn’t have much choice, since I’m the only
+qualified person here. Mr. MacDougal made that rather plain.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Pin-pricks of rising fury seethed through Stone. “You’re going along
+with this farce, then? You’ll run me through the mill like any other
+screwball, in spite of everything--the way it was between us, as close
+as we were together?” He didn’t even care that the words came out thick
+and angry.
+
+The grey eyes dodged his, now. As if to cover it, Reva moved to the
+room’s lone chair; sat down.
+
+“Answer me!” Stone stormed. “Give it to me straight: Are you going to
+help them frame me?”
+
+“No one’s going to frame you, Carl. It’s just that you may be ... sick.
+That’s all that I’m to check on.”
+
+A tremor crept into Reva’s voice as she spoke. Hastily, she brought
+out a pencil and a notebook. “There’ll be a few tests, that’s
+all--Minnesota Multiphase Personality, Inventory, Rorschach, TAT,
+electronencephalogram, in case you’re interested in the names. And I’ll
+want to talk to you, of course--discuss these things you’ve done that
+seem to bother Mr. MacDougal and the others. There won’t be anything
+unpleasant about it. We can work most of it out over coffee, probably--”
+
+“We’ll do it straight, you mean!” Stone clenched his fists, trying to
+fight down the red tide of rage that surged within him. “Forget your
+damn’ coffee, Doctor Adams! I’m just one more nut to you. Quit trying
+to hide it!”
+
+Reva’s face went stiff. She rose quickly; stood very tall and straight
+“Very well, then, Carl. We’ll handle it just as you prefer. The
+electroencephalogram comes first. The machine’s down at the end of the
+hall to your right. Just follow me.”
+
+High heels clicking, she left the room.
+
+As quickly as it had flared, Stone’s fury ebbed. Numbly, he stumbled
+down the hall after her.
+
+What was it that held him so on edge, so close to the ragged brink of
+violence? The fight with the monster? The trouble with Bjornberg and
+Glines and MacDougal? The lack of sleep?
+
+But no. Those were only symptoms of an ever-growing inner tension.
+
+Yet why should he be tense? He’d seen trouble before--lots of it.
+Violence, too; blood by the bucket. But it hadn’t affected him this
+way. Through all of it, he’d won a reputation as a man who thrived on
+situations fraught with worry and frustration. That was why they’d
+sent him here in the first place, to handle security problems on this
+base....
+
+And to blow up at Reva, still feeling about her as he did ... to let
+go at her, when all he could really think of was the hunger in him for
+her; the desire to take her, hold her, crush her to him....
+
+Ahead of him, the heels stopped clicking. Reva pushed open a door;
+stepped aside. “In here please. Lie down on the couch. I’ll attach the
+electrodes. It won’t hurt a bit....”
+
+The morning came and went, a jumble of accordion-folded graph sheets
+and pictures, ink blots and questions. Stone sorted cards, made up
+stories, drew figures, lay in black silence while electrical impulses
+eddied through his brain.
+
+There was no coffee, no byplay. Reva stayed Doctor Adams. To the hilt.
+Lunchtime found Stone alone in his cubicle.
+
+Thirty minutes later they were back at the tests.
+
+But only half Stone’s mind was on them.
+
+The other half kept reappraising Reva.
+
+She’d changed, somehow, just like the others. Her impersonality carried
+a hard, suspicious edge. A dozen times--a hundred--Stone caught her
+eyes upon him. Not just measuring either: Cold; almost actively hostile.
+
+Especially when she probed him with questions about the woman, and the
+monster.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Late afternoon found them in her office, with Reva cross-examining him
+about his feelings toward Glines and Bjornberg.
+
+The implication was that he’d always hated them both; that the clashes
+were only the culmination of long-repressed resentment.
+
+Stone’s palms grew moist, his heart action uneven.
+
+Of a sudden, he could take no more of it.
+
+“Damn it, Reva!” he exploded. “They jumped me, don’t you get it? They
+started sticking knives in me the second that they saw me!” Vaguely,
+he was aware that his voice had risen; that he was shouting. He didn’t
+care. “What would you have done, damn it? How would you feel if people
+accused you of murder and treason to your face, when you’d done
+nothing--?”
+
+He broke off, seething.
+
+The phone rang before Reva could speak again. She picked up the
+receiver, cool and efficient, her eyes still on her notebook. “Doctor
+Adams speaking.” A pause. “No, Mr. MacDougal. I’ve hardly begun, let
+alone finished. These things take time.” Another pause. “Yes. Yes, I
+have uncovered a certain amount of pertinent data. But--”
+
+A longer pause. While Stone watched, the smooth planes and curves of
+Reva’s face seemed to stiffen. Her fingers tightened visibly on her
+pencil, pressing down. The point snapped, loud in the stillness.
+
+She said, “Very well, then, Mr. MacDougal. If you insist.--Yes, I’ll be
+waiting in my office.”
+
+She hung up the phone.
+
+Stone smiled thinly. “Report time?”
+
+She didn’t answer.
+
+“I know how it is. They always push you.” Stone leaned back in his
+chair. For no good reason, all once he felt more in command of the
+situation than he had since this whole mad tangle had erupted.
+
+Reva looked away, still saying nothing.
+
+Stone pressed on: “It’s too bad things had to work out the way they
+did.... Between us.”
+
+Reva’s eyes stayed on the wall. “We each got what we wanted.” Her voice
+was flat, controlled.
+
+Too tightly controlled.
+
+“Did we?” Stone grimaced. “Maybe you did. I didn’t. Because I wanted
+you. And I didn’t get you.”
+
+Was it his imagination, or did Reva’s breathing quicken just a fraction?
+
+“Being married to a security man’s no cinch. I know that. It can get
+pretty damn’ worrisome and lonely, like you said when you broke it off.
+But right now, I’m wondering if psychiatry can’t be lonely, too--”
+
+The mask that was Reva’s face drew tighter ... tighter.
+
+“Especially if you’re a woman, Reva--a woman like you, who knows what
+love is, and needs it--”
+
+In a flash, like an eggshell shattering, the mask cracked and fell
+apart. Reva turned on him--teeth bared, eyes suddenly streaming. “Shut
+up!” she screamed. White-knuckled, her small fist beat a convulsive
+tattoo on the desk’s polished surface. “Shut up, I tell you! Leave me
+alone--alone ... alone....”
+
+Her voice died. She slumped on one arm across her notebook, face
+hidden. The slim shoulders shook with her sobs.
+
+From the office doorway, MacDougal said, “That was dirty, Carl. As
+dirty as anything you’ve ever done.”
+
+Stone started. Reva gasped aloud and came erect in one swift movement,
+even as she turned away.
+
+MacDougal stalked heavily to the nearest chair and sat down. Face hewn
+in granite, he ignored Stone; addressed Reva: “I’m sorry about this,
+Doctor Adams. Believe me, I wouldn’t run you through such a mill for
+all the world, if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”
+
+“It’s ... quite all right, Mr. MacDougal.” Face almost composed once
+more, Reva resumed her seat. “I’ll give you my tentative report as soon
+as the attendant returns Mr. Stone to his room.” She reached towards a
+buzzer button.
+
+MacDougal halted her with a gesture. His blue eyes were cold. “Don’t
+bother, Doctor. I’m not inclined to spare Stone’s tender feelings,
+after what he just did to you.”
+
+“It’s not a matter of feelings, Mr. MacDougal.” Abruptly, Reva was very
+much the doctor. “There’s a therapeutic issue involved. And Mr. Stone’s
+my patient.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Tight-lipped, Stone leaned forward. “Get on with it!” he clipped. “I
+want to hear what you’ve got to say as much as he does. If I’m crazy,
+I’ve got a right to know it.”
+
+“‘Crazy’ is hardly a meaningful term, medically speaking, Mr. Stone.”
+Reva stared down at her notes. “However, if you insist....”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“Very well, then.” She turned to MacDougal; tapped an accordion-folded
+graph on the desk. “Are you familiar with electroencephalography, Mr.
+MacDougal?”
+
+The base director shrugged. “Only vaguely.”
+
+“Then let me begin by explaining that the electroencephalograph is
+a device which measures currents within the brain and records them
+on a chart. A trained technician can then interpret the patterns in
+diagnostic terms.”
+
+“I see.”
+
+“In Mr. Stone’s case”--Reva studied the chart--“the
+electroencephalogram shows marked deviation from the norm. I’m inclined
+to believe that the pattern indicates he’s a victim of epidemic
+encephalitis.”
+
+“Encephalitis--?” MacDougal frowned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to
+explain, Doctor. I’ve never heard of it.”
+
+Reva nodded gravely. “That’s not surprising, sir. No acute cases have
+been reported since 1925. The ones we see today are chronic--the
+aftermath of an epidemic that swept the country, beginning in 1919.”
+
+“And the results?”
+
+“That all depends.” Reva sketched meaningless patterns with her pencil.
+“You see, the disease wreaks havoc in the brain. There’s tissue
+damage and, later, of course, residual lesions. Ganglion cells and
+neurons degenerate or disappear. Behavior difficulties often follow,
+too--chronic irritability, emotional instability, psychopathic conduct.”
+
+“You tell it scary,” Stone said tightly. “There’s just one catch,
+though: So far as I know, I never had any such disease.”
+
+Reva didn’t look up. “I’m afraid that’s easily possible, Carl. It may
+have run concurrently with influenza or some other sickness. Plenty of
+cases weren’t detected. But the damage still was done.”
+
+“Then how is it I’ve survived? Why haven’t they carted me off before
+now?”
+
+“Because of the nature of the disease, Carl.” For the first time, Reva
+faced him squarely. “You see, it can become progressive, even after
+months and years. When that happens....” Helplessly, she spread her
+hands.
+
+A numbness crept through Stone. He slumped in his chair. The room
+seemed to grow dim around him. He hardly heard the things the other two
+were saying.
+
+Was this to be the end for him, then? Must he live out his life walled
+away from the world in some mental hospital?
+
+Again, he lived through the night before ... tried to recall the way
+he’d felt, the things he’d done.
+
+He’d been tired, yes; but that was to be expected, what with the long
+trip in. And his spirits had certainly been good enough.
+
+Then he’d seen the woman ... fought the monster.
+
+And whether anyone believed him or not, the battle had been reality,
+not delusion. He had the scars to prove it.
+
+Chronic irritability? Emotional instability? Psychopathic conduct?
+Those were terms that fitted Bjornberg and Glines better than they did
+him.
+
+Though he had to admit he’d been on the jumpy side, ever since he’d
+reached the base.
+
+_Ever since he’d reached the base--!_
+
+With a rush, the pieces fell into pattern. Last night, he’d fought a
+monster--a creature like nothing ever seen on earth, in hell or heaven.
+
+The dying woman had gasped of robots on a mesa.
+
+Bjornberg had accused him of murder.
+
+Glines had sworn he was a Communist.
+
+MacDougal had ordered him checked for mental aberration.
+
+An unscheduled, other-worldish tower had risen atop the Project
+Building.
+
+Reva had diagnosed him as an encephalitic, fully capable of
+psychopathic conduct and suitable for confinement.
+
+He himself had developed a sudden tension so nerve-shattering as to
+make him question his own sanity.
+
+It all added up to just one thing: Something horribly dangerously wrong.
+
+But not with him. No.
+
+_With the base!_
+
+But what? What could possibly account for such mad deviation?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He looked up sharply. Reva was still talking:
+
+“--so after your description of Carl’s behavior, Mr. MacDougal,
+my first thought was paranoia. The systematized delusions and
+hallucinations tied in with it, and so did his tendency to violence.
+But I’ve given him the Rorschach test, and the TAT, and neither of them
+show any indication of it. So tentatively, I’m forced to fall back on
+encephalitis. It manifests itself so many ways--it’s more polymorphic
+than syphilis, even....”
+
+Systematized delusions--? Hallucinations? Stone felt a sudden, quick
+twinge of excitement. The behavior of the people here on the base
+fitted that pattern.
+
+Yet how could a whole organization turn paranoid?
+
+Besides, Reva had just said that he himself didn’t check out for it on
+the tests.
+
+Thoughtfully, he studied her. She knew about these things, these mental
+twists, and she’d just come here.
+
+Could the trouble be some strange infection she’d brought with her?
+
+For that matter, why would a psychiatrist be assigned to a development
+base, anyhow?
+
+It was an interesting question. Spontaneously, he cut in on the
+conversation: “Reva....”
+
+She looked around. “Yes, Carl?”
+
+“Just what is this research project of yours?”
+
+Her face froze, lips half-parted. The grey eyes--it was as if shutters
+had suddenly slammed closed behind them.
+
+Cold, hostile shutters.
+
+MacDougal said quickly, “I’m afraid we’ll have to bounce that
+one, Carl. _Verboten_. Doctor Adams’ work is classified, highly
+confidential.”
+
+Ice hung on his words--the same kind of ice that glazed Reva’s eyes.
+
+And Glines’. And Bjornberg’s.
+
+Stone held his face immobile. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
+
+Reva had come here. Strange things had happened.
+
+Reva was a psychiatrist. Base personnel showed something close to
+mental disorder.
+
+Cause and effect?
+
+It could bear some thought. Quite a bit of thought, in fact. Not to
+mention thorough investigation.
+
+MacDougal’s blue eyes had narrowed. Abruptly, he turned to Reva.
+“Doctor Adams, I’m afraid I’ve imposed on you. It’s not fair to ask you
+to treat patients, in addition to your ... other work.”
+
+Reva’s slim shoulders moved a fraction. “I admit the facilities are
+hardly adequate, Mr. MacDougal.”
+
+“Then you recommend a mental hospital?”
+
+“I’m afraid so.”
+
+“We’ll have him flown out tonight in the helicopter, then. Right now.”
+The base director surged to his feet. “Let’s go, Carl.”
+
+Stone gripped the arms of his chair. One wrong question--and in seconds
+they’d arranged to put him out of circulation.
+
+Which meant he’d been right: There _was_ a relationship between Reva’s
+coming, her work, and the changes on the base.
+
+Only a lot of good knowing it would do him, locked away in a back ward
+of some asylum. Even if he was actually all right it would take months
+to convince the doctors.
+
+So much for his plans.
+
+Unless--
+
+“Hurry it up, Carl. This is all for your own good, you know.”
+
+Wordless, Stone arose. Carefully casual, he glanced out the nearest
+window.
+
+It was almost dark.
+
+So much the better.
+
+He moved on into the hall and shuffled towards the detention room where
+he’d spent the night. Reva and MacDougal followed.
+
+The door was locked. Stone stood aside, waiting loose-muscled while
+Reva inserted the key and opened the door.
+
+“I won’t keep you waiting long, Carl,” MacDougal said. “We’ll pick you
+up just as soon as I locate a pilot.”
+
+Stone drew a deep breath, “Any time.” He started forward.
+
+The base director shifted aside to let him pass. Stone smashed down his
+foot with all his might on the other’s instep.
+
+MacDougal cried out ... tottered off-balance.
+
+Twisting, Stone shoved him hard against Reva. Together, the pair
+sprawled on the floor of the detention room.
+
+Stone slammed and locked the door behind them. It muffled their cries
+most satisfactorily.
+
+Bleak-eyed, then, he strode down the corridor and the stairs and out
+into the night....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Base Directory Service gave Stone both Reva’s addresses--her prefab,
+and the building assigned her for her project.
+
+Hanging up the phone, he pushed his way out of the crowded drugstore,
+then stood hesitating on the curb of the broad, bright-lighted parkway
+that ran round the parking center.
+
+Home, or office? Which should it be?
+
+He frowned.
+
+The base alarm system blasted in the same instant.
+
+The noisy crowd fell suddenly silent. People paused, fell back a step.
+Eyes shifted, searched.
+
+The siren’s shrill scream died away.
+
+Ripples of apprehension rose on its echo. Little groups drew close
+together, milling aimlessly.
+
+A tiny chill ran through Stone. He had no choice now. Distance was the
+vital factor, and the office address was the closest.
+
+With an effort, he held his steps even and unhurried. Crossing the
+parkway, he headed south on the nearest street.
+
+All about him, men and women were emptying from the prefabs--peering
+this way and that talking excitedly. Off to the right, out by the
+Project Building motor pool, a jeep’s lights flashed on. A gunned motor
+roared. The lights swerved north as the vehicle raced away.
+
+Seconds later, another followed. Then another, and another.
+
+Elsewhere, in all directions, other motors droned as the base security
+system came to life.
+
+The chase was on.
+
+Stone veered between the buildings, out of sight, then broke into a
+dogtrot.
+
+A cross-street. Pausing in the shadows, he strained his eyes against
+the night, searching both ways for signs of the blockade the jeeps were
+setting up, according to plan.
+
+It was a good plan, too; he’d helped devise it. Once the vehicles
+reached their stations, a rabbit couldn’t move across the base
+undetected.
+
+After that, there’d be a block-check, certain capture.
+
+But until then--He strode across the street, not too fast till again he
+reached the welcoming shadows. There, once in the darkness, he broke
+into a pelting run.
+
+More cross-streets; more speed. Then the last line of prefabs.
+
+Beyond them spread the dim expanse of the Related Projects Area, with
+its high wire fence and guarded gates.
+
+Stone halted, breathing hard, and smoothed his shirt and combed his
+hair. Then, boldly, he strode towards the nearest point of entry.
+
+The guard on the gate watched through the mesh, cold-eyed and silent,
+as he approached. Stone said, “Message for Doctor Coughlin, Materials
+Research. Here’s my pass.”
+
+He extended his wallet as he spoke. Cradling his rifle, the guard
+unlatched the gate and reached out to take it.
+
+Stone smashed the free-swinging gate violently against him.
+
+The guard lurched back; tried to jerk up his rifle.
+
+Side-stepping, Stone lunged in close. Savagely, he hammered an uppercut
+to the other’s jaw.
+
+The guard dropped.
+
+Ripping the man’s shirt into strips, Stone bound and gagged him in
+seconds. Then, snatching up the rifle, he ran for the shadows.
+
+The small, one-story brick building that housed Reva’s project stood
+apart from its fellows, far back in an isolated corner of the Related
+Projects Area. A steel framework like a miniature radio tower rose
+close beside it, perhaps fifty feet tall.
+
+Smashing open the locked door with the rifle-butt, Stone snapped on the
+lights and surveyed the place.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The room in which he stood was a typical office. Filing cases banked
+one wall. A desk flanked by bookshelves stood against a second. There
+was a long table littered with papers and, incongruously, a small bowl
+of flowers. Three chairs, a water cooler, and a coatrack completed the
+furnishings.
+
+Hurriedly, Stone crossed to the nearest of the two inside doors.
+
+The first led to a washroom.
+
+The second was locked.
+
+Stone hesitated, a vague uneasiness upon him. It was as if the tension
+that rode him had been suddenly, sharply heightened. His muscles ached;
+his fingers showed a tendency to tremble.
+
+The humming impinged on him, then.
+
+It was as vague as his uneasiness--a sound that was not a sound, almost.
+
+Stone turned slowly--straining his ears; trying to trace the murmur to
+its source.
+
+Finally he placed it: It centered on the door beside which he stood.
+
+He swung the rifle-butt. Once--twice--three times.
+
+Lock and door stood fast. Once again Stone hesitated. Then, reversing
+the rifle and standing aside to avoid a ricochet, he triggered a shot
+at the lock.
+
+Metal jangled through the echo. Another blow with the butt, and the
+door creaked open.
+
+The windowless room beyond, from its cramped size, had probably been
+planned primarily for storage.
+
+Now, though, it overflowed with electronic equipment, from floor
+to ceiling a buzzing maze of tubes and condensers and coils and
+complicated circuits such as Stone had never seen before.
+
+Could this machine be responsible for his uneasiness and the strange
+behavior on the base?
+
+There was one sure way to find out.
+
+Narrow-eyed, nerves atingle, he pivoted, searching for the master
+switch ... located it at last, set at the far end of the narrow space
+between a transformer and the wall.
+
+He reached out; gripped the shiny black handle.
+
+Then, before he could throw it, a harsh voice from the office behind
+him snarled, “Move an inch and you’re dead!”
+
+Stone went rigid.
+
+“Now come out! On the double!”
+
+Stone’s spine tingled. He let go the switch and slowly turned.
+
+Colt in hand, hard-eyed and lethal, Sergeant Bjornberg stood hunched in
+a gunman’s crouch on the far side of the office.
+
+Glines flanked him.
+
+Stone’s lips felt stiff. Of a sudden he could feel death’s hand on his
+shoulder.
+
+Bjornberg moved a quick step forward. “Come out, I said!”
+
+The smirk on Glines’ fat face would have fitted a cat better. A
+well-fed cat, toying with a mouse.
+
+Stone sucked in air.
+
+“What’s the matter, Mr. Stone?” It was Glines talking now--sneering,
+mocking. “You took a gun away from me last night. Why don’t you take
+the sergeant’s?”
+
+“Shut up!” rasped Bjornberg. And then, to Stone: “I said come out! Away
+from that equipment!”
+
+‘_Away from that equipment_....’
+
+Ever so slowly, Stone let out the deep breath he’d been holding. “No,
+thanks, Sergeant.”
+
+“What--!” Bjornberg’s finger went white on the trigger.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stone smiled stiffly. “I said no, Joe. I’d rather let you
+shoot--because whether you hit me or not, that forty-five’s going to
+tear up a lot of transistors.”
+
+Bjornberg’s mouth worked. “Damn you, Stone!” And Glines came in high
+and shrill. “You should have hit him with the barrel from behind,
+Sergeant! You shouldn’t have warned him!”
+
+Ever so casually, Stone leaned back against the framework of the
+machine.
+
+“I’ll still take him!” Bjornberg snarled. “Here, cover me!”
+
+He passed the Colt to Glines and started forward, hands raised in a
+judo fighter’s guard.
+
+Stone lunged for the switch.
+
+This time, there was no turning back, no hesitation. He slammed the
+black handle down even as Bjornberg crashed against him.
+
+The humming died in a click of circuit breakers. The tubes began to dim.
+
+Twisting, too cramped to strike a blow, Stone grappled with Bjornberg.
+Together, they rocked back to the far side of the doorway, fighting
+with knees and teeth and elbows.
+
+Then the sergeant broke free; leaped back, out into the office.
+
+Instead of trying to follow, Stone spun about and smashed his foot
+through a device that looked like an off-beat magnetron. Clutching
+whole handfuls of wiring, he tore one of the upper racks of equipment
+out bodily.
+
+Then Bjornberg was upon him again. The man’s weight hammered him down.
+He caught a wicked blow in the back of the neck that sent him sagging
+to his knees on the floor.
+
+Now a fist jarred his head back. Desperately, he caught one of
+Bjornberg’s ankles and wrenched it up and around, twisting with savage
+force.
+
+It was the sergeant’s turn to crash to the floor. Rolling clear of him,
+Stone scrambled to his feet.
+
+His adversary did likewise.
+
+Then, as they started to circle, each searching for an opening, a voice
+cut through: “Carl! Sergeant! Stop it!” It was Glines, almost shouting.
+“Stop it, I tell you! Stop it!” Wary, still gasping for breath, Stone
+drew back.
+
+It was only then that it came to him, dazedly, that the strange tension
+he’d felt for the past twenty-four hours had left him. In spite of
+Bjornberg’s blows, his head seemed clearer than it had been since the
+night before. His muscles no longer ached with strain. His hands had
+lost their tendency to tremble.
+
+Instead of all such, now, an intense, overwhelming weariness hung upon
+him; nothing more.
+
+Across from him, Bjornberg shook his head jerkily, as if to clear his
+brain. The hard lines had vanished from his face. Suspicion clouded his
+eyes no longer. They were open now, wide open, frank and friendly the
+way Stone had always known them.
+
+Over by the desk, Glines shifted awkwardly, the Colt forgotten on
+the floor beside him. His mouth hung loose, and he looked stunned,
+incredulous--a fat, good-natured little man with just a bit of the
+old maid in him. “Carl,” he mumbled, swabbing perspiration from his
+forehead, “Carl, what have I been doing?”
+
+Bjornberg broke in: “Did I really say you killed that woman, Carl? My
+God, I must have been crazy!”
+
+Of a sudden Stone’s legs were weak as water. He stumbled to the nearest
+chair; slumped in it.
+
+“This whole base has been crazy,” he grunted.
+
+Glines’ pudgy hands moved nervously. He groped: “But how--I mean, what
+happened--?”
+
+“It was driven crazy, that’s what happened,” Stone said tightly. He
+jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “That machine in there did it.”
+
+“The machine--?” This from Bjornberg. His broad brow wrinkled. “I
+thought it was a project--”
+
+“And you thought it was important too, didn’t you? Important enough to
+kill me for?”
+
+The sergeant’s face grew red. He shifted from one foot to the other. “I
+guess I did, Carl. Only now--well--damn it, I’m all mixed up!”
+
+“Who isn’t?” Stone turned to Glines. “How’d you feel--last night, when
+you heard about me, I mean?”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The fat man squirmed. “It’s--Carl, I don’t know how to tell you....”
+He chewed his puffy lower lip. “As well as I can remember, I’d been
+feeling tight and jittery for a long time--a week or more. Then,
+when the sergeant woke me up and told me about you--and that dead
+woman--and your story about the monster--well, it was strange. All at
+once I was angry. I hated you, and I was afraid of you, somehow. I
+kept remembering all kinds of little things, and by the time I got to
+the office I--I knew you were a Communist. I _knew_ it.” Nervously,
+again he swabbed his forehead, scarlet now as Bjornberg’s. “I hope you
+understand, Carl; I just can’t explain it.”
+
+“I understand, all right,” Stone said grimly. “The trouble is, I can’t
+explain it either. Not all of it. Not the important parts.”
+
+“But the machine, you said--”
+
+“Sure, the machine did it. But why?” Stone leaned forward. “Look: First
+of all, somebody had to design it. Then somebody else had to approve
+it, order it built. Why?”
+
+Glines shook his head helplessly. Bjornberg stared at the floor.
+
+Stone pressed on: “Second, it didn’t seem to cause any trouble--outside
+of making everybody jittery--till I came along. But when I did,
+everybody went haywire. Except me. Or maybe I did, too. Maybe I didn’t
+really fight a monster.
+
+“But I think I did, and I’ve got some scars to prove it. So that brings
+up a third point: Why didn’t it throw me, like it did the rest of you?
+How is it I could figure out that something was wrong on the base, and
+that this project was responsible, when nobody else could?”
+
+“It’s crazy, just crazy, that’s all,” muttered Bjornberg.
+
+“Maybe. But I doubt it.” Stone rose stiffly. “There’s somebody I want
+to ask some questions--” He stopped short. “Tell me this: How’d you
+happen to come here looking for me?”
+
+Glines frowned. “That was my idea, Carl. Mr. MacDougal sent for me
+after he and Doctor Adams finally got out of that room at the hospital
+and sounded the alarm for you. He asked me if I had any idea where you
+might go--after all, I’d worked with you for a long time. At first
+I said I didn’t know. Only then Doctor Adams made some remark about
+your--your condition, and said she hoped you wouldn’t twist your
+delusions of persecution around to where you’d try to do something to
+her, like you’d done to that dead woman. Mr. MacDougal said she didn’t
+need to worry about it, that he’d see that she got home all right, and
+they left. But the more I thought about what she’d said, the more sense
+it made, and I began to wonder if you might not try to sneak out here
+and booby-trap the building. Finally, the thought of it got to worrying
+me so much that I called Sergeant Bjornberg and came out here with
+him.” Glines paused, laughed self-consciously. “It sounds silly now,
+doesn’t it? But at the time nothing in the world seemed so important as
+to make sure nothing happened to Doctor Adams or her project.”
+
+Reva. Always, it came back to Reva.
+
+“Good enough,” Stone said. Tight-lipped, he started for the door.
+
+“Where you going?” Bjornberg demanded.
+
+Stone held his voice flat and level. “To see Doctor Adams.”
+
+“That figures,” the sergeant nodded. “We even got a jeep back by the
+next building to take you to her.”
+
+“Besides,” Glines chimed in, opening the door, “you’ll need us to pass
+you through the blockade.”
+
+He started down the outside steps.
+
+The next instant, his wild scream of terror split the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+For Stone, that moment lasted a thousand years.
+
+Then it was over, Glines’ shriek dying.
+
+The horrid spell broke. He lunged for the door, Bjornberg on his heels.
+
+But something smooth and slippery brushed his face as he crossed the
+threshold. Instinctive panic flaring in him, he threw himself sidewise.
+
+Before he could hit the ground, rubbery tentacles swept about him. In
+a black delirium of movement, he found himself caught up and lifted;
+crushed close to a gelid, barrel-like body.
+
+Desperately, he tried to twist free, fight clear. But a dozen discs
+clung to him with vicious suction. Every move he made seemed to draw
+the tentacles tighter--crushing him; squeezing the very breath from his
+body.
+
+Now one had looped about his throat, a living rope to cut the blood off
+from his brain. Glines’ screams seemed dim and far away. The sky held
+too many stars.
+
+Then thunder rocked the night--the thunder of a heavy Colt, fired at
+close range. For the fraction of a second, the tentacles’ hold relaxed.
+Stone’s feet touched the ground. Tearing his throat free, he gulped in
+a tremendous, sobbing breath.
+
+“Joe!” he shouted. “Joe, shoot for the band, the belt--”
+
+Nightmare-like, in the same instant the tentacles once again
+constricted. He had no more breath--not for shouting, nor for breathing
+either.
+
+But the Colt roared like an echo, so close now that the powder-fumes
+stung Stone’s nostrils. The monster’s barrel-body rocked under
+hammer-blows of impact. Fluid spilled across Stone’s legs in a chilling
+gush.
+
+Then he was free, falling, slammed to the gravel. Tentacles writhed
+across him in a rush.
+
+Rolling, Stone lurched up.
+
+The monster that had held him now clutched Bjornberg. In a raging
+frenzy, its tentacles swung the sergeant high into the air wrenching at
+his body. His head lolled--loose, horribly disjointed.
+
+Then, with cataclysmic violence, the thing hurled him from it. He
+crashed against the brick wall of the building; spilled down in a
+crumpled heap beside a sodden form that could only be Glines’ body.
+
+Stone turned and ran.
+
+Ahead of him, a second monster swept out from behind the building.
+Stone kept to his course, straight at the thing. If asked, he could not
+have told why. Perhaps it was bravado, perhaps desperation.
+
+Or perhaps pure madness.
+
+The creature hesitated, its tentacles flickering in a way that was
+almost startled. Then, abruptly, it drew back, as if suddenly wary--not
+quite certain of Stone’s potential.
+
+Beyond it, the jeep loomed. Stone made it in a final rush; vaulted into
+the driver’s seat. Kicking the motor to life, he wheeled the vehicle
+around in a screaming curve, jammed the accelerator to the floor, and
+raced for the main gate.
+
+In seconds, the entrance came into view. Stone started to apply the
+brakes.
+
+But the gate stood open. No guards appeared to challenge his exit.
+
+Beyond the fence, the street stretched bare and empty, with no sign of
+blockading troops.
+
+Stone bore down on the gas once more. He still didn’t dare to pause to
+think; not yet. The horror still clung too close. Too many things hung
+unexplained.
+
+Things like why the firing back at Reva’s project building hadn’t drawn
+a half-track full of guards. Why the gate stood open. Why the streets
+were empty, the housing units dark.
+
+But such were trivia; they could wait. He only knew his friends were
+dead, and what he had to do.
+
+Number Ten Q Street, Northeast. Reva’s prefab.
+
+But no light in the windows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stone spun the jeep right at the next corner; headed back west towards
+the Central Project Building, with its bright lights and strange new
+tower.
+
+Then, ahead, a white-striped barrier caught his lights. It blocked the
+street.
+
+Stone braked the jeep.
+
+Half-a-dozen soldiers stood grouped to one side of the crossbar. Before
+Stone could even speak, two of them hurriedly slung their rifles, moved
+the barrier out of the way, and waved him on. They made no move to halt
+or check him.
+
+The area beyond looked like a full-scale military
+operation--barricades, barbed wire, sandbagged strong points, machine
+guns.
+
+Hands slick on the jeep’s wheel, still not daring to ask questions,
+Stone maneuvered his vehicle through the narrow corridor left open.
+
+He reached the fence that circled the Central Project Area ... passed
+through the gate.
+
+On the other side, thronging civilians milled and muttered. A single
+word, rising from a thousand throats, pulsed at him wave-like:
+
+“Monsters ... monsters ... monsters ... monsters ....”
+
+Of a sudden, Stone understood it all--the barricades, the darkened
+houses; the open gates, the lack of questions.
+
+New chills ran through him. He cursed the icy sweat that drenched his
+body.
+
+Slowed by the crowd, the jeep was more hindrance now than help.
+Abandoning it, Stone pushed his way towards the square, squat block of
+the Central Project Building.
+
+A private with rifle and fixed bayonet barred the entrance. A corporal
+sang out. “Hold it, Mister!”
+
+Stone said tightly, “You hold it--if you want to take the
+responsibility. I’ve got information about this business.”
+
+A lieutenant moved up. “Talk ahead, Mister. I’ll listen.”
+
+“I’ll talk--to the base director. And he’s the only one.”
+
+The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your name, Mister?”
+
+“Carl Stone.”
+
+“Carl Stone--!” Visibly, the officer stiffened. He shoved the private
+aside; elbowed back the corporal. “Come on, then! What are you waiting
+for?”
+
+In seconds, they were at the door of MacDougal’s second-floor office.
+
+The base director sat hunched over his desk, snapping hard, clipped
+words into a phone. His broad face looked drawn and haggard, and the
+hand with which he pushed back his stiff, greying hair seemed not too
+steady.
+
+Stone’s gaze flicked to Reva Adams.
+
+She occupied a chair in one corner. Only in the faint shadows beneath
+her eyes did she show any trace of the tension that radiated from
+the base director. For the rest, she was as always--sleek, lovely,
+all woman, her blonde hair swept smoothly back and falling to her
+shoulders, her firm body filling out the silken sheath of her dress.
+
+Even the sight of her sent fury surging through Stone. Pushing past the
+lieutenant, he stalked into the room. “Hang up that phone, Mac. You’ve
+got company.”
+
+Reva jerked in her chair. Her hand flew to her throat.
+
+The base director’s massive head came around sharply. He started up
+from his seat. “Carl--!”
+
+“Right. Alive and breathing.” There was no good humor in the words,
+the way Stone said them. He heeled shut the door, closing out the
+lieutenant.
+
+“Carl, we thought you were dead.”
+
+“I’m not blaming you, Mac. Not you.” Stone jerked his head towards
+Reva. “Her, I’m not so sure of.”
+
+“Doctor Adams--?” MacDougal stared at him blankly. “What do you mean,
+Carl?”
+
+“I mean I’ve found out the nature of her project.” Grimly, Stone
+pivoted to face the woman. “How about it, Reva? What’s the explanation
+for that electronic brain-trap I found out in your building?”
+
+Her slim hands moved nervously in her lap. Her eyes dodged his. “I--I
+don’t know what you mean.”
+
+“You don’t?” Stone made an elaborate business of surprise. And then,
+slashing out, hard and savage: “I’ll tell you, then. I’m talking about
+that transmitter you had locked in your storeroom--that humming,
+buzzing little devil-machine that kept this whole base half-crazy till
+I smashed it!”
+
+MacDougal’s heavy fist hammered on the desk. “Damn it, Carl! Talk
+sense!”
+
+“I am talking sense--the only sense anybody’s heard around here in the
+past two weeks!” Stone roared him down. “Has it occurred to you that
+you feel a little differently about me now than you did a couple of
+hours ago?”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The base director suddenly looked sheepish. “Oh, that--” He groped
+vaguely. “I--well, I don’t know what got into me, Carl. Nervous strain,
+maybe. The pressure of sweating out the big project, here; all the
+worry, the being afraid it wouldn’t work out right....”
+
+“And then, awhile ago, all of a sudden you knew that it was foolish,
+didn’t you? That I wasn’t crazy, or a traitor, or a murderer, or
+anything else except what I’d always been?”
+
+“Well--well, yes.” MacDougal brushed perspiration from his chin. “As
+soon as I got back here, and stopped to think it over--”
+
+“You mean, as soon as I smashed that machine! Bjornberg, Glines--they
+both snapped out of the fog when I did it, right before my eyes.”
+
+“Glines? Bjornberg?” MacDougal’s head came up. “I’ve had a call out for
+them. Where are they?”
+
+Tight-lipped, Stone fought down the wave of sickness that rose in him.
+“They’re dead, Mac. Dead. Killed by the monsters that everybody claimed
+I didn’t see.”
+
+“Dead....” Face sagging, the base director slumped into his chair.
+
+“I’m as sorry as you are, Mac. But that’s not enough.” Stone pushed in,
+driving his words hard. “What’s important is now, the living. They’re
+the ones we’ve got to think about.”
+
+“Yes. Of course.” MacDougal’s voice still echoed dull and empty.
+
+“So the first point’s to get it across that I’m not crazy, that I’m
+telling the truth: Last night, that transmitter out at Reva’s building
+wouldn’t let you believe me. Then, when I smashed it, and everybody
+snapped back to normal, the monsters came--so many of them that you’ve
+had to clear the base, move all personnel into the Central Project Area
+for protection.”
+
+“But how--?”
+
+“How do the monsters tie in with the transmitter, you mean?” Stone
+shook his head curtly. “I wouldn’t know. But I’m going to find out. Our
+good friend Doctor Adams is going to tell us all about it.”
+
+He turned towards her chair.
+
+It was empty.
+
+Stone went numb inside; spun about by reflex.
+
+The office door stood an inch ajar. Reva was gone.
+
+MacDougal cursed, surged up from his seat. “Come on!” Like a raging
+grizzly, he charged across the office and out into the hall.
+
+Stone started to follow. Then, braking, he whirled and jumped to the
+window. Savagely, he jerked it open and thrust out his head.
+
+Off to the right, below him, Reva was walking briskly out the
+building’s main entrance, a picture of calm, cool poise.
+
+Stone clutched the sill; looked down.
+
+A soldier wearing an MP brassard stood directly beneath him. Stone
+shouted, “You, soldier! MP! Get that woman!”
+
+The man looked up, startled; then to the right, following Stone’s
+frantic gesture.
+
+But the words had reached Reva, too. She swung round in mid-stride, her
+eyes wide with panic. The MP galloped towards her. Whirling, she fled
+right--away from her pursuer; off towards the corner of the building.
+
+Stone ran for the hall, only to crash into MacDougal, returning.
+
+The base director’s face was flushed. He was panting. “I couldn’t find
+her, Carl--”
+
+“Forget it. She’s trapped. Just wait in your office.” Stone headed for
+the stairs at a dead run.
+
+Outside at last, then, he spotted the MP. The man waved and gestured.
+
+Stone went limp with relief. The soldier had Reva gripped firmly by the
+arm.
+
+Stone started towards them.
+
+Only then, suddenly, out in the open area in front of the building, a
+civilian gave a startled cry and pointed skyward.
+
+Simultaneously, a high, shrill drone pulsed through the night, louder
+every second.
+
+Stone looked up sharply.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Overhead, pinpoints of light were sweeping down in tight formation,
+converging on the Central Project Area. Lower they raced, and lower,
+wheeling in a spiral that would have been the envy of any jet.
+
+Out in the crowd, a woman screamed hysterically. A man whirled,
+sprinting for cover.
+
+In an instant, panic swept through the multitude like a living thing.
+Shrieking, bolting, clawing, civilians and soldiers alike fled in all
+directions.
+
+Heart pounding, Stone pressed flat against the building.
+
+Now one of the lights peeled off from the formation. Bullet-fast, it
+lanced towards the spot where Stone stood, so low that it almost seemed
+to skim the ground.
+
+He drew a quick, shallow breath, with the feeling that it must surely
+be his last.
+
+Only then the thing spun into an arc, bare yards away from him. For an
+instant it hovered almost motionless, barely three feet in the air,
+before riding a beam of purple flame from its base down to the ground.
+
+Stone could see it better now. A tripod of tall, thin metal legs
+supported a blocky central unit that vaguely resembled a cake ice-cream
+cup with a broad lip flaring at the top. Light glinted from three
+eye-like protuberances set close against the brim.
+
+While Stone watched, the purple beam that speared down from the center
+of the body unit turned scarlet, then dazzling pink. At the same time,
+two funnel-shaped appendages detached themselves from the base and
+darted out, cobra-like, in either direction along the building’s wall
+on slender tentacles of cable.
+
+Off to Stone’s right, a shout rang out. Then a shot.
+
+He turned just in time to glimpse the tentacle flick out like a
+whiplash at the MP who’d captured Reva. Its funnel-shaped end struck
+him in the chest--a blow so violent that even Stone could hear it hit.
+
+The man staggered back; sank to the ground.
+
+Paying him no heed, the cable flipped high into the air, coiling as it
+rose.
+
+Then, writhing like a living thing, it was descending ... slapping down
+at Reva Adams. Her scream rang wild and ragged. Like one possessed, she
+darted out from the building, blonde hair streaming.
+
+Deftly, the cable-coil shifted, pulling tight even as it dropped its
+loop around her.
+
+Tripping, she plunged to the ground.
+
+In spite of himself, without volition, Stone lunged towards her.
+Unreasoning panic roweled him with razor spurs.
+
+Almost as if timing itself to his charge, the cable-tentacle threw
+another loop around the struggling woman, then swept her high into the
+air above Stone’s head just as he reached the spot where she had lain.
+
+Desperately, he leaped straight up, clawing for the cable.
+
+Snake-like, it writhed out of reach, leaving him to fall back cursing
+on the gravel.
+
+Now he saw the other tentacle’s destination.
+
+And its victim.
+
+It was MacDougal.
+
+The funnel-like cable-end had suckered onto his great chest and dragged
+him bodily out his office window. Now, still at second-story level,
+heedless of his struggles, the line itself twisted and looped about him
+half-a-dozen times, binding him tight.
+
+Simultaneously, the flame-jet from the strange robot’s base deepened to
+its original purple.
+
+As the color changed, the weird craft lifted, higher into the air, and
+higher. Already, it had begun to pick up its characteristic spiral
+motion.
+
+In the same instant, the other robots swept down, still in their
+tight formation. The shrill drone of the sound they gave forth welled
+ear-splitting, deafening.
+
+Smoothly, the unit that had landed resumed its place within the
+pattern, its sagging prisoners hugged against it.
+
+As one, the robots soared away, out across the encircling desert till
+light and sound alike were swallowed in the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The moment that followed the flying robots’ departure stretched
+endlessly. Seconds ticked by with Stone barely aware that they were
+passing. He could only stand there in mute, helpless frustration,
+staring up at the sky where the cones had vanished.
+
+Out of the night they had come; into that same night they had retreated.
+
+Only there was more to it than that.
+
+Because they’d taken Reva and MacDougal with them. That, obviously, had
+been the whole purpose of their raid.
+
+Nor had their victims gone willingly. No one who had seen those
+blanched, fear-stricken faces could believe they had.
+
+No. If there’d been a plot--if Reva had really helped the monsters by
+setting up the transmitter at her project building--then that plot had
+now reversed itself, gone sour.
+
+It was a mad twist--shattering; mind-shaking.
+
+And it forced a whole new orientation.
+
+For Stone, it was suddenly more than he could take or grasp. He slumped
+against the wall; buried his face in his hands.
+
+Then, from all directions, sound rose and swept in and impinged upon
+him--a hoarse babble of voices that echoed overtones of panic.
+
+He let his hands fall; looked up and out.
+
+The teeming mass of humanity crammed into Central Project Area seethed
+like churned water. Shouts of rage rang out ... roars of indignation,
+women’s high-voice protests, the fear-straught cries of frightened
+children.
+
+While Stone watched, the troops drew in to form a tight,
+bayonet-bristling cordon about the Project Building, thrusting the
+civilians back.
+
+Numb, drained, Stone turned from the scene and made his way to the main
+entrance.
+
+A half-track stood drawn up close by it, with a lieutenant colonel
+barking orders into a radiophone. Pausing, Stone listened long enough
+to ascertain that the man was talking to the commander of an armored
+unit on maneuver somewhere out in the desert--calling it in to
+reinforce the troops stationed at the base in case of further robot
+raids or incursions by the monsters.
+
+Chaos, Unlimited.
+
+Shaking his head wearily, Stone went on into the building and headed
+for the first-floor snack bar.
+
+The place was deserted, save for a little knot of research men who sat
+talking animatedly at a table beside a blaring radio at the far end of
+the room.
+
+In spite of himself, Stone’s lips twisted wryly. Leave it to Research.
+Let Earth itself collapse, and its intellectual stalwarts would still
+forget panic in their eagerness to argue the dynamics of the breakup.
+
+The girl at the coffee urn gave him a wan smile. “Coffee, Mr. Stone?”
+
+“Jug of black,” Stone grunted. “I need something to help me do some
+thinking.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Still talking, two of the research men came up behind him while he
+waited.
+
+“... that confounded tower, that’s what gets me,” the first was saying.
+“With MacDougal gone, what do we do about it?”
+
+“Then what Crawford said’s true? Nobody except MacDougal actually knows
+the purpose of it?”
+
+“You’re so right. I was there when he gave the orders on it, a
+week-and-a-half ago. He was so excited he could hardly keep his pants
+on; but when Grimorski asked him what the idea was, he just stuck out
+his eyebrows and told Grim to mind his own business.”
+
+The second man whistled. “It puts us on a spot, then, doesn’t it?”
+
+“Spot’s hardly the name for it. That tower doesn’t tie in with The
+Project at all, except maybe for using some of the big equipment.”
+
+The girl at the coffee urn handed Stone his cup and jug. Mechanically,
+he took them, paid her, and stepped back out of the way of the research
+men.
+
+But his mind was racing, groping. He made no move to find a table.
+
+“One with cream and one without,” the second research man told the
+girl. And then, speaking again to his companion: “I was talking to
+Santos about it. He says the only thing he can figure it for is some
+kind of king-size electrolytic cracker. Only it’s too big to make
+sense, and it’d have to work on some off-beat principle that doesn’t
+tie in with accepted theories on ionization.”
+
+“Even if it did, what would the monstrosity decompose? The atmosphere?”
+This from the first man. “No; I can’t buy that, Dawes. If you ask me,
+it doesn’t do anything at all.”
+
+“Oh, now, don’t push those snap judgments of yours too far, Quinn.”
+The second man looked half-worried, half-amused. “After all, why would
+MacDougal order the thing built, if it didn’t have some function?”
+
+“What’s the obvious answer?” the man called Quinn snorted. “Our base
+director’s cracked, that’s all. The strain got too much for him. He
+saw how things were going on The Project--that it just wasn’t going to
+work out, even if it was his idea and his baby. He simply couldn’t take
+it. So, he compensated by coming up with a new super-secret brainstorm
+that’s as nutty as a Rube Goldberg invention.”
+
+The other research man frowned. “You really think so?”
+
+“What else is there to think? Can you come up with any other
+explanation?”
+
+“But MacDougal--damn it, Quinn, he’s outstanding, brilliant--”
+
+“The smarter they are, the wider they split. It’s happened before. A
+man stakes his career on a job; oversells an idea. Then it falls flat.
+He sees his whole scientific reputation flying out the window. Unless
+he’s mighty stable, the next stop’s Bellevue.”
+
+Cups in hand, the two research men started to move away, back to their
+table.
+
+For the fraction of a second, Stone hesitated. Then, abruptly, he
+stepped forward. “Pardon me....”
+
+The pair halted. The first man half-turned. “What--?”
+
+Stone said, “I’m Carl Stone. Security. I couldn’t help overhearing--”
+
+The second man flinched visibly, slopping his coffee. His thin face
+paled a trifle.
+
+His companion stood steady. “Go ahead.” His voice was cool, not too
+friendly.
+
+Stone made a placatory gesture. “Believe me, I’m not trying to give you
+trouble. There’ll be no nonsense about reporting anybody, no matter
+what. But some strange things have happened on this base lately. I need
+information--and maybe you two are the ones who can give it to me.” He
+nodded to the nearest table. “How about letting me have five minutes,
+over coffee?”
+
+“I’ve got nothing to hide. What I said’s for the record.” The first man
+stepped to the table, dropped into a chair. The second followed, less
+enthusiastically.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stone filled his cup from the jug and leaned back, hunting for the
+right words. “You think there’s a possibility that The Project’s a
+failure?” he asked finally.
+
+“Possibility, my eye. It’s a thousand per cent certain.” The first man,
+the one called Quinn, stirred in sugar. “Has been, for nearly a month
+now. But MacDougal won’t give up. Because he doesn’t know it? No; it’s
+because he’s scared to.”
+
+Stone frowned at Dawes. “You agree?”
+
+The man stared down into his coffee. “I’m afraid so.”
+
+“Then why hasn’t it been reported--to Washington, I mean?”
+
+“That’s--that’s the base director’s responsibility.”
+
+“And this other business? The tower?” Stone spoke to Quinn, this time.
+
+“You’ve got me there, mister.” The man made a business of shrugging.
+“I’ve screamed loud enough about it, but no one would listen. I
+guess they think griping’s just a habit with me, on account of my
+encephalitis.”
+
+Stone stiffened. “_Encephalitis_--?”
+
+“A brain disease. I picked it up in the flu epidemic of 1918, when I
+was a kid. Doesn’t bother my thinking, but I’ll admit it shortcircuits
+my disposition sometimes.”
+
+“So--”--with difficulty, Stone held his voice level--“so, you didn’t
+think much of the tower?”
+
+“That’s right. I didn’t. But everyone else was so hipped on it they
+wouldn’t listen--even Dawes, here, had the bug. For better than a week,
+they all went around acting like it was the hottest thing since blondes
+were invented, and the most important, even when in the next breath
+they’d have to admit they didn’t know what it was supposed to do or
+how it worked. I was the only one in the place who wouldn’t join their
+club. I think they’d have fired me, if they’d had a replacement. As it
+was, the supervisor just swore I was crazy and let it go at that.”
+
+“I see.” Stone gripped his cup between his palms, trying to hide his
+hands’ sudden trembling.
+
+Slowly, slowly, the pieces were falling into place.
+
+Two weeks ago, more or less, Reva Adams had been assigned to research a
+mysterious project at this base.
+
+Shortly thereafter, the transmitter at her building had gone into
+action.
+
+Immediately, the thinking of the entire body of personnel had grown
+distorted--as witness MacDougal’s order to build an apparently useless
+tower in the face of The Project’s alleged failure.
+
+Then he, Carl Stone, had returned--and the transmitter hadn’t affected
+him, save to make him abnormally tense and irritable and nervous.
+
+Reva had diagnosed him as an encephalitis victim.
+
+And now, in Quinn, he’d discovered another encephalitic--and apparently
+Quinn’s thinking hadn’t been distorted by the transmitter, either! He’d
+retained his judgment, his ability to analyze and reason, in spite of
+admitted irritability and tension.
+
+In other words, whatever else the transmitter might have done, it
+hadn’t been able to influence encephalitic intellects.
+
+Why?
+
+Staring at his cup, Stone pondered.
+
+“_There’s tissue damage_,” Reva had said, “_and, later, of course,
+residual lesions. Ganglion cells and neurons degenerate or disappear_.”
+
+That meant that the functioning of the brain was changed, impaired.
+
+The transmitter at Reva’s project building pulsed out waves that
+distorted the thinking of normal brains.
+
+But encephalitics didn’t have normal brains. The disease destroyed
+cells, burned out synapses.
+
+So, in them, the transmitter merely heightened tension. Scar tissue
+slashed gaps its impulses couldn’t bridge.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of a sudden Stone felt better than he had in days. This discovery--it
+was a step forward; a long, long step.
+
+The only trouble was, he still had so far to go.
+
+For instance, where did the monsters fit into the picture?
+
+The robots?
+
+How did they link to the transmitter?
+
+And--the thought came in spite of all his efforts to shut it out--to
+Reva?
+
+Because there _was_ a link. There had to be. The problem was only to
+establish the chain of logic.
+
+He took another sip of coffee; spoke as much to himself as to his
+companions: “First, I smashed the transmitter. Then, the monsters
+came--”
+
+“The monsters--?” The thinfaced Dawes hunched forward eagerly, seeming
+glad for the sudden change of subject. “I haven’t heard anything about
+a transmitter. But these monsters--now there’s something I can get my
+teeth in!”
+
+“You can have ’em,” Quinn grunted sourly. “Me, I wouldn’t get my teeth
+in a monster if I was starving.”
+
+“No kidding, Quinn! I just wish I’d have seen one!” Dawes’ brown eyes
+sparkled. “They’re aliens, obviously--extraterrestrials from some
+other planet. Also, they’ve mastered space travel--which means they’re
+superior to humans, no matter what they look like. Look how they
+handled the business with the robots--kidnapping our base director as a
+hostage, along with a psychiatrist to give ’em a hand at figuring out
+our mental mechanisms. Personally, I don’t think there’d have been any
+trouble with them whatever, if people hadn’t panicked. But when those
+women out in the prefabs saw ’em--all tentacles and whatnot--everybody
+stopped thinking. The troops didn’t do any good, either. The aliens
+didn’t have any choice but to fight back, once the lead started
+flying....”
+
+The monsters. The tentacles.
+
+The dead woman. Glines. Bjornberg.
+
+Without avail, Stone tried to black out the picture. In spite of
+himself, he shuddered.
+
+He knew, then, that for him there could never be any compromise with
+the strange creatures. No matter what he should learn, regardless of
+any answers the future might uncover, he could never hope to throw off
+his horror. His memories were too black, too bitter.
+
+Dawes was still talking: “... and I wonder how many of us have ever
+stopped to consider the functional aspects of multiple tentacles.
+Just think how handy it’d be to have suction cups on the ends of your
+fingers! It’s as great an evolutionary development as the thumb! And
+there’s the business of having the tentacles on both ends of the body,
+too--your feet get tired, so you turn upside down and walk on the
+other end. The stripe around the middle is probably a sensor band--a
+continuous nerve unit that sees, hears, tastes, smells; that is,
+assuming they have our senses. Or maybe they ingest their food from the
+air, by osmosis, the way a frog does water--”
+
+The flow of words showed no signs of stopping. All at once, Stone could
+take no more. He had to be alone, to think.
+
+Abruptly, he rose. “Quinn--Dawes--I want to thank you both,” he
+interrupted. “You’ve been a big help--more than you know.”
+
+He started to turn.
+
+As he did so, the blaring radio down by the other occupied table went
+into a sudden, crackling spasm, then fell silent.
+
+A coffee-drinker rose, reached for the dials.
+
+But before he could touch them, the radio blared again. A voice
+spoke--a strange, metallic voice like none that Stone had ever heard:
+
+“Base! Development base called Las Crescentes! I speaking to you!”
+
+Stone went rigid. Chairs scraped at the other table.
+
+“Listen, Base! I speaking!”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The man who had risen from the far table twisted the volume dial.
+
+“Listen, Base! Listen, Base! Listen, Base....” The level of the strange
+voice stayed constant.
+
+The man moved the selector.
+
+The voice came in on all bands.
+
+The man stumbled back, white-faced and shaking.
+
+An icy finger ran up and down Stone’s spine.
+
+The clanging, harsh, metallic voice went on: “Listen, Base! I here at
+World Earth from world you not know. I get element you call krypton.
+Must have. Take out you air. Not hurt.”
+
+Stone groped. “Krypton--?”
+
+Quinn speaking: “Inert gas, one part in six or seven hundred thousand
+in normal atmosphere.”
+
+The voice again: “Must have! Take! You help, I not hurt.”
+
+“Aliens!” Dawes’ nails scraped the table. “I was right! I was right!”
+
+The voice: “Tower take. You run. Must have!”
+
+“‘Tower take’?” Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “My God! You don’t suppose--”
+
+“Listen, Base--!”
+
+A pause.
+
+Then, a new voice on the speaker, deep and familiar. MacDougal’s voice,
+thick with tension.
+
+“John MacDougal speaking.”
+
+Stone gripped the back of his chair so hard his knuckles ached.
+
+MacDougal: “As you’ve probably guessed, our visitors tonight are
+from--elsewhere. Another planet. Maybe even another solar system. I’m
+not quite sure. There’s a problem in communication. They don’t have
+anything like what we’d term normal speech apparatus. They’d tried to
+get around it with the mechanical substitute you just heard, but it’s
+pretty limited.”
+
+A pause, vibrant with nerve-shattering silence.
+
+“Anyhow, they want krypton. Why, I don’t know. They just keep saying
+‘Must have!’”
+
+Another pause, longer this time.
+
+Stone’s muscles were knotting.
+
+“This krypton--we’re to get it for them.” MacDougal sounded old and
+frightened now. “They’ve even equipped us to do the job. It seems
+they’ve--been around quite a while. A couple of weeks, anyhow. So they
+did a little mind control work on one of our people, Doctor Reva Adams.
+Again, I don’t quite know how; probably they’re telepaths--maybe that’s
+how they communicate with each other. In any case, they maneuvered
+things so she set up a transmitter that induced what amounted to a mild
+paranoia in all base personnel.” A short laugh, more panic than mirth.
+“Including me, the base director....”
+
+With an effort, Stone twisted the chair about and sat down. Within him,
+the tension kept climbing. If it went on--wildly, he wondered if a man
+could feel his own sanity slipping away....
+
+MacDougal again, sounding more like himself this time: “Sorry, friends.
+I’m all right, and so is Doctor Adams. Just chalk up any breaks I make
+to nerves....” He spoke less jerkily now. His voice came through the
+radio’s amplifier strong and steady.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Stone’s tension ebbed a fraction. He leaned forward, concentrating on
+the base director’s every word:
+
+“... I spoke of paranoia. As you may know, the disorder’s marked by
+systematized delusions and hallucinations. In my own case, these
+centered on a conviction that I’d developed a new and revolutionary
+approach to The Project. Backing it up, I ordered construction of the
+equipment that now occupies the tower on top of the Central Project
+Building. In turn, the rest of you fell into a pattern that blocked
+off any questioning of my judgment, and built up resistance--extreme
+hostility, in fact--to any thought or suggestion that might threaten the
+work or the aliens.
+
+“Actually, of course, my ‘new development’ had nothing whatever to do
+with The Project. On the contrary. The only function the device has
+is to extract krypton from the atmosphere as fast and efficiently as
+possible. How it works, I can’t say; the design’s so different from
+anything we know that I’m inclined to think it’s based on scientific
+principles completely outside our experience.
+
+“Some of you may wonder why these aliens picked our base as a place
+to set up their operation. Apparently there were two reasons: First,
+The Project involved materials and a good deal of hard-to-fabricate
+equipment that they needed for their krypton extraction process.
+Second, Las Crescentes is isolated. Their mind-control transmitter
+blanketed us without overlapping into any other inhabited areas, so
+they didn’t have to worry about outside interference.
+
+“That brings up another point: These creatures have a wave-shielding
+device that tops anything we know. That’s how they cut in on your
+radios with this broadcast. It also blocks off your transmitters and
+telephone equipment, so don’t waste time trying to get outside help.
+
+“Getting back to the other aspects of the situation, this is the way
+it stacks up: If everything had gone according to plan, we’d have
+finished the extraction unit in the tower, drained Earth’s atmosphere
+of krypton, and delivered it to these aliens. Probably we wouldn’t even
+have realized what we’d done till after they’d left the planet.
+
+“Fortunately or unfortunately, though, something went wrong. One of our
+base security men, Carl Stone, was in Washington when these creatures
+moved in. Last night he got back. For some reason neither the aliens
+nor I can quite figure out, the paranoia transmitter didn’t affect him.
+He recognized that something was wrong on the base, and he wouldn’t be
+pressured into letting it slide. In less time than seems possible, he
+located the transmitter and smashed it.
+
+“The moment the transmitter went off, the aliens knew something was
+wrong. They moved in on the base.
+
+“Our troops stopped that, fast. The aliens saw they’d have to fight
+a pitched battle to take over. They drew back instead. Maybe they’re
+humanitarians. Or maybe they were afraid the tower might be wrecked if
+shooting started. I don’t know.
+
+“Anyhow, they sent the flying robots for Doctor Adams and me. We’re
+hostage-interpreters, I gather.
+
+“That brings up the reason I’m talking. I’m supposed to tell you what
+they want you to do.
+
+“It’s simple enough: Just finish the krypton extractor according to
+plan just as fast as possible--they figure twenty-four hours ought to
+do the job.
+
+“Then, put it into operation. They’ll supply cylinders to store the
+krypton.
+
+“Once it’s aboard their ship, they’ll turn Doctor Adams and me loose
+and be on their way to wherever they’re going.
+
+“They want me to hit it hard that this won’t cost us anything. To us,
+krypton’s just an inert gas with no practical value. To them, for some
+reason, it’s vital. They say they’ll even pay us off for it by giving
+us whatever scraps of scientific information they’ve got that we’re
+capable of absorbing.
+
+“On the other hand--”--now MacDougal’s voice developed the faintest
+of tremors--“if we don’t go along a hundred per cent, they promise
+immediate, utter and complete destruction of the base, and
+extermination of all personnel--after which, they’ll pick another site
+for their plant and try again.”
+
+The base director paused, then; hesitated, fumbled while the silence
+echoed.
+
+In the snack bar, tension climbed and eddied like a thermal updraft.
+Stone could hear the harsh rasp of his companions’ breathing.
+
+For his own part, he dared not even suck in air, for fear his
+self-control would crack.
+
+“I guess that’s all,” MacDougal said at last. Again, as at the
+beginning, his voice suddenly sounded old and frightened. “I’m in no
+position to try to influence your decision. I don’t have the right to
+tell you what to do, or how to do it. Make up your own minds and--and
+good luck--”
+
+He broke off. Once more, the silence echoed.
+
+Then, like a thunder-clap, the alien’s clanging, metallic voice cut
+in--harsh, savage: “Listen, Base! I speaking! Get krypton! Must have!
+
+“Get krypton--or die!”
+
+The radio went dead....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Fear stalked the base. It hung in the air ... seeped through the hush
+... showed in trembling hands and on strained faces.
+
+Stone felt it, too. Fear and something else.
+
+Something that crawled and gnawed and ached within him. Something that
+reached out spidery tendrils to the farthest cell of his very being.
+
+It came out in a name, pulsing in his brain: Reva ... Reva ... Reva....
+
+He paced the night, hour after hour. But nowhere, nohow, could he
+escape her. Misty and wraithlike, her face swayed before him. The soft
+curve of her cheek, the scent of her hair, the taste of her lips--they
+wouldn’t leave him alone.
+
+Her eyes were the worst: Gentle grey eyes, imploring....
+
+He cursed aloud in the stillness.
+
+Only there was nothing he could do. Nothing.
+
+Seething, he sought out the headquarters.
+
+A young captain looked up as he entered.
+
+Stone said, “Well? What’s the decision?”
+
+“Decision?” The officer shrugged. “We’re still waiting. That tank
+unit’s coming. We got through to it before the bugs clamped down their
+wave-shield.”
+
+“But Doctor Adams--MacDougal--”
+
+“The base comes first. We can’t risk it--not just for two prisoners.”
+
+Stone choked harsh words off unspoken. Pivoting, he strode back out
+into the darkness.
+
+A whole base, versus two prisoners.
+
+Calculated risk, and the greatest good of the greatest number.
+
+The commandant’s attitude made sense. Of course it did.
+
+Except for one thing:
+
+One of the prisoners was Reva.
+
+Only that was individual, personal, a pain deep inside him. The
+commandant didn’t know about that. And even if he did, he couldn’t
+afford to let it matter.
+
+The answer? Stone scuffed at the gravel. That was the trouble: There
+just wasn’t any answer.
+
+Or was there?
+
+Suppose you reversed the equation, turned the figures upside down.
+
+The commandant saw two lives against thousands. That was his duty.
+
+But for him, Carl Stone, it was different. He had one life; that was
+all.
+
+One life, to gamble for two. His own neck to risk, on the off chance
+that he might save MacDougal and Reva.
+
+It was a good thought. It made the odds look different.
+
+Stone laughed abruptly. Who was he kidding? The odds didn’t matter, nor
+even MacDougal. Reva was the one who counted, and Reva only.
+
+Because he loved her. In spite of everything, he loved her.
+
+It was decision.
+
+Stone’s breathing quickened. All at once he felt alive again, no longer
+numb or bowed down. The years, the bitterness, the heartbreak--like
+shackles struck off, as one they fell away. Cool, purposeful, his
+stride firm, he struck out towards the Central Project Area’s main gate.
+
+The weary guards waved him by on the strength of his security pass.
+Beyond the last barrier, then, he broke into a dogtrot and stayed with
+it all the way to the administration building lot where his car was
+parked.
+
+One brief detour, to his quarters to pick up a thirty-eight. Then out
+onto the highway, heading east towards the spot where he’d watched the
+woman die.
+
+The sky was greying now, along the horizon far ahead; another day
+aborning, out of the chill shadows of a desert dawn.
+
+Bleakly, Stone wondered if he’d live to see it end.
+
+Then tire-churned gravel marked the turn-off point. Slowing to low
+gear, Stone wrenched the steering wheel around and bumped off the road,
+out across the shoulder into the open desert.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The trail the woman had left proved surprisingly easy to follow,
+still--a broken creosote bush here, kicked-over clumps of fishhook
+cactus there, ground shoe-scraped in between.
+
+The tracks pointed to a high, rocky tableland perhaps three miles back
+from the road.
+
+What was it the dying woman had said--“robots beyond the mesa”--?
+
+The back of Stone’s neck prickled.
+
+His car gave out less than three-quarters of a mile from the road,
+ambushed by rocks and a mesquite tree.
+
+Stolidly, Stone abandoned it and set out on foot. The trail, at first
+so clear, had vanished now, so he set his course for the mesa and hoped
+for the best.
+
+Slowly, the sun edged up. The day began to warm.
+
+Stone plodded on, dodging cactus and keeping a sharp eye out for snakes.
+
+He was nearly to the hill when he heard the helicopter. Before he could
+find a place to hide, it was hovering directly overhead ... settling
+slowly, rotor whishing.
+
+Hastily, Stone slid his gun out of sight beneath his coat and stood
+waiting.
+
+Landing on a nearby patch of open ground, the whirlybird’s pilot threw
+open the door. “Hey, you!”
+
+“Yes?” Stone picked his way toward the craft. “What is it?”
+
+The pilot scowled. “You’re out of bounds. I got orders to come out and
+pick you up. The CO’s taking no chances of getting those bugs stirred
+up till he knows just where we stand.”
+
+“I might have known that gateguard would say something about me.” Stone
+managed a rueful smile. “Well, so goes it....”
+
+He clambered into the helicopter not even protesting; closed the door.
+The pilot manipulated the controls. The engine roared. Slowly, the
+’copter rose, straight up into the air.
+
+Stone reached beneath his coat. Not even bothering to speak, he brought
+out the thirty-eight and leveled it at the other’s side.
+
+“Hey!” The pilot stiffened. “Put that thing away. You want to get into
+trouble?”
+
+“I’m already in it, friend,” Stone said gently. “I might as well go
+whole hog.” He gestured with the revolver’s muzzle. “Let’s have a look
+on the other side of that mesa.”
+
+Muttering, the pilot sent the helicopter higher.
+
+Only then, before they had more than reached the edge of the
+tableland, a sound bore in upon them ... a high, shrill, droning
+sound....
+
+It was Stone’s turn to stiffen. Swiveling in his seat, he peered out,
+searching.
+
+Beyond the mesa, a flight of the flying robots climbed into view in a
+swift, tight spiral, swirling up and around straight into the morning
+sun.
+
+Simultaneously, the pilot exclaimed, “Look--! The tanks!”
+
+Stone strained his eyes.
+
+Far off in the eastern desert, tiny beetle-like vehicles ground slowly
+towards them, churning up long streamers of dust. A distant sound of
+firing, heavy guns, echoed on the morning breeze.
+
+In the same instant, the first of the tanks lurched from its path. The
+distance was too great for Stone to tell just what had happened. He
+only knew that the armored titan was veering, jerking, rolling over.
+
+A fraction of a second later it disappeared in a spurting, concussive
+burst of flame.
+
+Now beyond it, a second vehicle was in trouble. A third.
+
+The fourth exploded like a gigantic exclamation point of fire.
+
+From then on, the battle turned into a rout.
+
+With no survivors.
+
+Sickness twisted at Stone’s belly. Fighting it down, he swung back to
+the pilot. “I won’t risk your neck, lieutenant. Land me on the mesa,
+and be on your way.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wordless, the pilot shifted the whirlybird’s controls, setting the
+’copter down on a rocky plateau.
+
+“If your CO bawls you out, remind him I had a gun,” Stone said. He
+opened the door; jumped to the ground.
+
+The helicopter was rising again almost before he could turn.
+
+But not for long.
+
+Because suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, half-a-dozen flying robots
+swooped down.
+
+Stone never could be sure that the pilot even saw them. They came that
+fast.
+
+As they passed over the ’copter, the one in the lead dipped slightly.
+
+A tentacle speared out, whipped round; stabbed into the blur of
+spinning rotor blades.
+
+Then it caught, with a jerk so violent that the robot spun from its
+course, too fast for the eye to follow.
+
+But only for a moment. Then, bobber-like, it came into balance again,
+the rotor still dangling from the tentacle.
+
+Like a crippled bird, the helicopter plunged earthward ... struck with
+a rending crash ... shattered into flames.
+
+Shuddering, Stone crouched motionless in the shadow of a boulder.
+
+Yet, incredibly, the robots gave no sign that they sensed his presence.
+A moment later they were gone.
+
+Tight-lipped, Stone left his haven and trudged on across the mesa. A
+mile. Two.
+
+Then, abruptly, the tableland fell away before him. Dropping flat on
+his belly by the rim, he stared down in grim fascination into the
+canyon below; for there, surely, lay one of the strangest things the
+eyes of man had ever seen.
+
+It was a sphere--a shining gigantic metal ball, fully three hundred
+feet in diameter, if Stone could judge. No lines or ports or crevices
+marred its gleaming surface. Nowhere about it could he see any sign of
+life.
+
+Quickly he drew back from the rim, well out of view of the sphere.
+Then, rising, he strode left, following the mesa’s edge till he came
+to a spot where the eroded lip cut back enough to hide him from the
+globe-shaped craft.
+
+Slipping and falling, bruising and tearing, he descended to the
+canyon’s floor, then made his way back towards the sphere.
+
+Here, studying it at a lower level from a hidden vantage-point amid
+the talus, he gained a better, clearer picture. Three stubby legs gave
+the globe balance on the uneven bedrock of the canyon floor. A broad,
+inclined ramp led to a slot-like belly hatch. Of monsters or robots he
+could see no trace.
+
+Stone sucked in air--a long, deep breath. This was the thing he’d
+sought, the aliens’ ship; and now he’d found it.
+
+To what avail?
+
+Somewhere in its maw, by all odds, lay Reva and MacDougal. Yet what
+could he do about it? How could he, alone and armed only with his Smith
+& Wesson, hope to invade it or to save them?
+
+But he’d known the odds before he started--and he’d still come. Logic
+and hazard simply had no bearing.
+
+Surging up, gun in hand, he moved warily forward, hugging the mesa wall.
+
+Now he came abreast the sphere. The ramp to the belly hatch beckoned,
+smooth and inviting.
+
+Inviting as madness.
+
+A nervous spasm knotted Stone’s belly. When it had passed, he stepped
+out from the wall, moved forward, cat-footed, towards the ramp.
+
+Still nothing happened.
+
+Going around the edge of the ramp, he peered up through the open hatch,
+into the sphere-ship.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The interior shone with a dim, greenish glow. Overhead loomed a
+bulwark. He could see nothing more. The stillness was deafening,
+unbroken save by the whisper of the desert breeze far above.
+
+A new chill shook him.
+
+He might have turned back, then. He almost did.
+
+But in that same moment, as he started to draw away, a voice
+echoed thinly deep in the globe-craft. Reva’s voice, ragged and
+strain-straught.
+
+It caught Stone like a magnet. His doubts fell forgotten. Soundlessly,
+he swung up onto the ramp ... crept shadow-silent on into the hatchway.
+
+A corridor yawned, dim in the ghostly green glow. Hardly daring to
+breathe, Stone sidled along it past doors, littered chambers.
+
+It ended at a tube-like, vertical shaft set off by a guard-rail.
+
+The ship’s axis, probably.
+
+Stone strained his ears, listening. Again Reva’s voice came--louder,
+this time; vibrating down the shaft.
+
+Swinging out over the guard-rail, Stone peered upward.
+
+The shaft was smooth as glass--without hand-holds or bracing.
+
+He dropped back to the corridor floor.
+
+A closed double door to his left, next to the shaft, tempted him. He
+stepped towards it.
+
+Like magic, it parted before him, silent as death. A steep ramp curved
+to the right, following the tube-shaft.
+
+Finger tense on the thirty-eight’s trigger, he moved up it, higher and
+higher.
+
+Each ninety degrees arced brought a new door, a new level. When he
+approached them, they opened; when they opened he listened. And each
+time, Reva’s voice sounded closer.
+
+He could hear MacDougal, too, now, on occasion, speaking in rumbles.
+The very nearness brought sweat oozing. A dozen times he had to switch
+the gun from one hand to the other to scrub his palms dry of slickness.
+
+Another level. Another. Another.
+
+_The level_.
+
+Tension drew a band tight over his chest--compressing, constricting.
+His neck ached. His blood pounded.
+
+Jaws tight, gun-hand rigid, he moved down the passage.
+
+A doorway. An open doorway, flooding out brighter, whiter light.
+
+Back to the wall, Stone edged to it ... stared into the room it
+revealed.
+
+Reva sat on a low, curving divan across from MacDougal. Her pale face
+showed deep strain-lines; her hands twisted, white-knuckled.
+
+MacDougal’s whole body sagged limp and exhausted. The shaggy brows
+stood out over eyes deep-sunk in dark hollows. His right arm hung in a
+sling.
+
+Stone swayed for a moment, not daring to think, then slid
+forward--taut, noiseless.
+
+MacDougal’s head twitched. His eyes flicked towards the doorway.
+
+“Quiet--!” Stone shook as he whispered. “For God’s sake, be quiet!”
+
+Reva, MacDougal--they both jerked like puppets.
+
+Stone hissed, “This way--quick!”
+
+MacDougal’s jowls quivered. His left hand gripped the divan as he
+heaved up from it.
+
+Eyes distended, breasts rising and falling too fast, Reva followed.
+
+Stone stepped back.
+
+The tentacles folded round him, then.
+
+He triggered his gun by sheer reflex.
+
+The thirty-eight roared--wild, aimless. The bullet rang, bouncing off
+metal.
+
+The tentacles only drew relentlessly tighter. One slapped at the gun,
+tore it loose from his fingers.
+
+Another looped round his throat. It was like a nightmare--a mad
+repetition of that blood-curdling moment outside Reva’s building.
+
+The tentacle drew tighter. Stone’s lungs exploded.
+
+The blackness closed in....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+The man beside Stone kept talking, talking:
+
+“They let you get all the way in before they grabbed you, didn’t they?
+They like it like that--to lead you on, coax you, let you think you’re
+going to win before they kill you. That’s how they played it with me.
+And my wife. Did I tell you about her? They let her run and run, clear
+across the mesa. All the way down to the highway. Only then a car
+stopped, so they grabbed her and killed her. They told me about it.
+They thought it was the best joke ever....”
+
+Stone tried to sit up, to focus on the speaker.
+
+He fell instead, retching.
+
+The man said, “Don’t worry. You’re not really hurt. It’s just those
+damn tentacles, those snake-things they use for arms. They choke you,
+and tear you, and scare you so you get sick just thinking about ’em. I
+know. I had it, that night on the mesa.”
+
+“You--”--Stone half-choked--“--you ... saw robots?”
+
+“Robots--?” A quavering laugh. “Sure, I saw robots. Robots on the
+mesa. That’s how it all started. Ellen and I--we didn’t know it
+was a government reservation. We were out for some fun. Some fun!
+Prospecting, believe it or not--prospecting for uranium with a
+home-made Geiger. Just a fool high-school science teacher and his wife,
+out on vacation. Only then we got up on the mesa, and I saw the robots.
+Ellen was scared, but I said, Let’s get closer. So they saw us--the
+squids, here. Caught me. Killed Ellen. Poor Ellen....”
+
+The man’s shoulders shook. Then jerked, harder and harder. Anguished
+sounds came from his throat in dry, racking spasms. “Poor Ellen--”
+
+Stone fought his own stomach; won, lurched up, still panting. Slowly,
+his vision cleared.
+
+Beside him, the stranger sobbed more wildly. He no longer seemed even
+aware of Stone’s presence. “Why’d they have to leave me, Ellen? Why
+didn’t they kill me, too? That’s what I wanted. But no, they had to
+have someone to go out in the sun. They can’t stand the sun, can they,
+Ellen? Oh--Ellen--!”
+
+His voice rose to a shriek. His face came up into the light--cheeks and
+chin stubble-matted, eyes wild and staring.
+
+With an effort, Stone reached out and caught one jerking shoulder.
+Savagely, he slapped the man’s face, palm and backhand.
+
+The racking sobs slowed. Wonderingly, the man slumped to the floor,
+rubbing his cheek. “You--you hit me....” No anger rang in his
+words--only baffled incredulity, the puzzlement of a hurt child. His
+eyes stayed wide open, appallingly empty.
+
+Pain under his breastbone, Stone said, “Sorry, friend. You were going
+to pieces. You’ve got to get steady or you won’t last long, here or
+elsewhere.”
+
+“Last long? Last long?” The other fondled the words. “Who’s going to
+last long, once the squids get their krypton?” A wild giggle. “You know
+about krypton? Did they tell you?”
+
+Stone felt himself stiffen.
+
+“What about krypton?”
+
+“Must have!” Again, the man giggled. “Can’t run a spaceship without
+any krypton. Can’t fly the robots. Can’t even blast a little ole
+Earth city. ‘Krypton! Must have!’ They’ll get it, too. From that
+base. It’s already surrendered. The people were scared, just like
+we are. Especially after what happened to the tanks. So the whole
+base surrendered and started working on that extractor, the krypton
+extractor. They’ll have it finished by tomorrow morning. Then the
+squids’ll get their krypton. And they’ll keep their promise too--not
+hurt anybody, leave right after they get it. They all say so. That’ll
+be the best joke of all--a whole world doing a pratfall right into
+hell. The squids’ll laugh and laugh and laugh, all the way back to
+Arcturus Four, or Betelgeuse, or wherever it is they come from. Except
+they can’t go back. Not really. They’re outlaws, you know, running away
+from their own species. That’s how they happened to get this far from
+their source of krypton. ‘Krypton! Must have!’ Can’t run a space ship
+without that vital krypton--”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The stiffness in Stone had turned to sudden chill. He caught the
+babbling man’s shirtfront; shook him roughly. “Run that through again,
+... the part about the joke, the world doing a pratfall!”
+
+A vacuous smile. “You really don’t know? You don’t know about krypton?
+I thought only fool high-school science teachers didn’t know. And
+Ellen. Poor Ellen--”
+
+“The krypton! What about the krypton?”
+
+“It’s a gas, that’s all. An inert gas. About two parts to a million
+of air. It’s not worth anything. Nobody wants krypton. Nobody but the
+squids. Who cares about a little ole catalyst?”
+
+“A catalyst--?”
+
+“Sure. Doesn’t do anything itself; just changes the rate of a
+reaction. Try to light dry phosphorus, what happens? Nothing. Dampen
+the air a little, it burns like a house afire. Water’s the catalyst.
+Atmosphere’s the same way. Mix oxygen and nitrogen and everything else
+but krypton--it just dissipates, leaks away into space. Shoot in two
+parts of krypton to a million, it holds together like a sack around
+ole Mother Earth. That’s why there’s no breathable atmosphere on so
+many planets. No krypton. Do we know that? No. But the squids know it.
+That’s why they’re laughing. Why should they waste time blasting us?
+Soon’s they get our krypton, our atmosphere thins away--_poof!_ like
+that--and we all drop dead. The squids don’t care; they don’t breathe
+air like we do. It’s the best joke they’ve had since they blew up Vega
+Seven....”
+
+Stone’s legs were suddenly too weak to hold him. His companion’s
+continuing compulsive word-flood echoed unheeded.
+
+_The whole world doing a pratfall into hell._
+
+Stone’s flesh crawled. The poor, tortured creature beside him had
+phrased it too well. It turned a man’s mind off, froze his brain ...
+left him clutching in free fall without strength even to shudder.
+
+Yet there was nothing he could do--nothing, nothing. Not here, sealed
+in this green-glowing, metal walled room with a madman for company.
+
+A madman--? There’d be two of them soon. Two lunatics, giggling and
+babbling as the atmosphere thinned and they slowly strangled.
+
+Or would you strangle? Maybe, with the pressure change, your lungs
+would burst first....
+
+Stone surged to his feet in a spasm of frenzy. Savagely, he hurled
+himself at the door--beating it, tearing at the crack with his fingers
+till the nails broke and blood streamed, weird in the green glow.
+
+His companion stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re hurting your hands. Is
+something the matter?”
+
+“The matter--?” Stone shook with fury, frustration. “No, nothing’s the
+matter. The base has surrendered. The monsters get our krypton. Our air
+leaks away. The whole planet dies. Everything’s fine--fine....”
+
+He broke off, unable to go on.
+
+“Oh....” The other sounded hurt, plaintive. Then: “Well, why don’t you
+stop it? Call the base. Have them blow up the extractor.”
+
+“Call--the--base--?” Stone stopped breathing.
+
+“Yes. The machine’s in a room right down the hall, here.”
+
+Stone choked back his tension ... spoke gently, soothingly: “Our door’s
+locked.”
+
+“Oh, that.” His companion giggled. “Leave that to me. I’ll get us out
+of here.”
+
+Already, he was scrambling to his feet; stripping off his shirt.
+
+“But if you can get out....” Stone groped.
+
+“It takes two.” Tearing the ragged shirt into broad strips, the man
+hummed a fragment of tune. “I thought it all out. If I’d had Ellen with
+me--I can run the machine, too. I watched them do it. It’s very clever.
+Sets up a force field, distorts radio waves. Using energy derived from
+krypton, of course. Always krypton. ‘Must have!’” He broke off. “I’ll
+need your shirt, too, please. And your jacket. Got to have cloth. Lots
+of cloth....”
+
+Wordless, Stone turned over his garments.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Deftly, the man ripped them into more of the broad strips ... tied the
+strips together in a long, rope-like band perhaps six inches wide.
+He’d stopped talking now. An occasional mirthless chuckle replaced his
+giggling.
+
+The job done, he handed Stone one end of the strip. “Now stand here,
+please. Right beside the door. That’s all you need to do. Just stand
+there, and hold onto the cloth. I’ll take care of everything else. Just
+you wait and see....”
+
+He kicked off a shoe; hammered the edge of the sole on the door.
+
+It made a dull, clanging noise. “They don’t like this. It’ll get our
+door open. Just you wait--”
+
+Stone waited--sweating, staring numbly.
+
+It was a fine way to end up--playing games with a madman.
+
+Only he had no choice.
+
+The next instant, the door burst open. Tentacles vibrating furiously,
+one of the aliens swept into the room.
+
+The man with Stone stepped back lithely, dodging the creature. The
+wide, vacant eyes shone bright, now; teeth showed clenched behind the
+empty smile.
+
+The alien surged towards him.
+
+Again, the man leaped back, the cloth strip coiled loose between his
+hands.
+
+The alien reached for him.
+
+But instead of retreating, the man darted in close. Deftly, as a
+matador swirling his cape past a charging bull, he slapped the cloth
+strip over the monster’s scarlet sensor band.
+
+The rope snapped tight in Stone’s hands as the alien lurched against
+it, then tried to draw back.
+
+But the man would not let it. Racing round it, he whipped the fabric
+strip tight into place, completely covering the creature’s narrow
+scarlet girdle.
+
+Heedless of tentacles, Stone leaped to join him. The cloth reached
+three times around the monster’s midriff. The alien reeled
+blindly--groping, uncertain. Its tentacles’ movements seemed mostly
+directed at tearing free the fabric. When a disc caught Stone’s
+shoulder, he jerked it loose with no skin loss.
+
+“Come on!” This from the madman. “Quick! This way! Hurry!”
+
+Stumbling through the doorway, Stone sprinted down the corridor after
+him.
+
+Now another door loomed, close by the tube-shaft. “Here!”
+
+Stone threw himself at it.
+
+It burst open under his impact. He crashed to the floor of the chamber
+beyond, barely glimpsing a mass of equipment as he fell.
+
+Equipment--and another alien.
+
+The thing flung itself on Stone, its tentacles twining.
+
+Savagely, he twisted; drove his heels up with all his strength,
+straight at the monster’s sensor band.
+
+The alien rocked back.
+
+Stone leaped up. Then, head low, he charged in, smashing the monster
+back into the doorway by sheer bull strength and violence.
+
+Another charge-butting; fists slamming.
+
+The alien hit the guard-rail encircling the tube-shaft.
+
+Stone glimpsed blurring motion: His fellow-prisoner, diving in low and
+bear-hugging tentacles. Through his red haze of fury, it came to Stone
+dimly that the other’s last shred of sanity must have departed.
+
+Only then, of a sudden, the man was surging up, jerking.
+
+The knee-leverage tore the alien’s lower tentacles loose from the
+floor. With a heave, the man flipped the creature over the rail.
+
+It plummeted down the tube-shaft.
+
+“Two hundred feet!” Stone’s companion cried shrilly. “Listen! It may
+spatter--!”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nausea writhed in Stone. He caught the other about the waist; dragged
+him bodily back into the room--up to the equipment.
+
+“Quick! How do I work this?”
+
+“Don’t worry. It’s easy.” The man tugged at a smooth, round shaft of
+metal. A faint humming sound rose from a flat gridwork. “There. It’s on
+now. Just talk into the grill, there.”
+
+Stone had trouble with breathing: “Base! Las Crescentes--”
+
+Behind him, metal rang on metal. He spun round.
+
+An alien stood poised in the doorway--an alien with shreds of cloth
+still clinging round its middle.
+
+The words he’d planned stuck in his throat.
+
+Only then, as from afar, another voice echoed. The voice of the madman.
+
+“You know--”--it was almost conversational, the way he said it--“--you
+know, I think I’ll go see Ellen....”
+
+He scooped a jagged strip of metal from a bench as he spoke. Traces of
+froth showed at the corners of his mouth.
+
+Then, before Stone could move, he was lunging, straight at the monster.
+The metal strip slashed deep into the scarlet sensor band. Fluid
+spurted.
+
+The alien hurled itself backward.
+
+But like one possessed, the madman pursued it, hacking and gouging.
+Together, man and monster crashed into the guard-rail.
+
+A wild shriek of mad laughter. “Here I come, Ellen--with company!”
+
+Clutching a dozen tentacles, the man hurled himself over the guard-rail.
+
+The monster went with him.
+
+Stone clung to the transmitter, half-retching.
+
+Only he couldn’t afford to be sick. Not here; not now.
+
+Time was too short for that. Any moment now, there’d be other aliens
+coming.
+
+Hoarsely, he rasped, “Base! Las Crescentes! This is Carl Stone talking.
+I’m giving you an order: Destroy that tower! Blast it! Don’t wait a
+minute! If it goes into operation, the whole earth will die....”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Together, they stood at last in the free air of the desert--Stone,
+Reva, MacDougal.
+
+Slowly, half a mile away, the great shining metal ball that was the
+alien sphere-ship lifted from the gathering shadows of the canyon
+floor. Soundless as nightfall it rose, drifting higher and higher. The
+three stub legs retracted.
+
+Then, of a sudden, it had topped the mesa’s rim. Faster it climbed, and
+faster, picking up speed with every passing second.
+
+The blink of an eye later it was gone, up into the dusk and the
+boundless space that stretched from star to star.
+
+For a long, long moment the silence held. Then MacDougal said quietly,
+“There aren’t any words for what I want to say, Carl. But--the world
+can never repay you for what you’ve done.”
+
+And Reva: “You saved us. Carl--us, and all the unborn generations that
+will ever live on Earth.”
+
+It was strange, Stone thought. By all the rules, he should feel the
+same way they did. Happy. Relieved. At peace.
+
+Grateful for the breaks he’d gotten, at least.
+
+Instead, inside, he felt only aching emptiness and pain.
+
+But however he felt, he had to find words. They were expected. The
+other--the ugly, unfinished job he had yet to do--that could wait.
+
+Shrugging, he said, “The boys at the base are the ones who rate the
+credit. They worked fast--two minutes flat from the time I passed the
+word till they shot an anti-tank grenade right into the middle of that
+damn’ tower, if our friends the monsters had it right.”
+
+“You’re over-modest, Carl.” MacDougal gestured with his still
+sling-bound right arm. “You’re the one who did the job, and I’m going
+to see that people know it. The right people.”
+
+“Thanks.” The word came out faintly caustic, even to Stone’s ears.
+
+But maybe that was only the aftermath of strain.
+
+If MacDougal caught it, he ignored it. His craggy face stayed tolerant,
+relaxed. The hedgerow eyebrows didn’t even bristle.
+
+“The big point is, it’s over,” he reminded. “The aliens and their ship
+are gone. Our own world’s safe.”
+
+Reva moved restlessly, drawing her torn dress closer about her, as if
+touched by a sudden chill. “I hope so. I still don’t feel quite as
+if I were awake. There’s so much I don’t understand--so many, many
+things....”
+
+Stone’s voice was just above a whisper: “For instance--?”
+
+“You mean--you haven’t thought about it?--About why those creatures
+didn’t harm the base, in spite of all their threats? Why they let us
+go, when it would have been so much easier to kill us?”
+
+Stone didn’t answer.
+
+MacDougal said, “I think it’s easy enough to understand. The aliens’
+whole technology is based on krypton, and it’s in short supply.
+Destroying the base would have cut down what little reserve they had
+left, with no return.”
+
+“And letting us go--?”
+
+The base director’s heavy shoulders shifted. “That’s almost a
+rhetorical question, isn’t it, Doctor Adams?” The slightest of edges
+barbed his words.
+
+Deep in Stone’s middle, the pain and emptiness seethed anew.
+
+That was the trouble with unfinished jobs. They kept forcing themselves
+onto you, when you least wanted to have to think about them.
+
+Only now this particular ugliness was coming out into the open in spite
+of him. He’d have to face it, grapple with it.
+
+Even if it tore his soul apart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Reva was staring at MacDougal. “Rhetorical--? I don’t understand. What
+do you mean?”
+
+“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to be brutal, Doctor.” The base director
+let out a gusty, sighing breath. “Perhaps you don’t realize the nasty
+role you’ve played in this whole business. If so, I’m sorry. But the
+fact remains that in all likelihood Stone and I are alive and free only
+because of you.”
+
+His tone made Reva draw back just a little. Once more, she pulled her
+torn dress about her, with a movement strangely awkward for one so
+graceful.
+
+“You’ll have to speak more plainly, Mr. MacDougal,” she said sharply.
+“I don’t understand you at all.”
+
+“Very well, then.” MacDougal’s massive head came forward, jaw
+belligerently out-thrust. “I’m saying flat-out that you were the
+aliens’ contact. Your mind was the one they took over when they first
+landed. You were the one who set up the transmitter in your project
+building and turned the whole base mad. Is that plain enough for you to
+understand?”
+
+The torn dress bunched under Reva’s fingers, an ugly, lumpy wad.
+
+MacDougal again: “I’ll carry it even further, Doctor. The aliens don’t
+plan to drop that contact with you. And that’s the only reason why the
+three of us are free.”
+
+Even through the gathering dusk, Stone could see the pallor that sprang
+to Reva’s face. Fear widened her eyes. She seemed to grow smaller,
+older.
+
+It twisted like a knife inside him ... made him wonder bleakly how long
+he could go on.
+
+“Did you think they’d really left for good, Doctor Adams?” The base
+director’s sarcasm rang open, bitter, now. “How far do you estimate
+they can go--with their krypton reserves already so drained that they
+didn’t even dare to blast our base? To Aldebaran? Antares? Alpha
+Centauri?” He laughed--curt, scornful. “No, Doctor! They’ll be back,
+somewhere close by, in hours, not lightyears. Then, when they get here,
+they’ll contact you. There’ll be another transmitter, another base gone
+mad. And this time, maybe, they’ll get their krypton--that is, if Stone
+and I are fools enough to let you live!”
+
+There it was, out in the open. All of it.
+
+Or almost all.
+
+The blood rang in Stone’s ears.
+
+Reva’s face was a twisted, distorted thing. Her face seemed to crack.
+Her lips peeled back. “No, no!” She was half-screaming. “You’re wrong!
+You’re wrong--!”
+
+The base director swung his thick, sling-bound right arm--hammering,
+relentless. “Then why did they let us live? Why--except to keep you
+free and above suspicion, ready to serve them another day?”
+
+Silence. Echoing eternities of silence.
+
+Then, abruptly, Reva’s shoulders slumped. Her chin sank to her chest.
+She didn’t speak.
+
+Slowly, MacDougal straightened. Grim-faced, he looked at Stone. “Well,
+Carl?”
+
+More silence. A sickness, too ... gnawing through Stone, body and brain.
+
+Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t it have ended another way?
+
+MacDougal said, “I’m sorry, Carl. I know how you feel. But this is just
+too big for us. We can’t take chances. The world’s at stake. We’ve got
+to act now, before the aliens come back.”
+
+Stone couldn’t speak.
+
+“She can’t be allowed to leave this spot alive, Carl. You and I--we’ll
+have to serve as judge and jury. Executioners too. Here. Now.”
+
+Stone looked at Reva.
+
+Her eyes were upon him. Grey eyes, imploring. “Carl--!”
+
+MacDougal: “I’m sorry, Carl....”
+
+Tension. Surging billows of tension. Blood pulsing. Heart pounding.
+
+_Why couldn’t it have ended another way?_
+
+Only this was the way it was. These were the cards he had to play.
+
+So he’d play them--
+
+Stone said, “You’ve figured it right, Mac. All but one point.”
+
+“One--? What--?”
+
+“She isn’t guilty. You are.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The base director stood like a graven image. Then his sling hand
+twitched, just a fraction. That was all.
+
+Stone said, “It all rides on one thing, Mac: You keep talking about the
+aliens having some sort of mind control over Reva. But it’s not true.
+Violence is the only weapon they know how to use.”
+
+MacDougal’s lip twisted. “You forget the transmitter.”
+
+“The transmitter?” Stone shook his head slowly. “That came second, Mac.
+Not first. Because somebody had to help the aliens design it--somebody
+working of his own free will.”
+
+“She did it, then. She’s the psychiatrist.”
+
+“No, Mac. She couldn’t have. It took a scientist--a physical scientist,
+one who knew electronics.” A pause, while Stone drew a deep breath.
+“That’s why it has to be you, Mac. You’re the man with the know-how.
+Even if Reva could have done it, you’d have had to pass on it, o.k. the
+construction; that’s part of your base director’s job.”
+
+“I see.”
+
+“You had the motive, too, Mac. And I understand it: When you found The
+Project was failing, you blew up, clutched at straws. Then the aliens
+came along and contacted you, somehow. They offered you their own
+special straw with a hook in it. Probably they promised that if you’d
+help them get krypton, they’d figure you a new angle on The Project.
+And you were so afraid of failing, washing up your career, that you
+grabbed at the chance. The hook--you were too eager to see it. After
+all, nobody on Earth knew that krypton was a catalyst, holding our
+atmosphere together. How could you guess it?”
+
+“Your logic’s good, Carl.” MacDougal nodded slowly. “You’ve done some
+straight thinking. But if what you say’s true, then where does it leave
+us? I’ve made a mistake, but what have I done wrong?”
+
+“You still don’t see it?”
+
+“I’m afraid not.”
+
+“Then I’ll tell you.” Stone sighed, just a little. “To you, Mac, your
+career’s too important. If you think it’s in danger, everything else
+has to get out of the way. Like here, now. You’d have had us kill
+Reva--to give you a goat, and keep me from talking. There’d be no black
+marks on your record. Maybe you even picked up a few tricks from the
+monsters that would make The Project go.”
+
+“So--?” The base director spoke very gently.
+
+“So it won’t wash, Mac. I’m security. It’s my job to see straight, and
+to push out people whose careers mean more than duty.”
+
+“We’ve been friends a long time, Carl--”
+
+It was Stone’s turn to nod. “That’s what makes it so hard, Mac. Maybe
+if the aliens come back, you’d have an H-bomb all waiting. Maybe. But
+maybe not, too. Maybe you’d bite on another hook--one that would really
+catch, give the monsters their chance to laugh and laugh and laugh, all
+the way back to Arcturus Four--” Stone broke off abruptly. “No, Mac. We
+can’t take that chance. I’m sorry.”
+
+“I’m sorry, too, Carl.” The heavy shoulders shifted. “Because--it means
+I have to kill you, as well as Doctor Adams.”
+
+Stone frowned. “That might take some doing.”
+
+“I doubt it.” Of a sudden there was ice in the base director’s
+voice--ice, and granite. His sling-suspended hand moved sharply. “You
+see, I’ve got a gun here, Carl. My arm isn’t really hurt, but the
+sling seemed like good cover.” He laughed, harsh and short. “Any last
+words--?”
+
+A numbness came to Stone’s middle.
+
+How far was he from MacDougal? Three steps? Four?
+
+Too far. He looked over at Reva.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She stood as before, still clutching her torn dress. The bulkiness of
+the fabric lumped in her twisting fingers was like a deformity growing
+out of her side. Strain had stolen her face’s last traces of beauty.
+Her blonde hair hung limp and straggly.
+
+Stone didn’t care. Of a sudden he could think only of all the words
+unspoken between them; of the long years that should have been theirs,
+the feelings crumbling down into ashes.
+
+Inside him, the emptiness swirled to a churning vortex. “Reva--!” he
+whispered. “Reva....”
+
+“Time’s up!” MacDougal said. His sling-hand flickered out.
+
+Stone lunged at him.
+
+Only it was too far, too far. He knew it even as he charged.
+MacDougal’s bullet would cut him down in mid-stride.
+
+And then Reva would die.
+
+He sobbed a curse that came out as a prayer.
+
+MacDougal’s gun leveled, rock-steady.
+
+Stone braced for the slug.
+
+Only then--suddenly; incredibly--another gun roared. A gun off to one
+side, from where Reva stood.
+
+MacDougal jerked round, firing wildly.
+
+With every ounce of his weight, Stone crashed his fist against the
+heavy, jutting jaw.
+
+The base director’s head snapped back. Like a pole-axed ox, he toppled
+to the ground and lay there motionless.
+
+Stone picked up the gun and stuck it into his belt. “Reva--”
+
+She came to him, then--running, arms out, the torn dress forgotten.
+
+For a long moment, Stone held her. “You ... saved my life.”
+
+“With your own gun.” Of a sudden, she was shaking. “It landed beside
+me, back there on the sphere-ship. I hid it under my dress--for myself.
+I didn’t want to die with tentacles around me....”
+
+Her voice broke. She buried her face on Stone’s shoulder. He held her
+close.
+
+“We’re not going to die,” he said gently. “Neither of us. Not now.
+We’ve got too much to live for.” Her face came up slowly. “To live
+for!” she echoed.
+
+Never, Stone thought, had he seen her so beautiful.
+
+Together, then, hand in hand, they walked out across the desert towards
+the distant highway.
+
+
+                                THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Note:
+
+
+  This etext was produced from Imaginative Tales, September 1955 (Vol.
+  2, No. 1). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the
+  U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+  Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, but
+  minor inconsistencies have been retained as printed.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79266 ***
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+      Terror Station | Project Gutenberg
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79266 ***</div>
+
+
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp54" id="cover" style="max-width: 116.5em;">
+  <img class="w20" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    <p>Transcribed from Imaginative Tales, September 1955 (Vol. 2, No. 1).</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div>
+<h1>
+Terror Station
+</h1>
+
+
+<p class="f15 center">by <strong>Dwight V. Swain</strong></p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><b>It was sheer madness—monstrous creatures appearing out of nowhere
+at a top-secret desert Base. Yet Stone knew it was not madness he was
+fighting but a vicious enemy. The Stake: Earth!</b></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="01" style="max-width: 54.5em;">
+  <img class="w30" src="images/01.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div>
+
+
+<p>He saw the woman first.</p>
+
+<p>Blindly, she stumbled
+out of the moonless desert night a hundred yards ahead, into the dim
+right edge of the path slashed by his headlights. Lurching, staggering,
+she scuffed through the gravel of the highway’s shoulder; reached the
+asphalt and took two short, uncertain steps out on it, swaying as if
+the sudden change to smoother footing had almost made her lose her
+balance.</p>
+
+<p>Stone jammed on his brakes.</p>
+
+<p>Only then, before the car could
+even start to stop, movement flickered in the murk from which the
+woman had emerged. Stone glimpsed a shifting scarlet glow, a dipping,
+twisting streak of color. Oozing through the backdrop of the night,
+it drew swiftly closer to the roadway and the woman ... then faded,
+swallowed up in the glare of the approaching headlights.</p>
+
+<p>But as it
+vanished, a spot of strange translucence materialized to replace it.</p>
+
+<p>Formless, almost without perceptible substance, the splotch moved
+faster now, gliding across the shoulder and out onto the highway.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond it, the woman half-turned; threw a frantic glance back along
+the way from which she’d come even as she took another stumbling
+step.</p>
+
+<p>In the same instant, the translucence swept down upon her.</p>
+
+<p>The
+woman’s face contorted. Sheer terror etched her features, so deep that
+even Stone could see it. She tried to lunge away.</p>
+
+<p>But now gleaming
+tendrils lanced forth from the translucence, curled about her, held
+her helpless.</p>
+
+<p>The woman screamed.</p>
+
+<p>That scream: It echoed even through
+the shriek of Stone’s scorching tires, seared itself into his brain so
+deep that he never would, never could, forget it.</p>
+
+<p>Then, abruptly, the
+scream cut off. The translucence swirled back towards the roadside and
+the shadows, dragging the woman with it.</p>
+
+<p>Savagely, Stone jerked the
+steering wheel right with all his might, trying to follow the horror
+with his headlights. Skidding, the car rocked round on two wheels. For
+a spine-chilling split second Stone thought it was going to go over.
+But at the last moment it righted itself and shuddered to a halt in
+a choking cloud of dust beyond the shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Straight ahead, woman
+and translucence hung spotlighted less than fifty feet away.</p>
+
+<p>Stone
+snatched his Colt from its holster on the steering post. Leaping from
+the car, he raced forward.</p>
+
+<p>It was as if the sight of
+him gave the woman new strength. Her whole body convulsed. Tearing
+free from the monstrous thing that held her, she lurched towards
+Stone, blood streaming from a dozen wounds.</p>
+
+<p>The translucence seemed to
+swell and darken. Then, in a rush, it hurtled towards the woman.</p>
+
+<p>But
+now Stone was abreast of her. Cat-footed, he leaped between her and
+the monster; he blazed three fast shots into its center.</p>
+
+<p>The shining
+surface quivered. For the fraction of a second it drew back.</p>
+
+<p>Stone
+could see the creature more clearly now. Murkily transparent as oily
+water, it stood nearly a head taller than his own six feet.</p>
+
+<p>Except that it didn’t have any head.</p>
+
+<p>Instead, a barrel body splayed out into
+many thin, cable-like tentacles at top and bottom, each terminating
+in a round disc the size of a quarter. Its only truly opaque matter
+appeared to be concentrated in a narrow, dully scarlet band perhaps
+three inches wide that girded the center of its body.</p>
+
+<p>Staring at it,
+Stone wondered if he were somehow going mad.</p>
+
+<p>Then, abruptly, there
+was no more time for thinking, observation. With a rush, the monster
+lunged towards him, moving on its lower tentacles as if they were so
+many skillfully-coordinated feet.</p>
+
+<p>Behind Stone, the woman cried out: “The light—! Watch out for the light!”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Stone glimpsed it as she spoke:</p>
+
+<p>A small, lensed cube or box that suddenly shot out at the end of one of
+the creature’s upper tentacles.</p>
+
+<p>He leaped sidewise.</p>
+
+<p>Almost in the same instant, a vivid purple streak blazed from the box.</p>
+
+<p>It missed Stone by
+inches. Desperately, he snapped a wild shot at the lens, then fired
+twice more in the onrushing monster’s midriff.</p>
+
+<p>This time, the thing
+didn’t even hesitate.</p>
+
+<p>Stone jerked the trigger again. A hollow click.
+The gun was empty.</p>
+
+<p>With a curse, Stone hurled it at the nightmare
+thing before him. Then, whirling, he raced headlong back towards his
+car.</p>
+
+<p>Like an evil, gleaming shadow, the monster sped after him. It
+moved fast—horribly, incredibly fast.</p>
+
+<p>Panting, Stone veered left, not
+even daring to look back. The headlights blazed blindingly into his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Something brushed his shoulder. He felt his shirt rip.</p>
+
+<p>Then he was past the lights. Twisting, he
+dived headlong beneath the car, heedless of the gravel that slashed
+his face and chest and knees and shins and belly. Driving his elbows
+into the dirt, he whipped himself out on the far side of the vehicle.</p>
+
+<p>A tentacle groped for his heel.</p>
+
+<p>Savagely, he stamped the disc against a rock.</p>
+
+<p>The tentacle jerked back. Sobbing for breath, Stone scrambled
+to his knees and clutched the doorhandle.</p>
+
+<p>He got the door open just as
+another tentacle came through the window on the far side of the car,
+reaching for him.</p>
+
+<p>Cursing, he jerked back barely in time, slammed the
+door shut on the tentacle with all his strength.</p>
+
+<p>The latch caught. The
+car shook as the monster tried to writhe away.</p>
+
+<p>Stone spun about. In
+three steps he was at the trunk—clawing aside his luggage, breaking
+his nails on the jack.</p>
+
+<p>His hand closed around the axehandle in the
+same instant that the car gave a sudden lurch. There was a sound
+like that of a gigantic rubber band snapping. Then, like an echo, a
+tentacle-disc slapped against his right ribs just below the armpit.</p>
+
+<p>Clutching the axe, Stone leaped back.</p>
+
+<p>But the disc clung as if it were part of him.
+Agony exploded around it, tearing at his flesh. Before he could shake
+the red haze of pain from his eyes, the monster—free of the car now—was
+upon him.</p>
+
+<p>Convulsively, Stone swung the axe.</p>
+
+<p>It bounced off the barrel
+body as if it had struck solid rubber. More discs slapped at him.</p>
+
+<p>Stone staggered, axe sagging. The tentacles had him now—constricting,
+engulfing. He lurched against the monster; felt the discs’ pressure
+growing, seeking to rend his very body.</p>
+
+<p>Pain-knotted, barely conscious,
+he twisted the axe-blade against the opaque scarlet band that girded
+the creature’s midriff.</p>
+
+<p>Reflex-like, a disc low on his spine jerked him
+back, away.</p>
+
+<p>Stone forgot the agony, the pain-haze. Fiercely, he slashed
+out with the axe.</p>
+
+<p>A surge of triumph raced through him as its blade
+bit deep into the unshielded scarlet band.</p>
+
+<p>Now the tentacles tore at him in frenzy, clutched at the axe.</p>
+
+<p>Before they could seize it, Stone
+swung again—horizontally, this time, so that the rubbery body might
+have no chance to deflect the cutting edge from the
+nerve-band.</p>
+
+<p>The blade struck home with a sound like that of a melon
+shattering on pavement. Clear to the eye it sank—</p>
+
+<p>The tentacles hurled
+Stone backward, slamming him hard against the side of his car as they
+let go their hold. He sagged there, raw-nerved and sick and bleeding.</p>
+
+<p>Shambling, uncertain, the monster moved away—and towards the spot
+where the woman still lay prone and silent.</p>
+
+<p>With an effort, Stone
+dragged himself erect. Then, axe still in hand, he stumbled after the
+nightmare creature.</p>
+
+<p>The thing speeded its pace.</p>
+
+<p>Stone forced himself
+to a run, cutting wide around his adversary.</p>
+
+<p>Ten seconds later, he stood between it and the woman.</p>
+
+<p>The creature hesitated.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Stone bared
+his teeth in a savage grimace. The fact that he had outdistanced the
+hideous thing; that it paused now, grasping and indecisive—such were
+more than enough to strip away his own pain and weariness.</p>
+
+<p>“Damn you!” he grated harshly. “We’ll see who gets her!”</p>
+
+<p>He lifted the axe; took a quick step forward.</p>
+
+<p>The monster fell back before him.</p>
+
+<p>Then, of
+a sudden, a tentacle speared out.</p>
+
+<p>—The tentacle with the lightbox.</p>
+
+<p>Stone charged in, swinging, as the purple streak blazed forth.</p>
+
+<p>The
+creature shifted, undulating away from the axe. The streak of purple
+fire missed Stone.</p>
+
+<p>Missed, by far too wide a margin to be coincidence.</p>
+
+<p>Like an echo, a choked cry of agony rose behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Stone spun about,
+numb panic flaring in him.</p>
+
+<p>The woman no longer lay limp and prostrate.
+Now, instead, her whole body jerked in a continuing spasm. Her hands
+clutched her side, and her lips spilled blood.</p>
+
+<p>Stone whirled again,
+back to the monster.</p>
+
+<p>But the creature was already fleeing—gliding out
+of the arc of the headlights’ beam, into the empty blackness of the
+desert. Even as Stone glimpsed it, the night swallowed it up.</p>
+
+<p>Only a
+lunatic would have followed.</p>
+
+<p>With a snarl of frustration, Stone ran to
+the woman; dropped on his knees beside her.</p>
+
+<p>Her whole side was burned
+black where the purple beam had struck. She clutched his hand, her
+nails biting deep. “Kill me, quick! Please! I
+can’t stand it—”</p>
+
+<p>Sweat stood out on Stone’s forehead. Desperately, he
+forced his voice gentle, level: “Easy, now. You’ll be all right. I’ll
+get you to my car. It’s only a couple of miles to the proving ground—”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no. I can’t stand it. I’m dying—” The woman’s voice trailed off
+in a bubbling scream. Her body twisted. Then: “Maybe—my husband—the
+robots—back there beyond the mesa—”</p>
+
+<p>“Easy....” Stone whispered. But his lips were dry.</p>
+
+<p>“My ... my husband....”</p>
+
+<p>A shudder ran through the woman’s body. Then, suddenly, she sagged limp.</p>
+
+<p>Dead.</p>
+
+<p>Sickness twisted
+at Stone’s belly. Gently, he crossed the woman’s arms across her
+breasts ... straightened the tormented twisted body ... wiped away the
+blood and smoothed the dark hair back from the small, plain face.</p>
+
+<p>She
+was young, he saw now; far younger than he’d thought—not more than
+twenty-five at most.</p>
+
+<p>So young ... and so dead.</p>
+
+<p>And somewhere, out there
+in the desert night, lurked the creature that had killed her.</p>
+
+<p>And
+what was it the dying woman had said, about robots on a mesa—?</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s
+spine prickled. Stiffly, he started to get up.</p>
+
+<p>Only then, out of the
+night, a voice clipped, “Hold it!”</p>
+
+<p>A chill, somehow familiar voice.</p>
+
+<p>Stone froze.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s it. And get your hands out where we can see ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>Wordless, Stone obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>“Now turn so the light shines on your face.”</p>
+
+<p>Again, obedience. “Well! If it isn’t our Mister Stone!” The words
+carried an ugly inflection. And then: “Come on, you guys....”</p>
+
+<p>Figures
+converged from the blackness—erect, helmeted, uniformed figures,
+armed with rifles and carbines.</p>
+
+<p>Soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>The tension drained out of
+Stone. Of a sudden he felt weak, wobbly, half-hysterical.</p>
+
+<p>And that
+voice—of course it was familiar!</p>
+
+<p>“Sergeant Bjornberg,” he announced,
+“I’ve never been so glad to see anybody in my life!”</p>
+
+<p>He dropped his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly, a gun-barrel gouged his back. “Keep those hands
+out!”</p>
+
+<p>“What—?” Stone stared. “Sergeant, you know me....”</p>
+
+<p>“Do I? Don’t
+try to pull any fast ones on me, mister!” The sergeant moved into
+view as he spoke. His usually good-humored features showed heavy now,
+set in sullen lines. Striding over to the woman, he
+flashed a light onto her dead face. “Well, now! Ain’t this pretty!”</p>
+
+<p>With an effort, Stone held his temper. “The way she was killed was
+anything but pretty, sergeant. And the thing that did the job is
+still running loose. I’d suggest you post a heavy guard, then get me
+to headquarters as soon as possible.”</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant sneered openly. “<i>You’re</i> telling <i>me</i> what to do?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m merely suggesting.” In spite of
+himself, Stone’s voice took on a brittle edge. “However, I do happen
+to have charge of certain aspects of security for this area, and I
+doubt that Captain Hayes would think I was out of line.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh?” Sergeant Bjornberg grinned—an ugly grin, utterly without mirth.
+“Well, I think I got a better idea, <i>Mister</i> Stone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll post a guard, all
+right; and I’ll take you to headquarters.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fair enough.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I’ll do
+it my own way, you lousy civilian phony—and that’s under arrest, as a
+prisoner and a murder suspect!”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">
+    CHAPTER II
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Glines’ taste ran to richly aromatic tobaccos. Even now, long after midnight,
+his office hung heavy with the stink of the stuff.</p>
+
+<p>Stone wrinkled his nose in distaste,
+again shifted his weight in the hard chair, trying to ease his aching
+muscles. The welts where the monster’s discs had clutched him stung
+like new burns. Bruises and scratches plagued him every time he moved,
+a continuing, continuous irritation.</p>
+
+<p>And still Glines did not come.</p>
+
+<p>Now, in the silence, the ticking of the leather-embellished desk clock
+seemed to grow louder, till the sound of it echoed in Stone’s ears like
+an infuriating off-key drumbeat. He found himself resenting the desk
+itself, with its precise, too-neat arrangement of office trivia. The
+air the lazy ceiling fan pushed against his face pressed thick as warm,
+wet cheesecloth.</p>
+
+<p>Yet his mouth stayed dry. When a rill of icy sweat
+trickled from his armpit, it sent a tremor through his whole body.</p>
+
+<p>He
+gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes tight shut, trying to shut out
+the awful memory of the monster and the woman.</p>
+
+<p>But shutting his eyes
+only made the picture come back clearer, sharper. Better to leave them
+open....</p>
+
+<p>Once more, he shifted cursing under his breath as new pain
+pulsed through him.</p>
+
+<p>Besides, the chair creaked.</p>
+
+<p>Stone frowned. It was idiotic, the way he found himself giving way
+to every tiny irritation ... almost as if the whole base—this office
+especially—somehow had come to radiate tension.</p>
+
+<p>And tension was one
+thing he couldn’t afford just now.</p>
+
+<p>Grimly, he sucked in air—a deep
+breath that filled his lungs held it for the count of ten ... expelled
+it in a rush, letting himself go limp and jelly-like.</p>
+
+<p>The third time
+he did it, he knew that some of the raw-nerved stiffness was leaving
+him. Closing his eyes no longer conjured up macabre visions.</p>
+
+<p>Now,
+however, he found his mind turning to Bjornberg.</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant’s open hostility baffled him. In the past, they’d always
+been on a pleasant
+enough footing—friends, almost. Back in his service days, he’d even
+soldiered in some of the same places as had the sergeant. It gave
+them a common ground of past and interest, something to talk about
+over a beer.</p>
+
+<p>Yet tonight, Bjornberg had called him a “lousy civilian phony”.</p>
+
+<p>Stone shook his head slowly. It just didn’t make sense.</p>
+
+<p>He
+became aware that the clock’s tick was growing louder again ... fraying
+at his nerves—</p>
+
+<p>Then, abruptly, footsteps echoed in the hall outside.
+The door opened. Glines waddled in.</p>
+
+<p>It was typical that he should be
+freshly shaven and fully dressed, even to tie and clean white shirt.
+Emergencies might come and go; but if they wanted Glines’ attention,
+they’d have to wait till the last button was properly secured and the
+pink chops smooth and anointed with perfumed shaving lotion.</p>
+
+<p>With an
+effort, Stone kept his voice pleasant. “Hi, Herb. Sorry to drag you
+out with this nonsense.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense—?” Glines’ fat face stayed stiff,
+his manner unbending. “I’m not sure I like your choice of words there,
+Stone.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone stared. “Herb! What is this? Just because you take over my
+job for two weeks while they call me in to Washington—”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t evade
+the issue, Stone!” Glines posed, too erect, beside the desk. His lips
+pursed. “As I see it, neither your job nor your trip to Washington has
+anything to do with the things Sergeant Bjornberg’s told me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see.”
+Stone clipped his words. “In that case, Glines, maybe we’d better get
+a few things straight. It happens I’m your superior here. And if I’m
+not ‘Carl’ to you, then I’m damn’ well ‘<i>Mister Stone</i>.’ Is that clear?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“What—?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I said. It isn’t clear—not clear at
+all.” Glines stood openly defiant, insulting. Insolently, he thrust
+out his puffy lower lip. “You talk a lot about being my superior here,
+don’t you? Well, as of this moment, I’m not at all sure that you are.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone drew a deep, incredulous breath. Then, slowly—very slowly—he came
+up from his chair. When he spoke, his words were measured: “Glines,
+you’re either drunk or crazy. In either case, I’m sick of it. The MP’s
+have my statement of the facts of what happened tonight. I’m worn out,
+and I want to get a shower and have the medics disinfect these cuts
+and then go to bed. This cross-examination business can wait till
+morning.”</p>
+
+<p>He turned on his heel, strode towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>Behind him,
+a drawer rattled. Glines’ voice rang, shrill and angry:</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, you don’t!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone ignored him.</p>
+
+<p>“Stone! Stop or I’ll shoot!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone came up short; half-turned, staring.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Glines stood crouched behind the
+desk, his eyes black, beady slits above fat cheeks. He gripped an
+automatic, a heavy Army Colt, in one pudgy hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Back!” he cried
+shrilly. “Come back here, Stone, before I shoot you like you deserve!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone stood very still, trying without avail to fathom the things
+that seethed in the black eyes.</p>
+
+<p>First Bjornberg; now Glines. Had the whole base gone mad?</p>
+
+<p>“Easy, Herb,” he said soothingly. “Easy does it. I’ll come back.”</p>
+
+<p>Careful of every movement, he made his way to the
+desk. “You can put the gun down now, Herb. I won’t try to leave again
+till you say to.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll say you won’t!” Glines bared uneven teeth in
+a taunting smile. And then: “Oh, you were clever, all right, Stone.
+But not clever enough to fool me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wasn’t?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. It all came to me
+in a flash as soon as Bjornberg told me about you and that woman, and
+the crazy story you tried to put out about fighting some monster.”</p>
+
+<p>Glines’ face grew more flushed as he spoke, his words and breathing
+jerky and uneven. The hand that held the gun quivered.</p>
+
+<p>New prickles
+of tension touched Stone’s spine. “Sure, Herb; sure....”</p>
+
+<p>It was as if his
+fat little aide hadn’t even heard him; as if the man were talking to
+himself, almost.</p>
+
+<p>“The minute I woke up, it all
+clicked into place. Just like that.” Glines giggled, high and ragged.
+“Oh, I’d been suspicious all along, of course. I checked your record
+while you were gone—the way you sneaked into security work, pretending
+to be an American agent while you fought with the Communists in Spain;
+the business of playing professional soldier in China; those years
+you spent with the OSS during the war. You cut quite a figure, all
+right. It made you look tough, dangerous, trustworthy, experienced.
+But it was all aimed at just one thing: This job here, in charge of
+civilian security on the country’s top top-secret project. You were
+willing to wait, to bide your time. Because you knew that when you got
+this spot here you could really do the job right when you betrayed
+us!”</p>
+
+<p>A numbness crept over Stone. It was incredible, this mad net of
+distortion Glines was weaving about him.</p>
+
+<p>Something was behind it, surely ... some dark and evil pattern.</p>
+
+<p>Yet what—?</p>
+
+<p>It was a question
+pregnant with frustration. Because he didn’t dare to argue; not with an
+obvious madman. He couldn’t even probe too deeply.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to speak
+calmly: “Did you figure out the rest of it, too, Herb?”</p>
+
+<p>“The rest—?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure. How it all fits together. How the business about the woman and
+the monster could help me betray anything?”</p>
+
+<p>Scorn distended Glines’ eyes. He radiated contempt.
+“Do you think I’m completely stupid? I knew
+it the instant I woke up, of course, just like the rest. You wanted
+some kind of cover to hide behind so that no one would suspect you
+when news about the project got out. So you killed that poor woman,
+then made up the story about the monster. You knew that as soon as
+it got to the papers there’d be dozens of reporters swarming over the
+base; you can’t guard every inch of a government reservation as big
+as this one. Then you could blame the reporters for the leak on the
+project.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see.” Stone nodded slowly. “Well, I guess you’ve got it
+all, then. You might as well call in MacDougal.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t worry. I’ll
+call him.” Again Glines giggled. “Only first I’m going to wrap this all
+up good and tight. You’re too good a friend of his for me to take any
+chances. Besides,”—his eyes grew suddenly cold and wary—“besides, I’m
+not too sure where he stands. Even a base director’s suspect, when he’s
+friends with a traitor!”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Stone made an elaborate business of shrugging.
+“That’s carrying it a little far, isn’t it, Herb?
+Mac’s going to have the final report to make on this business, and he
+might not like it if he thought you were trying to pull a fast one on
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“If he knew, he might.” Glines’ eyes glittered. “But then, I plan
+to handle it more simply than that, without any red tape. Bjornberg
+understands. He’ll take care of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’ll—take care of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>Glines smirked. “<i>Ley del fuego</i>, they call it in Spanish. The law of
+flight. Shot while attempting to escape.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s palms were suddenly
+slick with sweat. The ticking of the desk clock echoed in his ears
+like the knell of doom. He made it a point to breathe deeply, evenly.
+“That’s a big responsibility for a man to take, Herb.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me worry
+about that, Stone. I think I’ll find it a pleasure.”</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke,
+Glines came round the desk, waddling as always.</p>
+
+<p>Ordinarily, the way
+Glines moved made Stone want to smile. Only now, of a sudden, it wasn’t
+funny.</p>
+
+<p>Especially when the gun the fat man held stayed so very steady.</p>
+
+<p>Abruptly, ignoring the weapons, Stone turned to the desk ... picked up
+the clock ... stared down at its face. “You’d better hurry, then,
+Herb.”</p>
+
+<p>“What—?”</p>
+
+<p>“Time’s running out. The sergeant goes off duty in a
+couple of minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>He lifted the clock so Glines could see it.</p>
+
+<p>The
+black, beady eyes flicked to the dial.</p>
+
+<p>Stone hurled the clock, square at Glines’ head.</p>
+
+<p>His aide jerked away, barely in time to dodge the missile.</p>
+
+<p>But in that split second of distraction, reflex movement,
+Stone lunged in—knocking Glines’ gun aside with a left-foreman block,
+driving a hard right into the pit of the fat man’s bulging paunch.</p>
+
+<p>Glines crashed back against the wall, tottered, and slid to the floor
+his face scarlet as he fought agonizedly for breath.</p>
+
+<p>Stone stomped down
+on his wrist; kicked the Colt aside. Then, scooping it up, he stood
+straining his ears, listening for some outside reaction to the scuffle.</p>
+
+<p>None came. Wordless, he strode to the door.</p>
+
+<p>Panting, now, Glines
+glared up at him eyes sparking hate. “Go—go ahead—Stone! See—how
+far—you get!”</p>
+
+<p>“Bjornberg?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right. I gave him orders to stand guard
+outside the building—and to shoot on sight!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone
+smiled thinly. “That’s why I’m not going out.” He threw the door’s
+heavy bolt in place. “You see, there’s just one catch to all your
+theories, Glines: They’re not true. So we’re going to get MacDougal
+down here right now and square things away.”</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, he strode
+swiftly to the desk; picked up the phone, dialed the base director’s
+quarters number.</p>
+
+<p>Four rings. Then MacDougal’s sleep-thickened voice:
+“Base director speaking.”</p>
+
+<p>“Carl Stone, Mac. Get down to Glines’ office
+fast; this is urgent. And it might be smart to bring along a couple
+of guards.”</p>
+
+<p>The sleepiness faded from MacDougal’s voice. “Of course,
+Carl. If you say so.” A pause. “I didn’t know you were back. When did
+you get in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Awhile ago. But something’s happened I don’t want to talk
+about on the phone, and I can’t leave the office, here.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll be there in five minutes.”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>He made it in four—a big, shaggy man with shoulders
+like mine beams and John L. Lewis eyebrows. Two armed guards followed
+him in.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve got troubles, Carl?”</p>
+
+<p>“You might say so. Glines, here,”—Stone gestured to the fat man, still
+sitting slumped against the wall—“has suddenly decided I’m a traitor.
+His solution to the problem was
+to arrange to have me shot while attempting to escape.”</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal’s
+shaggy eyebrows lifted. “Well, now! That’s one way of eliminating a
+problem, isn’t it?—Though I doubt that he’s actually got it in him
+to pull the trigger when the cards are down.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone shrugged. “He didn’t plan to.”</p>
+
+<p>“No?” The base director cocked his head. “Then who—?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sergeant Bjornberg. Whether he shares Glines’ delusions or not, I
+can’t say. But Glines tells me he stationed the sergeant outside
+the building, with orders to shoot me on sight.”</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal frowned.
+“Things really have been happening to you, haven’t they, Carl?” And
+then, turning to Glines: “How about this, Herb? Got anything to get
+off your chest?”</p>
+
+<p>The fat man scrambled to his feet and stood pompously
+erect in a belated effort to regain his dignity. His eyes sparked. “I
+certainly do, Mr. MacDougal. There’s not a word of truth in what he
+says—about the shooting part, that is. What actually happened was,
+Sergeant Bjornberg caught him down the road a couple of miles,
+crouched over a woman’s corpse. You can see how cut up he
+is”—a contemptuous gesture towards Stone—“as if they’d fought before
+he killed her. He tried to alibi himself with a wild story about them
+both being attacked by some bug-eyed monster—”</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal interrupted:
+“You can skip that part, Glines. The driver from the motor pool told me
+about it on the way over.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.” Glines nodded tightly. “Well,
+anyhow, after he’d given his story to the MP’s, Sergeant Bjornberg
+still wasn’t satisfied. Under the circumstances, and all, and what with
+Stone acting so peculiar, he asked me to come over and talk to him.
+When I got here, Stone was ugly and insulting. He refused to talk to
+me, and insisted on going to his quarters. I was already worried about
+the way he was acting, so when he got so hostile I pulled a gun on him.
+After all”—he flushed—“we were alone here. I hadn’t thought to have a
+guard stand by.”</p>
+
+<p>“And then—?”</p>
+
+<p>“He attacked me. I didn’t want to shoot
+him, of course, and he’s stronger than I am. He got hold of the gun,
+and then called you.”</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal frowned; studied the floor briefly.
+Then, after a moment, he turned to Stone: “Well, Carl?”</p>
+
+<p>Stone could
+feel heat rising in his face. “What do you mean, ‘Well, Carl’? Glines
+picked a fight with me from the moment he walked into this room. He
+accused me of being a traitor, went through a long rigamarole about
+how I was to leak information on the project—”</p>
+
+<p>“If you’ll check his
+record, you’ll see that I have ample reason for thinking as I do, Mr.
+MacDougal!” Glines broke in sharply. “He fought with the Communists
+in Spain. He trained troops at Yenan. He went into Yugoslavia for the
+OSS; served more than a year with the Partisans. He’s a Communist and
+a traitor, I tell you—”</p>
+
+<p>Of a sudden, Stone’s patience ran out. Inside
+him, something snapped. In one long stride he closed the distance
+between him and Glines; caught the fat man by the coat-front. Savagely,
+he slapped the pudgy cheeks—once, twice, three times.</p>
+
+<p>The next instant
+the guards were upon him—dragging him back, slamming him against the
+wall.</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen!” MacDougal roared. “We’ll have no more of this!” His
+face was beet-red, his blue eyes flashing.</p>
+
+<p>With an effort, Stone slowed
+his breathing. “Sorry, Mac,” he apologized. “I guess I just haven’t
+had enough practice at being called a Communist.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor in curbing your temper, Mr. Stone!” The base director’s voice rang
+ice-brittle. He pivoted to the panting, ruffled Glines. “Mr. Glines,
+I’d diagnose your aliment as jealousy, pure and simple. If I see any
+more symptoms of it, it may show up on your efficiency report.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,
+sir, Mr. MacDougal.” The fat man made jittery motions, smoothing and
+straightening his coat. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Ignoring him, MacDougal swung back to Stone. “As for you, Carl—well, I’m
+still in doubt.”</p>
+
+<p>“In doubt—?” A cold knot seemed to draw tight in the
+pit of Stone’s stomach. Of a sudden he seemed to sense a change in his
+friend’s manner—a strange, rising tide of latent hostility like that
+he’d felt in Glines and Bjornberg.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, in doubt.” MacDougal’s brows
+drew together into a shaggy hedgerow. “The dead woman, and this monster
+business ... your accusations and violence against Glines, here ... your
+expressed fear that Sergeant Bjornberg, one of your best friends on the
+base, plans to assassinate you—I don’t like the sound of such talk.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone stood mute, not trusting himself to answer.</p>
+
+<p>“Take your tale about
+Bjornberg,” MacDougal went on. “You claim he was on guard outside this
+building, waiting to kill you. But it so happens that when I called the
+motor pool for transportation, they sent him to drive me. He’d been
+there ever since he brought you to this office.”</p>
+
+<p>The walls seemed to
+close in about Stone. He knew every eye in the room was upon him; knew
+he had to speak. “So—?” he asked at last.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal paced the floor,
+bigknuckled hands clasped behind him.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t like to do this, Carl,”
+he said finally, “but considering the delicate nature of our work here,
+the high degree of secrecy surrounding our mission, I’m afraid I don’t
+have much choice.”</p>
+
+<p>The cold knot in Stone’s stomach drew tighter.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal ended his pacing; dropped on one hip on the corner of the
+desk. His tongue moved slowly back and forth along his lower lip, and
+his eyes stayed focussed on the floor. When he spoke, his words were
+careful, casual.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know we’d acquired a psychiatrist since you
+left for Washington, Carl?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“A psychiatrist—!” Stone burst
+out in spite of himself. He started forward.</p>
+
+<p>A guard’s
+restraining hand stopped him. “Yes. She’s here on a research project.”
+The base director’s eyes still studied the floor. “Supposed to be
+pretty good, too. Up on all the latest stuff.”</p>
+
+<p>Between clenched teeth
+Stone grated, “MacDougal, if you think I’m crazy, say so. But so help
+me, if you turn me over to some headshrinker, count on it that you’ll
+regret it to your dying day!”</p>
+
+<p>As if the words were a signal, the base
+director’s massive head came up, jaw jutting. The blue eyes shone hard
+and expressionless as marbles—shone with the same strange light that
+Stone had seen in Glines’ and Bjornberg’s.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal said, “That’s all
+I needed, Carl: Your threats and hostility turned on me. That’s the
+convincer that you <i>do</i> need help.” He turned to the guards: “Mr. Stone’s
+hereby ordered to the hospital for mental tests and observation, on my
+responsibility.</p>
+
+<p>“Take him away!”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">
+    CHAPTER III
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Dawn. A chill, grey desert dawn that made Stone shiver beneath his
+blankets.</p>
+
+<p>Or maybe it wasn’t the cold. Maybe it was the things in his
+mind, the thoughts and nightmares that kept him tossing, twisting,
+restless. There’d been little enough sleep for him, Lord knew—fitful
+moments only, from which he started up in wild-eyed terror, racked
+by aching bones and stinging cuts and the dark uncertainties that
+wormed insidiously through his brain.</p>
+
+<p>And now, the dawn.</p>
+
+<p>Fretfully,
+once more he squirmed and shifted—closing his eyes against the dim
+light, striving to find some new position that would ease the nagging
+restlessness that plagued him.</p>
+
+<p>But the thin-padded hospital cot only
+creaked the louder. New lumps and knots created pressure points against
+his body.</p>
+
+<p>With a curse, he gave it up. Rising, he shrugged on a robe
+and shuffled to the open window.</p>
+
+<p>If he could call a window open, when
+it was fitted with a safety screen so heavy that a man with an axe
+couldn’t break through it.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed aloud—short, harsh, without mirth.</p>
+
+<p>Outside, the base still lay bleak and silent, a hollow city with
+no excuse for being except The Project. The bare, regimented streets
+stretched deserted between their rows of characterless prefabricated
+housing. To the south, the tiny airstrip spread desolate, its lone
+helicopter strangely skeletal at this distance in
+the chiaroscuro of early morning.</p>
+
+<p>Stone crossed to the other window,
+the closed one; peered west, towards the bulk of the central Project
+Building.</p>
+
+<p>The next instant he stiffened.</p>
+
+<p>For where two weeks ago the
+structure had loomed square and squat, now a tower rose, from its
+center—a tower somehow disconcertingly unique in styling, not quite
+like anything he’d ever seen before.</p>
+
+<p>Protuberances of unfathomned
+purpose marred its symmetry. Catwalks rimmed it at half-a-dozen levels.
+Even the material of which it was constructed resembled nothing
+with which he was familiar.</p>
+
+<p>Stone frowned. True enough, there were
+plenty of things he didn’t know about The Project. That was as it
+should be, at a base at which security measures were so vital.</p>
+
+<p>Yet
+at the same time, it seemed strange that he’d have heard no hint as
+to a construction job of such proportions.</p>
+
+<p>It didn’t even fit in
+with the architectural plans. He’d seen those, and they contained no
+provision for a tower. None was needed. This was a development base,
+not a proving ground.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, plans changed. New discoveries and
+problems necessitated new measures, new approaches.</p>
+
+<p>Even new buildings.</p>
+
+<p>The trouble was, so many things seemed to have changed here in the
+brief span of his fortnight’s absence.</p>
+
+<p>The attitudes and atmosphere, for instance. And the people.</p>
+
+<p>People like Bjornberg and Glines and MacDougal.</p>
+
+<p>Or maybe it was he that had changed, the way they said.</p>
+
+<p>Maybe he was really crazy.</p>
+
+<p>He was still brooding about it when the door opened.</p>
+
+<p>The click of the lock took him unawares. There’d been no
+warning, no sound of footsteps.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively, he spun about.</p>
+
+<p>Reva stood framed in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>It rocked him, hard. So hard he could
+only stand gaping at her cool blonde loveliness, groping for words he
+couldn’t find.</p>
+
+<p>“Good morning, Carl.” Her face, her voice, were grave.
+Briskly, she stepped across the threshold, crisp and neat in a starched
+white smock, and closed the door behind her.</p>
+
+<p>The spell broke. “Reva—!”
+he choked. “Reva, what are you doing here?”</p>
+
+<p>Her manner stayed detached,
+impersonal. “I was assigned here nearly two weeks ago, Carl.” And then:
+“I’m <i>Doctor</i> Adams now, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean—you’re the
+psychiatrist?”</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, grey eyes steady. “I’m afraid so, Carl.
+And I know it’s going to be difficult for both of us after the ...
+personal ... relationship. But I didn’t have much choice, since I’m the
+only qualified person here. Mr. MacDougal made that rather plain.”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Pin-pricks of rising fury seethed through Stone. “You’re going along
+with this farce, then? You’ll run me through the mill like any other
+screwball, in spite of everything—the way it was between us, as close
+as we were together?” He didn’t even care that the words came out thick
+and angry.</p>
+
+<p>The grey eyes dodged his, now. As if to cover it, Reva moved
+to the room’s lone chair; sat down.</p>
+
+<p>“Answer me!” Stone stormed. “Give
+it to me straight: Are you going to help them frame me?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one’s
+going to frame you, Carl. It’s just that you may be ... sick. That’s
+all that I’m to check on.”</p>
+
+<p>A tremor crept into Reva’s voice as she
+spoke. Hastily, she brought out a pencil and a notebook. “There’ll be
+a few tests, that’s all—Minnesota Multiphase Personality, Inventory,
+Rorschach, TAT, electronencephalogram, in case you’re interested
+in the names. And I’ll want to talk to you, of course—discuss these
+things you’ve done that seem to bother Mr. MacDougal and the others.
+There won’t be anything unpleasant about it. We can work most of it
+out over coffee, probably—”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll do it straight, you mean!” Stone
+clenched his fists, trying to fight down the red tide of rage that
+surged within him. “Forget your damn’ coffee, Doctor Adams! I’m just
+one more nut to you. Quit trying to hide it!”</p>
+
+<p>Reva’s face went stiff.
+She rose quickly; stood very tall and straight “Very well, then, Carl.
+We’ll handle it just as you prefer. The electroencephalogram comes
+first. The machine’s down at the end of the hall to your right. Just
+follow me.”</p>
+
+<p>High heels clicking, she left the room.</p>
+
+<p>As quickly as it
+had flared, Stone’s fury ebbed. Numbly, he stumbled down the hall after
+her.</p>
+
+<p>What was it that held him so on edge, so close to the ragged brink
+of violence? The fight with the monster? The trouble with Bjornberg
+and Glines and MacDougal? The lack of sleep?</p>
+
+<p>But no. Those were only
+symptoms of an ever-growing inner tension.</p>
+
+<p>Yet why should he be tense? He’d seen trouble before—lots of it.
+Violence, too; blood by the bucket. But it hadn’t affected him this way.
+Through
+all of it, he’d won a reputation as a man who thrived on situations
+fraught with worry and frustration. That was why they’d sent him here
+in the first place, to handle security problems on this base....</p>
+
+<p>And to
+blow up at Reva, still feeling about her as he did ... to let go at her,
+when all he could really think of was the hunger in him for her; the
+desire to take her, hold her, crush her to him....</p>
+
+<p>Ahead of him, the heels
+stopped clicking. Reva pushed open a door; stepped aside. “In here
+please. Lie down on the couch. I’ll attach the electrodes. It won’t
+hurt a bit....”</p>
+
+<p>The morning came and went, a jumble of accordion-folded
+graph sheets and pictures, ink blots and questions. Stone sorted cards,
+made up stories, drew figures, lay in black silence while electrical
+impulses eddied through his brain.</p>
+
+<p>There was no coffee, no byplay.
+Reva stayed Doctor Adams. To the hilt. Lunchtime found Stone alone in
+his cubicle.</p>
+
+<p>Thirty minutes later they were back at the tests.</p>
+
+<p>But only half Stone’s mind was on them.</p>
+
+<p>The other half kept reappraising Reva.</p>
+
+<p>She’d changed, somehow, just like the others. Her impersonality
+carried a hard, suspicious edge. A dozen times—a hundred—Stone caught
+her eyes upon him. Not just measuring either: Cold; almost actively
+hostile.</p>
+
+<p>Especially when she probed him with questions about the
+woman, and the monster.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Late afternoon found them in her office, with
+Reva cross-examining him about his feelings toward Glines and Bjornberg.</p>
+
+<p>The implication was that he’d always hated them both; that the clashes
+were only the culmination of long-repressed resentment.</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s palms
+grew moist, his heart action uneven.</p>
+
+<p>Of a sudden, he could take no more of it.</p>
+
+<p>“Damn it, Reva!” he exploded. “They jumped me, don’t you get
+it? They started sticking knives in me the second that they saw me!”
+Vaguely, he was aware that his voice had risen; that he was shouting.
+He didn’t care. “What would you have done, damn it? How would you feel
+if people accused you of murder and treason to your face, when you’d
+done nothing—?”</p>
+
+<p>He broke off, seething.</p>
+
+<p>The phone rang before Reva
+could speak again. She picked up the receiver, cool and
+efficient, her eyes still on her notebook. “Doctor Adams speaking.”
+A pause. “No, Mr. MacDougal. I’ve hardly begun, let alone finished.
+These things take time.” Another pause. “Yes. Yes, I have uncovered a
+certain amount of pertinent data. But—”</p>
+
+<p>A longer pause. While Stone
+watched, the smooth planes and curves of Reva’s face seemed to stiffen.
+Her fingers tightened visibly on her pencil, pressing down. The point
+snapped, loud in the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>She said, “Very well, then, Mr.
+MacDougal. If you insist.—Yes, I’ll be waiting in my office.”</p>
+
+<p>She hung up the phone.</p>
+
+<p>Stone smiled thinly. “Report time?”</p>
+
+<p>She didn’t answer.</p>
+
+<p>“I know how it is. They always push you.” Stone leaned back in his chair.
+For no good reason, all once he felt more in command of the situation
+than he had since this whole mad tangle had erupted.</p>
+
+<p>Reva looked away, still saying nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Stone pressed on: “It’s too bad things had to
+work out the way they did.... Between us.”</p>
+
+<p>Reva’s eyes stayed on the wall. “We each got what we wanted.”
+Her voice was flat, controlled.</p>
+
+<p>Too tightly controlled.</p>
+
+<p>“Did we?” Stone grimaced. “Maybe you did.
+I didn’t. Because I wanted you. And I didn’t get you.”</p>
+
+<p>Was it his
+imagination, or did Reva’s breathing quicken just a fraction?</p>
+
+<p>“Being
+married to a security man’s no cinch. I know that. It can get pretty
+damn’ worrisome and lonely, like you said when you broke it off. But
+right now, I’m wondering if psychiatry can’t be lonely, too—”</p>
+
+<p>The mask
+that was Reva’s face drew tighter ... tighter.</p>
+
+<p>“Especially if you’re a
+woman, Reva—a woman like you, who knows what love is, and needs it—”</p>
+
+<p>In a flash, like an eggshell shattering, the mask cracked and fell
+apart. Reva turned on him—teeth bared, eyes suddenly streaming. “Shut
+up!” she screamed. White-knuckled, her small fist beat a convulsive
+tattoo on the desk’s polished surface. “Shut up, I tell you! Leave me
+alone—alone ... alone....”</p>
+
+<p>Her voice died. She slumped on one arm across her
+notebook, face hidden. The slim shoulders shook with her sobs.</p>
+
+<p>From
+the office doorway, MacDougal said, “That was dirty, Carl. As dirty
+as anything you’ve ever done.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone started.
+Reva gasped aloud and came erect in one swift movement, even as she
+turned away.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal stalked heavily to the nearest chair and sat
+down. Face hewn in granite, he ignored Stone; addressed Reva: “I’m
+sorry about this, Doctor Adams. Believe me, I wouldn’t run you through
+such a mill for all the world, if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s ... quite all right, Mr. MacDougal.” Face almost composed once
+more, Reva resumed her seat. “I’ll give you my tentative report as
+soon as the attendant returns Mr. Stone to his room.” She reached
+towards a buzzer button.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal halted her with a gesture. His
+blue eyes were cold. “Don’t bother, Doctor. I’m not inclined to spare
+Stone’s tender feelings, after what he just did to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s not a
+matter of feelings, Mr. MacDougal.” Abruptly, Reva was very much the
+doctor. “There’s a therapeutic issue involved. And Mr. Stone’s my
+patient.”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Tight-lipped, Stone leaned forward. “Get on with it!” he
+clipped. “I want to hear what you’ve got to say as much as he does.
+If I’m crazy, I’ve got a right to know it.”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Crazy’ is hardly a
+meaningful term, medically speaking, Mr. Stone.” Reva stared down at
+her notes. “However, if you insist....”</p>
+
+<p>“I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, then.” She
+turned to MacDougal; tapped an accordion-folded graph on the desk. “Are
+you familiar with electroencephalography, Mr. MacDougal?”</p>
+
+<p>The base director shrugged. “Only vaguely.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then let me begin by explaining that
+the electroencephalograph is a device which measures currents within
+the brain and records them on a chart. A trained technician can then
+interpret the patterns in diagnostic terms.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see.”</p>
+
+<p>“In Mr. Stone’s case”—Reva studied the chart—“the electroencephalogram
+shows marked
+deviation from the norm. I’m inclined to believe that the pattern
+indicates he’s a victim of epidemic encephalitis.”</p>
+
+<p>“Encephalitis—?” MacDougal frowned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to explain,
+Doctor. I’ve never heard of it.”</p>
+
+<p>Reva nodded gravely. “That’s not surprising, sir.
+No acute cases have been reported since 1925. The ones we see today are
+chronic—the aftermath of an epidemic that swept the country, beginning
+in 1919.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the results?”</p>
+
+<p>“That all depends.” Reva
+sketched meaningless patterns with her pencil. “You see, the disease
+wreaks havoc in the brain. There’s tissue damage and, later, of course,
+residual lesions. Ganglion cells and neurons degenerate or disappear.
+Behavior difficulties often follow, too—chronic irritability, emotional
+instability, psychopathic conduct.”</p>
+
+<p>“You tell it scary,” Stone said
+tightly. “There’s just one catch, though: So far as I know, I never
+had any such disease.”</p>
+
+<p>Reva didn’t look up. “I’m afraid that’s easily
+possible, Carl. It may have run concurrently with influenza or some
+other sickness. Plenty of cases weren’t detected. But the damage
+still was done.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then how is it I’ve survived? Why haven’t they
+carted me off before now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because of the nature of the disease,
+Carl.” For the first time, Reva faced him squarely. “You see, it can
+become progressive, even after months and years. When that happens....”
+Helplessly, she spread her hands.</p>
+
+<p>A numbness crept through Stone. He
+slumped in his chair. The room seemed to grow dim around him. He hardly
+heard the things the other two were saying.</p>
+
+<p>Was this to be the end for
+him, then? Must he live out his life walled away from the world
+in some mental hospital?</p>
+
+<p>Again, he lived through the night before ... tried to recall the way
+he’d felt, the things he’d done.</p>
+
+<p>He’d been
+tired, yes; but that was to be expected, what with the long trip in.
+And his spirits had certainly been good enough.</p>
+
+<p>Then he’d seen the woman ... fought the monster.</p>
+
+<p>And whether anyone believed him or not,
+the battle had been reality, not delusion. He had the scars to prove it.</p>
+
+<p>Chronic irritability? Emotional instability? Psychopathic conduct?
+Those were terms that fitted Bjornberg and Glines better than they did
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Though he had to admit he’d been on the jumpy side, ever since
+he’d reached the base.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ever since he’d reached the base—!</i></p>
+
+<p>With a rush,
+the pieces fell into pattern. Last night, he’d fought a monster—a
+creature like nothing ever seen on earth, in hell or heaven.</p>
+
+<p>The dying
+woman had gasped of robots on a mesa.</p>
+
+<p>Bjornberg had accused him of
+murder.</p>
+
+<p>Glines had sworn he was a Communist.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal had ordered him
+checked for mental aberration.</p>
+
+<p>An unscheduled,
+other-worldish tower had risen atop the Project Building.</p>
+
+<p>Reva had
+diagnosed him as an encephalitic, fully capable of psychopathic conduct
+and suitable for confinement.</p>
+
+<p>He himself had developed a sudden tension
+so nerve-shattering as to make him question his own sanity.</p>
+
+<p>It all
+added up to just one thing: Something horribly dangerously wrong.</p>
+
+<p>But not with him. No.</p>
+
+<p><i>With the base!</i></p>
+
+<p>But what? What could possibly account
+for such mad deviation?</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>He looked up sharply. Reva was still talking:</p>
+
+<p>“—so after your description of Carl’s behavior, Mr. MacDougal, my first
+thought was paranoia. The systematized delusions and hallucinations
+tied in with it, and so did his tendency to violence. But I’ve
+given him the Rorschach test, and the TAT, and neither of them show
+any indication of it. So tentatively, I’m forced to fall back on
+encephalitis. It manifests itself so many ways—it’s more polymorphic
+than syphilis, even....”</p>
+
+<p>Systematized delusions—? Hallucinations?
+Stone felt a sudden, quick twinge of excitement. The behavior of the
+people here on the base fitted that pattern.</p>
+
+<p>Yet how could a whole organization turn paranoid?</p>
+
+<p>Besides, Reva had just said that he himself
+didn’t check out for it on the tests.</p>
+
+<p>Thoughtfully, he studied her. She
+knew about these things, these mental twists, and she’d just come here.</p>
+
+<p>Could the trouble be some strange infection she’d brought with her?</p>
+
+<p>For that matter, why would a psychiatrist be assigned to a development
+base, anyhow?</p>
+
+<p>It was an interesting question. Spontaneously, he cut in
+on the conversation: “Reva....”</p>
+
+<p>She looked around. “Yes, Carl?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just what is this research project of yours?”</p>
+
+<p>Her face froze, lips half-parted.
+The grey eyes—it was as if shutters had suddenly slammed closed behind
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Cold, hostile shutters.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal said quickly, “I’m afraid
+we’ll have to bounce that one, Carl. <i>Verboten</i>. Doctor Adams’ work is
+classified, highly confidential.”</p>
+
+<p>Ice hung on his words—the same kind
+of ice that glazed Reva’s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>And Glines’. And Bjornberg’s.</p>
+
+<p>Stone held his face immobile. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>Reva had
+come here. Strange things had happened.</p>
+
+<p>Reva was a psychiatrist. Base
+personnel showed something close to mental disorder.</p>
+
+<p>Cause and effect?</p>
+
+<p>It could bear some thought. Quite a bit of thought, in fact. Not to
+mention thorough investigation.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal’s blue eyes had narrowed.
+Abruptly, he turned to Reva. “Doctor Adams, I’m afraid I’ve imposed
+on you. It’s not fair to ask you to treat patients, in addition to
+your ... other work.”</p>
+
+<p>Reva’s slim shoulders moved a fraction. “I admit
+the facilities are hardly adequate, Mr. MacDougal.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you recommend a mental hospital?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid so.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll have him flown out tonight
+in the helicopter, then. Right now.” The base director surged to his
+feet. “Let’s go, Carl.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone gripped the arms of his chair. One wrong
+question—and in seconds they’d arranged to put him out of circulation.</p>
+
+<p>Which meant he’d been right: There <i>was</i> a relationship between Reva’s
+coming, her work, and the changes on the base.</p>
+
+<p>Only a lot of good
+knowing it would do him, locked away in a back ward of some asylum.
+Even if he was actually all right it would take months to convince the
+doctors.</p>
+
+<p>So much for his plans.</p>
+
+<p>Unless—</p>
+
+<p>“Hurry it up, Carl. This is all for your own good, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>Wordless, Stone arose. Carefully casual,
+he glanced out the nearest window.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost dark.</p>
+
+<p>So much the better.</p>
+
+<p>He moved on into the hall and shuffled towards the detention
+room where he’d spent the night. Reva and MacDougal followed.</p>
+
+<p>The
+door was locked. Stone stood aside, waiting loose-muscled while Reva
+inserted the key and opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t keep you waiting long,
+Carl,” MacDougal said. “We’ll pick you up just as soon as I locate a
+pilot.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone drew a deep breath, “Any time.” He started forward.</p>
+
+<p>The
+base director shifted aside to let him pass. Stone smashed down his
+foot with all his might on the other’s instep.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal cried out ... tottered off-balance.</p>
+
+<p>Twisting, Stone shoved him hard against Reva.
+Together, the pair sprawled on the floor of the detention room.</p>
+
+<p>Stone slammed and locked the door behind them. It
+muffled their cries most satisfactorily.</p>
+
+<p>Bleak-eyed, then, he strode
+down the corridor and the stairs and out into the night....</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">
+    CHAPTER IV
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Base Directory Service gave Stone both Reva’s addresses—her prefab, and the
+building assigned her for her project.</p>
+
+<p>Hanging up the phone, he pushed
+his way out of the crowded drugstore, then stood hesitating on the
+curb of the broad, bright-lighted parkway that ran round the parking
+center.</p>
+
+<p>Home, or office? Which should it be?</p>
+
+<p>He frowned.</p>
+
+<p>The base alarm system blasted in the same instant.</p>
+
+<p>The noisy crowd fell suddenly
+silent. People paused, fell back a step. Eyes shifted, searched.</p>
+
+<p>The
+siren’s shrill scream died away.</p>
+
+<p>Ripples of apprehension rose on its
+echo. Little groups drew close together, milling aimlessly.</p>
+
+<p>A tiny
+chill ran through Stone. He had no choice now. Distance was the vital
+factor, and the office address was the closest.</p>
+
+<p>With an effort, he
+held his steps even and unhurried. Crossing the parkway, he headed
+south on the nearest street.</p>
+
+<p>All about him, men and women were emptying
+from the prefabs—peering this way and that talking excitedly. Off to
+the right, out by the Project Building motor pool, a jeep’s lights
+flashed on. A gunned motor roared. The lights swerved north as the
+vehicle raced away.</p>
+
+<p>Seconds later, another followed. Then another,
+and another.</p>
+
+<p>Elsewhere, in all directions, other motors droned as the
+base security system came to life.</p>
+
+<p>The chase was on.</p>
+
+<p>Stone veered
+between the buildings, out of sight, then broke into a dogtrot.</p>
+
+<p>A
+cross-street. Pausing in the shadows, he strained his eyes against the
+night, searching both ways for signs of the blockade the jeeps were
+setting up, according to plan.</p>
+
+<p>It was a good plan, too; he’d helped
+devise it. Once the vehicles reached their stations, a rabbit couldn’t
+move across the base undetected.</p>
+
+<p>After that, there’d be a block-check,
+certain capture.</p>
+
+<p>But until then—He strode across the street, not too
+fast till again he reached the welcoming shadows. There, once in the
+darkness, he broke into a pelting run.</p>
+
+<p>More cross-streets; more speed. Then the last line of prefabs.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond them spread the
+dim expanse of the Related Projects Area, with its high wire fence and
+guarded gates.</p>
+
+<p>Stone halted, breathing hard, and smoothed his shirt and
+combed his hair. Then, boldly, he strode towards the nearest point of
+entry.</p>
+
+<p>The guard on the gate watched through the mesh, cold-eyed and
+silent, as he approached. Stone said, “Message for Doctor Coughlin,
+Materials Research. Here’s my pass.”</p>
+
+<p>He extended his wallet as he
+spoke. Cradling his rifle, the guard unlatched the gate and reached
+out to take it.</p>
+
+<p>Stone smashed the free-swinging gate violently against
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The guard lurched back; tried to jerk up his rifle.</p>
+
+<p>Side-stepping,
+Stone lunged in close. Savagely, he hammered an uppercut to the other’s
+jaw.</p>
+
+<p>The guard dropped.</p>
+
+<p>Ripping the man’s shirt into strips, Stone
+bound and gagged him in seconds. Then, snatching up the rifle, he
+ran for the shadows.</p>
+
+<p>The small, one-story brick building that housed
+Reva’s project stood apart from its fellows, far back in an isolated
+corner of the Related Projects Area. A steel framework like a miniature
+radio tower rose close beside it, perhaps fifty feet tall.</p>
+
+<p>Smashing
+open the locked door with the rifle-butt, Stone snapped on the lights
+and surveyed the place.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The room in which he stood was a typical
+office. Filing cases banked one wall. A desk flanked by bookshelves
+stood against a second. There was a long table littered with papers
+and, incongruously, a small bowl of flowers. Three chairs, a water
+cooler, and a coatrack completed the furnishings.</p>
+
+<p>Hurriedly, Stone
+crossed to the nearest of the two inside doors.</p>
+
+<p>The first led to a
+washroom.</p>
+
+<p>The second was locked.</p>
+
+<p>Stone hesitated, a vague uneasiness
+upon him. It was as if the tension that rode him had been suddenly,
+sharply heightened. His muscles ached; his fingers showed a tendency
+to tremble.</p>
+
+<p>The humming impinged on him, then.</p>
+
+<p>It was as vague as
+his uneasiness—a sound that was not a sound, almost.</p>
+
+<p>Stone turned
+slowly—straining his ears; trying to trace the murmur to its source.</p>
+
+<p>Finally he placed it: It centered on the door beside which he stood.</p>
+
+<p>He
+swung the rifle-butt. Once—twice—three times.</p>
+
+<p>Lock
+and door stood fast. Once again Stone hesitated. Then, reversing the
+rifle and standing aside to avoid a ricochet, he triggered a shot at
+the lock.</p>
+
+<p>Metal jangled through the echo. Another blow with the butt,
+and the door creaked open.</p>
+
+<p>The windowless room beyond, from its cramped
+size, had probably been planned primarily for storage.</p>
+
+<p>Now, though, it
+overflowed with electronic equipment, from floor to ceiling a buzzing
+maze of tubes and condensers and coils and complicated circuits such as
+Stone had never seen before.</p>
+
+<p>Could this machine be responsible for his
+uneasiness and the strange behavior on the base?</p>
+
+<p>There was one sure way
+to find out.</p>
+
+<p>Narrow-eyed, nerves atingle, he pivoted, searching for the
+master switch ... located it at last, set at the far end of the narrow
+space between a transformer and the wall.</p>
+
+<p>He reached out; gripped the
+shiny black handle.</p>
+
+<p>Then, before he could throw it, a harsh voice from
+the office behind him snarled, “Move an inch and you’re dead!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone
+went rigid.</p>
+
+<p>“Now come out! On the double!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s spine tingled.
+He let go the switch and slowly turned.</p>
+
+<p>Colt in hand, hard-eyed and
+lethal, Sergeant Bjornberg stood hunched in a gunman’s crouch on the
+far side of the office.</p>
+
+<p>Glines flanked him.</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s lips felt stiff. Of
+a sudden he could feel death’s hand on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Bjornberg moved a
+quick step forward. “Come out, I said!”</p>
+
+<p>The smirk on Glines’ fat face
+would have fitted a cat better. A well-fed cat, toying with a mouse.</p>
+
+<p>Stone sucked in air.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter, Mr. Stone?” It was Glines
+talking now—sneering, mocking. “You took a gun away from me last night.
+Why don’t you take the sergeant’s?”</p>
+
+<p>“Shut up!” rasped Bjornberg. And
+then, to Stone: “I said come out! Away from that equipment!”</p>
+
+<p>‘<i>Away from that equipment</i>....’</p>
+
+<p>Ever so slowly, Stone let out the deep breath he’d
+been holding. “No, thanks, Sergeant.”</p>
+
+<p>“What—!” Bjornberg’s finger went
+white on the trigger.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Stone smiled stiffly. “I said no, Joe. I’d rather
+let you shoot—because whether you hit me or not, that forty-five’s
+going to tear up a lot of transistors.”</p>
+
+<p>Bjornberg’s mouth worked.
+“Damn you, Stone!” And Glines came in high and shrill. “You should
+have hit him with the barrel from behind, Sergeant!
+You shouldn’t have warned him!”</p>
+
+<p>Ever so casually, Stone leaned back
+against the framework of the machine.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll still take him!” Bjornberg snarled. “Here, cover me!”</p>
+
+<p>He passed the Colt to Glines and started
+forward, hands raised in a judo fighter’s guard.</p>
+
+<p>Stone lunged for the switch.</p>
+
+<p>This time, there was no turning back, no hesitation. He
+slammed the black handle down even as Bjornberg crashed against him.</p>
+
+<p>The humming died in a click of circuit breakers. The tubes began to
+dim.</p>
+
+<p>Twisting, too cramped to strike a blow, Stone grappled with
+Bjornberg. Together, they rocked back to the far side of the doorway,
+fighting with knees and teeth and elbows.</p>
+
+<p>Then the sergeant broke free; leaped back, out into the office.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of trying to follow, Stone
+spun about and smashed his foot through a device that looked like an
+off-beat magnetron. Clutching whole handfuls of wiring, he tore one
+of the upper racks of equipment out bodily.</p>
+
+<p>Then Bjornberg was upon
+him again. The man’s weight hammered him down. He caught a wicked blow
+in the back of the neck that sent him sagging to his knees on the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>Now a fist jarred his head back. Desperately, he caught one of
+Bjornberg’s ankles and wrenched it up and around, twisting with savage
+force.</p>
+
+<p>It was the sergeant’s turn to crash to the floor. Rolling clear
+of him, Stone scrambled to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>His adversary did likewise.</p>
+
+<p>Then,
+as they started to circle, each searching for an opening, a voice cut
+through: “Carl! Sergeant! Stop it!” It was Glines, almost shouting.
+“Stop it, I tell you! Stop it!” Wary, still gasping for breath, Stone
+drew back.</p>
+
+<p>It was only then that it came to him, dazedly, that the
+strange tension he’d felt for the past twenty-four hours had left him.
+In spite of Bjornberg’s blows, his head seemed clearer than it had
+been since the night before. His muscles no longer ached with strain.
+His hands had lost their tendency to tremble.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of all such,
+now, an intense, overwhelming weariness hung upon him; nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>Across from him, Bjornberg shook his head jerkily, as if to clear his
+brain. The hard lines had vanished from his face. Suspicion clouded his
+eyes no longer. They were open now, wide open, frank and friendly
+the way Stone had always known them.</p>
+
+<p>Over by the
+desk, Glines shifted awkwardly, the Colt forgotten on the floor beside
+him. His mouth hung loose, and he looked stunned, incredulous—a fat,
+good-natured little man with just a bit of the old maid in him. “Carl,”
+he mumbled, swabbing perspiration from his forehead, “Carl, what have
+I been doing?”</p>
+
+<p>Bjornberg broke in: “Did I really say you killed that
+woman, Carl? My God, I must have been crazy!”</p>
+
+<p>Of a sudden Stone’s legs
+were weak as water. He stumbled to the nearest chair; slumped in it.</p>
+
+<p>“This whole base has been crazy,” he grunted.</p>
+
+<p>Glines’ pudgy hands moved
+nervously. He groped: “But how—I mean, what happened—?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was driven
+crazy, that’s what happened,” Stone said tightly. He jerked a thumb
+over his shoulder. “That machine in there did it.”</p>
+
+<p>“The machine—?” This
+from Bjornberg. His broad brow wrinkled. “I thought it was a project—”</p>
+
+<p>“And you thought it was important too, didn’t you? Important enough to
+kill me for?”</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant’s face grew red. He shifted from one foot to
+the other. “I guess I did, Carl. Only now—well—damn it, I’m all mixed
+up!”</p>
+
+<p>“Who isn’t?” Stone turned to Glines. “How’d you feel—last night,
+when you heard about me, I mean?”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The fat man squirmed. “It’s—Carl, I don’t know how to tell you....”
+He chewed his puffy lower lip. “As
+well as I can remember, I’d been feeling tight and jittery for a long
+time—a week or more. Then, when the sergeant woke me up and told me
+about you—and that dead woman—and your story about the monster—well,
+it was strange. All at once I was angry. I hated you, and I was afraid
+of you, somehow. I kept remembering all kinds of little things, and by
+the time I got to the office I—I knew you were a Communist. I <i>knew</i> it.”
+Nervously, again he swabbed his forehead, scarlet now as Bjornberg’s.
+“I hope you understand, Carl; I just can’t explain it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I understand,
+all right,” Stone said grimly. “The trouble is, I can’t explain it
+either. Not all of it. Not the important parts.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the machine, you said—”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure, the machine did it. But why?” Stone leaned forward.
+“Look: First of all, somebody had to design it. Then somebody else had
+to approve it, order it built. Why?”</p>
+
+<p>Glines shook his head helplessly. Bjornberg stared at the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Stone pressed on:
+“Second, it didn’t seem to cause any trouble—outside of making everybody
+jittery—till I came along. But when I did, everybody went haywire.
+Except me. Or maybe I did, too. Maybe I didn’t really fight a monster.</p>
+
+<p>“But I think I did, and I’ve got some scars to prove it. So that
+brings up a third point: Why didn’t it throw me, like it did the rest
+of you? How is it I could figure out that something was wrong on the
+base, and that this project was responsible, when nobody else could?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s crazy, just crazy, that’s all,” muttered Bjornberg.</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe. But
+I doubt it.” Stone rose stiffly. “There’s somebody I want to ask some
+questions—” He stopped short. “Tell me this: How’d you happen to come
+here looking for me?”</p>
+
+<p>Glines frowned. “That was my idea, Carl. Mr.
+MacDougal sent for me after he and Doctor Adams finally got out of that
+room at the hospital and sounded the alarm for you. He asked me if I
+had any idea where you might go—after all, I’d worked with you for a
+long time. At first I said I didn’t know. Only then Doctor Adams made
+some remark about your—your condition, and said she hoped you wouldn’t
+twist your delusions of persecution around to where you’d try to do
+something to her, like you’d done to that dead woman. Mr. MacDougal
+said she didn’t need to worry about it, that he’d see that she got
+home all right, and they left. But the more I thought about what she’d
+said, the more sense it made, and I began to wonder if you might not
+try to sneak out here and booby-trap the building. Finally, the thought
+of it got to worrying me so much that I called Sergeant Bjornberg and
+came out here with him.” Glines paused, laughed self-consciously. “It
+sounds silly now, doesn’t it? But at the time nothing in the world
+seemed so important as to make sure nothing happened to Doctor Adams
+or her project.”</p>
+
+<p>Reva. Always, it came back to Reva.</p>
+
+<p>“Good enough,”
+Stone said. Tight-lipped, he started for the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Where you going?”
+Bjornberg demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Stone held his voice flat and level. “To see Doctor Adams.”</p>
+
+<p>“That figures,” the sergeant nodded. “We even got a
+jeep back by the next building to take you to her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Besides,” Glines
+chimed in, opening the door, “you’ll need us to pass you through the
+blockade.”</p>
+
+<p>He started down the outside steps.</p>
+
+<p>The next instant, his wild scream of terror split the night.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">
+    CHAPTER V
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>For Stone, that moment lasted a thousand years.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was over, Glines’ shriek dying.</p>
+
+<p>The horrid spell broke. He lunged for the door,
+Bjornberg on his heels.</p>
+
+<p>But something smooth and slippery brushed his
+face as he crossed the threshold. Instinctive panic flaring in him,
+he threw himself sidewise.</p>
+
+<p>Before he could hit the ground, rubbery
+tentacles swept about him. In a black delirium of movement, he found
+himself caught up and lifted; crushed close to a gelid, barrel-like
+body.</p>
+
+<p>Desperately, he tried to twist free, fight clear. But a dozen
+discs clung to him with vicious suction. Every move he made seemed to
+draw the tentacles tighter—crushing him; squeezing the very breath
+from his body.</p>
+
+<p>Now one had looped about his throat, a living rope to
+cut the blood off from his brain. Glines’ screams seemed dim and far
+away. The sky held too many stars.</p>
+
+<p>Then thunder rocked the night—the
+thunder of a heavy Colt, fired at close range. For the fraction of a
+second, the tentacles’ hold relaxed. Stone’s feet touched the ground.
+Tearing his throat free, he gulped in a tremendous, sobbing breath.</p>
+
+<p>“Joe!” he shouted. “Joe, shoot for the band, the belt—”</p>
+
+<p>Nightmare-like,
+in the same instant the tentacles once again constricted. He had no
+more breath—not for shouting, nor for breathing either.</p>
+
+<p>But the Colt
+roared like an echo, so close now that the powder-fumes stung Stone’s
+nostrils. The monster’s barrel-body rocked under hammer-blows of
+impact. Fluid spilled across Stone’s legs in a chilling gush.</p>
+
+<p>Then he
+was free, falling, slammed to the gravel. Tentacles writhed across him
+in a rush.</p>
+
+<p>Rolling, Stone lurched up.</p>
+
+<p>The monster that had held him
+now clutched Bjornberg. In a raging frenzy, its tentacles swung the
+sergeant high into the air wrenching at his body. His head lolled—loose,
+horribly disjointed.</p>
+
+<p>Then, with cataclysmic violence, the thing hurled
+him from it. He crashed against the brick wall of the building; spilled
+down in a crumpled heap beside a sodden form that could only be Glines’
+body.</p>
+
+<p>Stone turned and ran.</p>
+
+<p>Ahead of him, a second
+monster swept out from behind the building. Stone kept to his course,
+straight at the thing. If asked, he could not have told why. Perhaps it
+was bravado, perhaps desperation.</p>
+
+<p>Or perhaps pure madness.</p>
+
+<p>The creature
+hesitated, its tentacles flickering in a way that was almost startled.
+Then, abruptly, it drew back, as if suddenly wary—not quite certain of
+Stone’s potential.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond it, the jeep loomed. Stone made it in a final
+rush; vaulted into the driver’s seat. Kicking the motor to life, he
+wheeled the vehicle around in a screaming curve, jammed the accelerator
+to the floor, and raced for the main gate.</p>
+
+<p>In seconds, the entrance
+came into view. Stone started to apply the brakes.</p>
+
+<p>But the gate stood
+open. No guards appeared to challenge his exit.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond the fence, the
+street stretched bare and empty, with no sign of blockading troops.</p>
+
+<p>Stone bore down on the gas once more. He still didn’t dare to pause
+to think; not yet. The horror still clung too close. Too many things
+hung unexplained.</p>
+
+<p>Things like why the firing back at Reva’s project
+building hadn’t drawn a half-track full of guards. Why the gate
+stood open. Why the streets were empty, the housing units dark.</p>
+
+<p>But
+such were trivia; they could wait. He only knew his friends were dead,
+and what he had to do.</p>
+
+<p>Number Ten Q Street, Northeast. Reva’s prefab.</p>
+
+<p>But no light in the windows.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Stone spun the jeep right at the next
+corner; headed back west towards the Central Project Building, with
+its bright lights and strange new tower.</p>
+
+<p>Then, ahead, a white-striped
+barrier caught his lights. It blocked the street.</p>
+
+<p>Stone braked the jeep.</p>
+
+<p>Half-a-dozen soldiers stood grouped to one side of the crossbar.
+Before Stone could even speak, two of them hurriedly slung their
+rifles, moved the barrier out of the way, and waved him on. They made
+no move to halt or check him.</p>
+
+<p>The area beyond looked like a full-scale
+military operation—barricades, barbed wire, sandbagged strong points,
+machine guns.</p>
+
+<p>Hands slick on the jeep’s wheel, still not daring to ask
+questions, Stone maneuvered his vehicle through the narrow corridor
+left open.</p>
+
+<p>He reached the fence that circled the Central Project
+Area ... passed through the gate.</p>
+
+<p>On the other side,
+thronging civilians milled and muttered. A single word, rising from a
+thousand throats, pulsed at him wave-like:</p>
+
+<p>“Monsters ... monsters ... monsters ... monsters ....”</p>
+
+<p>Of a sudden, Stone understood it all—the
+barricades, the darkened houses; the open gates, the lack of questions.</p>
+
+<p>New chills ran through him. He cursed the icy sweat that drenched his
+body.</p>
+
+<p>Slowed by the crowd, the jeep was more hindrance now than help.
+Abandoning it, Stone pushed his way towards the square, squat block of
+the Central Project Building.</p>
+
+<p>A private with rifle and fixed bayonet
+barred the entrance. A corporal sang out. “Hold it, Mister!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone
+said tightly, “You hold it—if you want to take the responsibility.
+I’ve got information about this business.”</p>
+
+<p>A lieutenant moved up.
+“Talk ahead, Mister. I’ll listen.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll talk—to the base director.
+And he’s the only one.”</p>
+
+<p>The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your
+name, Mister?”</p>
+
+<p>“Carl Stone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Carl Stone—!” Visibly, the officer
+stiffened. He shoved the private aside; elbowed back the corporal.
+“Come on, then! What are you waiting for?”</p>
+
+<p>In seconds, they were at the
+door of MacDougal’s second-floor office.</p>
+
+<p>The base director sat hunched
+over his desk, snapping hard, clipped words into a phone. His broad
+face looked drawn and haggard, and the hand with which he pushed back
+his stiff, greying hair seemed not too steady.</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s gaze flicked to Reva Adams.</p>
+
+<p>She occupied a chair in one corner. Only in the faint
+shadows beneath her eyes did she show any trace of the tension that
+radiated from the base director. For the rest, she was as always—sleek,
+lovely, all woman, her blonde hair swept smoothly back and falling
+to her shoulders, her firm body filling out the silken sheath of her
+dress.</p>
+
+<p>Even the sight of her sent fury surging through Stone. Pushing
+past the lieutenant, he stalked into the room. “Hang up that phone,
+Mac. You’ve got company.”</p>
+
+<p>Reva jerked in her chair. Her hand flew to
+her throat.</p>
+
+<p>The base director’s massive head came around sharply. He
+started up from his seat. “Carl—!”</p>
+
+<p>“Right. Alive and breathing.” There
+was no good humor in the words, the way Stone said them. He heeled
+shut the door, closing out the lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>“Carl, we thought you were
+dead.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not blaming you, Mac. Not you.” Stone jerked
+his head towards Reva. “Her, I’m not so sure of.”</p>
+
+<p>“Doctor Adams—?”
+MacDougal stared at him blankly. “What do you mean, Carl?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean I’ve
+found out the nature of her project.” Grimly, Stone pivoted to face the
+woman. “How about it, Reva? What’s the explanation for that electronic
+brain-trap I found out in your building?”</p>
+
+<p>Her slim hands moved
+nervously in her lap. Her eyes dodged his. “I—I don’t know what you
+mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t?” Stone made an elaborate business of surprise. And
+then, slashing out, hard and savage: “I’ll tell you, then. I’m talking
+about that transmitter you had locked in your storeroom—that humming,
+buzzing little devil-machine that kept this whole base half-crazy till
+I smashed it!”</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal’s heavy fist hammered on the desk. “Damn it,
+Carl! Talk sense!”</p>
+
+<p>“I am talking sense—the only sense anybody’s heard
+around here in the past two weeks!” Stone roared him down. “Has it
+occurred to you that you feel a little differently about me now than
+you did a couple of hours ago?”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The base director suddenly looked
+sheepish. “Oh, that—” He groped vaguely. “I—well, I don’t know what
+got into me, Carl. Nervous strain, maybe. The pressure of sweating out
+the big project, here; all the worry, the being afraid it wouldn’t work
+out right....”</p>
+
+<p>“And then, awhile ago, all of a sudden you knew that it was
+foolish, didn’t you? That I wasn’t crazy, or a traitor, or a murderer,
+or anything else except what I’d always been?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well—well, yes.”
+MacDougal brushed perspiration from his chin. “As soon as I got back
+here, and stopped to think it over—”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean, as soon as I smashed
+that machine! Bjornberg, Glines—they both snapped out of the fog when
+I did it, right before my eyes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Glines? Bjornberg?” MacDougal’s head
+came up. “I’ve had a call out for them. Where are they?”</p>
+
+<p>Tight-lipped,
+Stone fought down the wave of sickness that rose in him. “They’re
+dead, Mac. Dead. Killed by the monsters that everybody claimed I
+didn’t see.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dead....” Face sagging, the base director slumped into
+his chair.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m as sorry as you are, Mac. But that’s not enough.”
+Stone pushed in, driving his words hard. “What’s important is now, the
+living. They’re the ones we’ve got to think about.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Of course.” MacDougal’s voice still echoed dull and empty.</p>
+
+<p>“So the first point’s to get it across that I’m not crazy, that I’m
+telling the truth: Last night, that transmitter out at Reva’s building
+wouldn’t let you believe me. Then, when I smashed it, and everybody
+snapped back to normal, the monsters came—so many of them that you’ve
+had to clear the base, move all personnel into the Central Project
+Area for protection.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how—?”</p>
+
+<p>“How do the monsters tie in with the
+transmitter, you mean?” Stone shook his head curtly. “I wouldn’t know.
+But I’m going to find out. Our good friend Doctor Adams is going to
+tell us all about it.”</p>
+
+<p>He turned towards her chair.</p>
+
+<p>It was empty.</p>
+
+<p>Stone
+went numb inside; spun about by reflex.</p>
+
+<p>The office door stood an inch
+ajar. Reva was gone.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal cursed, surged up from his seat. “Come
+on!” Like a raging grizzly, he charged across the office and out into
+the hall.</p>
+
+<p>Stone started to follow. Then, braking, he whirled and jumped
+to the window. Savagely, he jerked it open and thrust out his head.</p>
+
+<p>Off
+to the right, below him, Reva was walking briskly out the building’s
+main entrance, a picture of calm, cool poise.</p>
+
+<p>Stone clutched the sill;
+looked down.</p>
+
+<p>A soldier wearing an MP brassard stood directly beneath
+him. Stone shouted, “You, soldier! MP! Get that woman!”</p>
+
+<p>The man looked
+up, startled; then to the right, following Stone’s frantic gesture.</p>
+
+<p>But
+the words had reached Reva, too. She swung round in mid-stride, her
+eyes wide with panic. The MP galloped towards her. Whirling, she fled
+right—away from her pursuer; off towards the corner of the building.</p>
+
+<p>Stone ran for the hall, only to crash into MacDougal, returning.</p>
+
+<p>The
+base director’s face was flushed. He was panting. “I couldn’t find
+her, Carl—”</p>
+
+<p>“Forget it. She’s trapped. Just wait in your office.”
+Stone headed for the stairs at a dead run.</p>
+
+<p>Outside at last, then,
+he spotted the MP. The man waved and gestured.</p>
+
+<p>Stone went limp with
+relief. The soldier had Reva gripped firmly by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>Stone started towards them.</p>
+
+<p>Only then, suddenly, out in the open area in front of
+the building, a civilian gave a startled cry and pointed skyward.</p>
+
+<p>Simultaneously, a high, shrill drone pulsed through
+the night, louder every second.</p>
+
+<p>Stone looked up sharply.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Overhead, pinpoints of light were sweeping down in tight formation,
+converging
+on the Central Project Area. Lower they raced, and lower, wheeling in
+a spiral that would have been the envy of any jet.</p>
+
+<p>Out in the crowd,
+a woman screamed hysterically. A man whirled, sprinting for cover.</p>
+
+<p>In
+an instant, panic swept through the multitude like a living thing.
+Shrieking, bolting, clawing, civilians and soldiers alike fled in all
+directions.</p>
+
+<p>Heart pounding, Stone pressed flat against the building.</p>
+
+<p>Now one of the lights peeled off from the formation. Bullet-fast, it
+lanced towards the spot where Stone stood, so low that it almost seemed
+to skim the ground.</p>
+
+<p>He drew a quick, shallow breath, with the feeling
+that it must surely be his last.</p>
+
+<p>Only then the thing spun into an arc,
+bare yards away from him. For an instant it hovered almost motionless,
+barely three feet in the air, before riding a beam of purple flame
+from its base down to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Stone could see it better now. A
+tripod of tall, thin metal legs supported a blocky central unit that
+vaguely resembled a cake ice-cream cup with a broad lip flaring at the
+top. Light glinted from three eye-like protuberances set close against
+the brim.</p>
+
+<p>While Stone watched, the purple beam that speared down from
+the center of the body unit turned scarlet, then dazzling pink. At
+the same time, two funnel-shaped appendages detached themselves from
+the base and darted out, cobra-like, in either direction along the
+building’s wall on slender tentacles of cable.</p>
+
+<p>Off to Stone’s right,
+a shout rang out. Then a shot.</p>
+
+<p>He turned just in time to glimpse the
+tentacle flick out like a whiplash at the MP who’d captured Reva. Its
+funnel-shaped end struck him in the chest—a blow so violent that even
+Stone could hear it hit.</p>
+
+<p>The man staggered back; sank to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Paying him no heed, the cable flipped high into the air, coiling as
+it rose.</p>
+
+<p>Then, writhing like a living thing, it was descending ... slapping down
+at Reva Adams. Her scream rang wild and ragged. Like one
+possessed, she darted out from the building, blonde hair streaming.</p>
+
+<p>Deftly, the cable-coil shifted, pulling tight even
+as it dropped its loop around her.</p>
+
+<p>Tripping, she plunged to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself, without volition, Stone lunged towards her.
+Unreasoning panic roweled him with razor spurs.</p>
+
+<p>Almost as if timing
+itself to his charge, the cable-tentacle threw another loop around
+the struggling woman, then swept her high into the air above Stone’s
+head just as he reached the spot where she had lain.</p>
+
+<p>Desperately, he
+leaped straight up, clawing for the cable.</p>
+
+<p>Snake-like, it writhed out
+of reach, leaving him to fall back cursing on the gravel.</p>
+
+<p>Now he saw
+the other tentacle’s destination.</p>
+
+<p>And its victim.</p>
+
+<p>It was MacDougal.</p>
+
+<p>The funnel-like cable-end had suckered onto his great chest and dragged
+him bodily out his office window. Now, still at second-story level,
+heedless of his struggles, the line itself twisted and looped about him
+half-a-dozen times, binding him tight.</p>
+
+<p>Simultaneously, the flame-jet
+from the strange robot’s base deepened to its original purple.</p>
+
+<p>As
+the color changed, the weird craft lifted, higher into the air, and
+higher. Already, it had begun to pick up its characteristic spiral
+motion.</p>
+
+<p>In the same instant, the other robots swept down, still in
+their tight formation. The shrill drone of the sound they gave forth
+welled ear-splitting, deafening.</p>
+
+<p>Smoothly, the unit that had landed
+resumed its place within the pattern, its sagging prisoners hugged
+against it.</p>
+
+<p>As one, the robots soared away, out across the encircling
+desert till light and sound alike were swallowed in the night.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">
+    CHAPTER VI
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The moment that followed the flying robots’ departure stretched
+endlessly. Seconds ticked by with Stone barely aware that they were
+passing. He could only stand there in mute, helpless frustration,
+staring up at the sky where the cones had vanished.</p>
+
+<p>Out of the night
+they had come; into that same night they had retreated.</p>
+
+<p>Only there
+was more to it than that.</p>
+
+<p>Because they’d taken Reva and MacDougal
+with them. That, obviously, had been the whole purpose of their raid.</p>
+
+<p>Nor had their victims gone willingly. No one who had seen those
+blanched, fear-stricken faces could believe they had.</p>
+
+<p>No. If there’d been a plot—if Reva had really helped the monsters by
+setting up the transmitter at her project building—then that plot
+had now reversed itself, gone sour.</p>
+
+<p>It was a mad twist—shattering; mind-shaking.</p>
+
+<p>And it forced a whole new orientation.</p>
+
+<p>For Stone, it
+was suddenly more than he could take or grasp. He slumped against the
+wall; buried his face in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Then, from all directions, sound
+rose and swept in and impinged upon him—a hoarse babble of voices that
+echoed overtones of panic.</p>
+
+<p>He let his hands fall; looked up and out.</p>
+
+<p>The teeming mass of humanity crammed into Central Project Area seethed
+like churned water. Shouts of rage rang out ... roars of indignation,
+women’s high-voice protests, the fear-straught cries of frightened
+children.</p>
+
+<p>While Stone watched, the troops drew in to form a tight,
+bayonet-bristling cordon about the Project Building, thrusting the
+civilians back.</p>
+
+<p>Numb, drained, Stone turned from the scene and made his
+way to the main entrance.</p>
+
+<p>A half-track stood drawn up close by it,
+with a lieutenant colonel barking orders into a radiophone. Pausing,
+Stone listened long enough to ascertain that the man was talking to
+the commander of an armored unit on maneuver somewhere out in the
+desert—calling it in to reinforce the troops stationed at the base
+in case of further robot raids or incursions by the monsters.</p>
+
+<p>Chaos, Unlimited.</p>
+
+<p>Shaking his head wearily, Stone went on into the building
+and headed for the first-floor snack bar.</p>
+
+<p>The place was deserted, save
+for a little knot of research men who sat talking animatedly at a table
+beside a blaring radio at the far end of the room.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself,
+Stone’s lips twisted wryly. Leave it to Research. Let Earth itself
+collapse, and its intellectual stalwarts would still forget panic in
+their eagerness to argue the dynamics of the breakup.</p>
+
+<p>The girl at the
+coffee urn gave him a wan smile. “Coffee, Mr. Stone?”</p>
+
+<p>“Jug of black,”
+Stone grunted. “I need something to help me do some thinking.”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Still talking, two of the research men came up behind him while he waited.</p>
+
+<p>“... that confounded tower, that’s what gets me,” the
+first was saying. “With MacDougal gone, what do we do about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then
+what Crawford said’s true? Nobody except MacDougal actually knows the
+purpose of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re so right. I was there when he gave the orders
+on it, a week-and-a-half ago. He was so excited he could hardly keep
+his pants on; but when Grimorski asked him what the idea was, he just
+stuck out his eyebrows and told Grim to mind his own business.”</p>
+
+<p>The second man whistled. “It puts us on a spot, then, doesn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Spot’s
+hardly the name for it. That tower doesn’t tie in with The Project
+at all, except maybe for using some of the big equipment.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl
+at the coffee urn handed Stone his cup and jug. Mechanically, he took
+them, paid her, and stepped back out of the way of the research men.</p>
+
+<p>But his mind was racing, groping. He made no move to find a table.</p>
+
+<p>“One
+with cream and one without,” the second research man told the girl.
+And then, speaking again to his companion: “I was talking to Santos
+about it. He says the only thing he can figure it for is some kind
+of king-size electrolytic cracker. Only it’s too big to make sense,
+and it’d have to work on some off-beat principle that doesn’t tie in
+with accepted theories on ionization.”</p>
+
+<p>“Even if it did, what would the
+monstrosity decompose? The atmosphere?” This from the first man. “No; I
+can’t buy that, Dawes. If you ask me, it doesn’t do anything at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, now, don’t push those snap judgments of yours too far, Quinn.”
+The second man looked half-worried, half-amused. “After all, why would
+MacDougal order the thing built, if it didn’t have some function?”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the obvious answer?” the man called Quinn snorted. “Our base
+director’s cracked, that’s all. The strain got too much for him. He
+saw how things were going on The Project—that it just wasn’t going to
+work out, even if it was his idea and his baby. He simply couldn’t take
+it. So, he compensated by coming up with a new super-secret brainstorm
+that’s as nutty as a Rube Goldberg invention.”</p>
+
+<p>The other research man
+frowned. “You really think so?”</p>
+
+<p>“What else is there to think? Can
+you come up with any other explanation?”</p>
+
+<p>“But MacDougal—damn it,
+Quinn, he’s outstanding, brilliant—”</p>
+
+<p>“The smarter they are, the wider they split. It’s happened before.
+A man stakes his
+career on a job; oversells an idea. Then it falls flat. He sees his
+whole scientific reputation flying out the window. Unless he’s mighty
+stable, the next stop’s Bellevue.”</p>
+
+<p>Cups in hand, the two research
+men started to move away, back to their table.</p>
+
+<p>For the fraction of a
+second, Stone hesitated. Then, abruptly, he stepped forward. “Pardon
+me....”</p>
+
+<p>The pair halted. The first man half-turned. “What—?”</p>
+
+<p>Stone said,
+“I’m Carl Stone. Security. I couldn’t help overhearing—”</p>
+
+<p>The second man
+flinched visibly, slopping his coffee. His thin face paled a trifle.</p>
+
+<p>His companion stood steady. “Go ahead.” His voice was cool, not too
+friendly.</p>
+
+<p>Stone made a placatory gesture. “Believe me, I’m not trying
+to give you trouble. There’ll be no nonsense about reporting anybody,
+no matter what. But some strange things have happened on this base
+lately. I need information—and maybe you two are the ones who can give
+it to me.” He nodded to the nearest table. “How about letting me have
+five minutes, over coffee?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got nothing to hide. What I said’s
+for the record.” The first man stepped to the table, dropped into a
+chair. The second followed, less enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Stone filled his cup
+from the jug and leaned back, hunting for the right words. “You think
+there’s a possibility that The Project’s a failure?” he asked finally.</p>
+
+<p>“Possibility, my eye. It’s a thousand per cent certain.” The first man,
+the one called Quinn, stirred in sugar. “Has been, for nearly a month
+now. But MacDougal won’t give up. Because he doesn’t know it? No; it’s
+because he’s scared to.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone frowned at Dawes. “You agree?”</p>
+
+<p>The man
+stared down into his coffee. “I’m afraid so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why hasn’t it been
+reported—to Washington, I mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s—that’s the base director’s
+responsibility.”</p>
+
+<p>“And this other business? The tower?” Stone spoke
+to Quinn, this time.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve got me there, mister.” The man made a
+business of shrugging. “I’ve screamed loud enough about it, but no
+one would listen. I guess they think griping’s just a habit with me,
+on account of my encephalitis.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone stiffened. “<i>Encephalitis</i>—?”</p>
+
+<p>“A brain disease. I picked it up in the flu epidemic
+of 1918, when I was a kid. Doesn’t bother my thinking, but I’ll admit
+it shortcircuits my disposition sometimes.”</p>
+
+<p>“So—”—with difficulty, Stone
+held his voice level—“so, you didn’t think much of the tower?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s
+right. I didn’t. But everyone else was so hipped on it they wouldn’t
+listen—even Dawes, here, had the bug. For better than a week, they
+all went around acting like it was the hottest thing since blondes
+were invented, and the most important, even when in the next breath
+they’d have to admit they didn’t know what it was supposed to do or
+how it worked. I was the only one in the place who wouldn’t join their
+club. I think they’d have fired me, if they’d had a replacement. As
+it was, the supervisor just swore I was crazy and let it go at that.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see.” Stone gripped his cup between his palms, trying to hide his
+hands’ sudden trembling.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, slowly, the pieces were falling into
+place.</p>
+
+<p>Two weeks ago, more or less, Reva Adams had been assigned to
+research a mysterious project at this base.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly thereafter, the
+transmitter at her building had gone into action.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately, the
+thinking of the entire body of personnel had grown distorted—as witness
+MacDougal’s order to build an apparently useless tower in the face of
+The Project’s alleged failure.</p>
+
+<p>Then he, Carl Stone, had returned—and
+the transmitter hadn’t affected him, save to make him abnormally tense
+and irritable and nervous.</p>
+
+<p>Reva had diagnosed him as an encephalitis victim.</p>
+
+<p>And now, in Quinn, he’d discovered another encephalitic—and
+apparently Quinn’s thinking hadn’t been distorted by the transmitter,
+either! He’d retained his judgment, his ability to analyze and reason,
+in spite of admitted irritability and tension.</p>
+
+<p>In other words, whatever
+else the transmitter might have done, it hadn’t been able to influence
+encephalitic intellects.</p>
+
+<p>Why?</p>
+
+<p>Staring at his cup, Stone pondered.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>There’s tissue damage</i>,” Reva had said, “<i>and, later, of course,
+residual lesions. Ganglion cells and neurons degenerate or disappear</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>That meant that the functioning of the brain was changed, impaired.</p>
+
+<p>The
+transmitter at Reva’s project building pulsed out waves that distorted
+the thinking of normal brains.</p>
+
+<p>But encephalitics didn’t
+have normal brains. The disease destroyed cells, burned out synapses.</p>
+
+<p>So, in them, the transmitter merely heightened tension. Scar tissue
+slashed gaps its impulses couldn’t bridge.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Of a sudden Stone felt
+better than he had in days. This discovery—it was a step forward; a
+long, long step.</p>
+
+<p>The only trouble was, he still had so far to go.</p>
+
+<p>For
+instance, where did the monsters fit into the picture?</p>
+
+<p>The robots?</p>
+
+<p>How
+did they link to the transmitter?</p>
+
+<p>And—the thought came in spite of all
+his efforts to shut it out—to Reva?</p>
+
+<p>Because there <i>was</i> a link. There had
+to be. The problem was only to establish the chain of logic.</p>
+
+<p>He took
+another sip of coffee; spoke as much to himself as to his companions:
+“First, I smashed the transmitter. Then, the monsters came—”</p>
+
+<p>“The
+monsters—?” The thinfaced Dawes hunched forward eagerly, seeming glad
+for the sudden change of subject. “I haven’t heard anything about
+a transmitter. But these monsters—now there’s something I can get
+my teeth in!”</p>
+
+<p>“You can have ’em,” Quinn grunted sourly. “Me, I
+wouldn’t get my teeth in a monster if I was starving.”</p>
+
+<p>“No kidding,
+Quinn! I just wish I’d have seen one!” Dawes’ brown eyes sparkled.
+“They’re aliens, obviously—extraterrestrials from some other planet.
+Also, they’ve mastered space travel—which means they’re superior to
+humans, no matter what they look like. Look how they handled the
+business with the robots—kidnapping our base director as a hostage,
+along with a psychiatrist to give ’em a hand at figuring out our mental
+mechanisms. Personally, I don’t think there’d have been any trouble
+with them whatever, if people hadn’t panicked. But when those women
+out in the prefabs saw ’em—all tentacles and whatnot—everybody stopped
+thinking. The troops didn’t do any good, either. The aliens didn’t have
+any choice but to fight back, once the lead started flying....”</p>
+
+<p>The
+monsters. The tentacles.</p>
+
+<p>The dead woman. Glines. Bjornberg.</p>
+
+<p>Without
+avail, Stone tried to black out the picture. In spite of himself,
+he shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>He knew, then, that for him there could never be any
+compromise with the strange creatures. No matter what he should learn,
+regardless of any answers the future might uncover, he could never hope
+to throw off his horror. His memories were too
+black, too bitter.</p>
+
+<p>Dawes was still talking: “... and I wonder how many
+of us have ever stopped to consider the functional aspects of multiple
+tentacles. Just think how handy it’d be to have suction cups on the
+ends of your fingers! It’s as great an evolutionary development as
+the thumb! And there’s the business of having the tentacles on both
+ends of the body, too—your feet get tired, so you turn upside down
+and walk on the other end. The stripe around the middle is probably a
+sensor band—a continuous nerve unit that sees, hears, tastes, smells;
+that is, assuming they have our senses. Or maybe they ingest their
+food from the air, by osmosis, the way a frog does water—”</p>
+
+<p>The flow of
+words showed no signs of stopping. All at once, Stone could take no
+more. He had to be alone, to think.</p>
+
+<p>Abruptly, he rose. “Quinn—Dawes—I
+want to thank you both,” he interrupted. “You’ve been a big help—more
+than you know.”</p>
+
+<p>He started to turn.</p>
+
+<p>As he did so, the blaring radio
+down by the other occupied table went into a sudden, crackling spasm,
+then fell silent.</p>
+
+<p>A coffee-drinker rose, reached for the dials.</p>
+
+<p>But
+before he could touch them, the radio blared again. A voice spoke—a
+strange, metallic voice like none that Stone had ever heard:</p>
+
+<p>“Base!
+Development base called Las Crescentes! I speaking to you!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone went rigid. Chairs scraped at the other table.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, Base! I speaking!”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The man who had risen from the far table twisted the volume dial.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, Base! Listen, Base! Listen, Base....” The level of the
+strange voice stayed constant.</p>
+
+<p>The man moved the selector.</p>
+
+<p>The voice came in on all bands.</p>
+
+<p>The man stumbled back, white-faced and shaking.</p>
+
+<p>An icy finger ran up and down Stone’s spine.</p>
+
+<p>The clanging, harsh,
+metallic voice went on: “Listen, Base! I here at World Earth from world
+you not know. I get element you call krypton. Must have. Take out you
+air. Not hurt.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone groped. “Krypton—?”</p>
+
+<p>Quinn speaking: “Inert gas,
+one part in six or seven hundred thousand in normal atmosphere.”</p>
+
+<p>The
+voice again: “Must have! Take! You help, I not hurt.”</p>
+
+<p>“Aliens!” Dawes’
+nails scraped the table. “I was right! I was right!”</p>
+
+<p>The voice: “Tower take. You run. Must have!”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Tower take’?” Quinn’s
+eyes narrowed. “My God! You don’t suppose—”</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, Base—!”</p>
+
+<p>A pause.</p>
+
+<p>Then, a new voice on the speaker, deep and familiar. MacDougal’s voice,
+thick with tension.</p>
+
+<p>“John MacDougal speaking.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone gripped the back
+of his chair so hard his knuckles ached.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal: “As you’ve probably
+guessed, our visitors tonight are from—elsewhere. Another planet. Maybe
+even another solar system. I’m not quite sure. There’s a problem in
+communication. They don’t have anything like what we’d term normal
+speech apparatus. They’d tried to get around it with the mechanical
+substitute you just heard, but it’s pretty limited.”</p>
+
+<p>A pause, vibrant with nerve-shattering silence.</p>
+
+<p>“Anyhow, they want krypton. Why, I don’t
+know. They just keep saying ‘Must have!’”</p>
+
+<p>Another pause, longer this
+time.</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s muscles were knotting.</p>
+
+<p>“This krypton—we’re to get it for
+them.” MacDougal sounded old and frightened now. “They’ve even equipped
+us to do the job. It seems they’ve—been around quite a while. A couple
+of weeks, anyhow. So they did a little mind control work on one of
+our people, Doctor Reva Adams. Again, I don’t quite know how; probably
+they’re telepaths—maybe that’s how they communicate with each other.
+In any case, they maneuvered things so she set up a transmitter that
+induced what amounted to a mild paranoia in all base personnel.” A
+short laugh, more panic than mirth. “Including me, the base director....”</p>
+
+<p>With an effort, Stone twisted the chair about and sat down. Within him,
+the tension kept climbing. If it went on—wildly, he wondered if a man
+could feel his own sanity slipping away....</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal again, sounding
+more like himself this time: “Sorry, friends. I’m all right, and so
+is Doctor Adams. Just chalk up any breaks I make to nerves....” He
+spoke less jerkily now. His voice came through the radio’s amplifier
+strong and steady.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Stone’s tension ebbed a fraction. He leaned forward,
+concentrating on the base director’s every word:</p>
+
+<p>“... I spoke of
+paranoia. As you may know, the disorder’s marked by systematized
+delusions and hallucinations. In my own case, these centered on a
+conviction that I’d developed a new and revolutionary approach to The
+Project. Backing it up, I ordered construction of
+the equipment that now occupies the tower on top of the Central Project
+Building. In turn, the rest of you fell into a pattern that blocked
+off any questioning of my judgment, and built up resistance—extreme
+hostility, in fact—to any thought or suggestion that might threaten the
+work or the aliens.</p>
+
+<p>“Actually, of course, my ‘new development’ had
+nothing whatever to do with The Project. On the contrary. The only
+function the device has is to extract krypton from the atmosphere
+as fast and efficiently as possible. How it works, I can’t say; the
+design’s so different from anything we know that I’m inclined to think
+it’s based on scientific principles completely outside our experience.</p>
+
+<p>“Some of you may wonder why these aliens picked our base as a place
+to set up their operation. Apparently there were two reasons: First,
+The Project involved materials and a good deal of hard-to-fabricate
+equipment that they needed for their krypton extraction process.
+Second, Las Crescentes is isolated. Their mind-control transmitter
+blanketed us without overlapping into any other inhabited areas, so
+they didn’t have to worry about outside interference.</p>
+
+<p>“That brings
+up another point: These creatures have a wave-shielding device that
+tops anything we know. That’s how they cut in on your radios with
+this broadcast. It also blocks off your transmitters and telephone
+equipment, so don’t waste time trying to get outside help.</p>
+
+<p>“Getting
+back to the other aspects of the situation, this is the way it stacks
+up: If everything had gone according to plan, we’d have finished the
+extraction unit in the tower, drained Earth’s atmosphere of krypton,
+and delivered it to these aliens. Probably we wouldn’t even have
+realized what we’d done till after they’d left the planet.</p>
+
+<p>“Fortunately
+or unfortunately, though, something went wrong. One of our base
+security men, Carl Stone, was in Washington when these creatures moved
+in. Last night he got back. For some reason neither the aliens nor I
+can quite figure out, the paranoia transmitter didn’t affect him. He
+recognized that something was wrong on the base, and he wouldn’t be
+pressured into letting it slide. In less time than seems possible, he
+located the transmitter and smashed it.</p>
+
+<p>“The moment the transmitter
+went off, the aliens knew something was wrong. They moved in on the
+base.</p>
+
+<p>“Our troops stopped that, fast. The aliens saw they’d have to
+fight a pitched battle to take over. They drew back
+instead. Maybe they’re humanitarians. Or maybe they were afraid the
+tower might be wrecked if shooting started. I don’t know.</p>
+
+<p>“Anyhow, they sent the flying robots
+for Doctor Adams and me. We’re hostage-interpreters, I gather.</p>
+
+<p>“That
+brings up the reason I’m talking. I’m supposed to tell you what they
+want you to do.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s simple enough: Just finish the krypton extractor
+according to plan just as fast as possible—they figure twenty-four
+hours ought to do the job.</p>
+
+<p>“Then, put it into operation. They’ll supply
+cylinders to store the krypton.</p>
+
+<p>“Once it’s aboard their ship, they’ll
+turn Doctor Adams and me loose and be on their way to wherever they’re
+going.</p>
+
+<p>“They want me to hit it hard that this won’t cost us anything.
+To us, krypton’s just an inert gas with no practical value. To them,
+for some reason, it’s vital. They say they’ll even pay us off for it
+by giving us whatever scraps of scientific information they’ve got
+that we’re capable of absorbing.</p>
+
+<p>“On the other hand—”—now MacDougal’s
+voice developed the faintest of tremors—“if we don’t go along a hundred
+per cent, they promise immediate, utter and complete destruction of
+the base, and extermination of all personnel—after which, they’ll pick
+another site for their plant and try again.”</p>
+
+<p>The base director paused,
+then; hesitated, fumbled while the silence echoed.</p>
+
+<p>In the snack bar,
+tension climbed and eddied like a thermal updraft. Stone could hear the
+harsh rasp of his companions’ breathing.</p>
+
+<p>For his own part, he dared not
+even suck in air, for fear his self-control would crack.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess that’s
+all,” MacDougal said at last. Again, as at the beginning, his voice
+suddenly sounded old and frightened. “I’m in no position to try to
+influence your decision. I don’t have the right to tell you what to do,
+or how to do it. Make up your own minds and—and good luck—”</p>
+
+<p>He broke
+off. Once more, the silence echoed.</p>
+
+<p>Then, like a thunder-clap, the
+alien’s clanging, metallic voice cut in—harsh, savage: “Listen, Base! I
+speaking! Get krypton! Must have!</p>
+
+<p>“Get krypton—or die!”</p>
+
+<p>The radio went dead....</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">
+    CHAPTER VII
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Fear stalked the base. It hung in the air ... seeped
+through the hush ... showed in trembling hands
+and on strained faces.</p>
+
+<p>Stone felt it, too. Fear and something else.</p>
+
+<p>Something that crawled and gnawed and ached within him. Something that
+reached out spidery tendrils to the farthest cell of his very being.</p>
+
+<p>It came out in a name, pulsing in his brain: Reva ... Reva ... Reva....</p>
+
+<p>He paced the night, hour after hour. But nowhere, nohow, could he
+escape her. Misty and wraithlike, her face swayed before him. The soft
+curve of her cheek, the scent of her hair, the taste of her lips—they
+wouldn’t leave him alone.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were the worst: Gentle grey eyes,
+imploring....</p>
+
+<p>He cursed aloud in the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>Only there was nothing
+he could do. Nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Seething, he sought out the headquarters.</p>
+
+<p>A
+young captain looked up as he entered.</p>
+
+<p>Stone said, “Well? What’s the decision?”</p>
+
+<p>“Decision?” The officer shrugged. “We’re still waiting. That
+tank unit’s coming. We got through to it before the bugs clamped down
+their wave-shield.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Doctor Adams—MacDougal—”</p>
+
+<p>“The base comes first.
+We can’t risk it—not just for two prisoners.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone choked harsh words
+off unspoken. Pivoting, he strode back out into the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>A whole
+base, versus two prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>Calculated risk, and the greatest good of the greatest number.</p>
+
+<p>The commandant’s attitude made sense. Of course
+it did.</p>
+
+<p>Except for one thing:</p>
+
+<p>One of the prisoners was Reva.</p>
+
+<p>Only that
+was individual, personal, a pain deep inside him. The commandant didn’t
+know about that. And even if he did, he couldn’t afford to let it
+matter.</p>
+
+<p>The answer? Stone scuffed at the gravel. That was the trouble:
+There just wasn’t any answer.</p>
+
+<p>Or was there?</p>
+
+<p>Suppose you reversed the
+equation, turned the figures upside down.</p>
+
+<p>The commandant saw two lives
+against thousands. That was his duty.</p>
+
+<p>But for him, Carl Stone, it was
+different. He had one life; that was all.</p>
+
+<p>One life, to gamble for two.
+His own neck to risk, on the off chance that he might save MacDougal
+and Reva.</p>
+
+<p>It was a good thought. It made the odds look different.</p>
+
+<p>Stone
+laughed abruptly. Who was he kidding? The odds didn’t
+matter, nor even MacDougal. Reva was the one who counted, and Reva
+only.</p>
+
+<p>Because he loved her. In spite of everything, he loved her.</p>
+
+<p>It was decision.</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s breathing quickened. All at once he felt alive
+again, no longer numb or bowed down. The years, the bitterness, the
+heartbreak—like shackles struck off, as one they fell away. Cool,
+purposeful, his stride firm, he struck out towards the Central Project
+Area’s main gate.</p>
+
+<p>The weary guards waved him by on the strength of his
+security pass. Beyond the last barrier, then, he broke into a dogtrot
+and stayed with it all the way to the administration building lot where
+his car was parked.</p>
+
+<p>One brief detour, to his quarters to pick up a
+thirty-eight. Then out onto the highway, heading east towards the spot
+where he’d watched the woman die.</p>
+
+<p>The sky was greying now, along the
+horizon far ahead; another day aborning, out of the chill shadows of a
+desert dawn.</p>
+
+<p>Bleakly, Stone wondered if he’d live to see it end.</p>
+
+<p>Then
+tire-churned gravel marked the turn-off point. Slowing to low gear,
+Stone wrenched the steering wheel around and bumped off the road, out
+across the shoulder into the open desert.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The trail the woman had
+left proved surprisingly easy to follow, still—a broken creosote bush
+here, kicked-over clumps of fishhook cactus there, ground shoe-scraped
+in between.</p>
+
+<p>The tracks pointed to a high, rocky tableland perhaps three
+miles back from the road.</p>
+
+<p>What was it the dying woman had said—“robots
+beyond the mesa”—?</p>
+
+<p>The back of Stone’s neck prickled.</p>
+
+<p>His car gave out
+less than three-quarters of a mile from the road, ambushed by rocks and
+a mesquite tree.</p>
+
+<p>Stolidly, Stone abandoned it and set out on foot. The
+trail, at first so clear, had vanished now, so he set his course for
+the mesa and hoped for the best.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, the sun edged up. The day
+began to warm.</p>
+
+<p>Stone plodded on, dodging cactus and keeping a sharp eye
+out for snakes.</p>
+
+<p>He was nearly to the hill when he heard the helicopter.
+Before he could find a place to hide, it was hovering directly overhead ... settling
+slowly, rotor whishing.</p>
+
+<p>Hastily, Stone slid his gun out of
+sight beneath his coat and stood waiting.</p>
+
+<p>Landing
+on a nearby patch of open ground, the
+whirlybird’s pilot threw open the
+door. “Hey, you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes?” Stone picked
+his way toward the craft. “What is it?”</p>
+
+<p>The pilot scowled. “You’re out
+of bounds. I got orders to come out and pick you up. The CO’s taking no
+chances of getting those bugs stirred up till he knows just where we
+stand.”</p>
+
+<p>“I might have known that gateguard would say something about
+me.” Stone managed a rueful smile. “Well, so goes it....”</p>
+
+<p>He clambered
+into the helicopter not even protesting; closed the door. The pilot
+manipulated the controls. The engine roared. Slowly, the ’copter
+rose, straight up into the air.</p>
+
+<p>Stone reached beneath his coat. Not
+even bothering to speak, he brought out the thirty-eight and leveled
+it at the other’s side.</p>
+
+<p>“Hey!” The pilot stiffened. “Put that thing
+away. You want to get into trouble?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m already in it, friend,”
+Stone said gently. “I might as well go whole hog.” He gestured with
+the revolver’s muzzle. “Let’s have a look on the other side of that
+mesa.”</p>
+
+<p>Muttering, the pilot sent the helicopter higher.</p>
+
+<p>Only then,
+before they had more than reached the edge of the tableland, a sound
+bore in upon them ... a high, shrill, droning sound....</p>
+
+<p>It was Stone’s turn to stiffen. Swiveling in
+his seat, he peered out, searching.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond the mesa, a flight of the
+flying robots climbed into view in a swift, tight spiral, swirling up
+and around straight into the morning sun.</p>
+
+<p>Simultaneously, the pilot
+exclaimed, “Look—! The tanks!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone strained his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Far off in the
+eastern desert, tiny beetle-like vehicles ground slowly towards them,
+churning up long streamers of dust. A distant sound of firing, heavy
+guns, echoed on the morning breeze.</p>
+
+<p>In the same instant, the first of
+the tanks lurched from its path. The distance was too great for Stone
+to tell just what had happened. He only knew that the armored titan
+was veering, jerking, rolling over.</p>
+
+<p>A fraction of a second later it
+disappeared in a spurting, concussive burst of flame.</p>
+
+<p>Now beyond it,
+a second vehicle was in trouble. A third.</p>
+
+<p>The fourth exploded like a
+gigantic exclamation point of fire.</p>
+
+<p>From then on, the battle turned
+into a rout.</p>
+
+<p>With no survivors.</p>
+
+<p>Sickness twisted at
+Stone’s belly. Fighting it down, he swung back to the pilot. “I won’t
+risk your neck, lieutenant. Land me on the mesa, and be on your way.”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Wordless, the pilot shifted the whirlybird’s controls, setting the
+’copter down on a rocky plateau.</p>
+
+<p>“If your CO bawls you out, remind him
+I had a gun,” Stone said. He opened the door; jumped to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The helicopter was rising again almost before he could turn.</p>
+
+<p>But not for long.</p>
+
+<p>Because suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, half-a-dozen
+flying robots swooped down.</p>
+
+<p>Stone never could be sure that the pilot
+even saw them. They came that fast.</p>
+
+<p>As they passed over the ’copter,
+the one in the lead dipped slightly.</p>
+
+<p>A tentacle speared out, whipped
+round; stabbed into the blur of spinning rotor blades.</p>
+
+<p>Then it caught,
+with a jerk so violent that the robot spun from its course, too fast
+for the eye to follow.</p>
+
+<p>But only for a moment. Then, bobber-like, it
+came into balance again, the rotor still dangling from the tentacle.</p>
+
+<p>Like a crippled bird, the helicopter plunged earthward ... struck with
+a rending crash ... shattered into flames.</p>
+
+<p>Shuddering, Stone crouched
+motionless in the shadow of a boulder.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, incredibly, the robots gave
+no sign that they sensed his presence. A moment later they were gone.</p>
+
+<p>Tight-lipped, Stone left his haven and trudged on across the mesa. A
+mile. Two.</p>
+
+<p>Then, abruptly, the tableland fell away before him. Dropping
+flat on his belly by the rim, he stared down in grim fascination into
+the canyon below; for there, surely, lay one of the strangest things
+the eyes of man had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sphere—a shining gigantic metal
+ball, fully three hundred feet in diameter, if Stone could judge.
+No lines or ports or crevices marred its gleaming surface. Nowhere
+about it could he see any sign of life.</p>
+
+<p>Quickly he drew back from the
+rim, well out of view of the sphere. Then, rising, he strode left,
+following the mesa’s edge till he came to a spot where the eroded lip
+cut back enough to hide him from the globe-shaped craft.</p>
+
+<p>Slipping and
+falling, bruising and tearing, he descended to the canyon’s floor,
+then made his way back towards the sphere.</p>
+
+<p>Here, studying it at a lower level from a hidden vantage-point amid
+the talus, he gained a better, clearer
+picture. Three stubby legs gave the globe balance on the uneven bedrock
+of the canyon floor. A broad, inclined ramp led to a slot-like belly
+hatch. Of monsters or robots he could see no trace.</p>
+
+<p>Stone sucked in
+air—a long, deep breath. This was the thing he’d sought, the aliens’
+ship; and now he’d found it.</p>
+
+<p>To what avail?</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere in its maw, by
+all odds, lay Reva and MacDougal. Yet what could he do about it? How
+could he, alone and armed only with his Smith &amp; Wesson, hope to invade
+it or to save them?</p>
+
+<p>But he’d known the odds before he started—and
+he’d still come. Logic and hazard simply had no bearing.</p>
+
+<p>Surging up,
+gun in hand, he moved warily forward, hugging the mesa wall.</p>
+
+<p>Now he
+came abreast the sphere. The ramp to the belly hatch beckoned, smooth
+and inviting.</p>
+
+<p>Inviting as madness.</p>
+
+<p>A nervous spasm knotted Stone’s
+belly. When it had passed, he stepped out from the wall, moved forward,
+cat-footed, towards the ramp.</p>
+
+<p>Still nothing happened.</p>
+
+<p>Going around the
+edge of the ramp, he peered up through the open hatch, into the sphere-ship.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The interior shone with a
+dim, greenish glow. Overhead loomed a bulwark. He could see nothing
+more. The stillness was deafening, unbroken save by the whisper of the
+desert breeze far above.</p>
+
+<p>A new chill shook him.</p>
+
+<p>He might have turned back, then. He almost did.</p>
+
+<p>But in that same moment, as he started
+to draw away, a voice echoed thinly deep in the globe-craft. Reva’s
+voice, ragged and strain-straught.</p>
+
+<p>It caught Stone like a magnet. His
+doubts fell forgotten. Soundlessly, he swung up onto the ramp ... crept
+shadow-silent on into the hatchway.</p>
+
+<p>A corridor yawned, dim in the
+ghostly green glow. Hardly daring to breathe, Stone sidled along it
+past doors, littered chambers.</p>
+
+<p>It ended at a tube-like, vertical shaft
+set off by a guard-rail.</p>
+
+<p>The ship’s axis, probably.</p>
+
+<p>Stone strained his
+ears, listening. Again Reva’s voice came—louder, this time; vibrating
+down the shaft.</p>
+
+<p>Swinging out over the guard-rail, Stone peered upward.</p>
+
+<p>The shaft was smooth as glass—without hand-holds or bracing.</p>
+
+<p>He dropped
+back to the corridor floor.</p>
+
+<p>A closed double door to his left, next to the shaft, tempted him. He
+stepped towards it.</p>
+
+<p>Like magic, it parted before him, silent as death. A steep ramp curved to
+the right, following the tube-shaft.</p>
+
+<p>Finger tense on the thirty-eight’s
+trigger, he moved up it, higher and higher.</p>
+
+<p>Each ninety degrees arced
+brought a new door, a new level. When he approached them, they opened;
+when they opened he listened. And each time, Reva’s voice sounded
+closer.</p>
+
+<p>He could hear MacDougal, too, now, on occasion, speaking in
+rumbles. The very nearness brought sweat oozing. A dozen times he had
+to switch the gun from one hand to the other to scrub his palms dry of
+slickness.</p>
+
+<p>Another level. Another. Another.</p>
+
+<p><i>The level</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Tension drew a band tight over his chest—compressing, constricting. His neck
+ached. His blood pounded.</p>
+
+<p>Jaws tight, gun-hand rigid, he moved down
+the passage.</p>
+
+<p>A doorway. An open doorway, flooding out brighter, whiter
+light.</p>
+
+<p>Back to the wall, Stone edged to it ... stared into the room
+it revealed.</p>
+
+<p>Reva sat on a low, curving divan across from MacDougal.
+Her pale face showed deep strain-lines; her hands twisted,
+white-knuckled.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal’s whole body sagged limp and exhausted.
+The shaggy brows stood out over eyes deep-sunk in dark hollows. His
+right arm hung in a sling.</p>
+
+<p>Stone swayed for a moment, not daring to
+think, then slid forward—taut, noiseless.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal’s head twitched.
+His eyes flicked towards the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>“Quiet—!” Stone shook as he
+whispered. “For God’s sake, be quiet!”</p>
+
+<p>Reva, MacDougal—they both
+jerked like puppets.</p>
+
+<p>Stone hissed, “This way—quick!”</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal’s jowls
+quivered. His left hand gripped the divan as he heaved up from it.</p>
+
+<p>Eyes distended, breasts rising and falling too fast, Reva followed.</p>
+
+<p>Stone stepped back.</p>
+
+<p>The tentacles folded round him, then.</p>
+
+<p>He triggered his gun by
+sheer reflex.</p>
+
+<p>The thirty-eight roared—wild, aimless. The bullet rang,
+bouncing off metal.</p>
+
+<p>The tentacles only drew relentlessly tighter. One
+slapped at the gun, tore it loose from his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Another looped
+round his throat. It was like a nightmare—a mad repetition of that
+blood-curdling moment outside Reva’s
+building.</p>
+
+<p>The tentacle drew tighter. Stone’s lungs exploded.</p>
+
+<p>The blackness closed in....</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">
+    CHAPTER VIII
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The man beside Stone kept talking, talking:</p>
+
+<p>“They let you get all the way in before they grabbed you,
+didn’t they? They like it like that—to lead you on, coax you, let you
+think you’re going to win before they kill you. That’s how they played
+it with me. And my wife. Did I tell you about her? They let her run
+and run, clear across the mesa. All the way down to the highway. Only
+then a car stopped, so they grabbed her and killed her. They told me
+about it. They thought it was the best joke ever....”</p>
+
+<p>Stone tried to sit
+up, to focus on the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>He fell instead, retching.</p>
+
+<p>The man said,
+“Don’t worry. You’re not really hurt. It’s just those damn tentacles,
+those snake-things they use for arms. They choke you, and tear you,
+and scare you so you get sick just thinking about ’em. I know. I had
+it, that night on the mesa.”</p>
+
+<p>“You—”—Stone half-choked—“—you ... saw robots?”</p>
+
+<p>“Robots—?” A quavering laugh. “Sure, I saw robots. Robots
+on the mesa. That’s how it all started. Ellen and I—we didn’t know
+it was a government reservation. We were out for some fun. Some fun!
+Prospecting, believe it or not—prospecting for uranium with a home-made
+Geiger. Just a fool high-school science teacher and his wife, out on
+vacation. Only then we got up on the mesa, and I saw the robots. Ellen
+was scared, but I said, Let’s get closer. So they saw us—the squids,
+here. Caught me. Killed Ellen. Poor Ellen....”</p>
+
+<p>The man’s shoulders
+shook. Then jerked, harder and harder. Anguished sounds came from
+his throat in dry, racking spasms. “Poor Ellen—”</p>
+
+<p>Stone fought his own
+stomach; won, lurched up, still panting. Slowly, his vision cleared.</p>
+
+<p>Beside him, the stranger sobbed more wildly. He no longer seemed
+even aware of Stone’s presence. “Why’d they have to leave me, Ellen?
+Why didn’t they kill me, too? That’s what I wanted. But no, they had
+to have someone to go out in the sun. They can’t stand the sun, can
+they, Ellen? Oh—Ellen—!”</p>
+
+<p>His voice rose to a shriek. His face came up
+into the light—cheeks and chin stubble-matted, eyes wild and staring.</p>
+
+<p>With an effort, Stone reached out and caught one jerking shoulder.
+Savagely, he slapped the man’s face, palm and backhand.</p>
+
+<p>The racking sobs slowed. Wonderingly, the man slumped to the floor,
+rubbing his cheek. “You—you hit me....” No anger rang in his words—only
+baffled incredulity, the puzzlement of a hurt child. His eyes stayed
+wide open, appallingly empty.</p>
+
+<p>Pain under his breastbone, Stone said,
+“Sorry, friend. You were going to pieces. You’ve got to get steady or
+you won’t last long, here or elsewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“Last long? Last long?” The
+other fondled the words. “Who’s going to last long, once the squids get
+their krypton?” A wild giggle. “You know about krypton? Did they tell
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>Stone felt himself stiffen.</p>
+
+<p>“What about krypton?”</p>
+
+<p>“Must have!”
+Again, the man giggled. “Can’t run a spaceship without any krypton.
+Can’t fly the robots. Can’t even blast a little ole Earth city.
+‘Krypton! Must have!’ They’ll get it, too. From that base. It’s already
+surrendered. The people were scared, just like we are. Especially
+after what happened to the tanks. So the whole base surrendered and
+started working on that extractor, the krypton extractor. They’ll have
+it finished by tomorrow morning. Then the squids’ll get their krypton.
+And they’ll keep their promise too—not hurt anybody, leave right
+after they get it. They all say so. That’ll be the best joke of all—a
+whole world doing a pratfall right into hell. The squids’ll laugh and
+laugh and laugh, all the way back to Arcturus Four, or Betelgeuse, or
+wherever it is they come from. Except they can’t go back. Not really.
+They’re outlaws, you know, running away from their own species. That’s
+how they happened to get this far from their source of krypton.
+‘Krypton! Must have!’ Can’t run a space ship without that vital
+krypton—”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The stiffness in Stone had turned to sudden chill. He caught
+the babbling man’s shirtfront; shook him roughly. “Run that through
+again, ... the part about the joke, the world doing a pratfall!”</p>
+
+<p>A
+vacuous smile. “You really don’t know? You don’t know about krypton? I
+thought only fool high-school science teachers didn’t know. And Ellen.
+Poor Ellen—”</p>
+
+<p>“The krypton! What about the krypton?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a gas, that’s
+all. An inert gas. About two parts to a million of air. It’s not worth
+anything. Nobody wants krypton. Nobody but the squids. Who cares about
+a little ole catalyst?”</p>
+
+<p>“A catalyst—?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure. Doesn’t
+do anything itself; just changes the rate of a reaction. Try to light
+dry phosphorus, what happens? Nothing. Dampen the air a little, it
+burns like a house afire. Water’s the catalyst. Atmosphere’s the same
+way. Mix oxygen and nitrogen and everything else but krypton—it just
+dissipates, leaks away into space. Shoot in two parts of krypton to a
+million, it holds together like a sack around ole Mother Earth. That’s
+why there’s no breathable atmosphere on so many planets. No krypton. Do
+we know that? No. But the squids know it. That’s why they’re laughing.
+Why should they waste time blasting us? Soon’s they get our krypton,
+our atmosphere thins away—<i>poof!</i> like that—and we all drop dead. The
+squids don’t care; they don’t breathe air like we do. It’s the best
+joke they’ve had since they blew up Vega Seven....”</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s legs were
+suddenly too weak to hold him. His companion’s continuing compulsive
+word-flood echoed unheeded.</p>
+
+<p><i>The whole world doing a pratfall into hell.</i></p>
+
+<p>Stone’s flesh crawled. The poor, tortured creature beside him had
+phrased it too well. It turned a man’s mind off, froze his brain ... left
+him clutching in free fall without strength even to shudder.</p>
+
+<p>Yet there was nothing he could do—nothing, nothing. Not here, sealed
+in this green-glowing, metal walled room with a madman for company.</p>
+
+<p>A madman—? There’d be two of them soon. Two lunatics, giggling and
+babbling as the atmosphere thinned and they slowly strangled.</p>
+
+<p>Or would
+you strangle? Maybe, with the pressure change, your lungs would burst
+first....</p>
+
+<p>Stone surged to his feet in a spasm of frenzy. Savagely, he
+hurled himself at the door—beating it, tearing at the crack with his
+fingers till the nails broke and blood streamed, weird in the green
+glow.</p>
+
+<p>His companion stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re hurting your
+hands. Is something the matter?”</p>
+
+<p>“The matter—?” Stone shook with fury,
+frustration. “No, nothing’s the matter. The base has surrendered. The
+monsters get our krypton. Our air leaks away. The whole planet dies.
+Everything’s fine—fine....”</p>
+
+<p>He broke off, unable to go on.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh....” The
+other sounded hurt, plaintive. Then: “Well, why don’t you stop it?
+Call the base. Have them blow up the extractor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call—the—base—?”
+Stone stopped breathing.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. The machine’s in a room
+right down the hall, here.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone choked back his tension ... spoke gently,
+soothingly: “Our door’s locked.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that.” His companion giggled.
+“Leave that to me. I’ll get us out of here.”</p>
+
+<p>Already, he was scrambling
+to his feet; stripping off his shirt.</p>
+
+<p>“But if you can get out....” Stone groped.</p>
+
+<p>“It takes two.” Tearing the ragged shirt into broad strips,
+the man hummed a fragment of tune. “I thought it all out. If I’d had
+Ellen with me—I can run the machine, too. I watched them do it. It’s
+very clever. Sets up a force field, distorts radio waves. Using energy
+derived from krypton, of course. Always krypton. ‘Must have!’” He broke
+off. “I’ll need your shirt, too, please. And your jacket. Got to have
+cloth. Lots of cloth....”</p>
+
+<p>Wordless, Stone turned over his garments.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Deftly, the man ripped them into more of the broad strips ... tied the
+strips together in a long, rope-like band perhaps six inches wide.
+He’d stopped talking now. An occasional mirthless chuckle replaced
+his giggling.</p>
+
+<p>The job done, he handed Stone one end of the strip.
+“Now stand here, please. Right beside the door. That’s all you need
+to do. Just stand there, and hold onto the cloth. I’ll take care of
+everything else. Just you wait and see....”</p>
+
+<p>He kicked off a shoe; hammered
+the edge of the sole on the door.</p>
+
+<p>It made a dull, clanging noise.
+“They don’t like this. It’ll get our door open. Just you wait—”</p>
+
+<p>Stone
+waited—sweating, staring numbly.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fine way to end up—playing
+games with a madman.</p>
+
+<p>Only he had no choice.</p>
+
+<p>The next instant, the
+door burst open. Tentacles vibrating furiously, one of the aliens
+swept into the room.</p>
+
+<p>The man with Stone stepped back lithely, dodging
+the creature. The wide, vacant eyes shone bright, now; teeth showed
+clenched behind the empty smile.</p>
+
+<p>The alien surged towards him.</p>
+
+<p>Again,
+the man leaped back, the cloth strip coiled loose between his hands.</p>
+
+<p>The alien reached for him.</p>
+
+<p>But instead of retreating, the man darted
+in close. Deftly, as a matador swirling his cape past a charging bull,
+he slapped the cloth strip over the monster’s scarlet sensor band.</p>
+
+<p>The rope snapped tight in Stone’s hands as the alien
+lurched against it, then tried to draw back.</p>
+
+<p>But the man would not let
+it. Racing round it, he whipped the fabric strip tight into place,
+completely covering the creature’s narrow scarlet girdle.</p>
+
+<p>Heedless of
+tentacles, Stone leaped to join him. The cloth reached three times
+around the monster’s midriff. The alien reeled blindly—groping,
+uncertain. Its tentacles’ movements seemed mostly directed at tearing
+free the fabric. When a disc caught Stone’s shoulder, he jerked it
+loose with no skin loss.</p>
+
+<p>“Come on!” This from the madman. “Quick! This
+way! Hurry!”</p>
+
+<p>Stumbling through the doorway, Stone sprinted down the
+corridor after him.</p>
+
+<p>Now another door loomed, close by the tube-shaft.
+“Here!”</p>
+
+<p>Stone threw himself at it.</p>
+
+<p>It burst open under his impact. He
+crashed to the floor of the chamber beyond, barely glimpsing a mass
+of equipment as he fell.</p>
+
+<p>Equipment—and another alien.</p>
+
+<p>The thing flung
+itself on Stone, its tentacles twining.</p>
+
+<p>Savagely, he twisted; drove his
+heels up with all his strength, straight at the monster’s sensor band.</p>
+
+<p>The alien rocked back.</p>
+
+<p>Stone leaped up. Then, head low, he charged in,
+smashing the monster back into the doorway by sheer bull strength and
+violence.</p>
+
+<p>Another charge-butting; fists slamming.</p>
+
+<p>The alien hit the
+guard-rail encircling the tube-shaft.</p>
+
+<p>Stone glimpsed blurring motion:
+His fellow-prisoner, diving in low and bear-hugging tentacles. Through
+his red haze of fury, it came to Stone dimly that the other’s last
+shred of sanity must have departed.</p>
+
+<p>Only then, of a sudden, the man was
+surging up, jerking.</p>
+
+<p>The knee-leverage tore the alien’s lower tentacles
+loose from the floor. With a heave, the man flipped the creature over
+the rail.</p>
+
+<p>It plummeted down the tube-shaft.</p>
+
+<p>“Two hundred feet!” Stone’s
+companion cried shrilly. “Listen! It may spatter—!”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Nausea writhed in
+Stone. He caught the other about the waist; dragged him bodily back
+into the room—up to the equipment.</p>
+
+<p>“Quick! How do I work this?”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t
+worry. It’s easy.” The man tugged at a smooth, round shaft of metal. A
+faint humming sound rose from a flat gridwork. “There.
+It’s on now. Just talk into the grill, there.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone had trouble
+with breathing: “Base! Las Crescentes—”</p>
+
+<p>Behind him, metal rang on metal.
+He spun round.</p>
+
+<p>An alien stood poised in the doorway—an alien with
+shreds of cloth still clinging round its middle.</p>
+
+<p>The words he’d planned
+stuck in his throat.</p>
+
+<p>Only then, as from afar, another voice echoed.
+The voice of the madman.</p>
+
+<p>“You know—”—it was almost conversational, the
+way he said it—“—you know, I think I’ll go see Ellen....”</p>
+
+<p>He scooped
+a jagged strip of metal from a bench as he spoke. Traces of froth
+showed at the corners of his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Then, before Stone could move, he
+was lunging, straight at the monster. The metal strip slashed deep
+into the scarlet sensor band. Fluid spurted.</p>
+
+<p>The alien hurled itself
+backward.</p>
+
+<p>But like one possessed, the madman pursued it, hacking and
+gouging. Together, man and monster crashed into the guard-rail.</p>
+
+<p>A wild
+shriek of mad laughter. “Here I come, Ellen—with company!”</p>
+
+<p>Clutching a
+dozen tentacles, the man hurled himself over the guard-rail.</p>
+
+<p>The monster
+went with him.</p>
+
+<p>Stone clung to the transmitter, half-retching.</p>
+
+<p>Only he
+couldn’t afford to be sick. Not here; not now.</p>
+
+<p>Time was too short for
+that. Any moment now, there’d be other aliens coming.</p>
+
+<p>Hoarsely, he
+rasped, “Base! Las Crescentes! This is Carl Stone talking. I’m giving
+you an order: Destroy that tower! Blast it! Don’t wait a minute!
+If it goes into operation, the whole earth will die....”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">
+    CHAPTER IX
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Together, they stood at last in the free air of the desert—Stone,
+Reva, MacDougal.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, half a mile away, the great shining metal
+ball that was the alien sphere-ship lifted from the gathering shadows
+of the canyon floor. Soundless as nightfall it rose, drifting higher
+and higher. The three stub legs retracted.</p>
+
+<p>Then, of a sudden, it had
+topped the mesa’s rim. Faster it climbed, and faster, picking up speed
+with every passing second.</p>
+
+<p>The blink of an eye later it was gone, up
+into the dusk and the boundless space that stretched from star to star.</p>
+
+<p>For a long, long moment the silence held.
+Then MacDougal said quietly, “There aren’t any words for what I want to
+say, Carl. But—the world can never repay you for what you’ve done.”</p>
+
+<p>And Reva: “You saved us. Carl—us, and all the unborn generations that
+will ever live on Earth.”</p>
+
+<p>It was strange, Stone thought. By all the
+rules, he should feel the same way they did. Happy. Relieved. At peace.</p>
+
+<p>Grateful for the breaks he’d gotten, at least.</p>
+
+<p>Instead, inside, he felt
+only aching emptiness and pain.</p>
+
+<p>But however he felt, he had to find
+words. They were expected. The other—the ugly, unfinished job he had
+yet to do—that could wait.</p>
+
+<p>Shrugging, he said, “The boys at the base
+are the ones who rate the credit. They worked fast—two minutes flat
+from the time I passed the word till they shot an anti-tank grenade
+right into the middle of that damn’ tower, if our friends the monsters
+had it right.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re over-modest, Carl.” MacDougal gestured with
+his still sling-bound right arm. “You’re the one who did the job, and
+I’m going to see that people know it. The right people.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks.” The word came out faintly caustic, even to Stone’s ears.</p>
+
+<p>But maybe that was only the aftermath of strain.</p>
+
+<p>If MacDougal caught
+it, he ignored it. His craggy face stayed tolerant, relaxed. The
+hedgerow eyebrows didn’t even bristle.</p>
+
+<p>“The big point is, it’s over,”
+he reminded. “The aliens and their ship are gone. Our own world’s
+safe.”</p>
+
+<p>Reva moved restlessly, drawing her torn dress closer about her,
+as if touched by a sudden chill. “I hope so. I still don’t feel quite
+as if I were awake. There’s so much I don’t understand—so many, many
+things....”</p>
+
+<p>Stone’s voice was just above a whisper: “For instance—?”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean—you haven’t thought about it?—About why those creatures
+didn’t harm the base, in spite of all their threats? Why they let us
+go, when it would have been so much easier to kill us?”</p>
+
+<p>Stone didn’t
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal said, “I think it’s easy enough to understand. The
+aliens’ whole technology is based on krypton, and it’s in short supply.
+Destroying the base would have cut down what little reserve they had
+left, with no return.”</p>
+
+<p>“And letting us go—?”</p>
+
+<p>The base director’s heavy
+shoulders shifted. “That’s almost a rhetorical
+question, isn’t it, Doctor Adams?” The slightest of edges barbed his
+words.</p>
+
+<p>Deep in Stone’s middle, the pain and emptiness seethed anew.</p>
+
+<p>That was the trouble with unfinished jobs. They kept forcing themselves
+onto you, when you least wanted to have to think about them.</p>
+
+<p>Only now
+this particular ugliness was coming out into the open in spite of him.
+He’d have to face it, grapple with it.</p>
+
+<p>Even if it tore his soul apart.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Reva was staring at MacDougal. “Rhetorical—? I don’t understand.
+What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to be brutal, Doctor.”
+The base director let out a gusty, sighing breath. “Perhaps you don’t
+realize the nasty role you’ve played in this whole business. If so,
+I’m sorry. But the fact remains that in all likelihood Stone and I
+are alive and free only because of you.”</p>
+
+<p>His tone made Reva draw back
+just a little. Once more, she pulled her torn dress about her, with a
+movement strangely awkward for one so graceful.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll have to speak
+more plainly, Mr. MacDougal,” she said sharply. “I don’t understand
+you at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, then.” MacDougal’s massive head came forward,
+jaw belligerently out-thrust. “I’m saying flat-out that you were the
+aliens’ contact. Your mind was the one they took over when they first
+landed. You were the one who set up the transmitter in your project
+building and turned the whole base mad. Is that plain enough for you
+to understand?”</p>
+
+<p>The torn dress bunched under Reva’s fingers, an ugly,
+lumpy wad.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal again: “I’ll carry it even further, Doctor. The
+aliens don’t plan to drop that contact with you. And that’s the only
+reason why the three of us are free.”</p>
+
+<p>Even through the gathering dusk,
+Stone could see the pallor that sprang to Reva’s face. Fear widened her
+eyes. She seemed to grow smaller, older.</p>
+
+<p>It twisted like a knife inside
+him ... made him wonder bleakly how long he could go on.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you think
+they’d really left for good, Doctor Adams?” The base director’s sarcasm
+rang open, bitter, now. “How far do you estimate they can go—with their
+krypton reserves already so drained that they didn’t even dare to blast
+our base? To Aldebaran? Antares? Alpha Centauri?” He laughed—curt,
+scornful. “No, Doctor! They’ll be back, somewhere close by, in hours,
+not lightyears. Then, when they get here, they’ll
+contact you. There’ll be another transmitter, another base gone mad.
+And this time, maybe, they’ll get their krypton—that is, if Stone and I
+are fools enough to let you live!”</p>
+
+<p>There it was, out in the open. All of it.</p>
+
+<p>Or almost all.</p>
+
+<p>The blood rang in Stone’s ears.</p>
+
+<p>Reva’s face was
+a twisted, distorted thing. Her face seemed to crack. Her lips peeled
+back. “No, no!” She was half-screaming. “You’re wrong! You’re wrong—!”</p>
+
+<p>The base director swung his thick, sling-bound right arm—hammering,
+relentless. “Then why did they let us live? Why—except to keep you free
+and above suspicion, ready to serve them another day?”</p>
+
+<p>Silence. Echoing eternities of silence.</p>
+
+<p>Then, abruptly, Reva’s shoulders slumped.
+Her chin sank to her chest. She didn’t speak.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, MacDougal
+straightened. Grim-faced, he looked at Stone. “Well, Carl?”</p>
+
+<p>More
+silence. A sickness, too ... gnawing through Stone, body and brain.</p>
+
+<p>Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t it have ended another
+way?</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal said, “I’m sorry, Carl. I know how you feel. But this
+is just too big for us. We can’t take chances. The world’s at stake.
+We’ve got to act now, before the aliens come back.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone couldn’t
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>“She can’t be allowed to leave this spot alive, Carl. You and
+I—we’ll have to serve as judge and jury. Executioners too. Here. Now.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone looked at Reva.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were upon him. Grey eyes, imploring.
+“Carl—!”</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal: “I’m sorry, Carl....”</p>
+
+<p>Tension. Surging billows of
+tension. Blood pulsing. Heart pounding.</p>
+
+<p><i>Why couldn’t it have ended
+another way?</i></p>
+
+<p>Only this was the way it was. These were the cards he had
+to play.</p>
+
+<p>So he’d play them—</p>
+
+<p>Stone said, “You’ve figured it right, Mac.
+All but one point.”</p>
+
+<p>“One—? What—?”</p>
+
+<p>“She isn’t guilty. You are.”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The base
+director stood like a graven image. Then his sling hand twitched,
+just a fraction. That was all.</p>
+
+<p>Stone said, “It all rides on one thing,
+Mac: You keep talking about the aliens having some sort of mind control
+over Reva. But it’s not true. Violence is the only weapon they know how
+to use.”</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal’s lip twisted. “You forget the transmitter.”</p>
+
+<p>“The transmitter?” Stone shook his head slowly. “That came
+second, Mac. Not first. Because somebody had to help the aliens design
+it—somebody working of his own free will.”</p>
+
+<p>“She did it, then. She’s
+the psychiatrist.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Mac. She couldn’t have. It took a scientist—a
+physical scientist, one who knew electronics.” A pause, while Stone
+drew a deep breath. “That’s why it has to be you, Mac. You’re the man
+with the know-how. Even if Reva could have done it, you’d have had to
+pass on it, o.k. the construction; that’s part of your base director’s
+job.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see.”</p>
+
+<p>“You had the motive, too, Mac. And I understand it:
+When you found The Project was failing, you blew up, clutched at
+straws. Then the aliens came along and contacted you, somehow. They
+offered you their own special straw with a hook in it. Probably they
+promised that if you’d help them get krypton, they’d figure you a new
+angle on The Project. And you were so afraid of failing, washing up
+your career, that you grabbed at the chance. The hook—you were too
+eager to see it. After all, nobody on Earth knew that krypton was a
+catalyst, holding our atmosphere together. How could you guess it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Your logic’s good, Carl.” MacDougal nodded slowly. “You’ve done some
+straight thinking. But if what you say’s true, then where does it
+leave us? I’ve made a mistake, but what have I done wrong?”</p>
+
+<p>“You still
+don’t see it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’ll tell you.” Stone sighed,
+just a little. “To you, Mac, your career’s too important. If you think
+it’s in danger, everything else has to get out of the way. Like here,
+now. You’d have had us kill Reva—to give you a goat, and keep me from
+talking. There’d be no black marks on your record. Maybe you even
+picked up a few tricks from the monsters that would make The Project
+go.”</p>
+
+<p>“So—?” The base director spoke very gently.</p>
+
+<p>“So it won’t wash,
+Mac. I’m security. It’s my job to see straight, and to push out people
+whose careers mean more than duty.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ve been friends a long time,
+Carl—”</p>
+
+<p>It was Stone’s turn to nod. “That’s what makes it so hard, Mac.
+Maybe if the aliens come back, you’d have an H-bomb all waiting. Maybe.
+But maybe not, too. Maybe you’d bite on another hook—one that would
+really catch, give the monsters their chance to laugh and laugh and
+laugh, all the way back to Arcturus Four—” Stone
+broke off abruptly. “No, Mac. We can’t take that chance. I’m sorry.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry, too, Carl.” The heavy shoulders shifted. “Because—it means
+I have to kill you, as well as Doctor Adams.”</p>
+
+<p>Stone frowned. “That
+might take some doing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I doubt it.” Of a sudden there was ice in the
+base director’s voice—ice, and granite. His sling-suspended hand moved
+sharply. “You see, I’ve got a gun here, Carl. My arm isn’t really hurt,
+but the sling seemed like good cover.” He laughed, harsh and short.
+“Any last words—?”</p>
+
+<p>A numbness came to Stone’s middle.</p>
+
+<p>How far was he
+from MacDougal? Three steps? Four?</p>
+
+<p>Too far. He looked over at Reva.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>She
+stood as before, still clutching her torn dress. The bulkiness of the
+fabric lumped in her twisting fingers was like a deformity growing out
+of her side. Strain had stolen her face’s last traces of beauty. Her
+blonde hair hung limp and straggly.</p>
+
+<p>Stone didn’t care. Of a sudden he
+could think only of all the words unspoken between them; of the long
+years that should have been theirs, the feelings crumbling down into
+ashes.</p>
+
+<p>Inside him, the emptiness swirled to a churning vortex. “Reva—!”
+he whispered. “Reva....”</p>
+
+<p>“Time’s up!” MacDougal said. His sling-hand
+flickered out.</p>
+
+<p>Stone lunged at him.</p>
+
+<p>Only it was too far, too far. He
+knew it even as he charged. MacDougal’s bullet would cut him down in
+mid-stride.</p>
+
+<p>And then Reva would die.</p>
+
+<p>He sobbed a curse that came out
+as a prayer.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal’s gun leveled, rock-steady.</p>
+
+<p>Stone braced for the
+slug.</p>
+
+<p>Only then—suddenly; incredibly—another gun roared. A gun off
+to one side, from where Reva stood.</p>
+
+<p>MacDougal jerked round, firing
+wildly.</p>
+
+<p>With every ounce of his weight, Stone crashed his fist against
+the heavy, jutting jaw.</p>
+
+<p>The base director’s head snapped back. Like a
+pole-axed ox, he toppled to the ground and lay there motionless.</p>
+
+<p>Stone
+picked up the gun and stuck it into his belt. “Reva—”</p>
+
+<p>She came to him,
+then—running, arms out, the torn dress forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>For a long moment,
+Stone held her. “You ... saved my life.”</p>
+
+<p>“With your own gun.” Of a
+sudden, she was shaking. “It landed beside me, back
+there on the sphere-ship. I hid it under my dress—for myself. I didn’t
+want to die with tentacles around me....”</p>
+
+<p>Her voice broke. She buried her
+face on Stone’s shoulder. He held her close.</p>
+
+<p>“We’re not going to die,”
+he said gently. “Neither of us. Not now. We’ve got too much to live
+for.” Her face came up slowly. “To live for!” she echoed.</p>
+
+<p>Never, Stone
+thought, had he seen her so beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>Together, then, hand in hand,
+they walked out across the desert towards the distant highway.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><b>THE END</b></p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter"></div><div class="transnote">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Note">
+    Transcriber’s Note:
+  </h2>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>This etext was produced from Imaginative Tales, September 1955 (Vol. 2,
+No. 1). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed.</p>
+
+<p>Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, but minor
+inconsistencies have been retained as printed.</p>
+</blockquote>
+</div>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79266 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+[Project Gutenberg](https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook [#79266](https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79266)