face.
Cain was right. The alien was capable of Transition. And he obviouslyhad little fear of the Rim. His ship grew larger in the scanner.
Mason felt his fingers grow cold again.
* * * * *
Lance told the girl to eject the tape of co-ordinates from thenav-computers, and he took over manually, hoping the comps would keepup. It would be up to him where they went, and up to the comps to keeptrack of the Scout's position relative to both the Solar System andthe Explorer.
His fingers played across the control-banks as though they were thekeyboards of a great organ, and he felt his insides writhe as heslipped the hurtling ship back into E-Space, then back to R-levelagain. He played the tiny craft between levels as though it were astone skipping across water, and altered course with each Transitionwith no attempt at plan or pattern. Rivulets of ice water trickleddown across his ribs, and the flesh of his thin face was stiff.
"Wrong again," he heard Cain saying. "At least we can tell the braintrust that their precious R-factor is constant beyond the Rim ...maybe that'll be worth a buck or two. At least those kids back thereare playing around in this galaxy like it was their own front yard. Goon, skipper, take a look yourself!"
Mason didn't have to look. He knew that he hadn't lost the alien; hadknown somehow that he wouldn't be able to. Too apparently, their owngalaxy, near as it was to the Milky Way, was of the same Space, itscontinuum forged in the same curvature matrices.
"Shall I order our m-guns placed, sir?" It was Judith, and he knew shehad grasped the implications of the situation as quickly as she alwaysdid. Sometimes he wondered if she were a computer herself, clad in thegraceful body of a young woman rather than in a shell of permasteel.And other times....
He didn't even think about his answer. The "No" was automatic.
"I'll give the order, then, myself!" Cain said flatly.
"As you were, Mister Cain!"
"So it's rank, now, is it?" And he was grinning that damn grin again.
"Take it any way you want. If you think three meson cannon will stop aship that's obviously built for battle, you're hardly thinking wellenough for the responsibilities of your post."
"Well listen to who's sounding off! So we're just going to let 'emoverhaul us; just let 'em blast us out of Space, or come trampingaboard if they want to!"
Mason didn't reply. He looked at the scanner, and now the alien craftwas no longer a dot, but taking definite shape. It would be a coupleof hours, yet, perhaps. And then it would have to be the way Cain hadsaid.
The alien overhauled them hardly a billion miles inside the Rim, andMason offered no resistance when he felt their magnetics touch theScout and draw it gently to the flank of their great ship. It wasnecessary to scale down the scanner's field to see the huge shape inits entirety. Beside it, the Scout was like a sparrow's egg.
He punched the stud that would swing in the outer lock as the twocraft touched with but the slightest jar.
Cain's ham-like fists were knotted at his sides, and Judith stoodquietly, as though waiting for nothing more than the presence of aninspecting officer. But her delicate face was white, and Masonwondered if the brain under that crisp, dark hair was stillfunctioning as a well disciplined piece of machinery, or if it feltthe same fear that was in his own. He knew what was in Cain'sthoughts. But at least when he'd told their small crew the score, theyhad accepted his decision--and his order to keep the m-guns where theywere. So maybe this time it was Cain who was wrong.
The three of them stood in the compact confines of the control bubble,silent, waiting.
And when the alien stepped through their inner airlock port and facedthem, Mason knew he was not succeeding in keeping his surprise fromhis features.
The alien could have been human. Even clad in his Spacegear, he waslittle taller than Cain, and his hair and eyes could have been thoseof an Earthly Viking of another day. Humanoid, so far as physicalappearances went But in thought--?
There was a smile on the Viking face as the alien removed thetransparent globe of his helmet. He seemed to realize instinctivelythat Mason was the Scout's commander.
"I am Kriijorl," he said. "I extend the greetings of Ihelos." And heproffered his right hand, Earth fashion, toward Mason!
Lance grasped it as he tried to organize the sudden scramble of histhoughts. It was a strong hand. He could feel the sinews of it beneathits gauntlet; like Cain's, yet different, somehow. "You are peacefullyreceived, and welcome," he said. But there was a hollow sound to hiswords that he had not been able to help.
The smile still played on the alien's sun-darkened face.
"Thank you. I hope that I use your language not too clumsily. Ourteleprobes may leave something to be desired in the matter ofsemantics. You will, I hope, forgive us for taking the liberty oftheir use. But since you employed no protective screens, and becauseof the necessity of our meeting--"
Cain broke in without hesitation. "I don't know what you've been up towhile you've been tagging us, mister, but I--"
"At ease, Mister Cain!" Mason snapped. "We must allow our guest toexplain his action and his mission."
The alien nodded slightly, glanced at Judith.
* * * * *
"It was your woman officer aboard," he began. "When we became awarethat you also represented a bi-sexual race, as do we, we realized atonce that you afforded us an unexpected opportunity. Otherwise, weshould have remained at our business and spared you this intrusion.
"We of Ihelos, as you doubtless have noted, are at war. It is perhapsnot war as your culture understands it; it is perhaps more accuratelydescribed by your word 'feud,' I think, and it has continued betweenus and our only similar neighbor, the planet of Thrayx, for manythousands of your years.
"We have been quite self-sufficient cultures for all that time, andhave taken great care that our conflict not infect any other area ineither our galaxy or yours, for neither of us, by inherent nature, iswar-like in the sense of aggressiveness. Our conflict is between usand us alone.
"However, we of Ihelos recently received a staggering setback from ourtraditional enemy due to a certain unexpected innovation in theirbattle techniques, and we realized that our cause could end only ineventual defeat. As it shall, unless your people will help us."
There was a moment of silence, and Mason found himself wondering howoften this had happened in Earth's own bitter past. It was, wherevermen lived, an old story.
"What," Cain was asking, "is in this for us?"
"Could you tell us," Judith said before the alien could answer Cain,"just why you chose us? Certainly, you must have noticed ourtechniques of warfare are quite inferior to your own. We have notemployed them for more than two hundred years--"
"Nor," Mason finished for her, "do we intend to again. You must seekhelp elsewhere, sir."
"That, for us, would be quite impossible," the alien replied slowly."The chances of finding other life forms like our own are billions toone, the immensity of both our galaxies notwithstanding. Had you notventured within range of our screens we would in all probability neverknown you existed. And to organize a search...." and now the smile onhis lips was almost a sad thing, "a search of two galaxies--it wouldtake us aeons, even at a thousand times the speed of light, simply tocover the vast distances involved, to say nothing of finding a similarlife and thought form. And we do not have aeons, Lieutenant. We havebut two--three, at most--generations.
"There is too little time to search for allies. We have no otherchoice, as you can see, than to take what advantage we can of thoseupon whom we may chance."
"But as my sergeant has already pointed out," Mason said, "our armswould be worthless to you. And, more importantly, we wish no more partin warfare. I am afraid, in that respect, you must excuse us, sir....It has been a pleasure to have you aboard."
And suddenly, the smile was gone from the alien's face.
"I must demand of you, then--force you, if necessary--to take us toyour plane
t, Lieutenant. For you can quite obviously help us. It isnot your arms we want."
"I fail to understand you sir." Mason felt the icy sweat start again,repressed a shiver as it trickled the length of his spare body.
"Our planet, as our enemy's, is encircled by a wide ring of floatingcosmic debris," the alien said. "In both instances, the rings areremnants of what once may have been satellites. In the ring whichencircles us, we have successfully secreted refrigerated,lead-sheathed stores of male sperm, quite impossible for our enemy tolocate. That is a necessity, of course, for any race that isconstantly at war and is obliged to take all possible safeguards toinsure its continued existence. We assume that Thrayx has done