Alien From the Stars Read online

  The general smiled slightly. "My aide has contacted your grandfather. He believed you might enjoy the experience."

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  "But why are you keeping us?"

  "Some men are coming from Washington to interview your friend." The general eyed him speculatively. "And you say he won't speak unless in your presence."

  "He won't," Toby declared doggedly.

  "So it is necessary that you remain with us," the general said. He avoided the large violet eyes.

  He didn't say that he was making every effort to conceal the story from the press, both in the belief that it might panic the nation and in the fear that foreign powers might make a concerted effort to obtain the ship's secret. Barlo told Toby of that later. But he did say that it had been decided not to move Barlo until safe quarters could be provided in another area. Barlo, although he wasn't told, had suddenly become top secret. So had Toby, the sheriff, and undoubtedly the five Russians. If the general felt any discomfiture over his superiors' plans, he didn't reveal it.

  "I'm afraid I won't be able to remain with you very long," Barlo advised quietly.

  "No?" The general suddenly was alert.

  "A ship is coming to take me from your planet."

  The general asked sharply, "How do you know?"

  "Through the search methods my people employ."

  "How would they know where to find you?"

  "Signals have been sent out to..."

  "You have a device?" the general interrupted.

  "Yes, but not with me."

  "Where?"

  "In orbit." Barlo told about the capsule and a device on a nearby knoll that would guide the rescue ship to him.

  The general gripped the edge of his desk and leaned forward, his knuckles white under the lamplight. "How soon would you say?"

  "Within another few nights."

  "Night?"

  "We are nocturnal," explained Barlo. "We tend to avoid the direct light of the hotter suns."

  "Yes, of course." The general released his grip on the desk and drummed his fingers in a rapid tattoo. "What kind of ship will they send down?"

  "A scout pod much like the one I arrived in."

  "And the mother ship?"

  "Will remain in the upper atmosphere. That is the usual procedure." In the silence that followed, Toby could sense the general's mind working furiously. If the starship came -- and departed -- so would the hope of a star drive; man would remain alone on his small island in space. It was all but written across the general's suddenly puckered countenance.

  The general raised his eyes. "And if you fail to meet it?"

  "If I'm not there?" The violet eyes regarded him steadily.

  "If you are delayed," explained the general.

  "Then my people won't come."

  "Would they know whether or not you were on the knoll?"

  "They would know."

  "I see." The general spoke as if in a soliloquy. Walking slowly to the entrance of the tent, he parted the flaps and tilted his face to the sky.

  In silence he stared at the stars.

  To Toby's dismay, Barlo was quartered separately. His protest was silenced by the alien. "It's all right," counseled Barlo.

  Toby found himself sharing a pyramidal tent with the sheriff, who sprang up from his cot to Page 68

  greet him. "Looks like we're soldiers for a while," he bantered.

  "Yeah." Toby felt despondent.

  "Enjoy yourself," advised the sheriff. "Roll with it."

  "Yeah," he repeated, thinking he'd messed everything up. He should have gotten Barlo to a safe place the first day, before the valley had become a trap, but hadn't the faintest idea of how he might have achieved it.

  The sheriff kept up a running patter intended to cheer him, but he noticed that the sheriff never once mentioned the general or the conversation that had followed the sheriff's departure. Did the sheriff believe the tent was bugged, or was it because of the national security aspects the general had warned of? Still, the sheriff had always been closemouthed when it came to

  "the law business," as he termed it. Toby could understand that.

  National security? He let the words run through his mind. His first reaction, that they had seized Barlo to obtain information which might lead to the star drive, gave way to the realization that the situation was far more complex than that. He knew that Barlo's race was peaceful, but the government didn't know it. And he knew that Barlo had come to Earth as a result of the disaster which had struck the big Zemm liner, but the government didn't know it. Because it didn't, it had to be absolutely certain that Barlo was what he claimed to be, that his race was as peaceful as he said it was.

  That was one aspect. Another was the possibility that Barlo possessed far more technical information on the star drive than he'd admitted. If so, every major government on Earth would want that information. Look how quickly the Russians had gotten agents into Eklund Valley.

  That had shocked him.

  Worse, two of the agents still were at large, perhaps more. He was thankful that Cleator had claimed the credit for identifying the Russians rather than attributing the source to him. If he had, the interrogation would have been relentless -- in the end would have led to the big question of how Barlo had known that the agents were Russian. That would have unleashed the telepathy bit. Not that it wouldn't come out yet.

  He could see other ramifications too. One dealt with the readiness of Earth to become involved suddenly with an interstellar technology, with the diverse races that peopled the stars. A lot of people would eagerly welcome it, but many more would be cautious.

  It could cause tremendous political and economic upheavals, a fact that the government would weigh carefully.

  After the lights went out and the sheriff was asleep, he concentrated on Barlo, hoping that the other was touching his mind. Are you all right?

  I'm all right. The response was immediate. Something like a chuckle touched Toby's mind.

  Private accommodations complete with doormen. Toby translated that to mean guards.

  What do you think they might do? he asked worriedly.

  They're doing what they have to do, Toby.

  What do you mean by that?

  A stranger from a distant star, the possible opening of the universe...Barlo fell silent.

  I suppose, Toby answered disconsolately. They talked for a while longer before Barlo, cautioning Toby to get some sleep, withdrew from his mind.

  Later, on the verge of slumber, he fancied he heard a small voice say, The stars aren't as far as you believe, Toby.

  And then he slept.

  ELEVEN

  United Press International

  Washington, D.C., July 31, 1974

  WASHINGTON, JULY 31 (UPI) -- U.S. Army troops engaged in war games called suddenly in Page 69

  Eklund Valley near San Diego have captured three men described as Russian agents, according to a source high in government circles.

  The capture allegedly occurred close to the site where a strange spacecraft reportedly was destroyed last week. Both the President's press aide and the Pentagon have declined to comment.

  Meanwhile, new rumors swept the capital that the spacecraft came from another planet. A top NASA official, who declined the use of his name, said he understood that the vehicle was "of alien origin." Pressed for details, he defined "alien" as meaning "not of Earth." He refused to comment further.

  In related news, a Pentagon spokesman denied that the nation was on "red alert," the instant combat readiness of all military forces. Red alert presupposes the imminent danger of an enemy attack. He stated that if the war games had been held in Brown County, Wisconsin, they wouldn't have made page

  33. "But they happened to choose Eklund Valley," he said.

  A White House spokesman admitted that the Executive Committee of the National Security Council had been called into session but described the meeting as routine.

  Congressman Leonard Wheelhart (Rep. Cal.) to
ld the press that the people must remain calm.

  "We can't afford hysteria in this grave hour of crisis," he said. He refused to elaborate on...

  Crisis was in the air.

  The President felt it in the smoke-filled room. Wearily he studied the haggard faces around the long table. ExComm -- the Executive Committee of the

  National Security Council -- had been in almost continuous session since the electrifying news that the destruction of the strange spacecraft had left a nuclear footprint. And now a strange creature from the vessel had been apprehended; and three alleged Russian spies! The truth of the latter allegation appeared all but certain, for the FBI had identified one of the three as a double agent.

  But a creature from another star! A reddish star that lay somewhere in the direction of the Andromeda constellation, Mirach, his science adviser had deduced. More than eighty light-years away! A creature who in four short days

  -- perhaps sooner! -- had mastered the English language, had reported not only the existence of his own race but of scores of advanced races among the stars.

  Incredible! He was moved by the wonder of it.

  He looked again at the photograph dispatched by radio. The almost wizened face with its button nose and large solemn eyes told him little, yet he had to admit that the face fitted the general's initial reports of his impressions of the creature. "Gentle" was the word he'd used. Coming from a field officer of General Brockler's reputation, that was something.

  But it was a crisis, a very real one. For a moment, watching the strained faces, listening to the heated debate, he felt a deep sense of history. Berlin, Cuba, Southeast Asia, the Middle East, the China crisis --

  his predecessors had known such anguished days. Because they had steered wisely, the nation still lived. He prayed to God to give him wisdom. Yet, at best, he had but a narrow path to tread; the choices were few.

  Perhaps Carl Barrett's contention that they had to plan for the worst was right. He looked at the angular face of his CIA director. How could they know -- how could anyone know -- the true motivation behind the alien's advent? A shipwreck in space? Or had he come to assess our strength? Chance visitor or forerunner? Yet he sensed instinctively that there was a far deeper crisis. The real crisis was that this was man's initial contact with an intelligent being from beyond the solar system. A stellar being! In a sense, a confrontation. What they did today, the decisions he made, could have a profound effect on Earth's future. Nothing in the books had prepared Page 70

  them for that. He had to tread cautiously.

  But Barrett and General LeRoy Kalmer, chairman of the Joint Chiefs, were right; nothing could be taken for granted. Absolutely nothing. Yet if Earth had everything to lose, it also had everything to gain. That was the dilemma.

  His eyes took in the stained coffee cups, the littered ash trays, the scattered papers -- moved to the pink face of Secretary of State Nelson

  Chadwick III, who was saying, "We appear to be at an impasse."

  "We have been all day," snapped Defense Secretary Dale Wharton. His voice held a flash of temper.

  "We have to explore..."

  "We have but three options," broke in Attorney General Robert Whitney.

  His strident voice overrode the others. "One: Hold the creature, interrogate him to the fullest extent possible. take a chance that the rescue ship -- as he says -- won't come down. Two: Allow him to go to the hill, in which case the ship might pick him up and depart immediately." He tolled each point with a sharp hand movement. "Three: Allow him to go to the hill, be prepared to detain the ship if it lands, see what it is that we're confronted with. I personally favor the third choice," he added.

  "If such a ship lands, I want a ring of steel around it," growled General Kalmer.

  "We could tragically throw away the opportunity of establishing a beneficial contact through an ill-planned action," the Secretary of State argued. "Here, tonight, we are speaking for generations yet to come. We can't lightly risk losing such a golden opportunity."

  "What opportunity?" rasped General Kalmer.

  "Cultural, economic, scientific; we can't assess that yet."

  "Opposed," the Attorney General stated. He slapped the table. The Defense Secretary, a balding, bulky man with a reputation built on industrial production, nodded agreement. The President's security aide and science adviser appeared unhappy.

  The Secretary of State's voice grew plaintive. "There's so much we don't know."

  "You can say that again," General Kalmer snapped caustically.

  "Like what, LeRoy?"

  "Our latest intelligence reports indicate that it was the creature who identified the Russians. How did he know?"

  "You're saying?"

  "There's too much about that creature that we don't know."

  "Perhaps amicable relations would clear that up," suggested the State Secretary.

  The President glanced at his watch. He'd heard each argument a hundred times. The only trouble was that no single argument was either provable or disprovable. There were no data, no hard and fast facts. But Kalmer's question was pertinent. How had the alien -- as Riordan had termed him -- known of the

  Russian agents? That question, as yet unanswerable, was perturbing.

  But he had to think beyond the alien, had to assess their own response to whatever it was that they'd be responding to. He realized that the general's arguments and the arguments of those who sided with him were motivated in part by the possibility of obtaining the secret of the ship's propulsion system, of opening the galaxy to mankind (which he translated to mean America).

  Still, that was a cogent argument. As it was, Earth lay naked before the universe.

  The President filled his water glass from a silver decanter. What would be the verdict of history?

  A word, a nod of his head, an agreement -- of such things was history made. But he couldn't afford a mistake; the future couldn't afford it. Perhaps he had one last chance before the Page 71

  inevitable decision was made.

  An aide entered hurriedly, bending to whisper in his ear. The President straightened. A rustle ran through the room, and suddenly it grew quiet. He looked at the faces around the long table.

  "Gentlemen, Nelson" -- he inclined his head toward his Secretary of State -- "has fairly cited our predicament. We've reached an impasse simply because we lack the data to make a clear-cut decision." He paused.

  "And no time to get it," someone murmured.

  The President nodded. "Accordingly, I've requested information from another source. We have a visitor from San Diego."

  "The alien?" a shocked voice asked.

  "A friend of the alien." The President smiled slightly. "As I understand it, someone quite close to him."

  "A friend?" General Kalmer frowned. The President didn't answer but turned toward the door.

  The stillness came back, heavy and expectant. The blue eyes of Secretary of State Nelson Chadwick III held a faint hope. The Attorney

  General pursed his lips skeptically.

  The aide returned with a youth at his side -- a youth dressed in his Sunday best, his shoes gleaming, his dark hair rumpled where he'd run his fingers nervously through it. His face, although not frightened, was tense with anxiety.

  The President rose. There was the hasty movement of chairs as the others followed suit. The aide made a quick introduction.

  "Mr. President..." Toby gulped, struggling to remember the words he'd been coached to say.

  Somehow they seemed stuck in his throat.

  The President stepped forward and extended a hand. "Toby Adam, we're glad you're here, young man."

  "Thank you, sir," he stuttered.

  "Like riding in a bomber?"

  "Yes, sir, it was great." He felt his tension subside.

  The President turned. "Gentlemen, Toby Adam from San Diego." He smiled whimsically.

  "Toby has the great honor of being the first person on Earth to greet the newcomer from the stars." Introducing e
ach member, he gestured Toby to a chair which an aide had drawn up alongside his own. Toby sat gingerly and glanced nervously around. He'd recognized a few of the faces from photos;

  others appeared vaguely familiar, still others quite strange.

  "We've been discussing your friend," observed the President. His eyes were expectant.

  "Barlo," he blurted. "His name is Barlo."

  "Like him?"

  "Yes, sir, real well. So do Gramp and Linda and the sheriff."

  "The sheriff?"

  "Deputy Sheriff Ed Washburn," explained Toby. "He comes over to play pinochle with Gramp.

  He helped us when the Russians were trying to catch us."

  "Ah, yes, the general mentioned that." The President's face grew quizzical. "I understand you met your friend shortly after his ship reached

  Earth?"

  "Yes, sir." He didn't volunteer more.

  "He was staying in your barn?"

  "Yes, sir, or was until the vigilantes came, then I had him hide in another barn."

  "The reports mentioned that."

  "They thought he was a Russian spy." Someone at the table chuckled. Toby saw the President Page 72

  stifle a smile and all at once felt better. The President was a lot like Gramp, only not so old.

  "I understand you taught him our language?"

  "Well, he learned it from me."

  "In four days?"

  "He's...he's telepathic," Toby blurted.

  "Telepathic?" General Kalmer was on his feet. "He reads minds, is that what you're saying?"

  "Yes, sir." Toby felt flustered.

  "And he was talking to General Brockler? Good Lord, he probably knows half our defense secrets!"

  "I don't think so," protested Toby.

  "How do you know?"

  "He doesn't read everyone's mind -- only in case of emergency or danger.

  He told me so."

  "Told you so?" the Defense Secretary intoned. His face was frosty.

  "Gentlemen," the President rebuked. When the silence returned, he asked Toby, "Why didn't you tell the general that your friend was telepathic?"

  "He didn't ask, but Gramp and the sheriff and Linda know all about it."