Alien From the Stars Read online

  He followed the ravine until he found a place where he could scale its steep walls. Picking his way upward through the thick brush with agile ease, he peered cautiously over the edge. The land swept downward, dotted with a profusion of trees, shrubs, and small knolls that greatly limited his vision.

  His mental probes returned nothing. The scene was quiet and peaceful, yet he knew that soon it would burn beneath the brassy sun.

  A small animal with tan-colored fur, enormous ears, and disproportionately long hind legs hopped into view, halting a short distance from him. Its sensitive nose quivered apprehensively as it regarded him through sad, pink-rimmed eyes. Its mind was blank -- a mere transfer point where incoming stimuli were converted to the appropriate motor responses without the intervention of even the slightest reasoning.

  Barlo struck out from the ravine and crossed several low spurs and valleys before following the course of a gully. Now and then he paused to watch, listen, mentally probe the world around Page 5

  him. Occasionally he glimpsed small animals that didn't appear too greatly different from those he had seen on other planets. He reflected that given any particular environment, he could fairly accurately predict its life forms. Nature, with all its wonders, still clung to molds.

  The gully intersected a valley which he crossed, ascending the far side.

  At the top of the ridge he followed the course of another ravine. The brush was thicker, taller, the animal life more abundant. He spotted a strange, legless creature that held its body in a coil before gliding noiselessly behind the shelter of a rock outcrop. Barlo reflected that to survive, such a creature must have a deadly defense; consequently, he gave the spot a wide berth.

  Abruptly he halted, a warning screaming in his mind. He twisted to plunge back into the ravine and almost as instantly decided against it; the steep walls could prove to be a trap. Shrinking back into the underbrush, he scanned his surroundings while prowling with his mind. For the moment he detected nothing. A short distance away several of the feathered creatures rose from the bushes in evident alarm, winging to a distant tree. The sight sharpened his anxiety.

  The warning came again, more persistently than before, yet gave no indication of its source. He interpreted a crackling in the distance as a heavy body smashing through the thick brush. As he scanned the slope in that direction, one of the long-eared animals darted into view, scampering wildly down into the ravine. The crashing came in its wake.

  Barlo was trying to decide whether to retreat when a huge, dark-furred beast burst into view from a thicket. Its long pointed jaw suggested a carnivore. He was appalled at its size. Reaching into a pocket, he drew forth a small cylindrical tube that had one end fastened into a grip.

  Holding it negligently, he kept his gaze riveted on the animal as he probed its mind.

  Again there was no suggestion of intelligence.

  A crackling came from the brush behind the animal, and a huge biped burst into view. Its clothed body and the long instrument it carried -- a weapon, Barlo decided -- marked it as probably the dominant life-form on this planet. Although not too greatly unlike himself, the newcomer was nearly twice as tall and more than twice as broad across the shoulders.

  Barlo lightly touched the other's mind -- a quick touch in case the biped should prove telepathic.

  When the other showed no sign of alertness, he tapped more deeply, absorbing both the mind's conscious and its subconscious aspects. Although a brutal mind of low intelligence, it still sufficed to yield the knowledge and vocabulary that Barlo sought. He was glad that the creature hadn't proved telepathic, for a nontelepathic world would make his own detection far less likely.

  Man! The biped was a man! Barlo's earlier surmise that the creature represented the dominant life species on the planet appeared certain; the sense of lordship over the domain of life was stamped too deeply for it to be otherwise.

  Despite his uneasiness Barlo focused his attention on absorbing the contents of the mind in detail. At the conscious level it was quite shallow, nor were the wells of the subconscious much deeper. It was a mind that held little reasoning and almost nothing of abstraction, yet knew not that it knew

  not.

  He broke off his study as the dark-furred beast moved forward, pausing again with one forepaw raised. The beast was a dog. Although it had negligible intelligence, a strong bond existed between the two, a bond founded on...the hunt. Barlo shrank deeper into the underbrush as the man moved closer. He was uncomfortably aware of his own vulnerable position. The hunter kept advancing, his gaze roving back and forth along the edge of the gully.

  As he drew closer, Barlo saw that he had an extremely large nose, eyes less than a third the size of his own, a face heavy at the jowls, which were shadowed by a growth of dark hair. A coarse face lacking sensitivity -- a face that went with the mind.

  Despite the danger of detection, Barlo began to sift the knowledge he believed might prove most fruitful. The man had a curiously disorganized mind that reeked of a joyful violence. Barlo Page 6

  was both fascinated and repelled, for the violence had no direction. He had seen violence in many minds, but usually it had been directed toward a specific being or thing. This violence was centered only in the urge to kill; the victim would be quite incidental to the lust. The same applied to the dog, but the dog's motives were quite beyond its control. That, to Barlo, made the difference.

  The dog suddenly yelped, darting toward a thicket at the edge of the ravine. Instantly one of the long-eared creatures Barlo had spotted earlier scurried from cover and twisted away through the underbrush. Yelping, the dog raced after it.

  "Hey, Harry," the man shouted, one hand cupped to his lips. "Dude's scared up a rabbit!"

  "Coming!" The answering shout from a distance was followed by another crashing through the underbrush. Barlo jerked to rapt attention, mentally assessing his situation now that there were two hunters. He decided to remain still. Waiting, he tested his new vocabulary at a whisper. The sounds came awkwardly, with uncertain pronunciation. He was certain it was a language he could quite easily master.

  "Watch the opposite side of the ravine," the first hunter called. "It's going to pop up somewhere."

  It's going to pop up somewhere. Barlo repeated the words mentally, then allowed them to issue from his lips. A new language always was interesting.

  Dog, rabbit, pop up: "D-d-ddd, b-b-b-b, p-p-p-p." The d's and b's and p's required quite different lip movements. He thought it a strangely unmusical language.

  As the second hunter drew nearer, Barlo probed his mind. It too was fibbed with a formless violence. Could such creatures as these have built the immense cities he'd seen? Could they have hurled the metal satellites into the sky? If so, the race possessed a wide range of intelligence, for neither of the two men even remotely possessed such a capability. That indicated that the technical knowledge must be quite unevenly distributed.

  Although he sensed he should retreat, he felt reluctant to leave until he'd gleaned every scrap of knowledge from the two minds. The linguistics really were quite simple -- a few thousand words, mainly general rather than specific, served as the basis for communication. Bodily gestures and facial expressions appeared to serve as supplements. All in all, the two beings were quite primitive. He had to find other knowledge sources. To Barlo's dismay the dog suddenly bounded toward him from a thicket, its ears erect. Staccato yelps filled the air.

  "Dude's flushed one," the hunter named Harry shouted. He dashed in Barlo's direction. Barlo tried to slip through the thick brush but found his way blocked.

  Twisting, he darted through a narrow opening that bed toward the ravine. Wham! A ripping noise came from the brush around him as the roar of the weapon reverberated through the hills.

  "Hey, Tom, I saw a monkey!" Harry shouted disbelievingly.

  "A monkey? You're nuts!"

  "No, really, it was dressed in red."

  "In red?" Tom hooted. "Man, you've flipped."

  "I s
aw it," protested Harry. "Keep your eyes peeled. I almost knocked it off."

  "Sure it wasn't a kid or sumpin'?"

  "Naw, it was a monkey, all right. Great big eyes."

  "Watch out for Dude!"

  Barlo followed their conversation as he scurried through the brush. The hunters were no great threat; he could elude them easily enough. The dog was another matter. The yelping sounded almost at his heels. Aware that he was heading back toward the ship, he turned along the edge of an intersecting ravine. To his dismay he glimpsed one of the hunters race into sight ahead of him.

  In his mind Barlo clearly envisioned the path the hunter had taken, the way the ravine curved.

  Now the hunter was in front of him, the dog close behind. Where was the second hunter? He Page 7

  sent mind probes outward.

  Without hesitancy he scrambled down to the floor of the ravine and raced over the soft sand.

  Yelping, the dog followed. Barlo heard it crash through the thick growth not far behind. He came to a place where the walls rose steeply -- too steeply, he knew, for the dog to follow.

  Grasping the limb of an overhanging tree, he pulled himself up until he was clear of the edge, then ran out along another limb and dropped to the ground. Wham! Wham! Wham! The thunder of a weapon echoed in his ears as small pellets tore the shrubbery to shreds close to one side.

  "Hey, Harry, it was a monkey," a voice shouted. "I just saw it. Dude flushed it out of the gully."

  "Where's it at now?"

  "Headed back in your direction. Keep your eyes peeled."

  "Man, I'd like to get that baby. Where's Dude?"

  "In the gully."

  With the shouting loud in his ears, Barlo took temporary sanctuary in a thick pile of brush while he assessed his situation. The hunters were near the edge of the ravine on either side of him. If he turned toward the higher ground, he was almost certain to be seen, but neither could he remain where he was. He heard the dog scrambling back along the floor of the gully.

  "See anything, Tom?" The voice caused Barlo to crouch lower.

  "Not yet. Keep watching."

  "Think it really was a monkey?"

  "Sure looked like one."

  "I didn't see a tail. Call Dude, get him out of the gully."

  "Here Dude, here Dude." A crackling came from the brush as the dog scrambled up the side of the ravine, popping into view but a short distance from Barlo. He was starting a cautious retreat when the animal spotted him and loosed a series of short, sharp yelps.

  "Dude's flushed him out," a voice shouted. Barlo reluctantly raised the cylindrical tube, unlocked the safety, and pressed a button while moving the barrel back and forth in short arcs. An invisible ray fired the dry brush between him and the dog. The animal yelped frantically. A skein of smoke curled into the sky.

  "Hey, Tom, there's a fire," shouted Harry.

  "Man, there sure is. Here Dude, here Dude!"

  "How'd it get started?"

  "Dunno. Where's Dude?"

  "Heard him a moment ago. Here Dude, here Dude!"

  With the dog cut off by the leaping flames, Barlo edged through the thick underbrush along a course that lay at a right angle to the ravine. The

  yelps and cries rapidly faded in the distance behind him. With the growth less thick, he hurried his steps toward the crest of a ridge. Finally he paused to look back. The two hunters were frantically attempting to stamp out the last of the fire.

  A monkey! His thin lips curled in a smile at the image of a monkey he'd drawn from the hunters'

  minds. There was a certain similarity, of course, but the hunters fitted the description almost as well. Had that thought ever occurred to them? Probably not.

  Topping the ridge, he started down the other side.

  TWO

  TOBY ADAM came down from the hills, a small brown and white dog at his side. Tall, with short-cropped dark hair and yellow-flecked brown eyes set in a deeply tanned face, Toby carried a geologist's rock hammer and a battered cold chisel. An old leather specimen bag was slung from one shoulder.

  His thoughts were pleasant. It was summer, with school more than a month away, which gave Page 8

  him plenty of time to complete the chalcedony collection he was preparing for exhibit in the science fair. His particular quest this morning had been for chrysoprase, an apple-green variety of the mineral which

  Grandpa Jed said might be found in the area, although it was extremely rare.

  He paused, listening to the echo of a distant gunshot. It seemed to have come from almost directly ahead. The dog halted, ears cocked, one forepaw raised as it peered intently along the trail. Several minutes later more gunfire rolled through the hills. The dog growled.

  "Easy, Ruff." Toby reached down and patted the dog's head. His stubby tail wagged.

  Straightening, Toby studied the rolling scape ahead. Hunters who lived in the backcountry generally were careful, but those who came from the city often were not; he'd learned that long ago. Some opened fire at the slightest sound or movement, with no idea of the real nature of the target.

  Failing to detect the source of the shots, he moved ahead uneasily, keeping the dog at his side with a restraining word. He would have felt better knowing where the hunters were. A covey of quail broke from his path and whirred away through the underbrush. Taking that as a sign that no one was in the immediate area, he quickened his pace.

  Several times he halted to study rock formations and once to watch a young cottontail on the path ahead. The dog treated the rabbit with elegant disdain. Toby smiled, knowing that only his presence had kept the dog from yelping pursuit. A short time later he spotted two armed men hurrying down from an adjoining gully. A large black dog ran in a circular pattern ahead of them sniffing at the ground. Toby breathed more easily at having spotted the hunters.

  The sun edged above the mountains, bringing a blast of heat. Toby called the dog and started up a hill to intersect the gully on the far side -- a saving of nearly a mile of rugged terrain. He'd almost reached the top when the dog suddenly stopped, a low growl rumbling from its throat.

  "What is it, Ruff?" Toby stared fixedly ahead, trying to pinpoint the source of the dog's alarm.

  He heard no sign of the hunters. He was starting ahead when a slight figure came over the brow of the hill. Halting, he gazed incredulously at it. His first impression that it was a very small boy was quickly erased by the sight of the almost noseless face, the enormous violet eyes. The small, pointed ears were erect. Its garments appeared made of red mesh.

  The creature -- for that was the way Toby first thought of it -- halted abruptly at almost the same instant, the large violet eyes fixed on Toby across the space of a dozen paces.

  Don't be afraid. The words popped into Toby's mind. It took him an instant to realize that the words weren't his own but had come from the strange creature opposite him. There had been no sound, yet he had heard as plainly as if by voice! Unable to speak, he stared bewilderedly at the other -

  - at the arms overly long for the slight body, at the long, prehensile fingers, at the strange reddish garment that held the slight gleam of a metallic material. The small, narrow feet were similarly clad.

  Don't be afraid. The silent voice came into his mind again. This time he had no doubt that it had come from the creature; he also had no doubt that there had been no audible sound. No audible sound? A tremor ran through his body.

  "I'm not afraid," he managed to say. At that instant the dog dashed forward, its stubby tail wagging. As the creature reached out to stroke it, the dog licked at the long, prehensile fingers.

  I'm a stranger. The silent words came again. This time Toby was more wondering than alarmed.

  Ruff was a one-man dog; it wasn't like him to make friends so easily. That he did now was reassuring. Toby tried to stifle his swirling thoughts.

  "Who are you?" he asked.

  My name is Barlo.

  "I'm Toby...Toby Adams," he blurted. Looking at the slight figure,
he felt an enormous Page 9

  suspicion and with it felt a wild excitement. "You're not from Earth," he exclaimed.

  No...The large violet eyes watched him gravely.

  "You can't be from one of the planets," Toby rushed on. "None of them has a suitable atmosphere."

  No, I'm not from one of your planets.

  "The stars?" he whispered.

  From the stars, acknowledged Barlo.

  "How is it that I can hear you when you're not speaking?"

  I'm speaking through my mind.

  "Telepathy?"

  What you call telepathy, yes.

  "But how can I hear you?" Toby gazed awestruck at him. "Even if you're telepathic, I'm not."

  I project my thoughts into your mind, explained Barlo.

  "But how" -- Toby groped with his thoughts -- "how did you learn the language?"

  From you...and others like you.

  "You learned that from my mind?" he asked disbelievingly. Why, he'd only been talking with the creature for a moment. Others! The creature had said others! His thoughts jelled.

  "The hunters?" he asked. Barlo briefly explained his earlier encounter.

  They thought I was a monkey, he finished.

  "But you don't look like that at all," protested Toby. His face flamed.

  "Why didn't you tell them who you were when they started to shoot at you?"

  I couldn't reach their minds.

  "You couldn't?" He was startled. Something like a small smile touched Barlo's lips. He explained about innate differences in minds which determined the degree to which each could be reached. Some minds were like closed doors; others, a rare few, were opened totally. At least, it was that way on other worlds.

  "Your world?" asked Toby.