Alien From the Stars Read online

  "They're bound to find Barlo's ship," he told Linda. The anxiety gnawed at his mind.

  "If they do, he'll destroy it," she murmured.

  "But they'll still know what kind of ship it was from the wreckage." He gazed perplexedly at her.

  "When they do, they'll search every inch of the country."

  "Did you mention that to Barlo?"

  "About identifying the ship from the wreckage?" He nodded gloomily.

  "There's nothing he can do about that."

  "Perhaps they won't find it."

  "They will," he asserted. He'd accepted the fact, now was trying to look beyond it.

  "He's not afraid," she reflected.

  "No, but I wonder if he really knows what might happen."

  "The vigilantes?"

  "It's more than that. I've thought a lot about it. The navy planes were here yesterday, and now the Air Force planes. The government knows, they must have tracked Barlo's ship by radar, know that it's somewhere close by. And

  Barlo's right. If the people high up suspect he might know the secret of the star drive, they'll tear the country apart to find him."

  "The government?"

  He nodded. "It's more than the star drive. Don't you see what it means?

  A race we don't know anything about can come to Earth at will, or at least they might think so.

  That would sure scare the military. They'd try to get the drive in self-defense."

  "The government wouldn't hurt him," she remonstrated.

  "No, but they'd do everything they could to get the drive."

  "Is that bad, Toby?"

  "Barlo thinks so. He doesn't believe Earth is ready for it."

  "Did he say that?"

  "Just about." He scanned the hills. Here and there small figures moved on the slopes and along the edges of ravines that snaked up into the higher hills. He was thankful that Barlo had landed as far away as he had. But the search would grow, extend outward.

  "I'd better tell Barlo what's happening," he decided. "You stay here in case Mom comes out." He listened for sounds from the kitchen before going around to the barn. Ruff ran to join him, wagging his stubby tail.

  The door creaked harshly as he swung it open.

  "Toby?" Gramp's voice came down from the loft.

  "Coming," he called softly. Scrambling up the ladder, he saw the garish light of a lantern dancing along the warped beams. Gramp and the alien were sitting on the hay playing pinochle. "Is he catching on?" asked Toby.

  "Catching on?" Gramp snorted. "I'd sure like to turn him loose on Dan."

  He chuckled at the prospect.

  "Beginner's luck," replied Barlo. His small face crinkled in the lamplight. "I believe that's what you call it."

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  Gramp melded four kings before lowering his hand. "Something happening?"

  "The search is growing." Toby told them about the Air Force photo reconnaissance plane and the four new helicopters. "They must have tracked you by radar," he finished.

  "That appears quite probable," assented Barlo.

  "If they did, they'll search the whole countryside."

  "Ah, yes."

  "You should be able to look into the future," observed Gramp. "I've heard tell of that."

  "That lies in the evolutionary upstream," responded Barlo. "I won't live to see that day."

  "Don't know that I'd want to." Gramp smacked his lips and peered sharply at his grandson.

  "Think those Air Force people might come around?"

  "The Air Force or the Army or someone, especially if they find the ship.

  Gosh, they might even send the FBI."

  "Might, at that," Gramp reflected.

  "I wouldn't worry about it," Barlo interjected. "My people have a saying that the tide of fate is irresistible."

  "We have to plan," protested Toby. "If they find the ship and you have to destroy it, then they'll know for certain you're somewhere around. They'd search the houses, barns, everyplace."

  "Not my house and barn," declared Gramp.

  "If the Army or Air Force came?"

  Barlo's head came up, his violet eyes agleam in the lamplight. "If I destroy the ship, I'll leave. I won't expose you to danger."

  "I wasn't thinking of us." Toby's face flamed. "Do you know what the vigilantes might do if they caught you? They might even shoot you. They're probably watching this place right now."

  "They'll eat buckshot," interrupted Gramp.

  "That would bring the whole mob."

  "Any ideas?"

  "None," Toby confessed, "except I wish Barlo would come into the house.

  It would be safer."

  Barlo suggested gently, "Perhaps we are borrowing trouble."

  "Maybe." Toby wasn't convinced. He had the feeling of an impending storm about to break around him and wondered why Barlo didn't feel the same. Or did he? If so, nothing in his demeanor portrayed it. Did he actually believe that fate was irresistible? He couldn't believe that.

  An aircraft engine sounded in the stillness, grew louder, and then began to fade away. Barlo's only reaction was a movement of his small, pointed ears.

  "Perhaps you'd better listen to the radio, tell us if anything happens,"

  suggested Gramp. He regarded the alien under the glare of the lamp. "I'd sure hate to lose a good pinochle player like you."

  Toby said worriedly, "You ought to go back to the house. Mom might wonder where you are."

  "Not till I win a game." Gramp shook his head stubbornly. "Now scoot, keep your ear to the radio."

  Toby returned outside, his thoughts sporadic. While it was dangerous for Barlo to remain in the barn, it would be more dangerous for him to leave, especially with the hordes of searchers in the hills. And what if the vigilantes were watching? They'd certainly wonder at all his trips to the barn. And Gramp's. He hadn't thought of that. But where could Barlo hide? What could they do if the searchers discovered the ship? Gramp hadn't answered that, and neither had Barlo. Strange how fast his world had changed. Only a day had passed since he'd first met the alien on the brow of the hill, yet it seemed forever. Since then his peaceful valley had become a center of turmoil, its repercussions extended by the press and television to every part of the

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  nation, if not the world. Since then, too, he'd learned that the human race was not alone in the universe, was not even one of the significant races of the universe. But it could be; that was the thing. It could go to the stars, just as Barlo's race had gone to the stars. In time it could become very great.

  He looked fretfully out over the valley. He couldn't think of that now.

  He had to think of Barlo, of the searchers, of the Air Force plane that plowed the sky, of the helicopters creeping along the gullies. Of the vigilantes. Of a safe place to hide Barlo.

  When he reached the porch, Linda asked worriedly, "What did he say?"

  "He's not worried. Neither is Gramp."

  "That's no answer, Toby."

  "Is there an answer?" he challenged.

  "We ought to have a plan. What are he and Gramp doing?"

  "Playing pinochle."

  "Doesn't sound as if he expects anything to happen," she reflected.

  "Or else he's hiding it." Toby looked at her. "Maybe he doesn't think like us. Perhaps the same things don't worry him."

  "That's not it." She gazed at the crowd around the general store. "Under the same circumstances I'd be horribly afraid."

  "So would I," he confessed.

  "I feel sorry for him, Toby."

  "So do I, but it's more than that. I like him. So does Gramp. I have the feeling of having known him for a long time."

  "I felt the same way," she admitted. "At first I was kind of jittery at the thought that he was reading my mind, then I forgot about it. Now it's just as if he doesn't do it."

  "He probably doesn't," replied Toby.

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Just a feeling. I tried thinking a few startling things and wa
tching him for a reaction. There was none." He glanced toward the house. "Gramp wants me to listen to the radio, find out what's happening."

  Linda glanced at her watch. "I have to help Mom, but I'll listen too.

  I'll make the loft of our barn comfortable, just in case."

  "I was thinking of the old Jackson barn." He conjured up a picture of the dilapidated structure, all but hidden under the thick branches at the edge of a eucalyptus grove. "If he had to run, he could hide in the trees."

  "Can he climb a tree?"

  "Like a monkey." He flushed, hoping Barlo wasn't reading his mind.

  When she left, he went to his room and turned on the radio. Garbled reports of flying saucers were coming in from all over the southwest. Strange gorilla-like creatures had been reported from as far away as New Mexico. But for every person who reported a flying saucer, another saw a vehicle adorned with the hammer and sickle. A few claimed to have seen spacecraft flying the flag of Communist China. The rear admiral from Coronado was more certain than ever that the vehicles were Russian orbital bomb carriers. About the only point of agreement seemed the demand that an investigation be made.

  As the afternoon waned, he was gratified to see that the crowd around the general store was growing smaller. Neither could he detect any sign of the helicopters. Perhaps it was over, he thought. He fervently hoped so.

  Just before supper Gramp joined him on the porch. Filling and lighting his pipe, he asked,

  "Anything on the radio?"

  "Nothing new." Toby shook his head.

  "I found out one thing about him."

  "You did?" Toby eyed him interestedly.

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  "He sure can play pinochle," Gramp said.

  Dusk came in, forming dark pools in the valleys and hollows before slowly ascending the hills to envelope the world in the cloak of night. The last of the cars had departed from in front of the general store; now it stood dark and deserted alongside the highway. The sound of insects filled the still air, and from somewhere came the cry of a distant night bird.

  The embers of Gramp's pipe glowed briefly as he sucked at the scarred stem. To Toby he looked exactly the same as he had last week, the week before

  -- all the weeks of his life that he could remember him. Gramp never seemed to change. Toby had to marvel at him. Gramp had met a man from the stars, yet took it as matter-of-factly as if Barlo had come from San Diego. Whoever said that old people couldn't adjust? He felt proud of Gramp.

  Stranger yet, he had the feeling that Gramp and Barlo understood each other completely.

  Watching them play pinochle under the harsh glare of the lamp, he'd sensed the rapport between them. It lay in their eyes, in the quiet words that passed between them; and with it was a mutual recognition of equality. A planetary archeologist from the stars and an old man from the backcountry -- that made it more remarkable yet. Vast differences between people, even between radically different races, could be bridged, he reflected. He'd seen it. With it he'd obtained a better understanding of how

  Barlo's vast and diverse interstellar society had managed to live for more than a million years without serious conflict. People had but to understand one another.

  He stirred restlessly. "Think I'll check on Barlo," he said.

  "The lamp will show through the cracks in the barn," warned Gramp.

  "I can find my way." Toby grinned. "Barlo's nocturnal."

  "Can see in the dark, eh?"

  "The sun hurts his eyes."

  "It's like midnight under that red sun of his."

  "Did he show it to you, a mental picture?"

  Gramp nodded. "A smart-lookin' planet, but a mite dark for my eyes. He showed me other worlds, too. As a matter of fact, he took me on a tour of the universe. Quite an amazing place."

  "It's that," Toby agreed. The harsh jangle of the telephone brought him from the porch railing.

  He heard the creak of a chair as his mother rose to answer it.

  "I'll get it," he cried. He ran inside and lifted the receiver to his ear.

  "Toby?" Linda's voice tinkled worriedly in the earpiece.

  "Yeah." He glanced at his mother, trying to appear nonchalant. "Linda,"

  he explained.

  "They've found the spaceship," Linda rushed on. "They just put out a news bulletin on it. A searcher spotted it in a gully. He described it as oval-shaped at each end, about twenty feet long."

  "That's it," Toby interrupted. He felt a flare of excitement.

  "They're organizing a party to go out there. The fellow who found it is going to lead them."

  "Tonight?"

  "They didn't say, but they could use lights."

  "Yeah." He glanced nervously at his mother. The way she was holding her paper told him she had one ear cocked to the conversation.

  When he hung up, she asked, "What was that all about?"

  "Someone claims to have spotted the spaceship," he explained. "Linda just heard it on the news."

  "In Eklund Valley?"

  "Somewhere around. She didn't say."

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  "I doubt there is one." She returned to her reading. Gramp arched his eyes inquiringly when Toby came back to the porch.

  "They found Barlo's ship," Toby said hoarsely.

  "You sure?"

  He jerked his head. "The description fits. They're organizing a party to go out there now. I'd better warn Barlo."

  "Reckon you'd better," agreed Gramp. "Could be quite a night."

  Toby paused at the rear of the house to scan the hills. Except for the lights of a few scattered houses and of cars winding down the grade from the east, they appeared dark and lifeless. In the heat of the summer night the stars glimmered mistily. The planes had gone, leaving a stillness broken only by the chirrup of crickets and the hum of insect wings.

  He opened the barn door, wincing at the creak of the hinges. Looking up toward the dark loft, he croaked, "It's Toby."

  Like two violet lamps in the night, Barlo's eyes peered down through the opening. Toby scrambled up the ladder. "They've found the ship," he whispered.

  "Someone spotted it in the gully. They described it, so I guess it's true."

  "All but inevitable," observed Barlo. "Would anyone be at the ship now?"

  "Apparently not, but they're organizing a party to go out there."

  "I'll have to destroy it."

  "Then they'll really know you're somewhere a- round."

  "There's no escape from that." Barlo shifted his body, gazing at the warped siding with an intentness that gave Toby the impression that he was seeing something that lay at a vast distance.

  In the silence he heard the hum of tires on Interstate 8. He fidgeted nervously, conscious of the passing time.

  "What are you doing?" he finally exclaimed.

  "Trying to discern if anyone is in the vicinity of the pod," explained Barlo. "I'm certain there's not."

  "There will be pretty quick," he warned.

  Barlo concentrated again. Suddenly, through the cracks between the board siding, Toby saw a lurid flash of light in the eastern sky. "The ship?" he gasped. He felt both startled and alarmed.

  Barlo nodded, his head cocked in a listening attitude.

  Moments later a roar swept down from the hills, striking the barn with an impact that caused the loose machinery to rattle. The horse in the corral neighed nervously. Reverberating among the twisting gullies and slopes, the sound slowly died away.

  "That explosion will bring a million people," exclaimed Toby.

  "That, too, is inevitable."

  "We'd better do something."

  "Sleep tonight," counseled Barlo. "Tomorrow is another day."

  "Mom will wonder what happened. I'd better get back."

  "She'll know soon enough," replied Barlo. "The whole world will."

  "Sure," he croaked. Running back toward the porch, he had a feeling of impending doom, as if the blast that had destroyed the alien's ship had been the starting gun that would launc
h ten thousand men into the peaceful valley.

  What would happen to Barlo then?

  He was afraid to guess.

  SIX

  THE HOUNDS awoke him.

  Toby's eyes flipped open. For a moment, struggling back to full consciousness, he wondered what it was that had dragged him from his sleep.

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  Memory of the late newscasts reporting the explosion flooded his mind. There had been the wail of sirens and the flurry of excitement before the valley had subsided back into its aura of peace.

  He pushed himself to a sitting position, then he heard it -- a baying in the distance, followed by a series of sharp yelps. The vigilantes! A

  suffocating fear gathered in his throat. He scrambled from the bed, switched on a night lamp, saw that it was after midnight.

  Hurriedly dressing, he sneaked through the kitchen to the rear yard.

  Ruff yipped and raced to meet him, dancing at his feet in the darkness. Toby shushed him, trying to locate the hounds. Trees and bushes, scarcely touched by the starlight, appeared as jet black blobs set in a scarcely less black night. Linda's house was dark. A flashlight bobbed in the distance; almost immediately he detected the dull thud of hooves. The vigilantes were coming!

  He raced to the barn and swung open the creaking door just as Barlo's slight figure dropped from the loft. His violet eyes gleamed in the darkness.

  "The vigilantes are coming," croaked Toby. "You have to get away from here."

  "Go back to the house." The alien's high-pitched voice held a new sharpness.

  Toby shook his head stubbornly. "I know where you can hide. Follow me."

  He ran outside Without waiting for an answer. Flashlights in the distance slashed the night with silver ribbons; the thudding hooves were more audible.

  His eyes fell on his mother's old car, and he felt a swift regret that he hadn't thought to get the keys. And there was the horse! He'd forgotten that, too. Now there was no time for anything but flight. Gesturing Barlo to follow, he raced toward the distant eucalyptus grove where the Jackson barn was located. If the vigilantes followed, they could hide among the trees.