Eric Frank Russell - The Ultimate Invader

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THE ULTIMATE INVADER

by Eric Frank Russell

CHAPTER I

THE little ship, scarred and battered, sat on the plain and cooled its tubes and

ignored the armed guard that had sur-rounded it at a safe distance. A large, bluish

sun burned over-head, lit the edges of flat, waferlike clouds in brilliant purple. There

were two tiny moons shining like pale specters low in the east, and a third was diving

into the westward horizon.

To the north lay the great walled city whence the guard had erupted in irate haste.

It was a squat, stark conglomeration of buildings in gray granite, devoid of tall

towers, sitting four-square to the earth. An unbeautiful, strictly utilitarian place

suitable for masses of the bumble living in subservience to the harsh.

At considerable altitude above the granite mass roamed its aerial patrol, a number

of tiny, almost invisible dots weaving a tangle of vapor-trails. The dots displayed the

irritated rest-lessness of a swarm of disturbed gnats, for their pilots were

uncomfortably aware of the strange invader now sitting on the plain. Indeed, they

would have intercepted it had that been possible, which it wasn't. How can one

block the path of an unexpected object moving with such stupendous rapidity that

its trace registers as a mere flick on a screen some seconds after the source has

passed?

Upon the ground the troops kept careful watch and awaited the arrival of someone

who was permitted the in-itiative that they were denied. All of them had either four

legs and two arms or four arms and two legs, according to the need of the moment.

That is to say: the front pair of under-body limbs could be employed as feet or

hands, like those of a baboon. Superior life does not establish itself by benefit of

brains alone; manual dexterity is equally essential. The quasi-quadrupeds of this

world had a barely adequate supply of the former compensated by more than

enough of the latter.

Although it was not for them to decide what action to take against this

sorry-looking object from the unknown, they had plenty of curiosity concerning it,

and no little apprehen-sion. Much of their noseyness was stimulated by the fact that

the vessel was of no identifiable type despite that they could recognize all the seventy

patterns common to the entire galaxy. The apprehension was created by the sheer

nonchalance of the

visitor's arrival. It had burst like a superswift bullet throng] the detector-screen that

enveloped the entire planet, treate+ the sub-stratosphere patrols with disdain and sat

itself dowi in clear view of the city.

Something drastic would have to be done about it, on tha point one and all were

agreed. But the correct tactics woudc be defined by authority, not by underlings. To

make up hi; own mind one way or the other was a presumptuous task no one of

them dared undertake. So they hung around in dip; and behind rocks, and scratched

and held their guns ant hankered for high brass in the city to wake up and come run•

ping.

In much the same way that planetary defenses had been brought to nought by

bland presentation of an accomplished fact, so were the guards now disturbed by

being confronted with an event when none were present who were qualified to cope.

Giving distant sluggards no time to make up their minds and spring into action, the

ship's lock opened and a thing came out.

As a sample of unfamiliar life he was neither big nor fear-some. A biped with two

arms, a pinkish face and close-fitting clothes, he was no taller than any of the

onlookers and not more than one-third the weight. A peculiar creature in no way

redoubtable. In fact he looked soft. One could jump on him with all four feet and

squash him.

Nevertheless one could not hold him entirely in contempt. There were aspects that

gave one to pause and think. In the first place, he was carrying no visible weapons

and, more-over, doing it with the subtle assurance of one who has reason to view

guns as so much useless lumber. In the second place, he was mooching airily around

the ship, hands in pockets, inspecting the scarred shell for all the world as if this

landing marked a boring call on tiresome relatives. Most of the time he had his back

to the ring of troops, magnificently indifferent to whether or not anyone chose to

blow him apart.

Apparently satisfied with his survey of the vessel, he sud-denly turned and walked

straight toward the hidden watchers. The ship's lock remained wide open in a

manner suggesting either criminal carelessness or supreme confidence, more

prob-ably the latter. Completely at peace with a world in the midst of war, he ambled

directly toward a section of guards, bring-ing the need for initiative nearer and nearer,

making themsweat with anxiety and creating such a panic that they forgot to itch.

Rounding a rock, he came face to face with Yadiz, a com-mon trooper

momentarily paralyzed by sheer lack of an order to go forward, go backward, shoot

the alien, shoot himself, or do something. He looked casually at Yadiz as if different

life-forms in radically different shapes were more common than pebbles. Yadiz

became so embarrassed by his own futility that he swapped his gun from hand to

hand and back again.

"Surely it's not that heavy," remarked the alien with com-plete and surprising

fluency. He eyed the gun and sniffed.

Yadiz dropped the gun which promptly went off with an ear-splitting crash and a

piece of rock flew into shards and something whined shrilly into the sky. The alien

turned and followed the whine with his eyes until finally it died out.

Then he said to Yadiz, "Wasn't that rather silly?"

There was no need to answer. It was a conclusion Yadiz already had reached

about one second before the bang. He picked up the gun with a foot-hand,

transferred it to a real hand, found it upside-down, turned it right way up, got the

strap tangled around his fist, had to reverse it to get the limb free, turned it right way

up again.

Some sort of answer seemed to be necessary but for the life of him Yadiz could

not conceive one that was wholly satis-factory. Struck dumb, he posed there holding

his weapon by the muzzle and at arm's length, like one who has recklessly grabbed a

mamba and dare not let go. In all his years as a trooper, of which there were more

than several, he couldn't recall a time when possession of a firearm had proved such

a handicap. He was still searching in vain for a verbal means of salvaging his

self-respect when another trooper arrived to break the spell.

A little breathless with haste, the newcomer looked askance at the biped, said to

Yadiz, "Who gave you orders to shoot?"

"What business is it of yours?" asked the biped, coldly dis-approving. "It's his

own gun, isn't it?"

This interjection took the arrival' aback. He had not ex-pected another life-form to

speak with the fluency of a native, much less treat this matter of wasting ammunition

from the angle of personal ownership. The thought that a trooper might have

proprietary rights in his weapon had never occurred to him. And now that he had

captured the thought he did not know what to do with it. He stared at his own gun as

if it had just miraculously appeared in his hand, changed it to

another hand by way of ensuring its realness and solidity. "Be carefuI," advised

the biped. He nodded toward Yadiz "That's the way he started."

. Turning to Yadiz, the alien said in calm, matter-of-face tones, "Take me to

Markhamwit."

Yadiz couldn't be sure whether he actually dropped the gun again or whether it

leaped clean out of his hands. Anyway, it did not go off.

CHAPTER II

THEY met the high brass one-third of the way to the city. There was an assorted

truckload ranging from two to five-comet rank. Bowling along the road on flexible

tracks, the vehicle stopped almost level with them and two dozen faces peered at the

alien. A paunchy individual struggled out from his seat beside the driver and

confronted the ill-assorted pair. He had a red metal sun and four silver comets

shining on his harness.

To Yadiz he snapped, "Who told you to desert the guard-ring and come this

way?"

"Me," informed the alien, airily.

The officer jerked as if stuck with a pin, shrewdly eyed him up and down and

said, "I did not expect that you could speak our language."

"I'm fully capable of speech," assured the biped. "I can read, too. In fact, without

wishing to appear boastful, I'd like to mention that I can also write."

"That may be," agreed the officer, willing to concede a couple of petty aptitudes

to the manifestly outlandish. He had another careful look. "Can't say that I'm familiar

with your kind of life."

"Which doesn't surprise me," said the alien. "Lots of folk never get the chance to

become familiar with us."

The other's color heightened. With a show of annoyance, he informed, "I don't

know who you are or what you are, but you're under arrest."

"Sire," put in the aghast Yadiz, "he wishes to—"

"Did any one tell you to speak?" demanded the officer, burning him down with his

eyes.

"No, sire. It was just that—"

"Shut up!"

Yadiz swallowed hard, took on the apprehensive expression of one unreasonably

denied the right to point out that the bar-rel is full of powder and someone has lit the

fuse.

"Why am I under arrest?" inquired the alien, not in the least disturbed.

"Because I say so," the officer retorted.

"Really? Do you treat all arrivals that way?"

"At present, yes. You may know it or you may not, but right now this system is at

war with the system of Nilea. We're taking no chances."

"Neither are we," remarked the biped, enigmatically. "What do you mean by that?"

"The same as you meant. We're playing safe."

"Ah!" The other licked satisfied lips. "So you are what I suspected from the first,

namely, an ally the Nileans have dug up from some very minor system that we've

overlooked."

"Your suspicions are ill-founded," the alien told him. "How-ever, I would rather

explain myself higher up."

"You will do just that," promised the officer. "And the explanation had better be

satisfactory."

He did not care for the slow smile he got in reply. It ir-resistibly suggested that

someone was being dogmatic and someone else knew better. Neither had he any

difficulty in identifying the respective someones. The alien's apparently baseless

show of quiet confidence unsettled him far more than he cared to reveal, especially

with a dopey guard standing nearby and a truckload of brass looking on.

It would have been nice to attribute the two-legger's sang-froid to the usual

imbecility of another life-form too dim-witted to know when its scalp was in danger.

There were plenty of creatures like that: seemingly brave because unable to realize a

predicament even when they were in it up to the neck. Many of the lower ranks of his

own forces had that kind of guts. Nevertheless he could not shake off the uneasy

feeling that this case was different. The alien looked too alert, too sharp-eyed to

make like a cow.

Another and smaller truck came along the road. Waving it to a stop, he picked

four two-comet officers to act as escort, shooed them into the new vehicle along

with the biped who entered without comment or protest.

Through the side window he said to the officers, "T hold you personally

responsible for his safe arrival at the interroga-tion center. Tell them I've gone on to

the ship to see whether there's any more where he came from."

He stood watching on the verge while the truck reversed its direction, saw it roll

rapidly toward the city. Then he ' clambered into his own vehicle which at once

departed for the source of all the trouble.

Devoid of instructions to proceed toward town, return to the ship, stand on his

head or do anything else, Yadiz leaned on his gun and patiently awaited the passing

of somebody qualified to tell him.

The interrogation center viewed the alien's advent as less sensational than the

arrival of a Joppelan five-eared munkster at the zoo. Data drawn from a galaxy was

at the disposal of its large staff and the said information included descriptions of

four hundred separate and distinct life-forms, a few of them so fantastic that the

cogent material was more deductive than demonstrative. So far as they were

concerned this sample brought the record up to four hundred and one. In another

century's time it might be four hundred twenty-one or fifty-one. Listing the lesser

lifes was so much routine.

Interviews were equally a matter of established rigmarole. They had created a

standard technique involving questions to be answered, forms to be filled,

conclusions to be drawn. Their ways of dealing with recalcitrants were, however, a

good deal more flexible, demanding various alternative methods and a modicum of

imagination. Some life-forms responded with pleasing alacrity to means of

persuasion that other life-forms could not so much as sense. The only difficulty they

could have with this specimen was that of thinking up an entirely new way of making

him see reason.

So they directed him to a desk, giving him a chair with four arm-rests and six

inches too high, and a bored official took his place opposite. The latter accepted in

advance that the subject could already speak the local tongue or communi-cate in

some other understandable manner. Nobody was sent to this place until educated

sufficiently to give the required responses.

Switching his tiny desk-recorder, the interviewer started with, "What is your

number, name, code, cipher or other verbal identification?"

"James Lawson."

"Sex, if any?"

"Male."

"Age?"

"None."

"There now," said the interviewer, scenting coming awk-wardness. "You must

have an age."

"Must I?"

"Everyone has an age."

"Have they?"

"Look," insisted the interviewer, very patient, "nobody can be ageless."

"Can't they?"

He gave it up, murmuring, "It's unimportant anyway. His time-units are

meaningless until we get his planetary data." Glancing down at his question sheet, he

carried on. "Purpose of visit?" His eyes came up as he waited for the usual boring

response such as, "Normal exploration." He repeated, "Pur-pose of visit?"

"To see Markhamwit," responded James Lawson.

The interviewer yelped, "What?", cut off the recorder and breathed heavily for a

while. When he found voice again it was to ask, "You really mean you've come

specially to see the Great Lord Markhamwit?"

"Yes."

He asked uncertainly, "By appointment?"

"No."

That did it. Recovering with great swiftness, the interviewer became aggressively

officious and growled, "The Great Lord Markhamwit sees nobody without an

appointment."

"Then kindly make one for me."

"I'll find out what can he done," promised the other, having no intention of doing

anything whatsoever. Turning the re-corder on again, he resumed with the next

question.

`"Rank?"

"None."

"Now look here—"

"I said none!" repeated Lawson.

"I heard you. We'll let it pass. It's a minor point that can be brought out later."

With that slightly sinister comment he tried the next question. "Location of origin?"

"The Solarian Combine."

Flip went the switch as the unlucky desk instrument again got put out of action.

Leaning backward, the interviewer rubbed his forehead. A passing official glanced at

him,

stopped.

"Having trouble, Dilmur?"

"Trouble?" he echoed bitterly. He mooned at his question sheet. "What a day!

One thing after another! Now this!"

"What's the matter?"

He pointed an accusative finger at Lawson. "First he pre-tends to be ageless.

Then he gives the motive behind his arrival as that of seeing the Great Lord without

prior arrangement." His sigh was deep and heartfelt. "Finally, to top it all, he claims

that he comes from the Solarian Combine."

"H'm! Another theological nut," diagnosed the passer-by. "Don't waste your time

on him. Pass him along to the mental therapists." Giving the subject of the

conversation a cold look of reproof he continued on his way.

"You heard that?" The interviewer felt for the recorder-switch in readiness to

resume operation. "Now do we get on with this job in a reasonable and sensible

manner or must we resort to other, less pleasant methods of discovering the truth?"

"The way you put it implies that I am a liar," said Lawson, displaying no

resentment.

"Not exactly. Perhaps you are a deliberate but rather stupid liar whose

prevarications will gain him nothing. Perhaps you may have no more than a distorted

sense of humor. Or you may be completely sincere because completely deluded. We

have had visionaries here before. It takes all sorts to make a universe."

"Including Solarians," Lawson remarked.

"The Solarians are a myth," declared the interviewer with all the positiveness of

one stating a long-established fact.

"There are no myths. There are only gross distortions of half-remembered truths."

"So you still insist that you are a Solarian?"

"Certainly."

The other shoved the recorder aside, got up from his seat. "Then I can go no

further with you." He summoned several attendants, pointed to the victim. "Take him

to Kasine."

CHAPTER III

THE individual named Kasine suffered glandular maladjust-ment that made him

grossly obese. He was just one great big bag of fat relieved only by a pair of

deep-sunk but brilliantly glittering eyes.

Those optics looked at Lawson in much the same way that a cat stares at a

cornered mouse. Completing the inspection, heoperated his recorder, listened to a

play-back of what had taken place during the previous interview.

Then a low, reverberating chuckle sounded in his huge belly and he commented,

"Ho-ho, a Solarian! And lacking a pair of arms at that! Did you mislay them

someplace?" Lean-ing forward with a manifest effort, he licked thick lips and added,

"What a dreadful fix you'll be in if you lose the others also!"

Lawson gave a disdainful snort. "For an alleged mental therapist you're long

overdue for treatment yourself."

It did not generate the fury that might well have been aroused in another. Kasine

merely wheezed with amusement and looked self-satisfied.

"So you think I'm sadistic, eh?"

"Only at the time you made that remark. Other moments: other motivations."

"Ah!" grinned Kasine. "Whenever you open your mouth you tell me something

useful."

"You could do with it," Lawson opined.

"And it seems to me," Kasine went on, refusing to be baited, "that you are not an

idiot."

"Should I be?"

"You should! Every Solarian is an imbecile." He ruminated a moment, went on.

"The last one we had here was a many-tendriled octoped from Quamis. The

authorities on his home planet wanted him for causing an end-of-the-world panic.

His illusion of Solarianism was strong enough to make the credu-lous believe it. But

we aren't foolish octopeds here. We cured him in the end."

"How?"

Kasine thought again, informed, "If I remember aright, we fed him a coated pellet

of sodium and followed it with a jar of water. Whereupon he surrendered his

stupidities with much fuss and shouting. He confessed his purely Quamistic origin

shortly before his insides exploded." Kasino wagged his head in patronizing regret.

"Unfortunately, he died. Very noisily, too."

"Bet you enjoyed every instant of it," said Lawson. "I was not there. I dislike a

mess."

"It will be worse when it's your turn," observed Lawson, eyeing the enormous

body.

"Is that so? Well, let me tell—" He stopped as a little gong sounded in the depths

of his desk. Feeling under the rim, he pulled out a small plug at the end of a line,

inserted it

in an ear and listened. After a while he put it back, stared a' the other. "Two

officers tried to enter your ship."

"That was foolish."

Kasine said heavily, "They are now lying on the grounc outside, completely

paralyzed."

"What did I tell you?" commented Lawson, rubbing it in, Smacking a fat hand on

the desk, Kasine made his voice loud. "What caused it?"

"Like all your kind, they are allergic to formic acid," Law-son informed. "It's a

fact I had ascertained in advance." He gave a careless shrug. "A shot of diluted

ammonia will cure them and they'll never have rheumatics as long as they live."

"I want no abstruse technicalities," harshed Kasine. "I want to know what caused

it.""Probably Freddy," thought Lawson, little interested. "Or maybe it was Lou. Or

possibly Buzwuz."

"Buzwuz?" Kasine's eyes came up a bit from their fatty depths. He wheezed a

while before he said, "The message informs that both were stabbed in the back of

the neck by something tiny, orange-colored and winged. What was it?"

"A Solarian."

His self-control beginning to slip, Kasine became louder. "If you are a Solarian,

which you are not, this other thing cannot he a Solarian too."

"Why not?"

"Because it is totally different. It has not the slightest resemblance to you in any

one respect."

"Afraid you're wrong there."

"Why?"

"It is intelligent" Lawson examined the other as though curious about an elephant

with a trunk at both ends. "Let me tell you that intelligence has nothing whatever to

do with shape, form or size."

"Do you call it intelligent to stab someone in the neck?" asked Kasine, pointedly.

"In the circumstances, yes. Besides, the resulting condition is harmless and easily

curable. That's more than you can say for an exploded belly."

"We'll do something about this." Kasine was openly irri-tated.

"It won't be easy. Take Buzwuz, for instance. Though he's small even for a

bumblebee from Callisto, he can lay out six horses in a row before he has to squat

down someplace and generate more acid."

"Bumblebee?" Kasine's brows :tried to draw together over thick rolls of flesh.

"Horses?"

"Forget them," advised Lawson. "You know nothing of either."

"Maybe not, but I do know this: they won't like it when we fill the ship with a

lethal gas."

"They'll laugh themselves silly. And it won't pay you to make my vessel

uninhabitable."

"No?"

"Nol Because those already out of it will have to stay out. Most of the others will

get out fast in spite of anything you can do to prevent their escape. After that, they'll

have no choice but to settle down and live here. I would not like that if I were you. I

wouldn't care for it one little bit."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Not if I were you which, fortunately, I am not. A world soon becomes mighty

uncomfortable when you've got to share it with hard-to-catch enemies steadily

breeding a thousand to

your one."

Kasine jerked and queried with some apprehension, "Mean to say they'll actually

remain here and increase that fast?"

"What else would you expect them to do once you've taken away their sanctuary?

Go jump in the lake just to please you? They're intelligent, I tell you. They will

survive even if they have to paralyze every one of your kind in sight and make it

permanent."

The gong clanged again. Inserting the ear-plug, Kasine lis-tened, scowled, shoved

it back into its place. For a short time he sat glowering across the desk. When he did

speak it was

irefully.

"Two more," he said. "Flat out."

Registering a thin smile, Lawson suggested, "Why not leave my ship alone and let

me see Markhamwit?"

"Get this into your head," retorted Kasine. "If any and every crackpot who chose

to land on this planet could walk straight in to see the Great Lord there would have

been trou-ble long ago. The Great Lord would have been assassinated ten

times over."

"He must be popular!"

"You are impertinent. You do not appear to realize the peril of your own

position." Leaning forward with a grunt of discomfort, Kasine hushed his tones in

sheer awe of himself. "Outside that door are those empowered merely to ask ques

tions. Here, within this room, it is different. Here, I make decisions."

"Takes you a long time to get to them," said Lawson, unim-pressed.

Ignoring it, the other went on, "1 can decide whether or not your mouth gives

forth facts. If I deem you a liar, I can decide whether or not it is worth turning to less

tender means of obtaining the real truth. If I think you too petty to make even your

truths worth having, I can decide when, where and how we. shall dispose of you."

He slowed down by way

of extra emphasis. "All this means that I can order your im-mediate death."

"The right to blunder isn't much to boast about," Lawson told him.

"I do not think your effective removal would be an error," Kasine countered.

"Those creatures in your ship are impotent

so far as this room is concerned. What is to prevent me from having you

destroyed?"

"Nothing."

"Ah!" Slightly surprised by this frank admission, the fat

face became gratified. "You agree that you are helpless to save yourself?"

"In one way, yes. In another, no." "Meaning?"

"You can have me slaughtered if you wish. It will be a little triumph for you if you

like that sort of thing." Lawson's. eyes carne up, looked levelly at the other's. "It

would be wisest

if you enjoyed the triumph to the full and made the very most of it, for it won't last

long."

"Won't it?"

"Pleasure is for today. Regrets are for tomorrow. After the feast, the reckoning."

"Oho? And who will present the bill?" "The Solarian Combine."

"There you go again!" Kasine rubbed his forehead wearily. "The Solarian

Combine. I am sick and tired of it. Forty times have I faced so-called Solarians all of

whom proved to be maniacs escaped or expelled from some not too faraway planet.

But I'll give you your due for one thing: you're the coolest and most collected of

the lot.

"I suspect that it is going to be rather difficult to bring you

to your senses. We may have to concoct an entirely new tech-nique to deal with

you."

"Too bad," said Lawson, sympathetically.

"Therefore I—" Kasine broke off as the door opened and a five-comet officer

entered in a hurry.

"Message from the Great Lord," announced the newcomer. He shot an uneasy

glance at Lawson before he went on. "Re-gardless of any conclusion to which you

may have come, you are to preserve this arrival intact, unharmed."

"That's taking things out of my hands," grumbled Kasine. "Am I not supposed to

know the reasons?"

Hesitating a moment, the officer said, "I was not told to keep them from you."

"Then what are they?"

"This example of other-life must he kept in fit condition to talk. Reports have now

come in from the defense department and elsewhere. We want to know how his ship

slipped through the planetary detector-screen, how it got past the aerial patrols. We

want to know why the vessel differs from all known types in the galaxy, where it

comes from, what gives it such tre-mendous velocity. In particular, we must find out

the capabili-ties and military potential of those who built the boat."

Kasine blinked at this recital. Each of these questions, he felt, was fully loaded and

liable to go bang. The mind behind his ample features worked overtime. For all his

gross bulk he was not without mental agility. And one thing he'd always been good

at sniffing was the smell of danger.

Words and phrases whirled through his calculating brain: slipped past, origin, type

of ship, tremendous velocity, bumble-bees, the coolest and most collected. His

brilliant and sunken eyes examined Lawson again. In the light of what the officer had

brought he could now see more clearly the feature of this strange biped that inwardly

had worried him most. It was a somewhat appalling certitude!

He felt impelled to take a gamble. If it did not come off he had nothing serious to

lose.

If it did he would get the credit for great perspicacity.

Very slowly, Kasine said, "I think I can answer those questions in part. This

creature claims that he is a Solarian. I consider it remotely possible that he may be!"

"May be! A Solarian!" The officer stuttered a bit, backed toward the door. "The

Great Lord must know of this. I will tell him your decision at once."

"It is not a decision," warned Kasine, hastily ensuring himself against future wrath.

"It is no more than a modest opinion."

He watched the other go out. Already he was beginning

to 'wonder whether he had adopted the correct tactics or whether there was some

other as yet unperceived but safer play.

His gaze turned toward the subject of his thoughts. Lawson said, very

comfortingly, "You've just saved your fat neck."

CHAPTER IV

MARKHAMWIT went through the data for the fourth time, pushed the papers

aside, walked restlessly up and down the room.

I don't like this incident. I view it with the greatest sus-picion. We may be victims

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Eric Frank Russell - The Ultimate Invader

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