A. E. Van Vogt - Voyage of the Space Beagle

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hundred days.

He stopped finally, chilled by the reality. His great forelegs

twitched with a shuddering movement that arched every razor-

sharp claw. The thick tentacles that grew from his shoulders un-

dulated tautly. He twisted his great cat head from side to side, while

the hairlike tendrils that formed each ear vibrated frantically, test-

ing every vagrant breeze, every throb in the ether.

There was no response. He felt no swift tingling along his intri-

cate nervous system. There was no suggestion anywhere of the

presence of the id creatures, his only source of food on this desolate

planet. Hopelessly, Coeurl crouched, an enormous catlike figure

silhouetted against the dim, reddish sky line, like a distorted etch-

ing of a black tiger in a shadow world. What dismayed him was the

fact that he had lost touch. He possessed sensory equipment that

could normally detect organic id miles away. He recognized that he

was no longer normal. His overnight failure to maintain contact

indicated a physical breakdown. This was the deadly sickness he

had heard about. Seven times in the past century he had found

coeurls, too weak to move, their otherwise immortal bodies emaci-

ated and doomed for lack of food. Eagerly, then, he had smashed

their unresisting bodies, and taken what little id was still keeping

them alive.

Coeurl shivered with excitement, remembering those meals.

Then he snarled audibly, a defiant sound that quavered on the air,

echoed and re-echoed among the rocks, and shuddered back along

his nerves. It was an instinctive expression of his will to live.

And then, abruptly, he stiffened.

High above the distant horizon he saw a tiny glowing spot. It

came nearer. It grew rapidly, enormously, into a metal ball. It be-

came a vast, round ship. The great globe, shining like polished sil-

ver, hissed by above Coeurl, slowing visibly. It receded over a black

of the deserted, crumbling city. Yet about the ship was a leashed

aliveness, a dynamic quiescence that, after a moment, made it

stand out, dominating the foreground. It rested in a cradle made by

its own weight in the rocky, resisting plain which began abruptly at

the outskirts of the dead metropolis.

Coeurl gazed at the two-legged beings who had come from inside

the ship. They stood in little groups near the bottom of an escalator

that had been lowered from a brilliantly lighted opening a hundred

feet above the ground. His throat thickened with the immediacy of

his need. His brain grew dark with the impulse to charge out and

smash these flimsy-looking creatures whose bodies emitted the id

vibrations.

Mists of memory stopped that impulse when it was still only

electricity surging through his muscles. It was a memory of the

distant past of his own race, of machines that could destroy, of en-

ergies potent beyond all the powers of his own body. The remem-

brance poisoned the reservoirs of his strength. He had time to see

that the beings wore something over their real bodies, a shimmering

transparent material that glittered and flashed in the rays of the

sun.

Cunning came, understanding of the presence of these creatures.

This, Coeurl reasoned for the first time, was a scientific expedition

from another star. Scientists would investigate, and not destroy.

Scientists would refrain from killing him if he did not attack. Scien-

tists in their way were fools.

Bold with his hunger, he emerged into the open. He saw the

creatures become aware of him. They turned and stared. The three

nearest him moved slowly back toward larger groups. One individ-

ual, the smallest of his group, detached a dull metal rod from a

sheath at his side, and held it casually in one hand.

Coeurl was alarmed by the action, but he loped on. It was too

late to turn back.

As the other spoke, Grosvenor recognized the voice of Gregory

Kent, head of the chemistry department A small man physically,

Kent had a big personality. He had numerous friends and support-

ers aboard the ship, and had already announced his candidacy for

the directorship of the expedition in the forthcoming election. Of all

the men facing the approaching monster, Kent was the only one

who had drawn a weapon. He stood now, fingering the spindly

metalite instrument.

Another voice sounded. The tone was deeper and more relaxed.

Grosvenor recognized it as belonging to Hal Morton, Director of the

expedition. Morton said, "That's one of the reasons why you're on

this trip, Kent-because you leave very little to chance."

It was a friendly comment. It ignored the fact that Kent had al-

ready set himself up as Morton's opponent for the directorship. Of

course, it could have been designed as a bit of incidental political

virtuosity to put over to the more naïve listeners the notion that

Morton felt no ill will towards his rival. Grosvenor did not doubt

that the Director was capable of such subtlety. He had sized up

Morton as a shrewd, reasonably honest, and very intelligent man,

who handled most situations with automatic skill.

Grosvenor saw that Morton was moving forward, placing himself

a little in advance of the others. His strong body bulked the trans-

parent metalite suit. From that position, the Director watched the

catlike beast approach them across the black rock plain. The com-

ments of other departmental heads pattered through the communi-

cator into Grosvenor's ears.

"I'd hate to meet that baby on a dark night in an alley."

"Don't be silly. This is obviously an intelligent creature. Probably

a member of the ruling race."

"Its physical development," said a voice, which Grosvenor recog-

nized as that of Siedel, the psychologist, "suggests an animal-like

adaptation to its environment. On the other hand, its coming to us

to that ferocious edge of chaos, where it cost him a terrible effort to

hold back. He felt as if his body were bathed in molten liquid. His

vision kept blurring.

Most of the men walked closer to him. Coeurl saw that they were

frankly and curiously examining him. Their lips moved inside the

transparent helmets they wore. Their form of intercommunication -

he assumed that was what he sensed - came to him on a frequency

that was well within his ability to receive. The messages were

meaningless. In an effort to appear friendly, he broadcast his name

from his ear tendrils, at the same time pointing at himself with one

curving tentacle.

A voice Grosvenor didn't recognize drawled, "I got a sort of static

in my radio when he wiggled those hairs, Morton. Do you think-"

"It's possible," the leader answered the unfinished question.

"That means a job for you, Gourlay. If it speaks by means of radio

waves, we might be able to create some sort of language code for

him."

Morton's use of the man's name identified the other. Gourlay,

chief of communications. Grosvenor, who was recording the conver-

sation, was pleased. The coming of the beast might enable him to

obtain recordings of the voices of all the rest of the important men

aboard the ship. He had been trying to do that from the beginning.

"Ah," said Siedel, the psychologist, "the tentacles end in suction

cups. Provided the nervous system is complex enough, he could

with training operate any machine."

Director Morton said, "I think we'd better go inside and have

lunch. Afterwards, we'll have to get busy. I'd like a study made of

the scientific development of this race, and particularly I want to

know what wrecked it. On Earth, in the early days before there was

a galactic civilization, one culture after another reached its peak

and then crumbled. A new one always sprang up in its dust. Why

ered that danger. He watched the monster follow the first two men

up the escalator and through the great door.

The men glanced back towards Morton, who waved a hand at

them and said, "Open the second lock and let him get a whiff of the

oxygen. That'll cure him."

A moment later the Director's amazed voice was loud on the

communicator. "Well, I'll be damned! He doesn't notice the differ-

ence! That means he hasn't any lungs, or else the chlorine is not

what his lungs use. You bet he can go in! Smith, here's a treasure

house for a biologist - harmless enough if we're careful. What a

metabolism!"

Smith was a tall, thin, bony man with a long, mournful face. His

voice, unusually forceful for his appearance, sounded in Grosve-

nor's communicator. "In the various exploring trips I've been on, I've

seen only two higher forms of life. Those dependent on chlorine, and

those who need oxygen - the two elements that support combus-

tion. I've heard vague reports of a fluorine-breathing life form, but

I've yet to see an example. I'd almost stake my reputation that no

complicated organism could ever adapt itself to the actual utiliza-

tion of both gases. Morton, we mustn't let this creature get away if

we can help it."

Director Morton laughed, then said soberly, "He seems anxious

enough to stay."

He had been riding up the escalator on one side of the gang-

plank. Now he moved into the air lock with Coeurl and the two men.

Grosvenor hurried forward, but he was only one of a dozen men

who also entered the large space. The great door swung shut, and

air began to hiss in. Everybody stood well clear of the catlike mon-

ster. Grosvenor watched the beast with a growing sense of uneasi-

ness. Several thoughts occurred to him. He wished he could com-

municate them to Morton. He should have been able to. The rule

aboard these expeditionary ships was that all heads of departments

ous that all of them could not talk to Morton whenever they

pleased.

The inner door of the lock was opening. Grosvenor pushed his

way out with the others. In a few minutes they were all standing at

the bottom of a series of elevators that led up to the living quarters.

There was a brief discussion between Morton and Smith. Finally,

Morton said, "We'll send him up alone if he'll go."

Coeurl offered no objection until he heard the door of the elevator

clang shut behind him, and the closed cage shot upward. He

whirled with a snarl. Instantly, his reason twisted into chaos. He

pounced at the door. The metal bent under his plunge, and the

desperate pain maddened him. Now he was all trapped animal. He

smashed at the metal with his paws. He tore the tough welded pan-

els loose with his thick tentacles. The machinery screeched in pro-

test. There were jerks as the magnetic power pulled the cage along

in spite of projecting pieces of metal scraping against the outside

walls. Finally, the elevator reached its destination and stopped.

Coeurl snatched off the rest of the door and hurtled into the corri-

dor. He waited there until the men came up with drawn weapons.

Morton said, "We're fools. We should have shown him how it

works. He thought we'd double-crossed him, or something."

He motioned to the monster. Grosvenor saw the savage glow fade

from the beast's coal-black eyes as Morton opened and closed the

door of a near-by elevator several times. It was Coeurl who ended

the lesson. He trotted into a large room that led off from the corri-

dor.

He lay down on the carpeted floor and fought down the electric

tautness of his nerves and muscles. He was furious at the fright he

had shown. It seemed to him that he had lost the advantage of ap-

pearing a mild and placid individual. His strength must have star-

tled and dismayed them.

During the lunch period, the human beings had offered him a

variety of their own food, all valueless to him. They apparently did

not realize that he must eat living creatures. Id was not merely a

substance but a configuration of a substance, and it could be ob-

tained only from tissues that still palpitated with the flow of life.

The minutes went by. And still Coeurl restrained himself. Still he

lay there watching, aware that the men knew he watched. They

floated a metal machine from the ship to the rock mass that

blocked the great door of the building. His fierce stare noted all

their movements. Even as he shivered with the intensity of his hun-

ger, he saw how they operated the machinery, and how simple it

was.

He knew what to expect finally when the flame ate incandes-

cently at the hard rock. In spite of his pre-knowledge, he deliber-

ately jumped and snarled as if in fear.

From a small patrol ship, Grosvenor observed the action. It was a

role he had assigned himself, watching Coeurl. He had nothing else

to do. No one seemed to feel the need of assistance from the one

Nexialist aboard the Space Beagle.

As he watched, the door below Coeurl was cleared. Director

Morton and another man came over together. They went inside, and

disappeared from view. Presently their voices came through Grosve-

nor's communicator. The man with Morton spoke first.

"It's a shambles. There must have been a war. You can catch the

drift of this machinery. It's secondary stuff. What I'd like to know is,

how was it controlled and applied?"

Morton said, "I don't quite understand what you mean."

"Simple," said the other. "So far, I've seen nothing but tools. Al-

most every machine, whether it's a tool or a weapon, ii equipped

with a transformer for receiving energy, altering its form, and ap-

plying it. Where are the power plants? I hope their libraries will give

population at least. And, failing that, why didn't they develop space

travel and go elsewhere for their food?"

"Ask Gunlie Lester." It was Director Morton. "I heard him ex-

pounding a theory before we landed."

The astronomer answered the first call. "I've still got to verify all

my facts. But one of them, you'll agree, is significant by itself. This

desolate world is the only planet revolving around that miserable

sun. There's nothing else. No moon. Not even a planetoid. And the

nearest star system is nine hundred light-years away. So tremen-

dous would have been the problem of the ruling race of this world

that in one jump they would have had to solve not only interplane-

tary but interstellar-space flight. Consider for comparison how slow

our own development was. First, we reached the moon. The planets

followed. Each success led to the next, and after many years the

first long journey was made to a near-by star. Last of all, man in-

vented the anti-accelerator drive which permitted galactic travel.

With all this in mind, I maintain it would be impossible for any race

to create an interstellar drive without previous experience."

Other comments were made, but Grosvenor did not listen. He

had glanced towards where he had last seen the big cat. It was not

in sight. He cursed under his breath for having let himself be dis-

tracted. Grosvenor swung his small craft over the whole area in a

hasty search. But there was too much confusion, too

much~,.rubble, too many buildings. Everywhere he looked there

were obstacles to his vision. He landed and questioned several

hardworking technicians. Most recalled having seen the cat "about

twenty minutes ago." Dissatisfied, Grosvenor climbed back into his

lifeboat and flew out over the city.

A short while before, Coeurl had moved swiftly, seeking conceal-

ment wherever he found it. From group to group he sped, a nervous

dynamo of energy, jumpy and sick from his hunger. A little car

rolled up, stopped in front of him, and a formidable camera whirred

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hundreddays.Hestoppedfinally,chilledbythereality.Hisgreatforelegstwitchedwithashudderingmovementthatarchedeveryrazor-sharpclaw.Thethicktentaclesthatgrewfromhisshouldersun-dulatedtautly.Hetwistedhisgreatcatheadfromsidetoside,whilethehairliketendrilsthatformedeachearvibratedfrantically,test-ingeveryva...

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A. E. Van Vogt - Voyage of the Space Beagle

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