ship.There must be other openings like this one, Matson thought dully as hestared at the being from space. Behind him an Army tank rumblednoisily on its treads as it drove through the crowd toward the ship,the long gun in its turret lifting like an alert finger to point atthe figure of the alien.
The stranger didn't move from his unnaturally stiff position. Hisoddly luminous eyes never wavered from their fixed stare at a pointfar beyond the outermost fringes of the crowd. Seven feet tall,obviously masculine, he differed from mankind only in minor details.His long slender hands lacked the little finger, and his waist wasabnormally small. Other than that, he was human in externalappearance. A wide sleeved tunic of metallic fabric covered his upperbody, gathered in at his narrow waist by a broad metal belt studdedwith tiny bosses. The tunic ended halfway between hip and knee,revealing powerfully muscled legs encased in silvery hose. Brightyellow hair hung to his shoulders, clipped short in a square bangacross his forehead. His face was long, clean featured andextraordinarily calm--almost godlike in its repose. Matson stared,fascinated. He had the curious impression that the visitor hadstepped bodily out of the Middle Ages. His dress and haircut werealmost identical with that of a medieval courtier.
The starman raised his hand--his strangely luminous steel gray eyesscanned the crowd--and into Matson's mind came a wave of peacefulcalm, a warm feeling of goodwill and brotherhood, an indescribablefeeling of soothing relaxation. With an odd sense of shock Matsonrealized that he was not the only one to experience this. As far backas the farthest hangers-on near the airport gates the tenseness of thewaiting crowd relaxed. The effect was amazing! Troops lowered theirweapons with shamefaced smiles on their faces. Police relaxed theirsweating vigilance. The crowd stirred, moving backward to give itsmembers room. The emotion-charged atmosphere vanished as though it hadnever been. And a cold chill played icy fingers up the spine of DanielMatson. He had felt the full impact of the alien's projection, and hewas more frightened than he had ever been in his life!
* * * * *
They had been clever--damnably clever! That initial greeting with itsdisarming undertones of empathy and innocence had accomplished itspurpose. It had emasculated Mankind's natural suspicion of strangers.And their subsequent actions--so beautifully timed--so careful toavoid the slightest hint of evil, had completed what theirmagnificently staged appearance had begun.
The feeling of trust had persisted. It lasted through quarantine,clearance, the public receptions, and the private meetings withscientists and the heads of government. It had persisted unabatedthrough the entire two months they remained in the Twin City area. Thealiens remained as they had been in the beginning--completelyunspoiled by the interest shown in them. They remained simple,unaffected, and friendly, displaying an ingenuous innocence thatdemanded a corresponding faith in return.
Most of their time was spent at the University of Washington, where attheir own request they were studied by curious scholars, and in returnwere given courses in human history and behavior. They were quitefrank about their reasons for following such a course ofaction--according to their spokesman Ixtl they wanted to learn humanways in order to make a better impression when they visited the restof Mankind. Matson read that blurb in an official press release andlaughed cynically. Better impression, hah! They couldn't have done anybetter if they had an entire corps of public relations specialistsassisting them! They struck exactly the right note--and how could theyimprove on perfection?
From the beginning they left their great ship open and unguarded whilethey commuted back and forth from the airport to the campus. Andnaturally the government quickly rectified the second error and tookinstant advantage of the first. A guard was posted around the ship tokeep it clear of the unofficially curious, while the officiallycurious combed the vessel's interior with a fine tooth comb. Teams ofscientists and technicians under Matson's direction swarmed throughthe ship, searching with the most advanced methods of human sciencefor the secrets of the aliens.
They quickly discovered that while the star travellers might betrusting, they were not exactly fools. There was nothing about theimpenetrably shielded mechanisms that gave the slightest clue as totheir purpose or to the principles upon which they operated--nor werethere any visible controls. The ship was as blankly uncommunicative asa brick wall.
Matson was annoyed. He had expected more than this, and hisfrustration drove him to watch the aliens closely. He followed them,sat in on their sessions with the scholars at the University, watchedthem at their frequent public appearances, and came to know them wellenough to recognize the microscopic differences that made themindividuals. To the casual eye they were as alike as peas in a pod,but Matson could separate Farn from Quicha, and Laz from Acana--andIxtl--well he would have stood out from the others in anycircumstances. But Matson never intruded. He was content to sit in thebackground and observe.
And what he saw bothered him. They gave him no reason for theirappearance on Earth, and whenever the question came up Ixtl parried itadroitly. They were obviously not explorers for they displayed astartling familiarity with Earth's geography and ecology. They werepossibly ambassadors, although they behaved like no ambassadors he hadever seen. They might be traders, although what they would trade onlyGod and the aliens knew--and neither party was in a talking mood.Mysteries bothered Matson. He didn't like them. But they could keeptheir mystery if he could only have the technical knowledge that wasconcealed beneath their beautifully shaped skulls.
At that, he had to admit that their appearance had come at preciselythe right time. No one better than he knew how close Mankind had beento the final war, when the last two major antagonists on Earth weregirding their human and industrial power for a final showdown. But thealiens had become a diversion. The impending war was forgotten whilemen waited to see what was coming next. It was obvious that thestarmen had a reason for being here, and until they chose to revealit, humanity would forget its deadly problems in anticipation of theanswer to this delightful puzzle that had come to them from outerspace. Matson was thankful for the breathing space, all too well awarethat it might be the last that Mankind might have, but the enigma ofthe aliens still bothered him.
He was walking down the main corridor of the Physics Building on theUniversity campus, wondering as he constantly did about how he couldextract some useful knowledge from the aliens when a quiet voicespeaking accentless English sounded behind him.
"What precisely do you wish to know, Dr. Matson?" the voice said.
Matson whirled to face the questioner, and looked into the face ofIxtl. The alien was smiling, apparently pleased at having startledhim. "What gave you the idea that I wanted to know anything?" heasked.
"You did," Ixtl said. "We all have been conscious of your thoughts formany days. Forgive me for intruding, but I must. Your speculationsradiate on such a broad band that we cannot help being aware of them.It has been quite difficult for us to study your customs and historywith this high level background noise. We are aware of your interest,but your thoughts are so confused that we have never found questionswe could answer. If you would be more specific we would be happy togive you the information which you seek."
"Oh yeah!" Matson thought.
"Of course. It would be to our advantage to have your disturbingspeculations satisfied and your fears set at rest. We could accomplishmore in a calmer environment. It is too bad that you do not receive asstrongly as you transmit. If you did, direct mental contact wouldconvince you that our reasons for satisfying you are good. But youneed not fear us, Earthman. We intend you no harm. Indeed, we plan tohelp you once we learn enough to formulate a proper program."
"I do not fear you," Matson said--knowing that he lied.
"Perhaps not consciously," Ixtl said graciously, "but neverthelessfear is in you. It is too bad--and besides," he continued with a faintsmile "it is very uncomfortable. Your glandular emotions are quiteprimitive, and very disturbing."
"I'll try to keep them under control," Matson said dryly.
<
br /> "Physical control is not enough. With you there would have to bemental control as well. Unfortunately you radiate much more stronglythan your fellow men, and we are unable to shut you out withoutexerting considerable effort that could better be employed elsewhere."The alien eyed Matson speculatively. "There you go again," he said."Now you're angry."
Matson tried to force his mind to utter blankness, and the aliensmiled at him. "It does some good--but not much," he said. "Consciouscontrol is never perfect."
"Well then, what can I do?"
"Go away. Your range fortunately is short."
Matson looked at the alien. "Not yet," he said coldly. "I'm stilllooking for something."
"Our technology," Ixtl nodded. "I know. However I can assure you itwill be of no help to you. You