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[Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Astounding Stories, March 1932. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
_Our sprays met them in mid air._]
Vampires of Space
By Sewell Peaslee Wright
Commander John Hanson recounts his harrowing adventure with the Electites of space.
Sometimes, I know, I must seem a crotchety old man. "Old John Hanson,"they call me, and roll their eyes as though to say, "Of course, you haveto forgive him on account of his age."
But the joke isn't always on me. Not infrequently I gain much amusementobserving these cocky youngsters who strut in the blue-and-silveruniforms of the Service in which, until more or less recently, I borethe rank of Commander.
There is young Clippen, for instance, a nice, clean youngster; thirdofficer, I believe, on the _Caliobre_, one of the newest ships of theSpecial Patrol Service. He drops in to see me as often as he has leavehere at Base, to give me the latest news, and to coax a yarn, if he can,of the old days. He is courteous, respectful ... and yet just a shadecondescending. The condescension of youth.
"Something new under the sun after all, sir," he commented the otherday. That, incidentally, is a saying of Earth, whence the larger part ofthe Service's officer personnel has always been drawn. Something newunder the sun! The saying probably dates back to an age long before manmastered space.
"Yes?" I leaned back more comfortably, happy, as always, to hear mynative Earth tongue, and to speak it. The Universal language has itsobvious advantages, but the speech of one's fathers wings thoughtstraightest to the mind. "What now?"
"Creatures of space!" announced Clippen importantly, in the fashion ofone who brings surprising news. "'Electites,' they call them. Beings wholive in space--things, anyway; I don't know that you could call thembeings."
* * * * *
"Hm-m." I looked past him, down a mighty corridor of dimming years.Creatures that lived in space.... I smiled in my beard. "Creaturesperhaps twice the height of a man in their greatest dimension? In shapelike a crescent, with blunted horns somewhat straightened near the tips,and drawn close together?" I spoke slowly, drawing from my store ofmemories. "A pale red in color, intangible and yet--"
"You've heard, sir!" said Clippen disappointedly to me. "My news isstale."
"Yes, I've heard," I nodded. "'Electites,' they call them, eh? That'sthe work of our great scientific minds, I presume?"
"Er--yes. Undoubtedly." Clippen started to wander restlessly around theroom. He had a great respect for the laboratory men, with their whitecoats and their wise, solemn airs, and he disliked exceedingly to haveme present my views regarding these much overrated gentlemen. I havealways been a man of action, and pottering over coils and glass vialsand pages of figures has always struck me as something not to beincluded in a man's proper sphere of activity. "Well, I believe I'll beshoving off, sir; just dropped in for a moment," Clippen continued."Thought perhaps you hadn't heard of the news; it seems to be causing agreat deal of discussion among the officers at Base."
"Something new under the sun, eh?" I chuckled.
"Why, yes. You'll agree to that, sir, surely?" I believe the lad wasslightly nettled by my chuckle. No one likes to bear stale news.
"I'll agree to that," I said, smiling broadly now. "'Tis easier thandebating the matter, and an old man can't hope to hold his own inargument with you quick-witted youngsters."
"I've never noticed," replied young Clippen rather acidly, "that youwere particularly averse to argument, sir. Rather the reverse. But Imust be moving on; we're shoving off soon, I hear, and you know theroutine here at Base."
* * * * *
He saluted me, rather carelessly, I should say, and I returned thesalute with the crispness with which the gesture was rendered in my day.When he was gone, I turned to my desk and began searching in that hugeand capacious drawer in which were kept, helter-skelter, the dusty,faded, nondescript mementoes of a thousand adventures.
I found, at last, what I was seeking. No impressive thing, this: a bitof metal, irregular in shape, no larger than my palm, and three timesthe thickness. One side was smooth; the other was stained as by greatheat, and deeply pitted as though it had been steeped in acid.
Silently, I turned the bit of metal over and over in my hands. I hadbegged hard for this souvenir; had obtained it only by passing my wordits secret would never reach the Universe through me. But now ... nowthat seal of secrecy has been removed.
As I write this, slowly and thoughtfully, as an old man writes,relishing his words for the sake of the memories they bring before hiseyes, a bit of metal holds against the vagrant breeze the filled pagesof my script. A bit of metal, no larger than my palm, and perhaps threetimes the thickness. It is irregular in shape, and smooth on one side.The other side is eroded as though by acid.
Not an imposing thing, this ancient bit of metal, but to me one of mymost precious possessions. It is, beyond doubt, the only fragment of myold ship, the _Ertak_, now in existence and identifiable.
And this story is the story of that pitted metal and the ship from whichit came; one of the strangest stories in all my storehouse of memoriesof days when only the highways of the Universe had been charted, andbreathless adventure awaited him who dared the unknown trails of theSpecial Patrol Service.
* * * * *
The _Ertak_, as I recall the details now, had just touched at Base uponthe completion of a routine patrol--one of those monotonous, fruitlessaffairs which used to prey so upon Correy's peace of mind. Correy was myfirst officer on the _Ertak_, and the keenest seeker after trouble Ihave ever known.
"The Chief presents his compliments and requests an immediate audiencewith Commander Hanson," announced one of the brisk, little attaches ofBase, before I'd had time to draw a second breath of fresh air.
I glanced at Correy, who was beside me, and winked. That is, I quicklydrew down the lid of one eye--a peculiar little gesture common to Earth,which may mean any one of many things.
"Sounds like something's in the wind," I commented in a swift aside."Better give 'no leaves' until I come back."
"Right, sir!" chuckled Correy. "It's about time."
I made my way swiftly to the Chief's private office, and was promptlyadmitted. He returned my salute crisply, and wasted no time in gettingto the point.
"How's your ship, Commander? Good condition?"
"Prime, sir."
"Supplies?"
"What's needed could be taken on in two hours." In the Service, Earthtime was an almost universal standard except in official documents.
"Good!" The Chief picked up a sheaf of papers, mostly standard chartsand position reports, I judged, and frowned at them thoughtfully. "I'vesome work cut out for you, Commander.
"Two passenger ships have recently been reported lost in space. Thatwouldn't be so alarming if both had not, when last reported, been inabout the same position. Perhaps it is no more than a coincidence, but,with space travel still viewed with a certain doubt by so many, theCouncil feels something should be done to determine the cause of thesetwo losses.
"Accordingly, all ships have been rerouted to avoid the area in whichit is presumed these losses took place. The locations of the two ships,together with their routes and last reported positions, are given here.There will be no formal orders; you are to cruise until you havedetermined, and if possible, eliminated the danger, or until you arecertain that no further danger exists."
* * * * *
/>
He slid the papers across his desk, and I picked them up.
"Yes, sir!" I said. "That will be all?"
"You understand your orders?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Very well. Good luck, Commander!"
I saluted and hurried out of the room, back to my impatient firstofficer.
"What's up, sir?" he asked eagerly.
"Can't say that I know, to be truthful about it. Perhaps nothing;perhaps a great deal. Give orders to take on all necessary supplies--indouble-quick time. I've promised the Chief we'll be ready to shove offin two hours. I'll meet you in the navigating room, and give you all theinformation I have."
Correy saluted and rushed away to give the necessary orders.Thoughtfully, I made my way through the narrow, ethon-lightedpassageways to the navigating room, where Correy very shortly joined me.
Briefly, I repeated the Chief's conversation, and we both bent over thecharts and position reports.
"Hm-m!" Correy was lost in thought for a moment as he fixed the locationin his mind. "Rather on the fringe of things. Almost anything couldhappen out there, sir. That would be on the old Belgrade route, would itnot?"
"Yes. It's still used, however, as you know, by some of the smaller,slower ships making many stops. Or was, until the recent order. Anyguesses as to what we'll find?"
"None, sir, except the obvious one."
"Meteorites?"
Correy nodded.
"There's some bad swarms, now and then," he said seriously. I knew hewas thinking of one disastrous experience the _Ertak_ had had ... and ofscores of narrow escapes. "That would be the one likely explanation."
"True. But those ships were old and slow, they could turn about anddodge more easily than a ship of the _Ertak's_ speed. At full spacespeed we're practically helpless; can neither stop nor change our coursein time to avoid an emergency."
"Well, sir," shrugged Correy, "our job's to find the facts. I took theliberty of telling the men we were to be ready in an hour and a half. Ifwe are, do we shove off immediately?"
"Just as soon as everything's checked. I leave it to you to give thenecessary orders. I know I can depend upon you to waste no time."
"Right, sir," said Correy, grinning like a schoolboy. "We'll waste notime."
In just a shade less than two hours after we had set down at Base, wewere rising swiftly at maximum atmospheric speed, on our way to alittle-traveled portion of the universe, where two ships, in rapidsuccession, had met an unknown fate.
* * * * *
"I wonder, sir, if you could come to the navigating room at once?" Itwas Kincaide's voice, coming from the instrument in my stateroom.
"Immediately, Mr. Kincaide." I asked no questions, for I knew my secondofficer's cool-headed disposition. If something required my attentionin the navigating room, in his opinion, it was something important. Ithrew on my uniform hurriedly and hastened to Kincaide's side, wonderingif at last our days of unrewarded searching were to bear fruit.
"Perhaps I called you needlessly, sir," Kincaide greeted meapologetically, "but, considering the nature of our mission, I thoughtit best to have your opinion." He motioned toward the two greatnavigating charts, operated by super-radio reflexes, set in the surfaceof the table before him.
In the center of each was the familiar red spark which represented the_Ertak_ herself, and all around were the glowing points of greenishlight which gave us, in terrestial terms, the locations of the variousbodies to the right and left, above and below.
"See here, sir--and here?" Kincaide's blunt, capable forefingersindicated spots on each of the charts. "Ever see anything like thatbefore?"
I shook my head slowly. I had seen instantly the phenomena he hadpointed out. Using again the most understandable terminology, to ourright, and somewhat above us, nearer by far than any of the chartedbodies, was something which registered on our charts, as a dim andformless haze of pinkish light.
"Now the television, sir," said Kincaide gravely.
* * * * *
I bent over the huge, hooded disk, so unlike the brilliantly illuminatedinstruments of to-day, and studied the scene reflected there.
Centered in the field was a group of thousands of strange things, movingswiftly toward the ship. In shape they were not unlike crescents, withthe horns blunted, and pushed inward, towards each other. They glowedwith a reddish radiance which seemed to have its center in the thickestportion of the crescents--and, despite their appearance, they gave me,somehow, an uncanny impression that they were in some strange way,_alive_! While they remained in a more or less compact group, theirrelative positions changed from time to time, not aimlessly as wouldinsensate bodies drifting thus through the black void of space, but witha sort of intelligent direction.
"What do you make of them, sir?" asked Kincaide, his eyes on may face."Can you place them?"
"No," I admitted, still staring with a fixed fascination at the strangescene in the television disk. "Perhaps this is what we've been searchingfor. Please call Mr. Correy and Mr. Hendricks, and ask them to reporthere immediately."
Kincaide hastened to obey the order, while I watched the strange thingsin the field of the television disk, trying to ascertain their nature.They were not solid bodies, for even as I viewed them, one wassuperimposed upon another, and I could see the second quite distinctlythrough the substance of the first. Nor were they rigid, for now andagain one of the crescent arms would move searchingly, almost like athick, clumsy tentacle. There was something restless, _hungry_, in themovement of the sharp arms of the things, that sent a chill tricklingdown my spine.
Correy and Hendricks arrived together; their curiosity evident.
"I believe, gentlemen," I said, "that we're about to find out the reasonwhy two ships already have disappeared in this vicinity. Look first atthe charts, and then here."
* * * * *
They bent, for a moment, over the charts, and then stared down into thetelevision disk. Correy was first to speak.
"What are they?" he gasped. "Are they ... alive?"
"That is what we don't know. I believe they are, after a fashion. And,if you'll observe, they are headed directly towards us at a speed whichmust be at least as great as our own. Is that correct, Mr. Kincaide?"
Kincaide nodded, and began some hasty figuring, taking his readings fromthe finely ruled lines which divided the charts into little measuredsquares, and checking speeds with the chronometers set into the wall ofthe room.
"But I don't understand the way in which they register on our navigatingcharts, sir," said Hendricks slowly. Hendricks, my youthful thirdofficer, had an inquiring, almost scientific mind. I have often said hewas the closest approach to a scientist I have ever seen in the personof an action-loving man. "They're a blur of light on the charts--all outof proportion to their actual size. They must be something more thanmaterial bodies, or less."
"They're coming towards us," commented Correy grimly, still bent overthe disk, "as though they knew what they were doing, and meantbusiness."
"Yes," nodded Kincaide, picking up the paper upon which he had beenfiguring. "This is just a rule-of-thumb estimate, but if they continueon their present course at their present speed, and we do likewise,they'll be upon us in about an hour and a quarter--less, if anything."
* * * * *
"But I can't understand their appearance in the charts," mutteredHendricks doggedly, still turning that matter over in his mind. "Unless... unless ... ah! I'll venture I have it, sir! The charts are operatedby super-radio reflexes; in others words, electrically. They wouldnaturally be extremely sensitive to an electrical disturbance. Thosethings are electrical in nature. Highly so. That's the reason for theflare of light on the charts."
"Sounds logical," said Correy immediately. "The point, as I see it, isnot what they are, but what we're to do about them. Do you believe, sir,that they are dangerous?"
"Let me ask y
ou some questions to answer that one," I suggested. "Twoships are reported lost in space--in this immediate vicinity. We comehere to determine the cause of those losses. We find ourselves theevident objective of a horde of strange things which we cannot identify;which Mr. Hendricks, here, seems to have good reason to believe aresomehow electrical in nature. Putting all these facts together, what isthe most logical conclusion?"
"That these things caused the two lost ships to be reported missing inspace!" said Hendricks.
* * * * *
I glanced at Kincaide, and he nodded gravely.
"And you, Mr. Correy?" I asked.
Correy shrugged.
"I believe you're, right, sir. They seem like such rather flimsy,harmless things, though, that the disintegrator rays will take care ofwithout difficulty. Shall I order the ray operators to their stations,sir?"
"Do that, please. And take personal charge of the forward projectors,will you? Mr. Hendricks, will you command the after projectors? Mr.Kincaide and I will carry on here."
"Shall we open upon them at will, or upon orders, sir?" asked Correy.
"Upon orders," I said. "And you'll get your orders as soon as they're inrange; I have a feeling we're in for trouble."
"I hope so, sir!" grinned Correy from the door.
Hendricks followed him silently, but I saw there was a deep, thoughtfulfrown between his brows.
"I think," commented Kincaide quietly, "that Hendricks is likely to bemore useful to us in this matter than Correy."
I nodded, and bent over the television disk. The things were perceptiblynearer; the hurtling group nearly filled the disk, now.
There was something horribly eager, horribly malignant, in the way theyshone, so palely red, and in the fashion in which their blunt tentaclesreached out toward the _Ertak_.
I glanced up at the Earth clock on the wall.
"The next hour," I said soberly, "cannot pass too quickly for me!"
* * * * *
We had decelerated steadily during the hour, but we were still abovemaximum atmospheric speed when at last I gave the order to open theinvaders with disintegrator rays. They were close, but of course therays are not as effective in space as when operating in a more favorablemedium, and I wished to make sure of our prey.
I pressed the attention signal to Correy's post, and he answeredinstantly.
"Ready, Mr. Correy?"
"Ready, sir!"
"Then commence action!"
Before I could repeat the command to Hendricks, I heard the deepeningnote of the atomic generators, and knew Correy had already begunoperations.
Together, and silently, Kincaide and I bent over the television disk. Wewatched for a moment, and then, with one accord, lifted our heads andlooked into each other's eyes.
"No go, sir," said Kincaide quietly.
I nodded. It was evident the disintegrator rays were useless here. Whenthey struck into the horde of crescent-shaped things coming so hungrilytoward us, the things changed from red to a sickly, yellowish pink, andseemed to writhe, as though in some discomfort, but that was all.
"Perhaps at closer range...?" ventured Kincaide.
"I think not. If Mr. Hendricks is correct--and I believe he is--thesethings aren't material; they're not matter, as we comprehend the word.And so, they can't be disintegrated."
"Then, sir, how are to best them?"
"First, we'll have to know more about them. For one thing, their mode ofattack. We should know very soon. Please recall Mr. Hendricks, and thenorder all hands to their posts. We may be in for it."
* * * * *
Hendricks came rushing in breathlessly.
"The rays are useless, sir," he said. "They'll be on us in a fewminutes. Any further orders?"
"Not yet. Have you any ideas as to their mode of attack? What they cando to us?"
"No, sir. That is, no reasonable idea."
"What's your unreasonable theory, then, Mr. Hendricks?"
"I'd prefer, sir, to make further observation first," he replied."They're close enough now, I think, to watch through the ports. Have Iyour permission to unshutter one of the ports?"
"Certainly, sir." The _Ertak_, like all Special Patrol ships of theperiod, had but few ports, and these were kept heavily shuttered. Herhull was double; she was really two ships, one inside the other, the twoskins being separated and braced by innumerable trusses. Between theouter and the inner skin the air pressure was kept about one half ofnormal, thus distributing the strain of the pressure equally between thetwo hulls.
In order to arrange for a port or an exit, it was necessary to bringthese two skins close together at the desired point, and strengthen thisweak point with many braces. As a further protection against anemergency--and a fighting ship must be prepared against allemergencies--the ports were all shuttered with massive doors of solidmetal, hermetically fitted. I am explaining this so much in detail forthe benefit of those not familiar with the ships of my day, and becausethis information is necessary that one may have a complete understandingof subsequent events.
Hendricks, upon receiving my permission, sprang to one of the two portsin the navigating room and unshuttered it.
"The lights, please?" he asked, over his shoulder. Kincaide nodded, andswitched off the _ethon_ tubes which illuminated the room. The three ofus crowded around the recessed port.
* * * * *
The things were not only close: they were veritably upon us! Even as welooked, one of them swept by the port so close that, save for the thickcrystal, one might have reached out into space and touched it.
The television disk had represented them very accurately. They were, intheir greatest dimension, perhaps twice the height of a man, and atclose range their reddish color was more brilliant than I had imagined;in the thickest portion of the crescent, which seemed to be the nucleus,the radiance of the thing was almost blinding.
It was obvious that they were not material bodies. There were nodefinite boundaries to their bodies; they faded off into nothingness ina sort of fringe, almost like a dim halo.
An attention signal sounded sharply, and Kincaide groped his way swiftlyto answer it.
"It's Correy, sir," he said. "He reports his rays are utterly useless,and asks for further orders."
"Tell him to cease action, and report here immediately." I turned toHendricks, staring out the port beside me. "Well, what do you make ofthem now?"
Before he could reply, Kincaide called out sharply.
"Come here, sir! The charts are out of commission. We've gone blind."
It was true. The charts were no more than twin rectangles of lambent redflame, with a yellow spark glowing dimly in the center of each, the fineblack lines ruled in the surface showing clearly against the waveringred fire.
"Mr. Hendricks!" I snapped. "Let's have your theory--reasonable orotherwise."
* * * * *
Hendricks, his face pressed at an angle against one side of the port,turned toward me, and swung the shutter into place. Kincaide snapped onthe lights.
"It's no longer a theory, sir," he said in a choked, hushed voice,"although it's still unreasonable. These things--are _eating_ us!"
"Eating us?" Correy's voice joined Kincaide's and mine in theexclamation of amazement. He had just entered the navigating room inresponse to my order.
"Eroding us, absorbing us--whatever you want to call it. There's one atwork close enough to the port so that I could see it. It is feeding uponour hull as an electric arc feeds upon its electrodes!"
"Farewell _Ertak_!" said Correy grimly. "Anything the rays can'tlick--wins!"
"Not yet!" I contradicted him. "Kincaide, what's the nearest body uponwhich we can set down?"
"N-127, sir," he replied promptly. "Just logged her a few minutes ago."He poured hastily through a dog-eared index. "Here it is: 'N-127,atmosphere unbreathable; largely nitrogen, oxygen in
sufficient tosupport human life; no animal life reported; insects, large but reportednon-poisonous; vegetation heroic in size, probably with edible fruits,although reports are incomplete on this score; water unfit for drinkingpurpose unless distilled; land area approximately--'"
"That's enough," I interrupted. "Mr. Correy, set a course for N-127 bythe readings of the television instrument. Mr. Kincaide, accelerate tomaximum space speed, and set us down on dry land as quickly as emergencyspeed can put us there. And you, Mr. Hendricks, please tell us all youknow--or guess--about the enemy."
* * * * *
Hendricks waited, moodily silent, until the ship was coming around onher course, picking up speed every instant. Kincaide had graduallyincreased the pull of the gravity pads to about twice normal, so that wefound it barely possible to move about. The _Ertak_ was an old-timer,but she could pick up speed when she had to that would have thrown usall headlong were it not for the artificial gravity anchorage of thepads.
"It's all guess-work," began Hendricks slowly, "so I hope you won'tplace too much reliance in my theories, sir. I'll just give you my lineof reasoning, and you can evaluate it for yourself.
"These things are creatures of space. No form of life, as we know it,can live in space. Therefore, they are not material; they are notmatter, like ourselves.
"From their effect upon the charts, we decided they were electrical innature. Not made up of atoms and electrons, but of pure electricalenergy in an unfamiliar form.
"Then, remembering that they exist in space, and concluding that theywere the destroyers of the two ships we know of, I began wondering howthey brought about the destruction--or at least, the disappearance--ofthese two ships. Life of any kind must have something to feed upon. Toproduce one kind of energy we must convert, apparently consume, someother kind of energy. Even our atomic generators slowly but surely eatup the metal in which is locked the power which makes this