no windows in Trenco spaceport-the leeward groundway of the structure. In spite of the
weird antics of Trenco’s sun-gyrating, jumping, appearing and disappearing-he knew
that it was going down. Soon he saw the ground-car coming in, scuttling crabwise, nose
into the wind but actually moving backward and sidewise. Although the “seeing” was
very poor, at this close range the distortion was minimized and he could see that, like its
parent craft, the ground-car was a blister. Its edges actually touched the ground all
around, sloping upward and over the top in such a smooth reverse curve that the harder
the wind blew the more firmly was the vehicle pressed downward.
The ground-flap came up just enough to clear the car’s top and the tiny craft
crept up. But before the landing bars could seize her the ground-car struck an eddy
from the flap-an eddy in a medium which, although gaseous, was at that velocity
practically solid. Earth blasted away in torrents from the leading edge, the car leaped
bodily into the air and was flung away, end over end. But Tregonsee, with consummate
craftsmanship, forced her flat again, and again she crawled up toward the flap. This
time the landing-bars took hold and, although the little vessel fluttered like a leaf in a
gale, she was drawn inside the port and the flap went down behind her. She was then
sprayed, and Tregonsee came out.
“Why the spray?” thought Kinnison, as the Rigellian entered his control-room.
“Trencos. Much of the life of this planet starts from almost imperceptible spores.
It develops rapidly, attains considerable size, and consumes anything organic it
touches. This port was depopulated time after time before the lethal spray was
developed. Now turn your spy-ray again to the lee of the port.”
During the few minutes that had elapsed the wind had increased in fury to such
an extent that the very ground was boiling away from the trailing edge in the tumultuous
eddy formed there, ultra-streamlined though the space-port was. And that eddy, far
surpassing in violence any storm known to Earth, was to the denizens of Trenco a
miraculously appearing quiet spot in which they could stop and rest, eat and be eaten.
A globular monstrosity had thrust pseudopodia deep into the boiling dirt. Other
limbs now shot out, grasping a tumble-weed-like growth. The latter fought back
viciously, but could make no impression upon the rubbery integument of the former.
Then a smaller creature, slipping down the polished curve of the shield, was enmeshed
by the tumbleweed. There ensued the amazing spectacle of one-half of the tumbleweed
devouring the newcomer, even while its other half was being devoured by the globe!
“Now look out farther . . . . . still. farther,” directed Tregonsee.
“I can’t. Things take on impossible motions and become so distorted as to be
unrecognizable.”
“Exactly. If you saw a zwilnik out there, where would you shoot?”
“At him, I suppose-why?”
“Because if you shot at where you think you see him, not only would you miss
him, but the beam might very well swing around and enter your own back. Many men
have been killed by their own weapons in precisely that fashion. Since we know, not
only what the object is, but exactly where it is, we can correct our lines of aim for the
then existing values of distortion. This is of course the reason why we Rigellians and
other races possessing the sense of perception are the only ones who can efficiently
police this planet.”
“Reason enough, I’d say, from what I’ve seen,” and silence fell.
For minutes the two Lensmen watched, while creatures of a hundred kinds
streamed into the lee of the space-port and killed and ate each other. Finally something
came crawling up wind, against that unimaginable gale, a flatly streamlined creature
resembling somewhat a turtle, but shaped as was the ground-car. Thrusting down long,
hooked flippers into the dirt it inched along, paying no attention. to the scores of lesser
creatures who hurled themselves upon its armored back, until it was close beside the
largest football-shaped creature in the eddy. Then, lightning-like, it drove a needle-
sharp organ at least eight inches into the leathery mass of its victim. Struggling
convulsively, the stricken thing lifted the turtle a fraction of an inch-and both were hurled
instantly out of sight, the living ball still eating a luscious bit of prey despite the fact that
it was impaled upon the poniard of the turtle and was certainly doomed.
“Good Lord, what was that?” exclaimed Kinnison.
“The flat? That was a representative of Trenco’s highest life-form. It may develop
a civilization in time-it is quite intelligent now.”
“But the difficulties!” protested the Tellurian. “Building cities, even homes . . . . .”
“Neither cities nor homes are necessary here, nor even desirable. Why build?
Nothing is or can be fixed on this planet, and since one place is exactly like every other
place, why wish to remain in any one particular spot? They do very well, in their own
mobile way. Here, you will notice, comes the rain.”
The rain came-forty-four inches per hour of rain-and the incessant lightning. The
dirt became first mud, then muddy water being driven in fiercely flying gouts and
masses. Now, in the lee of the space-port, the outlandish denizens of Trenco were
burrowing down into the mud – still eating each other and anything else that came
within reach.
The water grew deeper and deeper, its upper surface now whipped into frantic
sheets of spray. The structure was now afloat, and Kinnison saw with astonishment
that, small as was the exposed surface and flatly curved, yet it was pulling through the
water at frightful speed the wide-spreading steel sea-anchors which were holding its
head to the gale.
“With no reference points how do you know where you’re going?” he demanded.
“We neither know nor care,” responded Tregonsee, with a mental shrug. “We
are like the natives in that. Since one spot is like every other spot, why choose between
them?”
“What a world-what a world! However, I am beginning to understand why thionite
is so expensive,” and, overwhelmed by the ever-increasing fury raging outside, Kinnison
sought his bunk.
Morning came, a reversal of the previous evening. The liquid evaporated, the
mud dried, the flat-growing vegetation sprang up with shocking speed, the animals
emerged and again ate and were eaten.
And eventually came Tregonsee’s announcement that it was almost noon, and
that now, for half an hour or so, it would be calm enough for the space-ship to leave the
port.
“You are sure that I would be of no help to you?” asked the Rigellian, half-
pleadingly.
“Sorry, Tregonsee, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t fit into my matrix any better than I
would into yours. But here’s the spool I told you about. If you will take it to your base on
your next relief you will do civilization and the Patrol more good than you could by
coming with us. Thanks for the Bergenholm, which is covered by credits, and thanks a
lot for your help and courtesy, which can’t be covered. Goodbye,” and the now entirely
space-worthy craft shot out through the port, through Trenco’s noxiously peculiar at-
mosphere, and into the vacuum of space.
CHAPTER 11
Grand Base
At some little distance from the galaxy, yet shackled to it by the flexible yet powerful
bonds of gravitation, the small but comfortable planet upon which was Helmuth’s base
circled about its parent sun. This planet had been chosen with the utmost care, and its
location was a secret guarded jealously indeed. Scarcely one in a million of Boskone’s
teeming myriads knew even that such a planet existed, and of the chosen few who had
ever been asked to visit it, fewer still by far had been allowed to leave it.
Grand Base covered hundreds of square miles of that planet’s surface. It was
equipped with all-the arms and armament known to the military genius of the age, and
in the exact center of that immense citadel there arose a glittering metallic dome.
The inside surface of that dome was lined with visiplates and communicators,
hundreds of thousands of them. Miles of catwalks clung precariously to the inward-
curving wail. Control panels and instrument boards covered the floor in banks and tiers,
with only narrow runways between them. And what a personnel! There were Solarians,
Crevenians, Sirians. There were Antareans, Vandemarians, Arcturians. There were
representatives of scores, yes, hundreds of other solar systems of the galaxy.
But whatever their external form they were all breathers of oxygen and they were
all nourished by warm, red blood. Also, they were all alike mentally. Each had won his
present high place by trampling down those beneath him and by pulling down those
above him in the branch to which he had first belonged of the “pirate” organization.
Each was characterized by a total lack of scruple, by a coldly ruthless passion for power