He understood the half-formulated question. “I am an inhabitant of the world called Karthis, a planet of the sun you call Rigel. I am making use of the body of your friend Carlsen, who is fully conscious of all that is happening. You might say that I am borrowing it.”
He looked at Armstrong, who was levering himself into a sitting position, then at Jamieson. “Come. It is time for us to leave.”
Fallada and Heseltine watched with astonishment as a purple haze began to detach itself from Carlsen’s body. Its glow was more intense than that of the other alien, and it seemed to be full of points of light, like sparks.
Carlsen experienced a sudden feeling of weakness, as if from loss of blood. He said: “Wait, please.”
The purple light was hovering in the centre of the room; its intensity hurt his eyes. Now, as he watched, wavering outlines detached themselves from the bodies of Armstrong and Jamieson. In the intenser glare of their captor, they were hardly visible. Armstrong collapsed sideways, his mouth open. Jamieson dropped heavily into the chair behind the desk and stared at the girl with puzzled incomprehension, as if he had never seen her before.
Staring at the shimmering purple outlines, now visible like heat waves against the background of the wall, Carlsen experienced an upsurge of emotion that was deeper than anything he had ever known. There was a sense of awe that seemed to wrack his being, mingled with a profound pity. For the first time, he clearly understood the misery and desolation that had driven these creatures to scour the galaxy for living energy. Now he could experience their loneliness as they faced the terror of extinction. In the face of this reality, his own life suddenly appeared trivial; it seemed that every moment since his birth had been lived in a kind of insipid daydream. The perception gave him a courage born of anger. He stood up and advanced towards the light, shouting: “Don’t kill them. Let them go.”
As he spoke, the effort seemed absurd, like trying to communicate with a mountain; yet a moment later, he clearly heard a voice that said: “Do you know what you are asking?” It was not using words, but intuitive thought-forms.
He said: “What have they done that’s so wicked? They only wanted to live. Why punish them?” As he spoke, he took another step forward into the place occupied by the light. At once he experienced again the intense flow of power, and the ability to see into the minds of those around him. This time the voice spoke from his own mouth. “There is no question of punishment. But since it is important to see justice done, you shall be the judges.”
Using Carlsen’s body, it bent and picked up the girl, setting her gently in the hard-backed chair behind the desk. Her eyes opened, and she stared at Carlsen in alarm and surprise. He bent over Armstrong, grasping both his shoulders; the healing power flowed from his fingers, causing the bone to knit. He stepped across to Jamieson, who flinched away as he reached out; his hand touched the swollen and discoloured cheekbone; as he watched, the bruising dissolved and the swelling disappeared.
The alien returned to Carlsen’s chair and looked from one to the other. “Are you prepared to pass judgement on these creatures who intended to destroy you?”
There was a silence, and Carlsen could read the thoughts and feelings of everyone in the room. In Armstrong and Jamieson, guilt and fear were being transformed into hatred, an instinctive desire to join the hunters. The girl was detached and bewildered. Only Fallada and Heseltine were attempting to be impartial. Fallada said: “How can we judge?”
“Listen and decide.” The voice was gentle and patient. “For more than two hundred years I have been on your earth, awaiting the return of the Ubbo-Sathla. And for more than a thousand years our people have searched for them among the galaxies. Our task was more difficult than searching for a single grain of sand in all the deserts of the world.”
The words were less important than the images that accompanied them. The alien was projecting its thoughts and feelings into their minds, so that they grasped something of the immensity of space and the infinity of its worlds.
“It was just over two thousand years ago that one of our expeditionary forces discovered the remains of the planet B.76 in the Vega system. It had exploded into fragments. We knew that the planet had been inhabited by a race of highly developed beings called Yeracsin — to you they would look like balloons made of light. These creatures were lazy, but harmless and nonaggressive. Therefore we became curious about the catastrophe that had destroyed their world. Our first assumption was that it was some natural accident. And then, as we examined the fragments, we discovered signs of an atomic explosion. It was then that we began to suspect that the planet had been destroyed to cover up some appalling crime, as your human criminal sometimes set fire to a house. Further examination convinced us that the planet had been the scene of a mass murder — the murder of a whole species.” His eyes turned coldly on the nickering shapes against the wall. It seemed to Carlsen that they were fading. “Then the hunt began. We made a systematic search of all local planetary systems for any evidence that might point to the identity of the criminals. We discovered that evidence in your own solar system, where another planet had been blown to fragments.”
Fallada said with surprise: “The asteroids?”
“In our language, it was called Yllednis, the blue planet. When we had last visited your solar system, Yllednis was the home of a great and ancient civilisation of creatures like ourselves — intelligent molluscs. And Mars was also inhabited by a race of humanoid giants who were learning to build cities. Now Mars had become a waterless desert, and Yllednis had exploded into a thousand rocky fragments. Yet your earth, with its highly evolved Mediterranean civilisation, was untouched. Why should that be, unless these criminals regarded it as some kind of base? It was then we began to suspect that these criminals were the Lost Ones — the name we gave to the scientists who vanished on their way back to our galaxy fifty thousand years ago. At first this seemed impossible — for the Nioth-Korghai, like the human race, is physically mortal. But when we visited your earth and studied its racial memories, it was no longer possible to doubt. The criminals were creatures like ourselves, members of the Nioth race, in whom the impulse of protection towards weaker races had been perverted to a kind of sadism. . .” Carlsen could feel the surge of irritable contempt that emanated from the flickering shapes against the wall. The voice of the alien continued evenly: “Your mythology of spirits and demons is full of memories of the Ubbo-Sathla, the space vampires. And since they had spared your planet, it was clear that they intended to return here one day. Of course, we continued our search throughout the galaxies, hoping to prevent further crimes. But your galaxy alone contains over a hundred thousand million stars. And so our efforts brought no results — until now.”
The voice ceased. Again Carlsen experienced the waves of anger and frustration that flowed from the aliens. The silence lengthened. The voice said: “Well? Is there anyone who still believes they should be allowed to go free?”
The eyes turned on Jamieson. Jamieson coloured and cleared his throat. “Of course not. It would be criminal stupidity.”
Fallada said: “There’s one question I’d like to ask.” He spoke nervously, his eyes on the carpet. “You said their impulse of mercy had been perverted into a kind of sadism. But couldn’t it be unperverted?”
Jamieson said irritably: “Talk sense, man.”
Fallada said doggedly: “I want to know whether these things are entirely criminal.” He stared at Jamieson from under bushy eyebrows. “Most people have got some good in them.”
The alien said: “Only they could answer that question.” He looked across at the vampires. “Well?”
Fallada said: “Can they speak?”
“Not without the use of a body. But they have six to choose from.”
Carlsen felt suddenly weak and sick; it took him a moment to realise that the alien had left his body and was hovering above his head. The nerves of his stomach tensed as he saw one of the wavering shapes floating towards him. Then reassurance flowed into his brain. He relaxed, allowing the shape to blend into his body. For a moment he experienced a sensation of nausea, as if he had been forced to swallow some disgusting fluid. Then it passed and was replaced by a savage exultation. A coarse vitality tensed all his muscles. It was the alien that had possessed Jamieson: the leader. The voice that spoke through his mouth had a harsh undertone of emotion.