Night of the Saucers Read online

  “You found a Seed?” exclaimed one Vexxan excitedly.

  Thane-Horg opened his hand and proudly displayed the rainbow-hued bit of mineral. “I know it was sheer luck, but there it was, under the stones.”

  “Luck is right,” said one Vexxan. “We’ve been searching for an Earth month without finding a thing.” Suddenly, the Vexxan shot out his fist and struck Thane squarely on the jaw. Thane staggered back, well remembering the powerful blows they wielded during his fight with them many days ago. Luckily, Thane’s hand had closed automatically around the Seed.

  But that meant he also had powerful muscles. So, snarling in rage, he lashed back at his opponent with all he had and was satisfied to see the dwarf go head over heels backwards. Thane tensed. Would the other roar back for a slug-fest, creating enmity between them?

  But to his surprise, the dwarf got up with a crooked grin. “All right,” he said. “That proves you aren’t an Earthman midget in disguise. This all seemed suspicious at first. My name is Yaggo.”

  Thane was relieved. It had been a test. Now they would accept him for what he seemed to be. But a new problem came up. The dwarf extended his hand. “Give me the Seed and I will deliver it to the Collection Center.”

  “No,” Thane barked, closing his palm and withdrawing it.

  “But we’re part of the official Seed-hunting forces,” remonstrated Yaggo. “It wouldn’t do for a mechanic to bring one in. Give it to me.”

  “No, it’s mine,” Thane-Horg said. This would call for all the histrionic ability he had—in an alien body. He had to act the part of a stubborn Vexxan mechanic who didn’t want to be cheated out of his due. “And I want to deliver it in person,” Thane added.

  “Don’t be unreasonable,” came back in annoyance. “You don’t even know where the Collection Center is.”

  “You can show me,” Thane said. He put a cunning leer on his face. “And don’t worry, I know why you’re so anxious to bring in the Seed. Whoever does earns glory and a reward. Well, why not me?”

  “But… but…” The other dwarf gave up with a shrug, having no leg to stand on. “Guess I can’t blame you,” he mumbled. “All right. Follow us. We’ll take you to the Collection Center.”

  Thane’s heart—he wasn’t sure he had one—leaped. His bag of tricks had worked. Once he knew where the Collection Center was, he would deliver his Seed and then somehow slip away and report to Thalkon. Then the Vigilantes could roar there in force and blast the hideout apart, confiscating all the deadly Seeds. It shouldn’t take him more than twenty-four hours to do his part.

  Following their ship, Thane expected them to head for some wild and unknown part of Earth that had even been missed by the Vigilante’s world search. Instead, he was puzzled to see the other saucer heading straight north, passing over the Panama Canal, and going straight into the populous heartland of America.

  They flew high to avoid all aircraft and observers below. But just where were they heading? Thane’s jaw dropped as the other craft finally slid down from the stratosphere, straight toward the Eastern shoreline dotted with innumerable summer homes and resorts. How could the Collection Center be here, in this hotbed of humanity?

  Chapter 16

  It was the middle of the night and few homes had lights on. The chances of detection were slight as they flutter-leafed down to make a landing in a cleared space among tall trees that were fenced in. Nearby was a huge dark house that looked vaguely familiar to Thane.

  Stepping out of his craft to join the other three, Thane said, “You mean the Collection Center is right here in the middle of civilization?” As a “dumb” mechanic, he could ask that question.

  “Clever, eh?” responded Yaggo. “Our leaders knew that no matter what remote hideout we picked—in space, the sea, underground, or in wild land—the Vigilantes would sooner or later find it. But the last thing they would expect is for the Collection Center to be in the heart of human civilization itself. And you’ll soon see how the leaders made sure nobody would suspect anything here.”

  They now entered an old shed. Inside, they pulled up a trapdoor with descending steps. Thane’s wonder grew as he followed them along a concrete corridor that obviously led under the big dark house nearby.

  Soon, the leading dwarf paused at a steel door and twisted the knob forward, then back, then forward, in some sort of timed sequence, like the combination for a lock. The door then opened silently, revealing a moldy cellar filled with innocent wine racks, broken-down furniture, and a plethora of cobwebs.

  Yaggo said, “Now I’ll call the Seed Guardian.”

  He pulled at a hanging cord and chimes rang faintly above. Before long, the sound of footsteps came across the floor above and then down some creaky stairs.

  At this moment, a hundred questions jostled in Thane’s mind. Who could the “Seed Guardian” be? If a Vexxan lived in the house, he would surely risk detection sooner or later by humans. It was all a puzzle. The footsteps sounded loud and near and then a figure stepped out of shadow into the glow of the overhead electric light.

  The figure wasn’t short and gnarled. It was tall and slender. Thane gasped. It was a human being, a man! A man with a mask.

  Had they used the reverse of his process and turned a Vexxan into a human, via a serum? But obviously, by having a man as the Seed Guardian, the Vexxans had pulled a cunning stroke and kept their Collection Center secret, baffling even the Vigilantes.

  The masked man spoke in low tones. “You have brought another Seed?”

  Yaggo pushed Thane forward. “Speak up, you lout,” he hissed.

  Thane opened his hand. “Here it is, Seed Guardian.”

  “Good.” The masked man fished a small leaden box out of his pocket and nodded for Thane to dump his specimen in. Then the masked man went up to what looked like an old unused wine barrel, cracked and dust-covered. He touched some hidden control and a square portion of the barrel slid open soundlessly. The masked man reached in and placed the leaden box among others, neatly piled up in tiers.

  “Ah,” he gloated. “Our Seed collection is close to the required number.”

  How close? Thane wondered. He strained to get a good look and make a fast count. Did they have close to the 1050 Seeds they needed? Thane could make no estimate before the masked man again closed the wine barrel hatch.

  So here, in the heart of civilization, within an old wine barrel tended by a seeming human being, lay the perilous Seeds. This was the sought-after Collection Center. Its camouflage was simple and yet devastatingly effective. Who would even suspect this kind of cover-up?

  But just whose house was this? Exactly where was it located? Flying here, Thane had had no chance to pin down precisely which community it was along America’s Eastern shore. There were hundreds of towns, hamlets, and private estates on this stretch of coast.

  Thane wanted to leave and snoop around outside by himself.

  “I will go now,” he said, trying to be casual.

  “Go?” The three Vexxans and the masked man all turned to stare at him in surprise. “Before the Seed Ceremony?”

  The masked man seemed suspicious. “How could he fail to know about that?”

  “Oh, he’s just a mechanic,” Yaggo spoke up, to Thane’s relief. “He knew nothing about the Seed collecting project’s details.” He turned to Thane. “You wanted the rewards and honors for bringing in a Seed. Now you will have them.”

  The masked man touched what seemed to be an old packing case and it flew open to reveal a large box and screen, which soon lit up. “A telecast from Vexxa,” explained one of the three Vexxans. “During the flight here, we sent in the news of finding another Seed. Now the Grand High will thank you in person.”

  Thane remembered the previous occasions when Seeds had been found, and the elaborate speeches that resulted. Evidently, the Vexxans loved pomp
and ceremony. The hairless skull of a Vexxan appeared in the screen. He was wearing a jeweled hat that apparently made him the Grand High Potentate of Vexxa.

  “Greetings, Horg. We have been notified that you, a mere mechanic, found a Seed. Great is your deed! You have brought the hour of Vexxa’s glory closer. All our people hail you for your magnificent deed and…”

  On and on he droned. Thane began to fidget. By a rapid mental calculation, he estimated that some six hours had passed since he had been changed into a Vexxan. Eighteen hours to go to his deadline of changing back to Thane Smith, human—or else. Or else his body cells would “harden” into their present form, interlocked forever in their new pattern. And he would to all intents and purposes be Horg the Vexxan for life; an unwilling human spirit locked up in an ugly, alien body. Thane shuddered.

  Still, eighteen hours seemed a safe margin—until the Grand High gave way to some kind of band that played off-key music, in his honor, and another hour slipped away. How long could they go on with these stupid ceremonies?

  The other three Vexxans watched and listened in delight, at times clapping Thane on the back. “It’s all in your honor, Horg. You’re the hero of the hour.”

  The last thing Thane felt like was a hero. He knew he couldn’t just get up and leave, not without placing grave suspicion on himself. He had to stick it out.

  “Now we see the children’s brigade, singing your praises,” came the explanation, as the screen showed a parade of Vexxan brats waving banners. “They are cheering you because you have helped in bringing our world closer to its coming greatness as the planet that will rule the galaxy.”

  Rule the galaxy? So that was their aim. But how could the Seed—2.4 ounces of crystalline matter—accomplish that outlandish feat for them? Thane was utterly baffled.

  And worried. For the hours were being chewed up by this senseless series of ceremonies. On the screen appeared other dignitaries making speeches and extolling the virtue’s of the mechanic who had found a precious Seed. Then an elaborate folk dance… a chorus of singers… a barrage of honorary ray-gun salutes… Thane began to feel as if it were an endless nightmare.

  At last, mercifully, the screen went dark. “Too bad,” Yaggo sighed. “It’s all over. Don’t you wish it would go on, Horg?”

  Thane-Horg did not dare attempt an answer. Another frustration was not knowing the identity of the masked man. But he never once revealed his face.

  One thing he couldn’t be was a renegade Earthman, of that Thane was sure. He must be a Vexxan who by their version of the Jekyll-Hyde serum had been changed into an Earthman, probably permanently. A small price to pay, in their fanatic minds.

  Thane was anxious to go out. He had lost ten hours now. The masked man waved farewell and locked away his super-TV. “Come,” Yaggo said. “Back to the Seed hunt for us. And you, Horg, back to your flying saucer repair job.”

  Thane grinned inside. It was back to Thalkon for him, revealing the stunning secret of the Collection Center. Outside, it was close to dawn. Silently, the other Vexxan craft rose and sailed away, with a last telepathic good-bye.

  At his pilot seat, Thane shot his ship up and exultantly prepared to cruise over the region, pinpointing the human house that was the Vexxan Collection Center. A few good landmarks and he would be able later to lead the Vigilante forces here for the big clean-up. And the danger to Earth, whatever it was, would be over…

  But suddenly, Thane found he could not turn the ship the right way. He felt it veer and head out to sea. Something was wrong with the controls of this Vexxan ship, which had once crashed and had been repaired by the Vigilantes. Evidently it had not been repaired well.

  Thane fought the controls but could not make the ship turn the right way. It kept yawning out toward sea, and from behind the engine casing came an ominous whine. Without warning the engine blew up, cracking the saucer in half. Thane’s Vexxan form tumbled down and splashed in the water. He was at sea, out of sight of land.

  Thane found that his heavy, compact dwarf form had little buoyancy. He sank far down before he was able to claw his way back to the surface, churning his arms and legs frantically. Luckily, the muscular power of his Vexxan body was great enough to save him. His diving suit uniform and breathing-helmet were still intact.

  But where was shore? Which way? He was totally lost until the faint growing light of dawn appeared in the east. Then he swam the other way and soon saw land ahead. He gasped once and dove underwater for a way, when a fishing boat steamed nearby. He didn’t want anyone to spy the strange “dwarf” swimming along and perhaps try to capture him. He came up safely beyond the boat.

  Nearing shore, he took a sweeping glance and avoided the portion built up with seashore homes. He chose a lonely beach with no houses around. As it was, an early-bird fisherman was there surf-casting. Thane slowly raised himself from the water, to the side, and kept low as he scuttled across the beach and behind a sand dune.

  The fisherman turned once and stood stiffly, as if shocked. But then, he shook his head and made another cast, apparently telling himself his eyes had played him tricks.

  Thane was in a bad spot now. In his Vexxan form, monstrous to human eyes, he must avoid being seen at all costs. One yell or scream would bring dozens of people around, including police. Eventually he’d be captured, if not shot to death.

  And how to get up to Thalkon’s space station, one thousand miles high—without a flying saucer? There was only one hope: contact Thalkon or Miribel via a psy-call. But when he tried, he knew the signal was weak. The change from human to Vexxan form had evidently rendered the psy-wafer next to his brain less effective. It had allowed him to telepathize to the Vexxans when they stood nearby, but it wouldn’t reach way up into space.

  At this point, Thane groaned in dismay. The swim had taken up another two hours. Only twelve hours left to reach Thalkon. If he could get to his cottage in Tanglewood about three hundred miles away, there might be hope for him.

  Fields flanked the seashore here, so Thane was able to scuttle through bushes toward the shore turnpike. He crouched by the side of the road. He couldn’t of course thumb a ride. He saw trucks going by but did not dare hop on. Too many cars were following and would see him clearly. It was not till a half hour later that the fretting Thane saw a slow moving truck coming along with no cars immediately behind it. Quickly, he darted out of concealment onto the road, began to run alongside the truck with Vexxan-given speed, then hopped on the truck’s tailgate, which was open. They carried no load.

  Had the driver seen him in his side-vision mirror? But the truck kept going at an even pace and Thane relaxed. He huddled back into a dark corner and tried not to count the hours as they passed.

  But when he slipped off the slow truck three hundred miles north, he knew that another seven hours had gone down the drain. Five hours to go…

  Could he make it to Tanglewood and his cabin out of town? It was a distance of another ninety-odd miles. Miribel was there, as he knew, keeping up their “domestic couple” front. With a sinking heart, he realized that even running half of the way, he’d never make it. A car was the only answer. And so, Thane the Vexxan became a car thief. It was in a small town just off the turnpike that he saw a man get out of his car, leaving his keys inside. Nobody was in sight on the street.

  Chapter 17

  He was safe. In the car, his three-taloned hand had trouble switching the key on. But then the motor roared to life and the car sped away.

  Thane had a three-hour drive to reach Tanglewood by back roads. By then, the missing car would have been reported and police would be on the lookout for it. Thanking his stars that he knew this familiar territory like a book, Thane took only winding side roads with very light traffic. They slowed him down, but it was necessary. Whenever a car came toward him, Thane hunched down as low as he could. All they could glimpse would be a vague s
hape, and wonder how such a short person could drive a car. But they would shrug and dismiss it from their minds.

  Two hours later, Thane ran into trouble. Ironically, it was not the police but simply a bunch of broken glass on the road, where some mischievous kid had smashed a bottle. Shortly after, Thane heard the unwelcome hiss from a rear tire and then a loud pop as the tire blew out. Thane fought the wheel but went off in a ditch.

  With one hasty glance at the useless car, Thane struck off across farm fields, thankful for tall corn crops at times to hide him. But now his race with time had become crucial. It was thirty miles to go, and three hours left…

  Even if he could run steadily at top speed, in the open, he doubted he could make it. And even his Vexxan body could not run steadily. Creeping around a farmhouse, he stopped. A boy’s bicycle was there, learning against a porch, with nobody in sight. A last hope…

  Thane leaped out of hiding and onto the bike, peddling away furiously. No outcry sounded behind him. He swung onto the dirt road and swirled away in a cloud of dust. And that was his salvation most of the way home. Passing cars only dimly saw the small silvery suited figure within the cloud of dust, and figured it was some fool kid trying to break his neck on the rough roads.

  Panting, almost spent, Thane jumped off the bike at his cottage. Fifteen minutes to go, a half hour at the best…

  “Miribel,” he screeched. “Miribel… help!”

  She came out, took one look, and ran forward. “Thane! Thank the stars you made it. Thalkon just warned me by telepathy that if you didn’t show up quickly at the space station, you were doomed.”

  She was already half-dragging him to their private saucer, invisible in the barn. The flick of a switch and the anti-visio unit shut off. The silvery saucer sprang into view. When Thane staggered in, Miribel darted to the controls.