The Robot Aliens Page 4

  The President smiled even in his predicament and bent a pair of amused eyes on the Secretary of War.

  “Strange, isn’t it, how people’s imagination will run away with them?” he said half scornfully. “Ocean creatures . . . depth creatures . . . beings of another planet . . . bah! The public has been absorbing too much of these—what is it called?—‘science-fiction’ stories that have been circulating the last twenty years. I read some of them once out of curiosity. They are so preposterous and hare-brained that it is no wonder all those queer ideas about the metal monsters sprang up. All crazy, aren’t they, Rukke?”

  “Well, yes,” answered the War Secretary half defensively. “But still, Mr. President, they are something out of the ordinary. We’ve all heard of robots and mechanical men a lot, but damn me if I’ve ever heard of things as independent and—and human-like as these latest ones. And the important thing is—what to do about them?”

  “Yes,” mused the President, stroking a dictatorial chin. “We must do something about it, that’s sure. You say there are only two of them now?”

  “Just two,” assented Rukke. “Major Whinny and his Fort Sheridan militia bombed and destroyed the third and their ship. He went over the ground after the bombing and found it strewn with pieces of machinery, wheels, cogs, gears, axles, wire, plates, etc. Yet the ship’s hull had withstood the bombing to a surprising degree, being shattered only into large sections, not into small pieces. The inner contents of the ship, which was quite a large one, were completely demolished, and by its large amount of debris, indicated that the ship must have contained a great deal of apparatus of some sort, probably mostly motors.”

  “And Major Whinny tried unsuccessfully to communicate with them before the bombing?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. Whatever or whoever they are, they understood no common earth language—or did not care to.”

  “And they have destroyed property and caused death and injury to several dozen United States citizens?” continued the President.

  “Exactly, Mr. President. And they have made no attempt to explain their presence or get in touch with authority.”

  • The President pointed a pudgy finger. “Then, Rukke, we must hound the two remaining metal monsters down and destroy them as being unwanted, unauthorized, and dangerous aliens in the boundaries of our great nation. Whatever their purpose, it cannot be benevolent, for it has already proven the opposite. Therefore will I issue a formal denouncement of the two metal monsters which will empower you to war upon them with any and all means at our command. The most logical explanation of their presence is foreign machination, and our glorious democracy must be saved!”

  With these words to inspire him, the Secretary of War tripped little switches here and there and started the United States air corps into action. The Chicago fleet was ordered to send out scouts to locate the two fleeing metal monsters, and upon finding them, to bomb them. The Newark, Annapolis, and Atlanta fleets were told to prepare for anything. There was to be no question of expense or trouble—it was to be done at all costs.

  * * *

  The Mayor of Chicago darted his eyes all about the room before he next bent close to Alderman Gorsky, speaking in hushed tones.

  “So, Gorsky, you see him about that. Tell him it’s O.K. with me. Get a regular contract and purchase papers. Have X—you know who I mean—make out the fake contract and bring it to me secretly and I’ll look it over. Then have G.S. come here next week Monday at noon and we’ll figure out his cut. And then—and then, Gorsky—”

  The Mayor smiled unctuously.

  Gorsky licked his fat lips as though thinking of fried chicken, which he loved with an unholy love—the same love he bore toward what is called “filthy lucre.”

  “And then,” finished Gorsky, “we’ll find fifty thousand lying in front of us, like a present. A park will go up on the South Side, the contractor will be paid, the people will be pleased in my ward, and no one will miss a bit of money that slips our way!”

  “Yes, yes,” said the Mayor, rubbing his hands gleefully. “Oh, yes, yes. But for Heaven’s sake, watch your step. That snoop of a Socialist, Berger, is just waiting to pin me down. If he ever found out this one—”

  He broke off, listening. “Say, Gorsky, what’s that noise?—hear it? like a steady roar somewhere south?”

  Together “Honest Pete,” the Mayor, and his pet alderman cocked their ears and sought to define that rumbling and rushing sound that came to them above the loop traffic roars. Gorsky ran to an open window and looked out upon State Street. Beyond the fact that hundreds of people had stopped and looked around puzzled, there was nothing to see. The Mayor grabbed the telephone and called below. “What’s up?” he barked.

  Gorsky saw him grow pale, saw a trembling hand hang up the receiver.

  “Good Lord, Pete! What’s the matter?”

  The Mayor, all his poise and smugness gone, answered in tones that had lost their oiliness and grated harsh instead, “Those metal monsters! They’re coming down Michigan Avenue. All traffic is jammed—there have been dozens of smash-ups—people running madly—police are helpless—bullets don’t touch them at all!”

  The faint and distant sounds grew to a roar as the metal monsters came north on Michigan Avenue and neared the congested Loop with its thousands of shoppers and innumerable cars. The Mayor wanted a close look at the creatures that had been headlined for five days, yet dared not leave his office and risk life and limb in the madhouse outside where hundreds ran screaming about in a frenzy. Yet the Mayor had his wish, for some inexplicable reason, the two tall metal beings turned off Michigan Avenue and finally came down State Street, passing just under his window.

  In a suddenly deserted street, except for numerous stalled autos and one lady who had fainted and lay flat on the sidewalk, the two Robot Aliens made their way. As in a hideous dream, the Mayor and alderman watched from their window. A moment of panic came to them when a lack-luster, depthless, mechanical eye bored straight in their direction for a split second.

  Yet for all of the reputation the creatures had as ravening, ruthless, destructive monsters, the Mayor saw that they moved along quite carefully, walked around autos, stepped very carefully over the reclining lady, and made no move to voluntarily destroy property. But accidents will happen; one of the Robot Aliens, in passing the Mayor’s parked car—a new Duesenberg with shining body—got his left “foot” caught in the back bumper on the up-step. There was a rending of groaning metal, a sudden flurry of tentacles and arms, and then the metal monster toppled off-balance directly onto the Mayor’s car. From an almost complete ruin, with the seats and top ripped to shreds and the fenders scratched by waving tentacles, the fallen Robot Alien arose. After a hasty glance at the sorry mess, it imperturbably joined its companion and went on, its own outer body not so much as scratched!

  The Mayor looked at the wrecked car, which had been his joy and pride for but a week, and mentally made a reservation to increase his graft to twice what it had been agreed upon on the park project in Gorsky’s ward.

  The metal monsters passed out of sight with their crackling, flame-spitting antennae, which sounded so much like rifle fire from a distance.

  * * *

  Commander Jill of the Chicago Air Fleet looked around at his several under-officers with whom he was in conference, a peculiar smirk on his lean face.

  “So with seven bombers and a squadron of scouts, we’re to hunt down and blow up the metal monsters—two harmless and innocent somethings that have done nothing but walk around and scare people. But orders are orders and these came from Washington.”

  “Why call them harmless and innocent, Commander?” asked one officer. “They’ve already caused dozens of deaths and lots of damage.”

  “Sure, sure,” agreed Commander Jill. “But only because people lose their heads and kill each other in the rush to get away. Now I’ve been following this up pretty close, and do you know there ain’t a stitch of evidence that the metal monsters have
any weapons? They have caused only indirect deaths without premeditation.”

  “But what in the world are those metal monsters?” asked a young fellow. “Everybody talks about what they do and how they look, but nobody says who or what they are!”

  Commander Jill shrugged his shoulders. “Nobody knows, either. What I’m driving at is that the authorities should be reasonable and try to capture the blasted things and find out what they are. They may have a human ‘brain running them.

  “Well, to the devil with it. Our orders are to bomb ’em, and bomb ’em we will. Now yesterday they crossed Chicago going north along Michigan Avenue out through the Loop, went west on Lake Street, and circled south again. Then they picked up speed as if they’d seen all they wanted to see of Chicago, and scooted out toward Harvey. No reports on them last night so I figure they must have laid low some place in the dark. Now it’s daylight again and I figure they’ll be moving soon, wherever they want to go next. So we’ll head for Harvey and Homewood and thereabouts and scout around till we locate ‘em. Then we send our bombers.”

  “It’s going to be some job bombing things that small,” said one officer. “Unless we swing low. But it’ll tear up the country something fierce.”

  “Orders are orders,” returned Jill.

  A squadron of small ships arose from the army airport of West Chicago and flew southeast. At Harvey they dispersed and scoured the countryside, the relief pilots peering downward eagerly. It was a plane that had penetrated far to the east that finally discovered two shining figures moving along concrete highways in the direction of Gary, Indiana. A radio message brought the other scouts around and a half-hour later seven roaring bombers came to the scene.

  Commander Jill in his flagship told the pilot to loop ahead of them so that he could see them close. Unblinking, expressionless eyes followed the course of his ship as it looped not a hundred yards ahead of them. The two Robot Aliens were jogging along at some twenty miles an hour, apparently as light-footed as athletes. A continuous play of electricity sparkled at the tops of their heads.

  It was a dull day of clouded skies and the white metal of the monsters made a perfect target. Commander Jill ordered a bomber to swoop overhead and make a try. The bomber descended in a power dive, flattened at half a thousand feet, and dropped an egg. It was a small bomb as bombs go but uprooted a dozen trees at the side of the highway—it had missed the mark by a hundred feet.

  The effect on the metal monsters was to cause them to stop and stare upward much as a human might if a house had dropped from the sky. While they were standing still, Commander Jill sent another bomber at them. It seemed like a sure thing; the egg arrowed straight at the metal beings. But at the last second they leaped away with amazing dexterity. The egg tore a jagged gash in the highway and flung fragments in a geyser, some of which struck the metal monsters with what would have been a death-blow to a human. It had no more effect on the Robot Aliens than a feather might.

  Commander Jill had watched with fascination and noticed that the metal monsters displayed no sign of fear. They had become wary, watchful of the menace from the air and stood undecided, but yet their every action showed nothing of that emotion known as fear. They did not run about in panic or betray fright. They seemed to be calmly appraising the threat of air attack and making a careful, unhurried plan of escape. That this was so became apparent a moment later. As a third bomber dove at them, they separated and ran in opposite directions, at right angles to the highway, out into the open prairies. One would eventually reach a state forest preserve not three miles away to the north; the other would find only open fields and towns for a long way.

  Commander Jill muttered a “damn!” at this strategy of separating forces on the part of the Robot Aliens and sent three of the bombers after the one going north and four after the one going south. He himself went with the ships going north. Again and again his bombers swooped and dropped their little eggs, plowing up soil that had never felt the concussion of bombs since the birth of time, and each time they missed, for the fleeing metal monster seemed to have supernatural eyes, and without slackening pace, it nimbly sidetracked the explosions. Commander Jill knew before an hour was up that it was a waste of bombs, but knowing also the criticism he would get should he return with any, he methodically sent his bombers down in one-two-three order.

  The pursued creature bored deeper into the forest preserve and became practically invisible to those above. Commander Jill, ascertaining they had but two eggs left, had these blindly thrown down to the trees, and then gave the command to return to base. He was not surprised to hear soon after that the metal monster which had run south had also escaped destruction.

  CHAPTER V

  The Man With Logic

  • Frank Miller, wealthy owner of a tobacco plantation and a graduate of Yale where he had majored in botany, listened to the radio News Service just after lunch. The announcer’s voice was excited.

  “Flash—second of Metal Monsters destroyed at 9:04 a.m. today! The strategy of General Pille of West Point succeeded. His battery of ten cannons, camouflaged and secretly placed, took the unsuspecting metal monster unawares and blew it to bits. General Pille, who will get a Congressional Medal for great service to the country, had kept the Metal Monster’s movements under observation during the last three days since it left Chicago, after paralyzing that city’s traffic and business, with its companion. He foresaw that this one coming east preferred using concrete highways to sneaking about fields; it disregarded traffic entirely and offered no molestation. Of course, it is well known that numerous deaths have occurred because of this, due to the fact that drivers, confronted by the horrible monster, either lost control of their cars from fright, or fainted dead away.

  “General Pille knew that aerial bombing was out of the question, for the monsters have already demonstrated a peculiar quickness and cleverness in jumping and running. So to him came the brilliant idea of waylaying the creature along its known course and allowing it to walk into a few high-powered shells. All traffic was cut off the Pittsburgh highway for a hundred miles either way and the Metal Monster came along finally, all unsuspecting. Ten cannons, placed so as to sweep an area of a hundred square yards, boomed forth at once. One shell struck the creature squarely and scattered it to the four winds in tiny pieces. Thus that menace is gone.

  “As to the one which headed south, it has been reported at numerous spots and its course has been plotted to take it into Kentucky, somewhere near Henderson. At present, the clever General Pille is planning to waylay this one in something of the same manner.”

  Frank Miller pulled the bell-rope. To the butler who answered his signal he asked, “How far is Henderson from Owensboro here, Jussy?”

  “About thutty mile by road, suh,” answered Jussy. “De way de crow fly is ony ’bout twenty mile.”

  “I see. Thank you, Jussy. By the way, Jussy, can you round up for me the news about these—these what they call Metal Monsters? Frankly, I haven’t bothered myself much with headlines for the past month, but now I’d like to read up on it.

  “Oh, yas, yas suh,” eagerly supplied Jussy. “Ah been saving de newspaper accounts eber since dat fust day w’en dey come down. Just a minit, suh; ah’ll bring de whole bunch to ya, suh.”

  Jussy left the room and returned in five minutes with a sizable armful of newspaper clippings, all with enormous eyesearing headlines.

  Miller excused his butler and sorted the printed matter out. First he read just the headlines, with a faint contemptuous smile at their flamboyant sensationalism. They told much and yet little:

  June 8th (a.m.)

  —“METEOR OF LAST NIGHT IS SHIP”

  June 8th (p.m.)

  —“METAL MONSTERS IN QUEER SHIP”

  June 9th

  —“METAL MONSTERS KILL THIRTY”

  June 10th

  —“MILITIA BOMBS; DESTROYS ONE”

  June 11th

  —“MONSTERS INVADE CHICAGO”

  June
12th

  —“AERIAL ATTACK FAILS AGAINST MONSTERS”

  June 13th

  —“MONSTERS RUNNING AMUCK”

  June 14th

  —“ONE MONSTERS NEARS PITTSBURGH; OTHER SOUTH”

  And now it was June 15th and the headlines of the Evening News would tell of the destruction of the metal monster being near Pittsburgh. Then the headlines would follow the third and last “monster” till it, too, was destroyed.

  Frank Miller had something of an analytical mind. He went through ail the printed material, reading only here and there where the words caught his searching eye. When he was done, three things he had read stuck in his mind. The first was a sentence from an interview of Professor Honstein of Yerkes who had been one of the first to see the ship and metal beings and I verily believe they are from another planet, perhaps another solar system, creatures of a metallic evolution, as opposed to us of an organic evolution . . .”

  The second was from an interview of Commander Jill of the Chicago Air Corps: “. . . my impression was that the creatures knew no such emotion as fear, which is strange, for even an iron man, threatened by destruction, should show fear of that doom, whether there is pain connected with it or not . . .”

  The third was from the biting pen of a well-known satirist and cynic, who had written an essay on human nature after observing the chaos in Chicago, when it had been visited by the monsters isn’t it strange that as yet the so-called ‘Metal Monsters’ have displayed not one weapon, nor have ever actually performed the act of killing? What, then, accounts for over a hundred deaths in Chicago on that great and exciting day . . .”