is the psi-ego torn from the body in this manner. Hark! He begins to speak.'
'Korax . . . korax . . .' Pipa croaked, then mumbled more words incoherently. The tension strained and tightened, and there was scarcely a breath drawn as the words became clearer, comprehensible to them all.
'Woe! Oh, woe! What ghastliness lies ahead. . . all things are not as they seem. . . victory is defeat and winners shall lose . . . woe, woe. Take heed, for a trap is being set and the end of the galaxy as we know it is at hand. . . many gathered here today will never meet again. Now mark me . . . and mark me well. . . say your good- byes, for the end is near!'.
After this the voice became incoherent again and degenerated to a mumble, and the mumble turned into a snore as Pipa slept soundly upon the floor.
'And exactly what does all that mean?' John asked the other Bachtrian, who shrugged his green shoulders in despair.
'Beats me, Number One. These ego trips tend to speak in riddles and that kind of thing, so it is anybody's guess. But he did seem to be sort of clear there toward the end, and if you don't mind, let me say good-bye to you now and shake your hand. It sure has been great up to now to be a Ranger, and if you have to die, it is best to die in a worthy cause. I think. Though of course I would really prefer not to die at all.'
With these words he hopped over to John and pumped his hand. After this there was a lot of solemn good- bye saying and hand shaking, and the party broke up under a cloud of gloom.
'Well, I must say,' Sally declared. 'After all that cooking and trouble, it certainly appears that it really wasn't worth it.'
'That was great friend Ormoloo,' John told her, attempting to insert a note of cheer, but it did no good. In a minute the Earthlings were alone again, surrounded by the debris of the deserted banquet.
'I'll wash if you'll dry,' Chuck said.
'Not now,' Jerry snapped. 'There are more important things to consider. Just shovel everything into a big box, and we'll worry about it later. In just a matter of hours we will be popping out of the space warp near this damn hula hoop in space, and from what our green friend predicted it is not going to be a pushover. Anyone got any ideas?'
'We'll have to go in first,' Chuck said. 'We have the only cheddite projector mounted on this ship, so we can get into and out of trouble faster than anything else in the fleet. Why don't we have them hold just one space warp away so they can come arunnin' when we blow the whistle? Meanwhile, we go in quick, get the lay of the land, and split if it gets too hot.'
'I agree,' John agreed. 'It's dangerous, but it's the only chance we have of finding out a thing before the entire fleet is committed. I vote let's go.'
'I'm with you,' Jerry said.
'Vou're all insane!' Sally cried. 'It is suicide. Let someone else do it.'
They smiled wry smiles at her, and John spoke for them all.
'Sorry, Sally, old girl, but we can't oblige. The chip is on the Lortonoi shoulder, and we are just going to have to knock it off. Why do men fight bulls? Race high-speed cars? Go to the Moon? Climb Mount Everest? Because they are there-'
'Nuts! You do it for the old machismo, bragging about who has the biggest cojones. Well, I'll have nothing to do with it. I'm going to clean up this mess and then go to bed with a sleeping pill and a murder mystery and hope that I wake up alive, not dead.'
They laughed when she left, knowing she was just a simple hysterical woman, then turned themselves to men's destructive work. Orders were issued to the fleet, which slowly ground to a halt, with a few fatal crashes, of course, which is to be expected when you try to stop a fleet of thousands of giant spaceships. The Rangers who manned the battle stations aboard the Pleasantville Eagle were all in position, and Lord Prrsi poked his head up from the hatch to the insulated hold to see the action. One by one the green lights blinked on on the ready board, signifying that every position was manned and ready, until the entire board was green, except for the red light from Sally's compartment, where she was zonked out by two Seconals washed down with twenty cc. of Noctec.
'Are you ready, Rangers?' John called out, and from every compartment, except one of course, came back the echoing shout. 'Then here we go!'
In a single slithering jump the great airplane-spaceship plunged through into the lambda dimension and popped out again not far from the bright star Diesun. Every alarm went off and they stared at the visiplates at a great battle in space going on not too far from them. Fantastically powerful battleships – the smallest of them would dwarf the largest they had in their fleet – were locked in dogged conflict. They used energy weapons with great prolificacy, and all space was filled with the shock and shimmer of the ravening forces that tore at the very fabric of space itself. Ravening rays worried at the force screens that shielded other ships, while force fields of highly charged ions, no more than a few feet in diameter but having the power of a hundred hydrogen bombs, floated about ready to explode at the slightest touch. John touched the controls and pulled the ship back a few thousand miles, and they all nodded agreement.
'Easier to watch on the long-distance scope,' Jerry said offhandedly. 'We don't want to really mix with them until we learn the score.'
'We don't want to mix with them at all,' John said, speaking aloud what they all were thinking. 'I've got a feeling we are kind of playing out of our league with these babies.'
'Cheer up,' Jerry said, pointing at the screen. 'Don't forget there are two sides there, and they seem pretty even. One of them has to be on our side – I hope – so it's not as bad as it looks. I think.'
'ATTENTION!' Alarms buzzed again, and the radar operator's voice cut in above them. 'Object approaching on collision course from the direction of space battle. Estimated ETA, fourteen seconds.'
'Strap in! Am taking evasion measures,' Jerry said into the intercom. 'Here we go!'
They darted away at right angles and hovered expectantly, every screen focused on the oncoming danger. Was it a space battleship on their tail? Or perhaps a missile? Time would tell. And it did.
'A piece of wreckage,' Chuck said. 'Looks like a big chunk torn out of one of the spacers that blew up.'
'I'll match velocities,' Jerry announced, fingers busy at the controls. 'This may answer some questions, if there is still anyone alive in that hunk of junk. Mind shields on, everyone, just in case there are Lortonoi aboard or in mental control. And, Chuck, be a good fellow and slip down and put Sally's on her, just for a change, and for God's sake, tie it into place this time.'
Nearer and nearer the chunk of spatial debris came, until they could see that it was a slice cut out of a battle ship by ravening rays, sort of like a Tum pulled out of the package, a disk, you know. All the compartments they could see were filled with incomprehensible machinery, now gutted and burned out and empty.
'Looks pretty bad,' Jerry mused. 'I'll try the radio, just in case.' He flicked swiches rapidly and spoke into the microphone. 'Hello, hunk of space debris formerly part of a great battleship. Do you read me? We are close by and offer help. Over.'
The speaker fried and burbled with the static of distant stars, but otherwise all was silent.
'Try 176.45 kilocycles,' John suggested. 'That is the emergency band a lot of spaceships use. These people may know it too.'
Jerry repeated his message on this frequency, and this time, when he threw the switches, a distant hissing could be heard and a weak voice.
'Can read you. Oxygen almost gone. Open space lock so I can board. Sole survivor.'
'Jump to it, guys!' John ordered and the smoothworking team functioned as if it were running on oiled ball bearings. The magnet ray operators drew the clumsy piece of junk close while the cargo operator opened the outer hatch. A moment later there was a thump and a bump as something entered the lock, and the outer hatch closed. Mighty pumps throbbed as they pushed air back into the lock chamber, and when the pressure had been equalized, the inner door opened automatically, and every eye was upon it. What would the alien possessor of the weak voice look like?
He looked a lot different from anything their wildest speculations could have imagined. Bending, to get through the opening, came an individual who stood at least eight feet tall from the top of his head crest to the bottom of his clawed feet. And he was impressive! Just as mankind enjoys a sort of simian ancestry, primates and all that, and the Bachtrians emerged from the swamps in froggy form, so did this strange individual obviously have a certain animal phylum or species in his background. Birds! And what a bird he was! His immense yellow beak would tear open a boiler plate as easily as an aluminum beer can. His eyes were piercing and hooded, like a great hawk or
