CHAPTER 2

Gene nodded sleepily as his ship, New Frontiers, drove forward through space. The outermost planets were now far behind in the all-surrounding blackness, and a vague doubt was beginning to worry his mind.

Suppose the malignant ray did not originate in this system? Science Center had naturally assumed that the radiation came from some uncharted asteroid or rogue world within the system. But if it didn't, then what? Should he return to Earth and report failure? Gene dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his head.

Yet, as the great, staring orb that was Pluto slipped away behind him, the doubt grew stronger and made of itself a steady clamor that would not pass unheeded.

His ship still followed the swath of the ray; a never-ending, invisible beam that would seem to sprout from the very emptiness of space itself.

Mason had warned Gene that he might face untold danger at the ray's source, but the explorer could not see how that danger could come from any living thing. Here in the farthermost reaches of the system, far from the warmth of the sun, what strange organic creature could find sustenance?

He stifled a yawn, fighting doggedly to keep his heavy lids from closing in slumber. Sleep was out of the question. He could take no chance of losing the unseen trail of that devilish radiation, so that meant he had to go it without the help of the automatic controls.

In spite of Gene's efforts to remain awake, his brown-thatched head slowly lowered against his chest. Tortured eyes no longer registered the monotonous gray of the ship's cabin as leaden lids closed over them. He was asleep.

Instants later, the insistent clang of a warning bell penetrated through his torpor, whipping away the blanket of sleep and bringing the drowsing biologist at once to alert wakefulness.

He reached out frantically, his fingers flying unerringly over the myriad controls, jabbing viciously at the studs regulating the batteries of rocket tubes.

Something was pulling, tugging, at the small ship, drawing it down, held in a relentless clutch that grew stronger with each passing moment!

The ship surged with power; steel crossbeams groaned and screeched, threatening to buckle under the strain placed on them. And still it rushed downward!

He cursed wildly and punched hard at the stud controlling the forward tubes. The craft lurched drunkenly under this new force, then continued its downward flight, moving not quite so fast now.

For the first time since awakening, he glanced at the Vizio-screen, and what he saw rooted him to the spot, eyes dilated with astonishment. The New Frontiers was hurtling down on a planet, dark and foreboding; a world where no world should be! It loomed in the screen like a great black eight-ball—and he was definitely behind it! Now he was entering an atmosphere, according to the instruments. He jiggled the dials, but the reading did not change. What wouldn't the astronomers of Earth give to know about this!

What manner of world was this rushing up to meet him? He could not know. But his instruments told him that in a very short while the first Earthian feet would walk upon this mystery planet. If he lived through the crash.

Wrestling mightily with the controls, he succeeded in bringing the craft out of its dive and leveled off in a long skim above the sphere's surface, now close below.

He hunched tensely over the controls, a thin film of cold sweat standing out on his brow. Hardened though he was, he could not help but feel a quickening fear of the inexplicable world he was fast approaching.

A formidable upjutting of rock suddenly reared up directly in his path, completely blacking out the screen!

He held his breath as his finger nicked out and impaled the stud operating the forward tubes. Once more fire burst from the nose of the ship, roaring out to meet the unyielding wall of rock in a titanic impact.

The New Frontiers shuddered to a halt, hung a second in midair, then abruptly slid forward and down. This was it!

Gene threw his arms over his eyes as ship and mountain met violently, throwing him from his seat and smashing his helmet-protected head against the control panel. Overhead a crossbeam groaned tormentedly and gave way under the stress, while outside an avalanche of stone, dislodged from the lofty heights, smashed against the thick hull in a steady rain—setting up such a din as only the forces of nature could.

Then all was still.

Gene climbed unsteadily to his feet and felt tenderly of his throbbing head. It still rested atop his shoulders. A wonder he hadn't been stretched out for the count. Except for minor bruises and cuts he was no worse for the experience.

A quick look about assured him that the damage to the interior of the ship was slight. The crumpled girder would not impair the craft's flight.

Clambering outside, he found one of the stern tubes smashed beyond repair. No matter. He could replace it with one of the two spare tubes the New Frontiers carried.

Altogether, the small scouter was not much worse for its experience. It would take but a few hours to install the new tube, and the battered but faithful ship would be ready to blast off to new adventures.

Gene turned curiously and took up a minute inspection of this tenth planet's terrain. Bleak and forbidding, jumbled masses of black rock stretch away to the horizon. Here and there, patches of slatish soil, naked and sterile, contended with the ever-present stone for surface space. He became aware of an insidious chill gnawing at his bones.

Cautiously lifting the air helmet he had donned before emerging from the ship, he sniffed tentatively of the dry, thin air. It seemed to have no ill effects on him. He removed the helmet and stood irresolute, wondering what next to do.

That problem was solved at once. Over the horizon came a howling, clamorous horde of man-shaped creatures, brandishing crudely fashioned spears tipped with sharpened stone, making straightway for the New Frontiers!

Gene's hand went to his hip and came up bearing his energy-ray. Any question of the creatures' intentions was immediately dispelled as one of them jerked to a halt and flung his spear hard at the explorer.

Gene ducked and came up blasting. A grim smile was on his lips as the rabble came on in spite of his withering fire, screeching like harpies as they closed in on him.

He found time to wonder how the beings could see, for no eyes were evident on the flat, hateful faces. Wicked fangs gleamed in the gaping mouths; set squarely between where the eyes should have been was a diminutive, almost non-existent nose. Huge, batlike ears gave the finishing touch to their grotesque appearance.

Gene felt a deep loathing for these weird denizens of a world that should not be. That abhorrence was reflected in the steady blast of his energy-ray, which cut a wide swath in the creatures' ranks.

But still they advanced, shrieking and gnashing their teeth in black hate. They flung their spears with such clumsiness that Gene found them fairly easy to side-step, but now crude stone knives were brought into play, knives that were deadly, in spite of their unwieldiness. Once the beings gained close enough to use those weapons, the biologist would meet with a quick end.

He fought silently, striving to work around the ship to the air lock, but the hideous half-men divined his purpose and swiftly moved to flank him, cutting off all escape. Gene cursed explosively and battled all the fiercer.

Then he gaped in surprise as a spear whizzed past him and sank deep in the breast of his nearest attacker. A look of fear crossed the features of the ferocious barbarians, and as one they turned to face this new enemy.

Gene, too, turned to look at the small band of sturdy beings advancing nimbly over the rocky ground, filling the air with well-aimed spears even as they came.

His assailants made a show of standing firm under the onslaught, screeching defiantly and launching their spears haphazardly at the newcomers.

The ranks wavered and suddenly broke, then the horrible monstrosities were fleeing, chattering their hate as they went scrambling away over the boulders. Now and again one would pause and turn to hurl his spear at Gene in a last venomous attempt to do him in. Then all had disappeared in the far distance.

Gene breathed a sigh of relief and wiped sweat from his forehead in spite of the chill air. "What a reception!" He grinned wryly. "Saturn's Rings! The tracer surely developed a bug and took me off course. These people are nothing more than savages. I can't believe them capable of constructing an intricate ray and directing it on Earth. The whole thing is crazy, just plain, crazy!"

His rescuers hurried up, waving their spears and shouting in a strange tongue.

Gene could not understand the words, but he guessed at their meaning from the triumphal air in which they were spoken. A crude tongue, at best, but then these wild tribesmen needed no elaborate language to express their simple minds.

Now the tribesmen, clad in shaggy furs, clustered about him, feeling wonderingly of his clothes, muttering exclamations of surprise as they noted the five digits on each of his hands. Their own gnarled, hairy paws boasted but four fingers to each.

A towering, rawboned fellow pushed his way through the mob and stopped before Gene. The man—for men these people were, in spite of their crudity and animal traits—swept his eyes over the explorer in a cool glance of appraisal.

Gene did a bit of sizing-up of his own. The giant's high forehead suggested intelligence of a sort; the clear gray eyes told of courage and loyalty. Plainly, the man was a leader among his people.

Abruptly, the fellow turned and uttered a command to the foremost tribesmen. Two stepped forward and took up positions to each side of Gene. They prodded him gently in the ribs and pointed to the horizon. He took this to be a signal to start moving, and he obliged with reluctance, for his overpowering need of sleep now threatened to drop him at each step. How long they walked, the biologist did not know. His guides were practically dragging him by the time the party came into a city of caves, hewn in the jagged wall of a desolate valley. He was led to one of these caverns, mid the shouted questions of the quick-gathered townsfolk and the catcalls of unkempt children.

Blessed sleep rushed up to meet him as the two tribesmen deposited him on a pallet of dirty furs and withdrew from the chamber. The world could wait; the body must rest.

Gene learned much of this strange planet in the next few days. A wizened, white-bearded old man came daily to instruct him in the tribe's language—a simple speech which Gene, a student of ancient tongues, found easy to master.

"Our life is harsh," the talkative patriarch told the explorer between lessons. "Game is scarce and there is little vegetation. Once we grew crops, but now the soil is sterile and bears little, but for wild vegetables and fruits in those isolated places where the ground is yet fertile. This is a world of rock, my son. No creature of flesh and bone was meant to trod here."

The man spoke truth. All about, the valley lay barren, the sandy soil smothered under by tons of rock. Gene thought it a marvel that the tribesmen were able to exist at all in such a place. They must have great courage to fight such a hopeless battle against the forces of nature.

On his fifth day in the cave city, Gene was summoned to the dwelling of Old One, the tribal chief. There, too, was the gray-eyed giant whom Gene had first met the day of his arrival.

Old One raised a withered hand to signify peace, and the biologist solemnly did likewise. The venerable man nodded approval and settled back on his fur-covered stone bench.

"It stuns my senses," he murmured. "Kac, say again this youth was spawned of a beast that walks through air."

"Truly, he was, Father," the dark-haired man said gravely. "The Beast People were besetting him and bearing him under at the time our hunting party came upon the scene. The spineless creatures fled at mere sight of our warriors, though there was a far greater number of them than our small party could boast. The beast that walked through air still rests where it fell from the sky. I fear it is dead, for no longer does it give out its breath of fire."

"Not dead, but sleeping," Gene said, wisely refraining from burdening the simple minds of these people with scientific principles. He noticed that many tribes-people were silently drifting into the cavern, curious to see this strange being who was so like themselves, yet so different.

"Now, Old One," he addressed the chief in a respectful tone, "I know so little of your world. I am as an old woman in a strange cave; lost. Tell me of the Beast People. How do they see—for they have no eyes—and how is it there is so much animosity between your races? Perhaps, if their sin is great enough, I will help you against them."

Old One frowned and thoughtfully fingered his dingy gray beard. "Nothing can be done about the Beast People. Long ago, they came from a world beyond worlds. At the coming of our ancestors, the two races took up a constant war for possession of this cave city.

"The legend is that they, too, were spawned of a great beast that walked through air. Their air-beast, just as yours, fell from the sky with a great crash. But this sky-monster slept the sleep of no awakening, and for them there was no returning.

"In truth, they have no eyes, but my father once told me of the manner in which they find their way about. When afoot, they send out squeals, imperceptible to our ears, which come back to them from the obstacles and pitfalls they would avoid and thus guide them to an open path.

"Never, since that far day in the past, have others of their kind come to plague this world. It is my belief that the Beast People's sky-monster rebelled against them and carried them far away from their goal, wherever it may have been. For that, their brothers who searched—if search they did—could not find their spoor and perforce gave them up for lost.

"There is more to their history, but it is not for your ears. Methinks, it could well be that you are one of the Beast People; for surely those of the home world have changed in the many tens of years since these few of their kind were stranded here."

Old One paused to glance quizzically at Gene. His bewrinkled old forehead drew tightly together as he studied the wiry biologist.

"Whence come you?" he asked sharply. "If from the world beyond worlds, then truly you are a Beast Man. If from a world that is sister to this sphere of rock, then does my tribe welcome you and call you brother. May your tongue speak truth, man of the skies."

All in the cave were tense, silent—waiting for the man's answer. Gene took a step nearer Old One's bench, calm and confident. A world beyond worlds would imply a planet of another system; thus, being from a planet akin to this upon which he had been cast, he spoke without apprehension:

"I name myself Gene Drummond, and I come from Earth—the third world nearest the sun."

He looked about, expecting the tribesmen to loose shouts of welcome; but the grim silence only became more forbidding and the people drew back, as if from a leper. Gene leaped forward.

"Old One!" he cried in the aged man's face. "Explain to them that I am not of the Beast People. I am an Earthling; your brother!"

There was infinite sadness in Old One's gaze. "Nay," he said somberly, "you are not of the Beast People, and no more so are you our brother. By the gods, you are of a race a thousandfold more loathsome than the Beast People!"