The Secret Galactics Read online

  ‘From what I learned at the secret Luind School,’ ventured the cabman, ‘they’ve all had unpleasant surprises when somebody turned out to be more powerful than the aggressors anticipated. What do you think of the human race? Do you think they’ll be able to use the hydrogen bomb against a Deea takeover?’

  ‘No, they don’t have good enough missiles.’

  ‘Too bad.’ The youthful driver seemed concerned. ‘I sort of like it here, and since of course I have to be a human, being all my life, I feel personally affected.’

  Philip Nicer shrugged. ‘I also have to be human. But the fact is, our appearance is not held against us when we return to Luind.’

  ‘Still—the female situation …’

  ‘We’re allowed to take a human woman,’ smiled Nicer. ‘In fact, when my father arranged to appear to die, so that I could legally inherit, he took my mother with him. Last word I had she’s happy.’

  ‘Your father must be smarter than I am,’ said the cabman. ‘I can’t seem to figure out the human female.’

  ‘Well—’ Suddenly, Nicer was frowning—‘they do seem to be an unusually complex type. Still, as a result we all bring male embryos only. The assumption is that we’ll be motivated as individuals to mingle, and to try to understand human psychology. If we had our own females, we’d be tempted to remain an in-group. As it is, we have to learn what it takes to get a human woman, and no fooling.’

  ‘What do you think Metnov will do?’

  ‘That’s one of the things I’ll find out when I meet his and Gannott’s agent this morning. Apparently, Gannott has already informed Metnov about this spaceship—evidently fears him more than he does us. Notice, we’re advised after the ship arrives. I plan to say that we have no instructions to defend earth, even though we could use the planet against Metnov’s people at a future time.’

  ‘None of the other alien groups here care?’

  ‘None.’

  The driver was silent for a block; then: ‘You’ve always said that the real question at a time like this has to do with relationships of key persons with human women.’

  ‘True.’ A fleeting image of Marie passed before Nicer’s mind’s eye. He leaned back in the seat.

  ‘What about that blonde bombshell Paul Gannott married?’

  ‘Well—’ with a faint smile—‘the solution-system I used there was my one attempt to interfere in this matter. But it doesn’t seem to have worked.’

  ‘What was the theory behind that?’

  ‘What you said.’ Nicer laughed curtly. ‘Give a man what he thinks he wants in a woman. Then later check to see if he and she in their automatic fashion demolished each other. Gannott, apparently, could not be demolished in that fashion.’

  Oddly, every word uttered by the two men was true in its fashion. But the dialogue also had the meaning that the Luinds were opposed to the Deean takeover, though they would do nothing overt to stop it. They would, however, dabble in an intricate, roundabout, reasoning resistance which, handled right, could make unpleasant waves for the aggressors and might even cause cyclones, so to say.

  No additional remarks were made. The taxi arrived at a long, low structure. The sign over the building read: LOST SOULS Cocktail Lounge and Restaurant Open 24 Hours.

  The cab turned into the driveway, and stopped short of the entrance near the first parking lot. The driver said, ‘Shall I park in the usual place?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Nicer did not leave the taxi immediately. It looked like an ordinary yellow cab, but it was actually an armored vehicle. From the comparative safety inside, he looked out, searching for any spot from which a high-powered rifle might be used against him.

  Like so many buildings on the north side of the ‘strip’, the Lost Souls bar and this lot had been built into the side of a hill. And so there was a steep embankment which, at this early hour, offered a vista of concrete and dirt, with scrub brush higher up.

  A man climbed out of one of the other cars parked nearby, and walked over to Nicer’s machine. Nicer lowered his window an inch. ‘Hello, Captain,’ he said.

  The man, who was not in uniform, said, ‘We’ve got three operatives up there, covering the lot.’

  Nicer wanted to know who they were.

  Captain Bendley hesitated, then excused himself and went off. He spoke to someone in another of the parked cars. When he returned to Nicer’s car, he named three names in a low voice.

  Nicer said, ‘Just a minute.’

  He leaned back and remembered the men by his method. Presently, he nodded.

  With that he opened the door, climbed out, and waved to the cab driver. The taxi drove off, and Nicer glanced at Captain Bendley, who said, ‘We’ve got four of our men inside the bar.’ With a smile he named them—and waited for Nicer’s reaction.

  Nicer had one of the four, a swarthy man named Emile McGordon, called outside. McGordon had a Latin look, despite his Scotch or Irish name, and he had been assigned by Major Porter and was not a Luind. Out of the way was the best place for him.

  A minute later, having taken all the precautions he could think of, Nicer entered the Lost Souls Cocktail bar. The time was exactly 7.45 a.m.

  Nicer entered the bar by way of the parking lot entrance. As he came in, he searched for and found the door to the street.

  In a series of quick glances, then, he took in the long L-shaped room with its leather-covered booths set against the walls. The booths had high sides. A couple in one of them could be almost out of sight.

  Nicer walked past each booth, noticed where the restrooms were, and mentally marked an arrow sign indicating the location of the phone booths.

  At the entrance to the restaurant section, he made his longest pause; let his eyes become accustomed to the shaded lights; surveyed the dim interior.

  Satisfied, he concentrated again on the bar. Like the restaurant, it also was half full, which seemed a normal quota of ‘lost souls’ at this hour for a place like this.

  In his speedy examination, Nicer had noticed several familiar persons, all Intelligence agents, and all, of course, on such an occasion, also Luinds like himself. One of the other officers—Jameston—caught his eye and indicated a man sitting on a stool at the bar.

  Nicer walked over and settled beside the man. ‘Mr. Griffon?’ he asked.

  The man turned. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘you’re Nicer.’

  He was about forty, with a face that was more round than lean, not exactly ugly, but his nose was slightly pug, his lips a little too thick, his skin showed wrinkles.

  ‘Maybe you can help me make up my mind,’ he asked. ‘Joanie wants to marry me.’ He held out his hand. ‘By the way, my full name is Abraham—you know, after the biblical character, Abraham—Abe Griffen.’

  Nicer ignored the extended palm, and it presently withdrew.

  ‘Women,’ Abe continued, ‘have a lot to explain.’

  Nicer stared at the man. Since Abe was a Sleele, his remarks had to be misleading. As it was, if he remembered the purpose of this meeting it didn’t seem as important to him as his concern over Joanie.

  ‘I used to think,’ Abe went on, ‘that women on earth were next to angels. You know: God, Christ, the Holy Ghost,

  Disciples, Angels, Women—then maybe came flowers and trees and some of the domestic animals, and finally, practically at the bottom, men. But now I’m not so sure.’

  Nicer had recovered. It seemed to him that although the conversation was on an important subject, it had moved away from him too quickly.

  He said, ‘Before we get off on men’s favorite topic, you know what we’re here for?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, sure,’ Abe said. He reached into his pocket, drew out a sealed envelope, and held it out to Nicer. Nicer gazed at it distastefully, and said finally, ‘Now, come on, Abe, you know it would be foolish of me to open a letter from Metnov.’

  Abe was surprised. ‘If anything happened to you, I might be hurt, too. And you know he wouldn’t do that to me. I’m his brother.’
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  ‘All Sleeles are brothers,’ said Nicer. ‘But some of them have been killed in operations planned by Metnov. So—why don’t I just slip off this stool and step over behind that pillar. Then you open the letter, and read it to me in a loud, clear voice.’

  He didn’t wait for acceptance, but hastily got to his feet and walked over behind the sturdy looking pillar. He stood there, then, as Abe’s voice read out the message from Metnov:

  Dear Phil: Paul Gannott called me yesterday through my Paris relay, and asked me if I would tell you that earth was about to be the recipient of a glorious gift. It was going to be permitted—he said—to become a colony of Deea. He promised that casualties would be limited to those persons who resisted, and that in no way would the takeover ever be used as a means of barring you and me and our associates from operating on earth and in the solar system. If you could ever bring yourself to overcome your distrust of me, we might one of these weeks get together and discuss the implications for the Sleele brotherhood and the Luind peoples of such a takeover. Failing that, you may ask questions of my brother, Abe, and he is authorized to reply to the best of his ability. Helen sends her love.

  Sincerely,

  Metnov

  ‘That’s it,’ said Abe,

  ‘Thanks,’ Nicer called, ‘now place it back in the envelope, and slip it into your right back pocket. I’m going to sit on the stool to your left.’

  Moments later, having been assured that the envelope and its letter were indeed in the designated pocket, Nicer did just that.

  ‘You look,’ Abe greeted him, ‘like somebody who understands human women.’

  ‘Not me,’ said Nicer, remembering Marie with a rueful smile.

  ‘I guess,’ Abe was saying, ‘I got the wrong idea about girls because I started chasing after them so young. By the time I was seventeen, boy, I was going at it regular. But each one of those females made such a big deal out of sex that, in spite of the indoctrination I was getting telling me that I wasn’t really human, I was a Sleele, they got me to feeling sinful. You may not believe this but I cut the stuff out three times before I was twenty-one, just out of guilt. But what I want to know now is, if they’re so damn pure how come I got so many of them?’

  He paused and gazed at Nicer as if expecting an answer. When none came, he went on, ‘Joanie wants to marry me. I say she should give up the others and then maybe I’ll think about it.’

  Nicer interjected, ‘What others?’

  Abe seemed not to hear. ‘Joan says no. It took her a long time to get these fellows to like her, and she’s had bad experiences in giving up friends in order to get married. Then the man didn’t marry her after all, she says. So, she says, the day we get the license she’ll call up these men and give some story about having to go out of town. So then if we marry within a week, she’ll call them up and cancel them out, she says. But if we don’t get married—if I chicken out like the others did in the past—’

  Nicer said, ‘Why not find yourself a woman who hasn’t got all those other entanglements?’

  Abe stared at him as if it were a new idea. Then he shook his head. ‘Joanie’s the one that appeals to me,’ he said in a helpless tone.

  ‘How many men has she got?’

  ‘Six—including me.’ He was abruptly cheerful. ‘I get the extra day each week.’

  ‘Well—’ said Nicer, doubtfully.

  Abe interjected, ‘If I chicken out, Joanie says, then she’ll just pick up where she left off, except that I won’t be in the circuit anymore. She says she couldn’t stand me to be around once I had promised to marry her and didn’t. I haven’t promised yet, so I can keep going like I am.’

  Nicer knew of several arrangements whereby an earth woman, by one means of another, maintained a harem of males. In Joan’s situation no money seemed to be involved, and Joanie had a hard time holding the men. So her system had a flaw in it.

  Still, the method she had was somehow keeping this Sleele brainwashed. Might be worth looking into, and was definitely to be encouraged.

  Abe persisted, ‘Well, what do you think?’

  Nicer asked, ‘Has Joan ever been married?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well—’ Nicer spoke expansively—‘then I think you should marry her. Every woman ought to be married at least once in her life.’

  Abe slipped off his stool eagerly. Then his expression clouded, and he sat down again.

  He said soberly, ‘I was going to go and tell her, but the particular guy who has Thursday night gets to stay until nine a.m. I’ll have to wait until then before I give her the happy news. How about another drink?’

  Nicer accepted the cocktail thoughtfully. ‘Does Joanie work?’

  ‘From noon until six,’ nodded Abe. He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to marriage,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Nicer. He raised his glass. ‘I’m getting a new thought here—I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before. Here—’ he touched glasses—‘here’s to earth women.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Abe, ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  After they had sipped, Nicer said, ‘And now, one question: where are the Deeans operating from? Where’s the headquarters?’

  Abe Griffen hesitated. ‘Oh,’ he said finally, ‘that. Boy, you got a one-track mind.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, they moved that computer from the Hodder house to Gannott’s place.’

  ‘That estate of his at the south end of town?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Jolson Road?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘How can I get in touch with Metnov if I need him fast?’

  ‘Call his Paris relay.’

  ‘How can I get in touch with you?’

  The other man drew out a card. ‘Here’s Joanie’s number.’ He held the card to Nicer, but the latter smilingly shook his head, and instead, got out his notebook and copied the information from the card while Abe held it. When the job was done, Abe slipped the card back into his pocket. ‘You’re a suspicious guy,’ he said.

  ‘This is a hard world,’ said Nicer. ‘What looks like paper can be synchronized with one person—say, you—but will burn off the fingers of anyone else who touches it. I want to keep my fingers so I can shake Metnov’s hand if we ever meet.’

  ‘Shake mine,’ said Abe. He held it out.

  Nicer climbed warily off his stool, backed off, and shook his head. ‘I hate to be discourteous,’ he said, ‘but there’s a type of energy that you can, so to speak, palm off on someone else, and it doesn’t affect him until a few minutes later. Good luck with Joanie.’

  As Nicer turned away, Abe called, ‘I don’t have the feeling this conversation is over.’ Nicer paused and faced the man at a respectful distance. ‘It is well known,’ he said, ‘that at a couple of hundred feet Sleeles can read minds.’

  ‘What we Sleeles know,’ said Abe, ‘is that a Luind can be talking and apparently thinking on one subject, and actually mean something different.’

  ‘Now, now Abe,’ Nicer chided, ‘don’t project that Sleele tendency to be devious on the rest of us.’

  ‘Metnov,’ said Abe, ‘keeps having the feeling that in a crisis like this we’ll be used by the Luinds to solve the problem. And we won’t even know how it was done.’

  ‘That,’ said Nicer, ‘has got to be the Sleele temperament combined with the human body-brain tendency to have paranoid fantasies. We Luinds were surprised by the arrival of the Deean ship.’

  ‘It’s Metnov’s delusion,’ said the other, ‘that Luinds are never surprised. Their problem is that they have to accomplish their goal without any real support from their home planet.’

  ‘If only,’ said Nicer, ‘we were so prescient as never to be surprised.’

  ‘We Sleeks,’ came the reply, ‘have the impression that after the Luinds use us to solve this problem, we won’t be able to guess how they did it.’

  ‘Luinds over-reach themselves sometimes just like Sleeles,’ said Nicer.

  ‘I suppose,’ gloomed Abe, ‘there
’s a clue in that very remark. But even though, according to you, I can read your mind, I can’t see what that clue is.’ When Nicer made no additional comment, Abe continued, ‘What you gonna do about Gannott?’

  ‘We don’t have anything within a year’s flight that could handle the firepower of Gannott’s big ship. So we accept his peace offer. But grimly—‘we’ll bring our battleship over if he goes back on his word. Tell him that.’

  ‘I’ll tell him,’ said Abe, ‘but Metnov won’t believe it. He thinks you can have one of your big ones here in a couple of hours by your jump system. And the real big question is, why don’t the Luinds defend all these single planet civilizations when they’re attacked?’

  ‘Granting,’ said Nicer, ‘that such a rapid jump transit exists—which I’ve never seen myself; and I keep wondering about the source of Metnov’s information; I say, granting that, bringing such a super-ship here would be just what Metnov would like to have happen. Then he could see one in action; and smart Sleele scientists operating from key stations in the solar system might be able to figure out from its energy field what the method was. How about that?’

  ‘What is all this secrecy about rapid space flight?’ asked Abe. ‘Why not give the method to everybody?’