Part 1

Proktols of Neptune

By HENRY HASSE

Space-rumor had spun wild tales of horror about Neptune's almost-legendary race of Proktols. But what could rumor know of this hideous reality that faced Space-captain Janus and his captive crew!

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1941. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Commander Janus stared in bafflement at the power-board of the Patrol ship _Wasp_. The Deflector needle was still gyrating wildly. That had begun five minutes ago. His lips tightened, and he looked up irritably as the First Mate peered inquisitively over his shoulder.

"Better check up on the course again, Devries!"

"Just did, sir. We're point oh-oh perfect, not the slightest aberrancy."

Janus swore under his breath. "I just can't figure it! Must be some object dead ahead to cause this disturbance, but why doesn't our Deflector beam shunt it from us or pivot us around it?"

He paced the Control room, stopped and looked over at Ketrik whose eyes were fixed steadily on the visipanel. "See anything yet?"

Ketrik merely shook his head, not looking up. That panel magnified their course several times, and Ketrik had the sharpest eyes in the Patrol.

"Damned if I like it a bit," Janus muttered, staring again at the crazy needle that seemed about to jump its bearings. "Devries, tell Blake to cut all jets. We'd better go into a drift until we are a little better able to determine what's wrong."

Devries stepped to the tube and gave the order to Blake in the rocket room. A moment later the _Wasp_ was in the drift. Blake came forward to see what was up. Far behind rolled the hideous green ball that was Neptune, and immeasurably far ahead somewhere was Pluto. Devries stepped again to the chart and saw that the hair-line indicator still had Pluto right on the nose.

"I think I've got something," Ketrik spoke from the panel. The men crowded around him, peering into the square of blackness that seemed to swim as Ketrik turned the magnifying dial.

"I see it!" Blake exclaimed. "Something ... a meteor? Looks like it's drifting right at us."

But Ketrik shook his head, and his eyes narrowed. "That looks to me like a derelict, and it's my opinion that _we're_ drifting at it."

"A spacer?" Commander Janus asked excitedly. "Can you make it out, Ketrik? Maybe it's Perrin! I hope to God it is, it'll save us days!"

But the next few minutes revealed that it wasn't Perrin's pirate ship. The drifting spacer was much larger, and of different design, with no name or emblem of any kind. And it was solid black, preventing easy detection against the blackness of space.

"It's a derelict all right," Devries said. "See that ragged gap in the hull near the stern?" He pointed and the others crowded around to look. He was right. In the side of the hull near the stern was a great jagged hole, that looked as though it had been made either by collision with a rogue meteor, or the blast of a space cannon.

They watched in silence as the strange craft drifted toward them. There was no sign of life aboard her; no attempts at communication or of establishing her identity. Quite obviously the craft was deserted.

Devries didn't like the looks of it one bit, and said so.

It loomed up larger and larger as the tiny _Wasp_ was drawn swiftly to it. Then with a little shock the _Wasp_ clanged against the strange ship's side and clung there.

The crew moved for the space-suits. Commander Janus snapped: "Wait a minute!" He stood there frowning, his gray hair bristling. "Something funny here. We'd better go slow." His eyes were troubled.

"But a derelict, sir," Blake said. "Space code says we're obliged to board her, examine her log."

"Don't quote me the space code!" Janus snapped. "Point is, is she a derelict? Maybe you failed to notice we didn't drift to her by natural attraction; we were pulled! Someone left on her magniplates. Why?"

"Could have been an accident," Blake suggested.

Janus shook his head. "Another thing. Her outer lock is open and we landed smack against it. All we've got to do is step over. How extraordinarily convenient."

Ketrik peered through the turret at the black derelict. "Say, you're right!" He grinned, started to quote an ancient nursery rhyme: "Walk into my parlor, said the spider--"

He stopped suddenly, aware of young Ross standing there with eyes aglow and eager. Ross was the novice member. The _space-ennui_ had begun to get to him, so Janus had ordered him to his cabin to sleep it off. Once the _ennui_ gets a grip on a man in the vast outer spaces he's not much good for anything, even though he might be a good spaceman in the inner planets.

Now Janus made up his mind, turned to him. "Ross, we're going across. You stand by the controls. Keep your eyes open, and your hand on the portable atom-blast."

Ross showed his disappointment, but obeyed orders.

"My hunch may be wrong," Janus warned, "but we'd better be careful anyway."

The men didn't need his admonition. As they passed out of the _Wasp's_ lock and into the other, their hands all hovered around their atom-blasts. And the moment they stepped into the alien spacer they knew Janus' hunch hadn't been wrong. Looking down a long empty corridor, they saw a barred door; beyond that door was the stern compartment where the gap was in the metal hull.

But the rest of the spacer was still air-tight.

Janus flashed them a look that said, "See?" They threw back their helmets. Soundlessly they walked toward the bow, listening intently for any sign of life. They passed some narrow cross-corridors and many doors, all tightly closed. Devries, bringing up the rear, glanced behind him occasionally. Nothing. Nevertheless he shivered. There was a jittery tension in the very air.

They came in sight of the navigation room, and stopped suddenly. Janus stared at the odd looking controls. "I never saw a spacer like this before!" he whispered.

* * * * *

The voice behind him didn't whisper, it rang hollowly down the long corridor.

"No, I am sure you did not. Do not go any farther, please."

The four men whirled.

It was a mystery where they came from, those dozen fantastic beings behind them. They had heard no steps, no sound of a door opening.

Devries was nearest. His first startled impression was that they weren't more than semi-human: as tall as a man, but much thinner, with flexible wiry limbs. Absurdly large heads, quite hairless and glistening, from which protruded frail antennae. Eyes huge, lidless and staring. No perceptible noses. Mouths but thin gashes. Most striking of all, their entire skin shimmered with a metallic reddish-brown lustre; although the Earthmen learned later it was not metallic, but shell-like.

Ketrik was always reckless. His hand flew to his atom-blast. Much faster, the nearest of the creatures raised a flame pistol. The charge passed so close to Ketrik's body it scorched his suit. Ketrik changed his mind, and the creature said: "That is better."

"Take it easy," Janus warned, still whispering. "We're in their trap now."

The creatures had keen hearing. "Indeed you are, Commander Janus," said the one with the flame-pistol, apparently the leader. "And it was so simple it was almost childish. But you Earthmen are always so noble, with what you call a space code; always ready to go to the aid of a helpless derelict. Or is it merely curiosity? The Martians are not so stupid, they never go prying."

The insult was lost on Janus, who stared. "How do you know my name?" he demanded.

The creature spoke perfect English, but the voice was toneless and the words precise, clipped: "That does not matter. It is my business to know certain things."

"Well, I'm sorry to say I don't know as much about you!" Janus eyed the flame-pistol angrily. "Kindly state your business with us. We're from the Earth Patrol, on official--"

"Yes, I know. In search of one of your race, a pirate, one whom you call Perrin. I have heard of this Perrin." The creature's facial expression didn't change, but the wide blackness of his staring eyes turned to a momentary angry orange, then back to black. He went on in his cold voice:

"I have not introduced myself. I am known as V'Naric. If you wish to know more about us I think your friend there can tell you. It would be amusing to hear about us from his lips." The men were amazed as the creature gestured toward Devries with the pistol. Again the eyes changed color, this time to a soft green which must have signified amusement.

Had the creature read Devries's mind? Yes, he knew them, or rather he'd heard something about them; this was the first one he'd actually seen.

"We're in a spot now," he said in a low tone to his friends. "Those are the Proktols, inhabitants of the single moon of Neptune! They usually stick pretty close to home, but once they go on the warpath, or rather the space-path, you can bet something's up."

"Yes, yes, go on," said V'Naric in his clipped voice, his eyes still green with amusement.

But at that moment the men heard the inner-lock clang shut, and a sudden roar of the rockets. Too late, they realized V'Naric had held their attention with conversation while a few of his men sneaked off to get the spacer under way.

They leaped to the ports and saw the _Wasp_ drifting free. They saw something else. A flame leaped from this ship, touched the _Wasp_ and lingered there. A circular spot on its silvery hull glowed suddenly red. Ross was frantically trying to swing the _Wasp_ away.

"Good Lord! Ross!" Janus sprang toward V'Naric and clutched at him. "Stop it! One of our men is still aboard back there!"

V'Naric deliberately turned his back.

They saw the thin shell of the _Wasp_ burst outward.

"You murdering devils!" yelled Ketrik, suddenly berserk. He leaped toward V'Naric in blind fury, reaching out with his hands.

V'Naric stepped aside, brought up his flame-pistol and calmly crashed the butt of it down upon Ketrik's head. Ketrik crumpled.

V'Naric turned to Devries casually, his eyes now black and placid. "You were saying?"

Devries went numb. He could only barely feel Blake's and Janus' hands restraining him as he tried to leap forward. But his brain was a searing thing of fire. "I was saying you're a blight on the universe, you damned unholy devils!" he shrieked. "You scum, you spawn of hell, you're unfit to inhabit the same space with decent men! I know what you do! I've heard all about you! If I ever get back to Earth I'll bring men out here to blast your filthy planet from the skies!" He shrieked other things, shrieked 'til his throat was raw.

When the red mist cleared from before Devries' eyes he saw V'Naric standing there complacently with his men around him. V'Naric opened his gash of a mouth. He uttered four sentences in that emotionless, precise English:

"I am really disappointed. You do not half do us justice. We are actually much worse than you paint us. I think you will soon have occasion to realize that."

He turned and gestured to his men. They came forward, wrapped their wiry arms around the Earthmen and hustled them down a narrow corridor. They thrust them in an empty room, but kept their atom-blasts, which they examined curiously. They dumped the unconscious Ketrik in on the floor.

The door clanged shut. The Earthmen felt a faint vibration in the bare metal walls as rockets thundered, sending the alien spacer surging ahead.

* * * * *

They managed to revive Ketrik after a while. Then they all looked questioningly at Devries.

Devries sank down on the floor, bowed his head in his hands and groaned. "Lord, what a spot to be in! I guess I let loose with some utter gibberish out there. I don't remember all that I yelled. But you wouldn't blame me if you knew what we're probably in for."

"I could make a good guess," Blake said, grinning wryly.

"No, you couldn't," Devries said, so solemnly that Blake's grin vanished. "Commander Janus, I noticed you made a wide sweep away from Neptune. I'll bet you've had orders to stay clear of there. Am I right?"

Janus nodded affirmatively, startled.

"I thought so. And didn't you wonder why?"

"It's not for me to wonder," replied Janus. "There are standing orders that Neptune's utterly unfit, uninhabitable, no reason to land there."

Devries nodded grimly. "All right, and now I'll tell you something. Neptune's _not_ uninhabitable. At least its moon is not, for these Proktols live there, and where they can live Earthmen can live. But spacemen usually give Neptune a wide beam, at least those who have heard the rumor. I first heard it in a spacerfront dive on Mars, a few years ago, from a drunken half-breed Martian. He and two companions had been inward-bound from Pluto. They set down on Neptune's moon for a rocket repair. The Proktols got them and hauled them off to their capitol-city. There, before a vast populace, they tortured two of the men horribly. The third Martian managed to escape to his ship, and made it back to Mars alone."

Blake was aghast. "These Proktols did that? These--these things that have got us now?"

"Yes," Devries nodded.

"But why?"

"I don't know. The Martian who told me this didn't seem to know himself."

"Bunk!" Janus pronounced. "No one tortures men without any reason; not even these Proktols."

"But maybe they do have a reason!" Devries replied. "Oh, I'll admit, at first I didn't believe that Martian's story myself. I thought it was the effect of the _tsith_ he was drinking, and God knows he needed it, poor devil. But when I looked in his eyes they weren't the kind of eyes I'd ever seen in a Martian or anyone else. They were mad eyes, mad with the sight they had looked upon."

"You said there were rumors," Ketrik spoke up. "I've never even heard of these Proktols before, much less any rumors about 'em."

Devries looked at Ketrik. "I told you they stayed close to home. But you know how many men from the inner planets have come out here, never to be heard of again. After that Martian's story, I made inquiries; mostly from hardened, independent spacemen. I went about the lowest dives of Mars, whispering surreptitiously about 'Proktols.' Out of a hundred I approached, only three men seemed to know what I was talking about. And two of these turned a funny color, and muttered something, and hurried away from me. Their silence was the best eloquence. The third man told me a vague, similar story to that of the Martian's."

"This torture the Proktols seem so fond of," Ketrik sneered. "Tell us about that."

"Well, it's--" Devries tried to tell them but he couldn't. That mad Martian had painted him a picture that rose up now in his brain and flooded it with horror. He was suddenly sick, he couldn't speak and he wished he couldn't think. He simply rolled over and lay there with his face to the wall.

The others were suddenly silent.

Blake spoke a minute later. His voice didn't sound the same. "I wonder where they're taking us?"

"There's your answer," Janus replied from the port where he was standing. "I can see Neptune almost dead ahead from here. And it's growing larger."

* * * * *

Hours later V'Naric came in, bringing them a pasty kind of food that didn't taste too bad. Apparently nonchalant, but very watchful, he stood just inside the door while they ate.

Devries watched him in turn. Already he had learned much just by observing V'Naric's eyes, apparently the Proktols' only medium of emotion. Black--as his were now--meant calm, orange meant anger, and green meant amusement.

When they had finished eating, V'Naric started to leave without a word. Devries stopped him.

"Would you mind telling us, now, where you're taking us and why?" he asked, careful not to lose his temper again. He figured it would do no harm, and might do infinite good, to learn as much as possible.

V'Naric hesitated, surveying him musingly. Then he answered indirectly: "Have you Earthmen ever heard of the sacred temple of Dhovril, or of the Shining Stone?"

No, the Earthmen had never heard of either. "Dhovril," Devries repeated, "that is your planet?"

"Yes."

"And this Shining Stone?"

V'Naric's eyes became green-tinged, and Devries wondered why. "The Shining Stone is merely a colorful meteoric fragment. Many years ago it came flashing through space and landed on Dhovril. The inhabitants there are semi-savage, and worship it, believing it a present from the gods. Of course to such as we"--he apparently meant himself and his companions--"the Shining Stone means nothing, but the others are roused to a fanatical fury when it is touched. And when it is stolen...."

"So you think we stole it!" Janus said. "We never set foot on your planet!"

V'Naric turned complacent black eyes upon him. "No, Commander, I did not say that. Because I know you did not steal it."

"Then why are you holding up?"

"You will see soon."

Ketrik, remembering that blow on the head, was regarding V'Naric balefully. And V'Naric was standing fairly close to him. Now Ketrik didn't move, merely turned his head and spat contemptuously in the Proktol's face.

V'Naric's hand leaped to his belt, like a whip lash, and snatched out the flame-pistol. He pressed it hard against Ketrik's body before any of the men could move. The swift flood of the angry orange filled his eyes.

But he didn't press the button. The orange slowly faded and gave way to a deep purple, as though he were remembering something, then it too faded. He jammed the pistol back in his belt, brought up his hand and slapped Ketrik sharply across the mouth. Those fingers were long and wiry and shell-like; they left four furrows in Ketrik's cheek from which blood oozed. But he stood there stolidly, regarding V'Naric with contempt. V'Naric turned abruptly and left the room.

"You damned fool!" Devries snapped. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't like him," was all Ketrik said, as he slowly raised his hand to his cheek.

"Oh, you don't! Well, he's not exactly in love with you now! He would have blasted you then, but he's got something else up his sleeve. I'd hate to be in your shoes."

Janus said: "We'd all hate to be in our shoes, but it looks like we are. I don't like this Shining Stone business. Must be a pretty important fetish on their world, eh?"

Blake muttered: "If it was stolen, I'll bet I know who got it. That damned pirate, Perrin! You know we had information he was out this way."

Devries said: "No. I think there's something else behind all this, something more than the Shining Stone. And I hate to think what."

He was still remembering a mad Martian's story.

* * * * *

Bells clanged. The vibration of the rockets ceased. Through the ports came a weird, green glow as they passed close to the atmosphere of Neptune. The spacer swung around that planet, using its gravity as a pivot, then the Earthmen saw the single tiny satellite which V'Naric had called Dhovril.

An hour later they were there, slanting down over a terrain of desert and serrated cliffs. The great ball of Neptune hung behind, filling half the sky, its glow casting just enough light over the satellite to tinge everything with a greenish grotesquerie.

"Lord, that gives me the creeps!" Blake muttered, peering out.

"This little planet must be pretty heavy, though," Janus estimated. "Gravity seems about right."

They passed beyond the cliffs and over a large desert. Then, far ahead, they saw the towering stone edifices of a city, gleaming a ghastly skull-white in the green tinged atmosphere. Devries turned his face away. He recognized the city from the Martian's description.

Before they quite, reached there, however, Blake cried: "Look! Down there!"

Far below them, covering a large section of desert, were row after row of blunt-nosed objects, looking like tiny silvery bugs, except they were motionless. But they weren't bugs. They were space-ships. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of them in formidable array.

Ketrik stared, then turned to Devries and exclaimed: "Hah! Thought you said these Proktols stuck close to home! Off-hand I'd say they've got other ideas now. I wonder what? I don't like the look of that fleet down there!"

But now their spacer was gliding in low over the city, settling down into landing cradles.

Janus turned to his men. "If we see a chance, we'd better make a break for it! I'd like to get at the Controls of this ship just once!"

"I'd rather get at our atom-blasts!" Ketrik snapped.

But they had no chance to do either. A score of the Proktols, with flame-pistols alert, came to escort them out. As they marched down a wide avenue thousands of the gathered populace gave vent to prolonged shouting, or rather shrilling. It was definitely unfriendly, and somehow fanatical, anticipatory.

The Earthmen looked at these inhabitants with interest. They seemed to be Proktols too, but in several ways were different from V'Naric and the others. They were smaller, hardly four feet tall, and frailer if that were possible. And they had no antennae. Neither did they wear any raiment that the Earthmen could see--evidence of their semi-savagery. But they seemed to respect the larger Proktols, for although their shrilling continued, they kept their distance and didn't touch the Earthmen.

"Just listen to those devils!" Blake said. "They're waiting, expecting something!"

They reached a vast plaza in the center of the city. Their captors marched them through the mass of shrilling little coppery devils, and into a building; then up a flight of stairs and into a bare stone room with a single tiny window looking out upon the square below.

As the last of the Proktols passed out of the room he pressed a key into a slot outside the doorway. A sheet of bluish, crackling flame leaped up from the floor, effectively barring the entrance.

* * * * *

Janus whirled to the window. A louder sound came swelling up from the tiny savages below as they caught sight of him.

"Shut up, we haven't got your damned Shining Stone! I wish V'Naric would tell 'em so," he added, coming away. "Sounds like they want our blood!"

Devries had a better idea of what they wanted, but he kept still. They hadn't long to wait. V'Naric came. He left some of his men outside, shut off the electrical barrier and stepped into the room and turned it on again. He held his flame-pistol ready in his hand.

"I am indeed sorry to have kept you waiting," he said with over-emphasized politeness, "but I had to consult with the _Lahk-tzor_ as to your disposal. He has waited long. He is anxious to begin."

"And who might he be?" asked Janus, glaring.

V'Naric turned serious black eyes upon him. "_Lahk-tzor_," he said, obviously seeking the right term, "is our word for what you Earthmen might call the Greatest One, or the Ultimate--or more laterally, perhaps, the Brain."

"The Brain, eh?" Ketrik spoke up scornfully. "Well, if this Brain of yours has half the sense it was born with, it'll think twice before--"

V'Naric turned on him with suddenly angry eyes, and Janus intervened quickly: "Just what is this Brain, or _Lahk-tzor_? And if he's in authority here, why don't you take us to him?"

"That is not necessary. He is interested in you, but very impersonally." V'Naric's voice was cold. "I have been instructed to allow you to choose among yourselves who will be the One."

"The One?" Blake whispered to Devries. "What does he mean, the One?"

"For the Ritual," V'Naric said, as though they should have known.

"And suppose," Janus said, "none of us chooses to be the One?"

V'Naric shrugged in a purely Earthian manner and raised the flame-pistol a bit higher. "Then it will be a pleasure for me to choose for you."

"No, thanks." Janus glanced at the others questioningly, hesitated, then took a notebook from his pocket and tore a page into four strips of varying length.