Part 1

WHAT INHABITS ME?

By ROBERT MOORE WILLIAMS

_What vast secrets would it hold? What startling discoveries ... what dire news would it bring back after twenty lost years out in deep space? Fearfully men watched the awesome_ Andromeda _glide into the Plutonian spaceport_.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories March 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Here the universe was so quiet you could hear space creaking and groaning from its internal stresses. Here even the far-off stars seemed to roar like blow torches.

Craig Randall, shivering from the cold of the observatory dome, snapped shut the holders on the exposed plates, pulled them out and quickly replaced them with new ones, opened the shutters on the 20-inch scope. Out here on Pluto a 20-inch telescope did a much better job than a 200-inch scope did on Earth. This was one reason why Earth Government maintained this station here on a wandering chunk of space-frozen rock.

Plates in hand, he fled into the semi-warmth of the development lab. Here he developed them, compared them with previous plates, saw there was no change, and quickly filed them. Then he fled again, this time to the warmth of human companionship in the big lounge of Pluto Station.

Music from Earth came to him as he entered the room, warm and throbbing, smells, tobacco smoke, the rattle of a pinball machine, the riffle of a deck of cards being shuffled. In the lounge, devices to combat boredom were in operation. As he entered the lounge old Adam March looked up at him, hope suddenly gleaming in faded blue eyes, to ask again the same eternal question.

"Anything new on the plates, Craig?" Everytime an astronomer came out of the observatory, old Adam March asked this question, always with renewed hope sounding in his voice.

Craig shook his head. "Sorry, Adam. Nothing."

At his words, hope began to go out of the faded blue eyes. "Not a sign of the _Andromeda_?" the old man persisted.

"Not a sign. Why don't you ever ask about the _Perseus_ or the _Hercules_? They went out into deep space too, you know."

"I know," Adam March nodded. "But the _Andromeda_ was the first one to go out, she was the first deep-space ship. It seems logical that she might be the first one back. That's why I always ask about her."

"She went out twenty years ago," Craig said, then caught himself. Whatever it was that the old man sought in the _Andromeda_, there was no point in reminding him that the ship had unquestionably smashed up long ago. Let hope remain! "Sorry, Adam. Nothing, yet."

"They might not catch her until she was real close in," Adam March persisted. "She wouldn't be using her drive until she got in real close and you probably wouldn't catch her until the drive was turned on. Let me know, will you, if you catch anything?" The last was said quickly as Craig Randall began to move away.

"Sure thing, Adam, you'll be the first to know," Craig answered. Across the room, Mary Kirkham was trying to catch his eye, a needless effort in this case. If she was in sight, she always had his eye. She also had the eye of every other male in her vicinity, a quality which occasionally gave Craig the impulse to destroy half the unmarried men at the station. She was a bio-physicist, and a good one. She was assigned to the bio-physical research laboratories that were a part of the station. Mary pulled him down to the sofa beside her.

"Craig, we're going to get a whole new bio-physics lab here." Excitement danced in her voice and glinted in her eyes.

"That's fine," Craig said. He knew how much this meant to her. "How do you know?"

"The chief just got the news from Mr. Nuoy," Mary Kirkham answered.

* * * * *

"Nuoy. Oh." Craig's voice dropped a notch as Nuoy's name came into the conversation. He felt his mood shift. "If Nuoy has approved it, of course it will go through. He's got enough pull to get special quarters constructed for him here, at the expense of Earth Government, so he can have the advantages of living under a light gravity. But he never considers that two billion humans scattered through the Solar System have kicked in with taxes so that he can enjoy life." Bitterness crept into his voice as he spoke. "What are you going to do in your new bio-physics lab--find a way to make Nuoy virile?"

"Craig!" She was hurt at what he said. "You're spreading rumor!"

"Of course," he agreed. What he had said was rumor, without substantiation and without proof. If anyone had been careless enough to try to prove such rumors, the results would have been unpleasant for the investigator. Officially there was no connection between Nuoy and Pluto Station, or between Nuoy and Earth Government. But at high official levels, in wire pulling that went on so far above the heads of the average man as to be beyond his comprehension, there was little doubt that Nuoy owned Pluto Station, and a big chunk of the Solar System as well.

"I hope you're wrong, Craig," the girl said, seriously. "I would hate to think we have such monsters as that riding on the back of all of us."

"I hope I'm wrong too. But I'm afraid I'm not."

"Randall!" the public address system broke in. "Craig Randall. Come to the main observation dome at once, please."

"The military calls," Craig said, rising. "Us lesser mortals must obey."

The military ran Pluto Station, manned it, supplied it, armed it, and used it as a base for keeping watch for mythical intruders who might come wandering into the system from the far-off seas of space. There was not a scientist in the station who did not feel deep in his bones that the military could be dispensed with, that they wasted much money and time keeping watch for non-existent pirates from the depths of space. But the military insisted that this watch was important. Sure, there was peace now, but there might not always be peace. Who knew what monsters might come in from the sea that had no other shore? If space was infinite, the danger might be infinite also. So argued the military. Earth Government backed them up to the extent of manning its planet station with armed forces. On Mars and Venus, they were needed. But here on Pluto what was needed was a way to keep from freezing.

"Probably one of the lieutenants has spotted me down here with you and is trying to get me up to the main dome to look at a meteor while he sneaks down here and makes passes at you."

"Darling, I believe you're jealous. In that case I'll go with you."

"Good," Craig said, vastly pleased.

They used the elevator to the top of the big building. A lieutenant, his face serious, was waiting for them at the landing. He led them into the top dome.

Above them, through the plastic cover, a million stars sparkled. Seen through airless space, the stars were so brilliant they seemed to be just outside the dome. Pluto Station itself was set in the middle of a vast valley, with low hills surrounding it. On the left, were frozen runways extending the length of the valley. Then ended in the vast hump of the huge dome that served as a hangar for the space ships landing on Pluto. The hangar itself was part of the cluster of buildings that made up the station.

Up above the rocky surface of Pluto, slanting downward toward the runways, was a pale blue glow.

"Hell, that's not a meteor!" Craig gasped. "That's a ship coming in from deep space for a landing here."

"That's what I thought," the lieutenant answered. "But I wanted one of you astronomy boys to make a positive identification for me before I aroused the whole station." With one hand, the lieutenant pushed the button marked _Call to Action Stations_. With his other hand, he snapped open the inter-communication line that led directly to the office of Cyrus Stanley, commanding general of Pluto Station.

The long watch of the military was finally paying off. Life was coming in from the void to them. The entire station awakened to the sudden violent jangle of alarm bells.

The military had everything prepared for a situation such as this. Plan A went into operation at once. This plan called for the manning of the powerful Z-beams mounted not only in the station but in the low hills surrounding the vast valley. The same power that had made possible the conquest of space had also made possible the building of weapons strong enough to annihilate the targets against which they were directed. Guided by radar, the Z-beams began tracking the incoming ship.

However, Plan A called for the peaceful reception of the visiting ship, if that were possible. Life coming in from the vast void of space was too important to be destroyed if there was any way to make contact with it and to establish peaceful relations. A race that could come across deep space itself probably had enough power at its disposal to warrant cautious and careful handling.

As the alarm bells went into action, radio beams leaped out, attempting contact with the ship. No reply was expected for any reply that came would be a meaningless jumble of sounds. No one knew what a deep-space tongue would sound like. But the attempt was a part of Plan A, and it was made.

With the jangle of the alarm, a sudden flurry of anticipation ran through the whole station. Deep in his heart every man here hoped that some day life might come in from across the void, ending the utter loneliness of the Solar System. Sol and his attendant planets might encompass a fairly large area of space, but this area was microscopically small in comparison to the vastness of the universe. The human race was hungry for contact with another life form.

In his quarters General Stanley hastily donned his jacket.

In his private suite of rooms Meyer Nuoy heard the alarm. Here, the jangle of the bells was a thin whisper of pleasant sound, suited to his sensitive ears. He stirred restlessly in the padded contour chair that had been specially made to fit his body. Irritation rose in him. He hadn't given permission for an alarm to be sounded. He picked up the private phone beside his chair.

"Stanley?" His voice was a growl.

"Why, yes, Mr. Nuoy," the general hastily answered.

"What's all this clatter about?"

"A ship is coming in, Mr. Nuoy."

"What of it? Ships land regularly, don't they? Is this any reason to disturb us with alarm bells?"

"But this ship is not coming in from Earth. It's coming in from deep space."

"Oh!" Nuoy was so startled by this news that he dropped the cigar he was smoking. As he slapped at the coal, the general took the opportunity to hang up. When he got the cigar slapped out and discovered that the general had hung up, Nuoy was infuriated.

"I'll have that stupid fool transferred to Venus!" he thundered.

The general had had good reason for hanging up. Suddenly, an aide had entered with the astonishing news that this ship was responding to radio contact, and that the ship's operator was speaking English.

"Hell on wheels, do they know English in deep space?" the general gasped.

* * * * *

Up in the dome, Craig Randall and Mary Kirkham watched the glows move through the sky as the ship approached. They could hear the clatter of voices coming from the radio room as contact was attempted. Suddenly a new voice came from the loud speaker in the radio room.

"Calling Pluto Station? Calling Pluto Station? Go ahead, please."

They heard the startled operator gasp as he caught his breath. "Holy cats, the ship is talking back to me! This boat is not coming in from deep space, not unless they speak English out there too!"

"Correction, please," the loud speaker answered. "This ship _is_ coming from deep space."

"But--but--but--"

"This is the _Andromeda_ returning to the Solar System after twenty years in space. Contact your commanding officer immediately and advise him that we are preparing to land."

"Whoops!" Craig Randall shouted. "The _Andromeda_!"

The Solar System, like a vast ark riding the flood of infinity, had sent doves into deep space. After twenty years, after all hope had been given up, one of the doves was returning.

The jangling of the alarm bells went into quick silence as the startled station prepared itself to welcome the wanderer home. Home, after years between the stars, home after wandering the vastness of deep space itself.

The Z-weapons in their hidden emplacements left off their tracking of this visitor and the whole station turned itself from an armed camp into a jubilant reception committee.

The _Andromeda_ came down to the runway, the vast outer doors of the hangar swung ponderously open, and the _Andromeda_ came to a halt at Pluto Station. From the waiting humans came the sound of a tremendous cheer. A sloping runway was run up to the main lock of the _Andromeda_. The lock opened. A tall man, dressed in light shorts and a shirt, appeared in the lock. He was bronzed and lean and he looked thoroughly fit. The only mark of authority on him was on the tattered cap that he wore. The stars of a captain glittered there.

His voice was deep, like a bell. "I am Captain Martin of the _Andromeda_," he said.

As he spoke, the cheer grew to a thunderous volume of sound.

General Stanley advanced. He and Captain Martin shook hands. Still shaking hands, they moved down the runway and disappeared in the direction of Nuoy's quarters.

In the throng, Craig caught a glimpse of Adam March. The old man had been in the very first line had been cheering himself hoarse. When Captain Martin had emerged, old Adam had stopped cheering. The old man had stared at the captain as if he did not believe his eyes, then he had seemed to shrink in upon himself, to become small and unimportant.

Then the crew came out of the lock. They were lean and bronzed, they looked to be in perfect physical and mental health. As the last one emerged, the lock swung ponderously shut behind them. The cheering grew to a volume of sound that shook the I-beams of the vast hangar. The members of the crew were taken immediately to the big lounge of the station. Beer began to flow in vast quantities.

"I am sure Mr. Nuoy will want to hear what you have to say," General Stanley said, over and over again, as he and Captain Martin moved away from the ship. The general was a little uneasy because he had hung up on Nuoy. Unless amends were made, he anticipated possible retaliation. To the general's surprise, they were admitted instantly to Nuoy's quarters. Nuoy seemed not to remember that the general had hung up on him. When Captain Martin was introduced, Nuoy's face showed great pleasure. Nuoy had a kind of compelling magnetism about him. When he chose, he could be a completely gracious host. All of his personal magnetism was turned on now. He ordered fine wines and foods to be brought immediately. Servants hurried to obey him. Soft music began to pour from speakers in the walls. Hidden jets began to blow pleasant perfumes into the room.

Stanley had rarely been here, mere generals did not often get a chance to enter Nuoy's private quarters. He was always surprised at the pleasure dome vastly more heavenly than any ever decreed by Kubla Khan in Asia existing here on the ice world of Pluto. Captain Martin gasped in frank surprise. He gingerly tasted the wines and the foods, his manner indicating that he was not quite certain that he was supposed to consume such delicacies. Under Nuoy's urging, he tasted everything, apparently with growing enjoyment.

"Now tell us what you discovered among the stars," Nuoy said.

"We made first landfall on a planet which we named Star Goal," Captain Martin said. Leaning back in his chair, he began to talk. General Stanley and Nuoy listened first in surprise, then in growing amazement, then in startled bewilderment.

* * * * *

In the big lounge, every man who could be spared from duty or who could manage to sneak away from his assigned post, welcomed the crew of the _Andromeda_. Beer flowed by the gallons. Vast quantities of pretzels and hamburgers were consumed, largely by the staff of the station. The crew of the _Andromeda_ tasted food and drink cautiously, in the manner of men long unaccustomed to the modest comforts of civilized life.

"Poor creatures, they probably haven't had a decent meal in years," Mary Kirkham said, indignantly.

"Nor a chance to bury their snoots in a can of beer," Craig added. "But when are we going to get the story of what they found out, what they discovered, and what happened to them. Hey, George!" he spoke to the nearest _Andromeda_ man. "Where did you land?"

"Sorry, Craig," the man answered, smiling. "You'll have to get your information from Captain Martin."

"Damn the captain!" Craig said. "We want to know."

"I understand that," George answered. "But we got orders not to talk. Wait until we've been cleared. We'll give you the whole story."

"But that means you'll have to go to Earth first and we'll get all the information second hand," Mary protested.

The man spread his hand. "Sorry, I didn't make the rules."

The staff of the station became quite indignant when it became obvious that they were not going to get any information from the crew.

"You might try making love to one of them," Craig said, in exasperation, to Mary.

"I might at that," she answered. "They all look kind of cute to me."

"Then try making love to all of them," Craig said bitterly. "They'd probably like it. It's been twenty years since they saw a woman. You'd have the time of your life."

"Kindly restrict your allusions," Mary snapped, coloring.

Craig grinned. "You're a bio-physicist. None of the facts of life are supposed to be allusions to a bio-physicist."

"I'll think it over," Mary said, darkly.

"Where's old Adam March?" Craig said suddenly. "Have you seen him?"

"Not since the ship landed," Mary answered. "He was up in the front line cheering himself hoarse. Why?"

"For years he has been asking about the _Andromeda_. From the interest he took in the ship you would think he owned it. Now the ship has arrived, but he's not here taking part in the celebration." Mild concern rose in him as he sensed something wrong in the old man's absence. "I'm going to find him."

Asking questions, he discovered no one had seen Adam March. He went directly to the old man's quarters. The door was closed. He rapped. There was no answer. He tried the knob.

The door was locked.

"Who is it?" a voice quavered from inside.

"Craig Randall. Open up."

There was a moment's hesitation, then the door opened a crack. March peered through the opening. It seemed to Craig that the old man had aged years in hours. He had a heavy monkey wrench in one hand. "What's wrong?" Craig said. "The _Andromeda_ is in?"

The old man opened the door. "Come in," he said. "Yes, the _Andromeda_ is in. That's what's wrong."

"What?"

March gestured in the direction of the hangar. "There's something wrong in that ship."

"Why do you say that?"

"I have my reasons."

"But what makes you think so? What proof? If you know what you are talking about--"

March recoiled at the words. "I knew you would think I did not know what I was talking about."

"I'm sorry, Adam, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But you've got to have some proof." He hesitated, as a sudden thought struck him. "Or ... maybe you ought to drop in on one of the station doctors in the morning. Maybe you've got a touch of space sickness. You've been here on Pluto pretty long."

The old man recoiled even more. He clutched the wrench. "Leave me alone, Craig," he said harshly. "Go away from me. I don't want to talk to you."

Craig had no choice except to leave. The lock clicked in the door. He hunted up Mary. "I'm going to take a look at the _Andromeda_. Want to come along?"

The expression on his face must have revealed what he was thinking. Her answer was quick. "Of course. But what's wrong?"

"I don't know. Adam thinks something is wrong but he won't talk." He explained what the old man had said.

Her face fell. "I'm afraid you're right. It does sound an awful lot like space sickness. I'm so sorry. He's such a nice old man."

"Maybe I'm wrong. We'll go check."

* * * * *

In the dimly lighted hangar the ship dwarfed them, made them pygmies in comparison to its huge bulk. No guard over the ship had been established by the station. No guard was ever established over the ships that landed here. None was needed. They went slowly around the ship. The stout metal of the hull showed the pitting of meteoric dust that had gotten through the screens. On the bow, pitted and faded but still easily readable, was the word--_Andromeda_.

"Were you questioning that this is actually the _Andromeda_?" Mary asked.

"Not questioning, just checking." He moved to the slanting ramp that led upward to the lock from which the crew had emerged, stared at it. "It's odd that the lock should be closed."

Usually ships in the hangar opened all locks, exchanging their many-times-used air for the cleaner air of the station. They went up the ramp. "If they left a guard, maybe he will open up for us," Craig said. There was no opening in the lock but he knew that an observer inside could detect their presence there.

"Open up," he said.

"What for?" a voice answered.

Craig jumped. The voice seemed to speak from the empty air beside him.

"Don't be startled," the voice said. "This is a simple communication mechanism for transmitting voice tones. All space ships have them."

"All--" Craig caught himself. He had started to say that no space ship had such a device, that he had never heard of a method of transmitting a voice through a steel hull.

"What do you want?" the voice said.

"We want to talk."

"Talk to Captain Martin."

"This is hardly a matter for the captain. There's a party inside. We thought perhaps you would like to join it. Your friends are having themselves a whale of a time. We came to take over the duties of anyone who remained in the ship so you can join them," Craig said, hastily improvising.

"And while you are on duty, you would explore the ship! Is that your plan?"

"What?" Craig gasped. His first dazed thought was that his mind was being read.

"Well, of all things!" Mary said, her voice hot. "Is there something to hide inside the ship?"

"Of course not!" For an instant, the voice sounded startled. Then it quickly became the voice of a book salesman, suavely peddling holy literature. "Your commanding officer will have an opportunity to examine the ship, if he wishes!"

"Then why did you say we would explore the ship?" Mary continued. "If there is nothing to hide, what difference does it make whether or not we explore it?"

"Captain Martin would have my head if I let you take my place without orders. Sorry. I can be relieved only on orders from him." The voice lost its suavity and became stiff and hard.

"Okay," Craig said. "Come on, Mary. Let's go back and join the party."

Her face indicated she was inclined to continue this discussion but she followed him down the ramp. At the bottom, she spoke quickly, "Craig, you're scared. What's wrong?"

"Nothing that I can put my finger on. It's mostly Adam March. He saw something that he didn't like but he wouldn't talk about it. Now, we run into a closed lock, and a guard with a gimmick that he can use to talk through the wall of the ship. Space ships never post a guard here, they never keep the locks closed. Why is the _Andromeda_ doing it?"

"I don't know," Mary answered, hesitantly. "I don't like it either. I keep getting a feeling that something is wrong but I don't know what."

"_Walk back up the ramp!_" the voice spoke from the air.

Both jumped. "What kind of a pick-up system are you using that can detect our voices at this distance?" Craig demanded.