Chapter VIII: The man beside Stone kept talking, talking

“They let you get all the way in before they grabbed you, didn’t they? They like it like that--to lead you on, coax you, let you think you’re going to win before they kill you. That’s how they played it with me. And my wife. Did I tell you about her? They let her run and run, clear across the mesa. All the way down to the highway. Only then a car stopped, so they grabbed her and killed her. They told me about it. They thought it was the best joke ever....”

Stone tried to sit up, to focus on the speaker.

He fell instead, retching.

The man said, “Don’t worry. You’re not really hurt. It’s just those damn tentacles, those snake-things they use for arms. They choke you, and tear you, and scare you so you get sick just thinking about ’em. I know. I had it, that night on the mesa.”

“You--”--Stone half-choked--“--you ... saw robots?”

“Robots--?” A quavering laugh. “Sure, I saw robots. Robots on the mesa. That’s how it all started. Ellen and I--we didn’t know it was a government reservation. We were out for some fun. Some fun! Prospecting, believe it or not--prospecting for uranium with a home-made Geiger. Just a fool high-school science teacher and his wife, out on vacation. Only then we got up on the mesa, and I saw the robots. Ellen was scared, but I said, Let’s get closer. So they saw us--the squids, here. Caught me. Killed Ellen. Poor Ellen....”

The man’s shoulders shook. Then jerked, harder and harder. Anguished sounds came from his throat in dry, racking spasms. “Poor Ellen--”

Stone fought his own stomach; won, lurched up, still panting. Slowly, his vision cleared.

Beside him, the stranger sobbed more wildly. He no longer seemed even aware of Stone’s presence. “Why’d they have to leave me, Ellen? Why didn’t they kill me, too? That’s what I wanted. But no, they had to have someone to go out in the sun. They can’t stand the sun, can they, Ellen? Oh--Ellen--!”

His voice rose to a shriek. His face came up into the light--cheeks and chin stubble-matted, eyes wild and staring.

With an effort, Stone reached out and caught one jerking shoulder. Savagely, he slapped the man’s face, palm and backhand.

The racking sobs slowed. Wonderingly, the man slumped to the floor, rubbing his cheek. “You--you hit me....” No anger rang in his words--only baffled incredulity, the puzzlement of a hurt child. His eyes stayed wide open, appallingly empty.

Pain under his breastbone, Stone said, “Sorry, friend. You were going to pieces. You’ve got to get steady or you won’t last long, here or elsewhere.”

“Last long? Last long?” The other fondled the words. “Who’s going to last long, once the squids get their krypton?” A wild giggle. “You know about krypton? Did they tell you?”

Stone felt himself stiffen.

“What about krypton?”

“Must have!” Again, the man giggled. “Can’t run a spaceship without any krypton. Can’t fly the robots. Can’t even blast a little ole Earth city. ‘Krypton! Must have!’ They’ll get it, too. From that base. It’s already surrendered. The people were scared, just like we are. Especially after what happened to the tanks. So the whole base surrendered and started working on that extractor, the krypton extractor. They’ll have it finished by tomorrow morning. Then the squids’ll get their krypton. And they’ll keep their promise too--not hurt anybody, leave right after they get it. They all say so. That’ll be the best joke of all--a whole world doing a pratfall right into hell. The squids’ll laugh and laugh and laugh, all the way back to Arcturus Four, or Betelgeuse, or wherever it is they come from. Except they can’t go back. Not really. They’re outlaws, you know, running away from their own species. That’s how they happened to get this far from their source of krypton. ‘Krypton! Must have!’ Can’t run a space ship without that vital krypton--”

* * * * *

The stiffness in Stone had turned to sudden chill. He caught the babbling man’s shirtfront; shook him roughly. “Run that through again, ... the part about the joke, the world doing a pratfall!”

A vacuous smile. “You really don’t know? You don’t know about krypton? I thought only fool high-school science teachers didn’t know. And Ellen. Poor Ellen--”

“The krypton! What about the krypton?”

“It’s a gas, that’s all. An inert gas. About two parts to a million of air. It’s not worth anything. Nobody wants krypton. Nobody but the squids. Who cares about a little ole catalyst?”

“A catalyst--?”

“Sure. Doesn’t do anything itself; just changes the rate of a reaction. Try to light dry phosphorus, what happens? Nothing. Dampen the air a little, it burns like a house afire. Water’s the catalyst. Atmosphere’s the same way. Mix oxygen and nitrogen and everything else but krypton--it just dissipates, leaks away into space. Shoot in two parts of krypton to a million, it holds together like a sack around ole Mother Earth. That’s why there’s no breathable atmosphere on so many planets. No krypton. Do we know that? No. But the squids know it. That’s why they’re laughing. Why should they waste time blasting us? Soon’s they get our krypton, our atmosphere thins away--_poof!_ like that--and we all drop dead. The squids don’t care; they don’t breathe air like we do. It’s the best joke they’ve had since they blew up Vega Seven....”

Stone’s legs were suddenly too weak to hold him. His companion’s continuing compulsive word-flood echoed unheeded.

_The whole world doing a pratfall into hell._

Stone’s flesh crawled. The poor, tortured creature beside him had phrased it too well. It turned a man’s mind off, froze his brain ... left him clutching in free fall without strength even to shudder.

Yet there was nothing he could do--nothing, nothing. Not here, sealed in this green-glowing, metal walled room with a madman for company.

A madman--? There’d be two of them soon. Two lunatics, giggling and babbling as the atmosphere thinned and they slowly strangled.

Or would you strangle? Maybe, with the pressure change, your lungs would burst first....

Stone surged to his feet in a spasm of frenzy. Savagely, he hurled himself at the door--beating it, tearing at the crack with his fingers till the nails broke and blood streamed, weird in the green glow.

His companion stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re hurting your hands. Is something the matter?”

“The matter--?” Stone shook with fury, frustration. “No, nothing’s the matter. The base has surrendered. The monsters get our krypton. Our air leaks away. The whole planet dies. Everything’s fine--fine....”

He broke off, unable to go on.

“Oh....” The other sounded hurt, plaintive. Then: “Well, why don’t you stop it? Call the base. Have them blow up the extractor.”

“Call--the--base--?” Stone stopped breathing.

“Yes. The machine’s in a room right down the hall, here.”

Stone choked back his tension ... spoke gently, soothingly: “Our door’s locked.”

“Oh, that.” His companion giggled. “Leave that to me. I’ll get us out of here.”

Already, he was scrambling to his feet; stripping off his shirt.

“But if you can get out....” Stone groped.

“It takes two.” Tearing the ragged shirt into broad strips, the man hummed a fragment of tune. “I thought it all out. If I’d had Ellen with me--I can run the machine, too. I watched them do it. It’s very clever. Sets up a force field, distorts radio waves. Using energy derived from krypton, of course. Always krypton. ‘Must have!’” He broke off. “I’ll need your shirt, too, please. And your jacket. Got to have cloth. Lots of cloth....”

Wordless, Stone turned over his garments.

* * * * *

Deftly, the man ripped them into more of the broad strips ... tied the strips together in a long, rope-like band perhaps six inches wide. He’d stopped talking now. An occasional mirthless chuckle replaced his giggling.

The job done, he handed Stone one end of the strip. “Now stand here, please. Right beside the door. That’s all you need to do. Just stand there, and hold onto the cloth. I’ll take care of everything else. Just you wait and see....”

He kicked off a shoe; hammered the edge of the sole on the door.

It made a dull, clanging noise. “They don’t like this. It’ll get our door open. Just you wait--”

Stone waited--sweating, staring numbly.

It was a fine way to end up--playing games with a madman.

Only he had no choice.

The next instant, the door burst open. Tentacles vibrating furiously, one of the aliens swept into the room.

The man with Stone stepped back lithely, dodging the creature. The wide, vacant eyes shone bright, now; teeth showed clenched behind the empty smile.

The alien surged towards him.

Again, the man leaped back, the cloth strip coiled loose between his hands.

The alien reached for him.

But instead of retreating, the man darted in close. Deftly, as a matador swirling his cape past a charging bull, he slapped the cloth strip over the monster’s scarlet sensor band.

The rope snapped tight in Stone’s hands as the alien lurched against it, then tried to draw back.

But the man would not let it. Racing round it, he whipped the fabric strip tight into place, completely covering the creature’s narrow scarlet girdle.

Heedless of tentacles, Stone leaped to join him. The cloth reached three times around the monster’s midriff. The alien reeled blindly--groping, uncertain. Its tentacles’ movements seemed mostly directed at tearing free the fabric. When a disc caught Stone’s shoulder, he jerked it loose with no skin loss.

“Come on!” This from the madman. “Quick! This way! Hurry!”

Stumbling through the doorway, Stone sprinted down the corridor after him.

Now another door loomed, close by the tube-shaft. “Here!”

Stone threw himself at it.

It burst open under his impact. He crashed to the floor of the chamber beyond, barely glimpsing a mass of equipment as he fell.

Equipment--and another alien.

The thing flung itself on Stone, its tentacles twining.

Savagely, he twisted; drove his heels up with all his strength, straight at the monster’s sensor band.

The alien rocked back.

Stone leaped up. Then, head low, he charged in, smashing the monster back into the doorway by sheer bull strength and violence.

Another charge-butting; fists slamming.

The alien hit the guard-rail encircling the tube-shaft.

Stone glimpsed blurring motion: His fellow-prisoner, diving in low and bear-hugging tentacles. Through his red haze of fury, it came to Stone dimly that the other’s last shred of sanity must have departed.

Only then, of a sudden, the man was surging up, jerking.

The knee-leverage tore the alien’s lower tentacles loose from the floor. With a heave, the man flipped the creature over the rail.

It plummeted down the tube-shaft.

“Two hundred feet!” Stone’s companion cried shrilly. “Listen! It may spatter--!”

* * * * *

Nausea writhed in Stone. He caught the other about the waist; dragged him bodily back into the room--up to the equipment.

“Quick! How do I work this?”

“Don’t worry. It’s easy.” The man tugged at a smooth, round shaft of metal. A faint humming sound rose from a flat gridwork. “There. It’s on now. Just talk into the grill, there.”

Stone had trouble with breathing: “Base! Las Crescentes--”

Behind him, metal rang on metal. He spun round.

An alien stood poised in the doorway--an alien with shreds of cloth still clinging round its middle.

The words he’d planned stuck in his throat.

Only then, as from afar, another voice echoed. The voice of the madman.

“You know--”--it was almost conversational, the way he said it--“--you know, I think I’ll go see Ellen....”

He scooped a jagged strip of metal from a bench as he spoke. Traces of froth showed at the corners of his mouth.

Then, before Stone could move, he was lunging, straight at the monster. The metal strip slashed deep into the scarlet sensor band. Fluid spurted.

The alien hurled itself backward.

But like one possessed, the madman pursued it, hacking and gouging. Together, man and monster crashed into the guard-rail.

A wild shriek of mad laughter. “Here I come, Ellen--with company!”

Clutching a dozen tentacles, the man hurled himself over the guard-rail.

The monster went with him.

Stone clung to the transmitter, half-retching.

Only he couldn’t afford to be sick. Not here; not now.

Time was too short for that. Any moment now, there’d be other aliens coming.

Hoarsely, he rasped, “Base! Las Crescentes! This is Carl Stone talking. I’m giving you an order: Destroy that tower! Blast it! Don’t wait a minute! If it goes into operation, the whole earth will die....”