Harry Harrison - Star Smashers of the Galaxy Rangers

"I'll second that motion," Chuck said. "Krakar must be solved."

The medical teams went to work. Utilizing their great mental skills, as well as some Earthling techniques like aversion therapy, prefrontal lobotomy, shock treatment, dianetic auditing, and the psychoanalytic couch, they did a quick cure on the laboratory technician. As soon as he was sane, he saw the error of his ways and voluntarily told everything he knew. Everything turned out to be something, but not very much: the spatial coordinates of the place where Krakar was supposed to be and the interesting information that whoever controlled Krakar controlled the galaxy.

"Let's go," Jerry shouted, rubbing his hands together. Blast in, full force, take 'em by surprise, atomize the enemy, grab Krakar, and the galaxy is ours!"

"Best not to go off half-cocked," Chuck mused. "Whatever that means."

"I know," Sally said. "A historical expression relating to the early weapons that had a flint and steel and were cocked-"

"Shut up," Jerry hinted. "If you have a better idea, Chuck old man – why, let us hear it."

"I think we ought to have a quick scout first to see what we are getting into and to find out maybe what Krakar is. If it could be grabbed by force that easily, you can bet the Lortonoi would have done it long before this. Just us Earthmen, and Sally along for cooking, and we shouldn't be away more than a day or two."

"Great, Chuck," John agreed. "Sort of a holiday, and we deserve it."

"And I deserve permanent KP?" Sally asked, but no one was listening.

Soon the faithful Pleasantville Eagle was ready and rarin' to go. Fuel tanks filled, oxygen brimming over, guns loaded, bar restocked. With Jerry at the controls they made great ten-light-year leaps toward their destination. There was a newly mounted electronic superscope in the ship's nose that threw a highly magnified picture onto a screen, and Chuck was at the controls.

"Nothing," he mused. "Yet we are almost to the center of the star cluster where Krakar is supposed to be. Are you sure we haven't got the wrong figures or something?"

"Negative," John said, going through the tech reports.

"We have carefully plotted the spatial directions eight ways from Sunday and to one hundred and thirteen decimal places. Krakar has to be near here somewheres. I tell you what, make another jump, a teensy jump, maybe just a couple of light-years this time, no more than 1,671,321,600,000 nautical miles, which is two lightyears."

"Here we go."

They jumped – and instantly every alarm in the ship blasted an earsplitting cacophony as they appeared almost in the shadow of a fantastically huge space battleship that was at least a mile long. Widemouthed gunports were ranged the length of its deadly gray metal hide, and it reeked of an overpowering air of efficient destruction. Jerry jabbed at the button that would jump them out of there, but before his thumb could touch it, mighty magnet beams locked onto the great form of the 747, a mosquito compared to an eagle now, and instantly whisked it up against the pocked metal skin of the ship. Paralyzer rays flooded the ship, and they could not move. At the same moment a jointed metal tube shot out from the battleship, and a device on the end, very much resembling an electric can opener, buzzed noisily in a circle, and a section of hull fell clanging inside the plane. Zombie rays must have been operating as well because they all stood, despite their every effort to resist, and they marched slowly into the cabin to stand ranked before the ragged opening. Heavy footsteps clumped down the tube toward them, and their hands all flashed up to their temples in a snappy salute.

"At ease," said the creature who entered, and their arms dropped. "Name of ship, planet of origin, defensive armament, passports of crew, VD rate. Report."

They could only gape. The alien was tremendous, standing over eight feet tall and glowering down at them. It had short, solid legs and a long, thick body, which it needed since it had four arms on each side, or eight in all. It wore a neatly cut uniform of dark black – what a tailor he must have had! – and a black helmet on its head. The head! Eight red eyes gleamed in a row below the helmet's lip, while below them was a nose shaped like a vacuum cleaner hose. To complete this singularly repulsive picture, his wide mouth was filled to overflowing with black teeth, most of which protruded like tusks at interesting angles.

"Report!" it shouted, waving a clipboard it carried in one hand, a short sword, a pistol, a club, and lots of other things in its other hands, and it still had a couple of hands free to shake fists at them.

Jerry reported. Listing everything they had, though he did manage to forget the cheddite projector, their only big secret.

"Haven't you forgot something?" Sally said brightly,

"The ched-" She wasn't sure who had given her the knee from behind so efficiently, but it stopped her. The ugly alien turned a couple of eyes her way.

"She means the cheddar cheese in the galley, the bagels, the baked beans and other food supplies, but you don't want to hear about that, no!" John said brightly. For an instant of time that seemed to stretch to eternity the alien glared down at them, his eyes seeming to probe their innermost thoughts. Finally, it spoke, in a deep nasty rumble.

"Split. If you aren't moving out of here at top speed within two seconds after we release the magnetic rays, you will be blasted into infinitesimal fragments."

"Wait a minute!" Jerry shouted angrily. "You can't talk to us like that. . . ."

"Oh, yes, I can."

"Well, you can talk to us like that if you want to. But can't you at least explain what is happening?"

"What is happening, as if you didn't know, ugly toofew-eyes, too-few-arms alien, is that you are in the outer shell of the attacking forces that have been attacking the Chachkas for the past two hundred and eighty-five years. We always welcome recruits to the fighting forces since a certain amount of fighting equipment is used up, and volunteers are accepted, and in proportion to their contribution of arms a similar percentage will be given in the occupied galaxy, which we will control as soon as we have Krakar-"

"What is Krakar?"

"Who knows? Except we know that it is written that he who controls it controls the galaxy, and that is what we aim to do. Your aim too, but you missed. Your strength is too slight to get even an infinitesimal cut of the galaxy, so now beat it. Your time has run out."

The alien spun about on one thick heel and started for the exit.

"Do you take bribes?" Chuck called after it.

It spun about, weapons raised, and Sally fainted. For one eternal moment it stood there rattling its prominent teeth and death hovered low in the air.

"Of course I take bribes," it gnashed. "Doesn't everybody? Make me an offer."

"What do you want? Diamonds, gold, greenbacks, vodka, dirty books, jet fuel, oxygen, Hershey bars? You name it, we got it."

"I spit on your dirty books, not enough arms for fun, but a cupful of diamonds will see me through until payday. What do you want in exchange?"

"Just a chance to get into the fighting zone and let fly with all our weapons at the enemy; then we will head for home."

"Won't do any harm – and I can use the loot. Pour them into this pocket," he said to Chuck who had gone to the safe and returned with a measuring cup full of bluewhites. The alien scratched quickly on the clipboard and tore off a chit and handed it to them. "Here's your clearance and coordinates. Get in there, fire your load, and be out within ten minutes or you have had it, buddy. That's as far as this tiny bribe goes."

"Eternally at your service, sir," Jerry called after the retreating back as they lifted the ragged disk of metal into position and welded it back into place before they lost all of their atmosphere. The tube was sucked back into the battleship and they floated free.