WHO GOES THERE?

                          By CHARLES H. DAVIS

              Hurtling down from cold and hostile space,
               battle-worn Ekrado and Ronaro gazed with
                 joy at the lovely watery world below.
              Here, surely, they would find friends--and
                    the precious help they needed!

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                      Planet Stories Spring 1950.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Through the outer limits of our solar system, two great ships flashed
through the void. Light from distant Sol gleamed feebly on their dark
hulls, paled to insignificance by the flare of pure energy that blasted
each ship through space at inconceivable velocity. Sol's illumination
was just enough to pick out the jagged gash near the base of the
leading vessel where a force beam had struck a deadly blow.

As the interval between the spaceships lessened, a pale beam lanced
out from the pursuing ship and caught the wounded Alarian cruiser on
the flank. Mighty steel plates buckled inward and life-giving water
spouted out through the torn side to freeze instantly in the terrible
cold of the void. As the pressure dropped, razor-edged bulkhead doors
shot automatically into place to seal off the stricken compartment.

Although badly damaged, the Alarian ship was not yet out of the fight.
Number Five turret lashed back with a heat ray that glowed cherry-red,
then white, on the upper forward turret of the pursuing ship of
Ru'ukon. A cluster of atomic torpedoes darted from the far side of the
Alarian ship and headed for the Ru'ukonian cruiser in an intricate
series of zig-zag maneuvers, only to be caught half way by a force beam
and exploded in a blinding flash. Another single torpedo, swinging wide
through space in an arc hundreds of thousands of miles long, came up
from behind the pursuing ship. For a moment it seemed that it might
strike a vital blow, but the Ru'ukonian detection apparatus went into
action at the last possible moment, and the single torpedo was caught
by a force beam when it was but a scant hundred miles from its target.

Again the pale beam struck, and the Alarian ship staggered as the
Number Two port engines exploded.

In the control room, a squid-like shape churned through the clear water
to the vision screen where Ekrado, the ship's commander, floated.

"Yes, Ronaro," his thought was sharp and urgent, "what is it?"

"Number Two port engine out," telepathed his deputy. "Number One turret
out."

"That is bad. Prepare our personal lifeboat for immediate use. It may
become necessary to abandon ship."

"Right away," acknowledged Ronaro. But even as he turned to carry out
the order, Ekrado caught the indication of a half-formed question in
his mind.

"You have doubts, Ronaro," he challenged. "Out with them."

"If we abandon ship now, how can we carry our message?"

"We have no choice; this ship will never carry us to distant Alar.
Our communication apparatus is wrecked beyond repair. We must contact
a civilized race on one of the planets of this sun and win their
cooperation--or Alar will never get our message."

"Never get our message!" echoed Ronaro, shocked.

"Don't float there thinking of failure. We must and will succeed. Now,
off to the lifeboat. I'm going to try to dodge behind a planetary body
of this system."

The Captain gave the orders for a change of course, and the speeding
ship turned on a long arc as it swung its bow in towards the center of
the planetary system. The maneuver gained them a brief respite, as the
Ru'ukonian swept on past before the pilot could react to the change of
course. The superior speed of the other cruiser soon told, however, and
the Alarian ship rocked again as another beam struck it.

An excited subordinate swam up, waving his five tentacles frantically.
"Captain," he telepathed, "the water-purifying plant has been hit.
A beam went right through where Number Five turret used to be. The
auxiliary plant was knocked out when Number Two engine exploded."

"We'll abandon ship," decided the Captain. "Some of the lifeboats
should reach planets. Set the controls to plunge the ship into the sun
of this system."

       *       *       *       *       *

The junior officer made the necessary adjustments to the controls.
With a flick of one tentacle he set the automatic alarm broadcaster
into action and swam hastily after his Captain. The metallic command,
"Abandon Ship! Abandon Ship!" rang through his mind as the device
started functioning.

The Captain was already at the controls of the lifeboat. Ronaro dove
after him. A moment later the lifeboat had slipped through the lock
into space, darting away from the wounded giant at full speed.

"Several small planets held by this star, Captain," reported Ronaro.

"I see them," telepathed Ekrado. "You keep a watch on the enemy and
look to see if any other lifeboats escape. I'll steer for the most
likely planet."

As Ronaro watched through the rear-view vision screen, first one and
then another darted away from the Alarian hulk until he could count a
total of five.

"Rendezvous instructions?" asked Ronaro mentally.

"Third planet from the sun," ordered Ekrado. "We're in luck, Ronaro,
the planet is mostly water--plenty of room to swim around in. I'll pick
one of the ocean areas to land in and inform the other boats by beacon
signals of our exact location."

Even as Ronaro adjusted the communication amplifier to direct his
mental command to the scattered lifeboats behind them, a more ominous
picture appeared on the screen. The bright red halo that warned of
approaching atomic torpedoes blossomed forth on the image of the enemy
cruiser. The single halo gradually broke into smaller red circles as
the cluster spread apart in space.

[Illustration: _They were next. Could they evade the atomic torpedoes?_]

"Space torpedoes coming," he reported tersely.

"Six, of course," replied the Captain.

"Right." It was the standard size cluster.

"How many lifeboats besides ourselves?"

"Five."

"Then we're the sixth."

"Right."

"Any of them driving toward the cruiser itself?"

"No, their guiding mechanisms must be set for small-sized craft.
They'll track every one of us down."

"A torpedo is heading directly for us now," reported Ronaro.

"At least one boat must get through to carry our message," stated
Ekrado flatly.

"What do you propose--a sacrifice?"

"Set the heat ray projector for a narrow fan beam and slice the nearest
lifeboat into two parts," ordered the Captain.

Ronaro's tentacles fairly boiled the water as he made the necessary
adjustments. A thousand miles behind them, the closest lifeboat from
their stricken vessel glowed briefly around its equator and fell apart
into two halves that gradually spread apart.

"Two hundred years ago, in the Second Gruon War, I saw my best friend
die in just such a sacrifice," grated Ekrado. "I did not like it then
and I do not like it now. It was not an easy order to give."

Without replying, Ronaro watched the vision screen anxiously. His eyes
were on the bright red halo that warned of a torpedo speeding toward
their own lifeboat. There was an additional, separate metal object in
space now, toward which the sixth torpedo might automatically be guided
by the mechanism in its nose. Blinding flashes lit up the vision screen
as one lifeboat after another was destroyed. Now only two torpedoes
were left, one heading toward them, and the other toward the lifeboat
that had been split in half. At last, the torpedo bearing on them
deviated from its course as its guiding mechanism sensed the nearer
metal bulk of the nearer half of the lifeboat. The two flashes appeared
as one as the two torpedoes blasted both halves of the sacrifice into
nothingness.

"All six exploded," reported Ronaro. "The enemy cruiser is veering off
to return to base. We are safe!"

The little boat sped on until finally it was screaming through the thin
upper air of Earth. Ekrado sharply decreased their speed to prevent
over-heating the hull, having no desire to be cooked alive in the water
of his own lifeboat.

       *       *       *       *       *

Below them, covering the horizon, was the vast expanse of the Atlantic.
The two Alarians were joyous at the sight of such a planet. Here was no
dried-up world, such as some they had seen where old age or the heat
of a nearby sun had dried up the life-giving waters. Ekrado sent the
little craft straight down toward the blue expanse below.

Water shot high into the air like a geyser as the alien lifeboat
plunged into the ocean. Deep under the water's surface, the craft
leveled off and slowed until it drifted idly.

"Take an instrument reading," ordered Ekrado. "Let us see what kind of
a hydrosphere this planet has. It looks good enough."

"It is not as good as it looks," reported Ronaro grimly. "The
temperature and pressure are satisfactory, but the chemical content of
the water is poisonous. It would kill us in a few minutes."

"That means we must depend on our water-purifying plant as long as we
are on this planet--or as long as it holds out. They aren't built to
last forever."

"We must get word to Alar that the entire Ru'ukonian fleet is attacking
without warning, while our fleet is at the other end of the galaxy
holding maneuvers. Maneuvers! A yachting trip for the Lord Admiral
Krukon, while Alar lies almost defenseless!"

"You stated before that our only hope was to contact a civilized race
on one of these planets, in hopes that they might have interstellar
communication apparatus?"

"Yes," responded Ekrado, "or any type of equipment for broadcasting
radiation. We can rebuild it for our purpose. Have you forgotten that
we served one hundred and sixty years together in the Communications
Corps? We could rebuild anything, just so they have the power."

"I believe we could," replied Ronaro, caught by his Captain's
enthusiasm.

"Right! Our first step must be to find intelligent life on one of the
planets of this sun. We must start by searching the waters of this
world."

Ekrado threw the throttle-lever forward slightly and the ship moved
ever more rapidly through the water. Straight ahead he drove it while
the two Alarians concentrated every attention on the vision screens in
the hope of sighting intelligent life.

Life they saw aplenty in the next few hours, much of it strange but the
greater part of it similar to that of their own world.

"Ronaro, look," telepathed Ekrado excitedly, "a being like an Alarian."

Across the vision plate floated a pointed body sprouting a tangle of
flexible arms at one end. Hope surged high in them both.

"Wonderful," exulted Ronaro, "probably we've found intelligent life
already. Probe his mind, Ekrado."

"No response yet," replied the Captain, "possibly they use some other
method of communication."

"Such as signals or audible sounds," suggested Ronaro.

"Yes. In that case, it would be difficult to establish contact."

"Very difficult to transmit our thoughts, but not so difficult to read
his."

"Well, it has been done before, with non-telepathic races."

"Like the giant rays of Ikraa."

"Let me concentrate, Ronaro."

The two Alarians drifted in telepathic silence, Ekrado closing his eyes
and concentrating his mental efforts at reaching the alien mind. Ronaro
studied the creature as it swam unconcernedly past searching for food.

"Hunts his food in primitive fashion," he reflected silently, careful
not to destroy Ekrado's concentration. "Apparently his people do not
have shellfish farms. Or possibly he is simply hunting for the fun
of it or in order to be alone. He has twice as many tentacles as an
Alarian, but mere physical difference proves nothing. He is wearing
no harness or ornamentation of any kind, nor is he carrying a weapon.
Obviously a low level of culture, if any."

"You try," ordered the Captain, relaxing. "I've concentrated until my
braincase almost burst and achieved nothing."

"I'm afraid I'll have no better luck," said Ronaro. Swiftly, he
reported his observations to his Captain.

Nonetheless, Ronaro also tried to contact the stranger. He had,
perhaps, better luck than his Captain, but his mind found only primal
impulses, not thoughts. There was hunger there, more like greed to
the refined sensitiveness of the Alarian, and a great fear that at
the moment lay dormant and formless. There wasn't even the faintest
stirrings of curiosity toward their boat. In fact, his probing mind
could not even find a specific identification of the lifeboat in the
thing's mind.

"Ugh," he shuddered, "completely undeveloped. A beast."

Ekrado frowned mentally. "You must have done better than I, at least. I
found only nothingness."

"You must have been looking solely for intelligence," Ronaro hastened
to reassure his Captain. "There was none to find. Only primitive
emotions."

Silently, Ekrado started the lifeboat on its long sweep through the
waters. At the end of a hundred miles, he turned in a slow curve and
headed back along a straight line parallel to the way they had come.
Back and forth they combed through the blue-green water, systematically
hunting some sign of intelligent life.

       *       *       *       *       *

During this period, they several times encountered creatures similar to
that which they had first thought might be like themselves. Each time
hope rose again; and each time it came to nothing. Each such creature
inspired in them a strange medley of emotions, a sense of kinship and
yet of repugnance, a feeling at once of benevolence toward a more
backward cousin mixed with exasperation.

After the futile search had gone on for several hours, Ronaro was
struck with a sudden idea.

"Perhaps the intelligent races of this planet are deep-sea creatures,"
he suggested.

"It's possible," mused Ekrado. "So far I've been cruising pretty much
at our own favorite depth."

"This lifeboat can stand tremendous pressure."

"We'll try it," decided Ekrado. The slender shape of the lifeboat
wheeled over until it was pointing straight down toward the ocean
bottom.

Soon there was a gradual change in the color of the water, fading
from green to greenish blue and then to dark blue. Ronaro snapped on
the searchlights at the Alarian equivalent of 700 feet and the yellow
beams spread out into the dark blue waters on all sides. The pressure
gauge showed them an ever increasing force pressing on all sides of
their vessel, until, at 1700 feet, it had reached 770 pounds per square
inch. At this level the water was as black as space itself. The beams
from their searchlights had changed in color from yellow to a luminous
gray bordered along each side with dark blue. Sprinkled through the
blackness were the lights carried by many deep-sea fish. The two
Alarians studied the vision screens with tense concentration. Fish swam
through their light beams and were gone again in an instant in the
surrounding blackness. Groups of lights moving through the darkness
told them of large fish or schools of smaller fish, but they were
unable to trace the outlines from the pattern of lights.

"We should be near bottom, by now, if this were Alar," commented Ronaro
at 3000 feet.

"The waters of this planet may well be deeper than those of our home
world," pointed out Ekrado.

Both of them looked at the pressure gauge. At the Alarian equivalent
of 1358 pounds per square inch, it was not far from the red line that
indicated the maximum pressure the lifeboat could stand. But still they
kept going down through the ice-cold blackness.

"Look Ekrado!" clamored Ronaro. "The God Ka!"

It was not, indeed, the God Ka, but it might well have been. Its body
alone was five times the size of their lifeboat and its tentacles
stretched for an unknown distance, far beyond the rays of their feeble
lights. It brooded motionless in the inconceivable pressure, as though
watching them, although it had no trace of eyes.

Both Alarians concentrated their minds on the problem of communication
with the tremendous mind they knew was contained within that mighty
bulk. They both floated motionless, eyes closed, concentrating. But
while the Alarians were motionless, the thing before them was not.
A great tentacle wrapped itself around the hull. As the tentacle
tightened in its body-crushing embrace, it encountered unexpected
resistance in the hard metal of the hull. Even as the two Alarians were
beginning to face their disappointment at what they had found, or what
they had not found, that unexpected resistance registered within the
brain of the giant squid. The dull surprise and heavy anger that flared
within the primitive mind warned the two Alarians of their danger.

As they became aware once more of their immediate surroundings, one
vision screen was completely covered by the width of one huge tentacle
wrapped around their ship, while the other showed several more
tentacles drawing near to enfold their lifeboat. The upper part of the
hull, the roof of their cabin, bulged inwards, while the hull groaned
and creaked as though every plate and bar was about to collapse.

"Quick, Ronaro, the heat cannon," snapped the Captain as he dove for
the controls.

The motors hummed vainly as Ekrado sought to free the craft from the
monster's grip. At the same time, Ronaro brought his sights to bear
on the approaching tentacles. The tight beam sliced through them as
fast as he could bring it to bear; one, two, three, four.... But not
fast enough, for one more tentacle closed around the lifeboat. By
chance, the monster had blotted out their vision screen with the second
tentacle. Now Ronaro was fighting blind. He set the angle of fire in
such a way that the cannon would fire close to the lifeboat's hull. He
fired again and again, as fast as the weapon built up potential for
another discharge, systematically combing the waters around them. The
pressure on the hull relaxed almost visibly as the tentacles that held
the ship were sliced in two at last by the heat ray. But since Ronaro
could not set the weapon to actually graze the hull, the end of the
severed tentacle remained wrapped around them to obscure the vision
ports.

The monster was not defeated yet. Even with six tentacles gone, it had
four left, and Ronaro was still fighting blind. His rays bombarded the
water blindly in the hope of striking the body of the giant. At the
same time, the lifeboat got slowly under way, rising sternwards toward
the surface. As it gathered momentum, Ekrado spun it over, to travel
bowfirst. The turn dislodged the severed tentacles and once again the
two Alarians could see into the dark water as far as their light beams
could illuminate it. There was no sign of the monster. Whether they had
outrun it or outfought it, they did not know, but in any case they were
safe.

"That idea did not turn out any too well, did it?" commented Ekrado
wryly.

Ronaro did not reply, for the statement hardly called for an answer.
The two Alarians floated in silence while the lifeboat climbed back
toward the lighter surface waters once more.

       *       *       *       *       *

High above them a United States destroyer was cutting through the ocean
swells, part of a great convoy that spread over many miles of water.
In the center of the convoy were the troop ships, surrounded by a
screen of other destroyers.

On the bridge the captain and his executive officer were chatting
desultorily. Their eyes scanned the waters constantly while they
talked, a sea-borne custom that long antedated the ship's bristling
radar screens. "If we put in anywhere along the Solomons," the captain
said, "I'll bet we'll see the natives still wearing and using the old
equipment--from forty-five."

"Yeah," grinned the exec. "They all say it was the Navy that ruined the
Pacific."

"Huh," snorted the other. "We went ashore--but the Army stayed ashore.
Whatever you find will be Government Issue."

The exec yawned. "Cripes, what a boring tour. I'd give my last bottle
for just one sight of a good old Nip periscope."

"Or a Kamikaze," growled the captain sarcastically.

A radioman stepped out on the bridge, saluted, and handed the captain a
flimsy. He read it, and frowned at the exec.

"Lead ship says we're about to pass over a submerged object--a derelict
of some sort. The chief says to blast it. Menace to navigation and so
forth."

The exec stepped to the squawk-box, and flicked the switch. "Attention.
Attention. Y-gun crew report to stations--on the double. Y-gun--on
deck."

As he stood there, waiting for the CPO commanding that detail to
acknowledge and request orders, he let out a yawn, a prodigious
mid-afternoon yawn that threatened to split his head.

       *       *       *       *       *

The two Alarians floated motionless in the water of their lifeboat,
each immersed in his own thoughts. Shaking off his lethargy, Ekrado
began to make a routine check of the condition of the heat ray cannon.
Mechanically, he went over the apparatus, his mind still on their
problem. The cannon was, of course, in perfect condition.

"Clackety-clack-clack-clack," chattered the Konald detector.

"Metal!" exclaimed Ekrado in surprise.

"Large masses of it," echoed Ronaro.

"Here in the surface waters. That can only mean...."

"Intelligent life," the two minds chorused.

High at the top of the vision screen appeared the bottom of a long
narrow metal hull. It was unmistakably a metal ship, the work of
intelligent minds, an indication of culture and civilization.

"Only one of us will try to communicate this time," directed Ekrado.
"You do it, Ronaro."

This contact was entirely different. Ronaro's questing mind at once
encountered intelligence. There was purpose there, not the mindless
urges of hunger and fear that they had met before, but rational purpose
backed by planning. But there was something else Ronaro sensed beneath
the surface, something alien.

"Ekrado!" he exclaimed, shocked. "These creatures are air breathers!"

"Air breathers!" snorted the Captain. "Have you drifted into fantasy
Ronaro? Establish contact with them."

"I can't," Ronaro replied after a few moments of intense concentration.
"Their minds cannot receive our thought impulses."

"We've got to attract their attention. After they have seen us we'll be
able to work out some method of communication."

"It will be hard when we live in two different mediums--we in water and
they in air."

"No matter; we will manage somehow after we have made contact with
them. I'll start the engine and head for the surface."

Ronaro saw it first, a short cylinder-like object tumbling through the
waters, directly toward their craft. Sensing danger instinctively, he
cried out:

"Ekrado! Full speed ahead!"

He had barely gotten the thought out when it happened. A great
explosion rocked the waters as the depth bomb went off. The lifeboat
was smashed open, its alien water blending imperceptibly with the
waters of the Atlantic.

The body of a squid appeared on the surface, its tentacles trailing
aimlessly. The keen eyes of the men on the destroyer flickered past it,
looking for the tell-tale oil slick of a broken submarine, in vain.

"Now just what the hell _was_ that?" wondered the captain, scratching
at his balding head.