An invisible network of human minds
lay across the country, delicately tuned,
waiting breathlessly for the first spark
of contact from the unknown ... from
the unpredictable telepathic Alien.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The ship skimmed down like a shadow from the outer atmosphere andsettled gently and silently in the tangled underbrush of the hill thatoverlooked the bend in the broad river. There was a hiss of scorchedleaves, and the piping of a small, trapped animal. Then there wassilence.
Higher up, the sunlight was bright over the horizon; here the shadowshad lengthened and it was quite dark. Far across the hills a doghowled mournfully; night birds made small rustling sounds through thescrub and underbrush. The alien waited, tensely, listening, waitingwith his mind open for any flicker of surprise or wonder, waiting fora whisper of fear or recognition to slip into his mind from the darkhills around the ship. He waited and waited.
Then he gave a satisfied grunt. Foolish of him to worry. All possiblecare had been taken to avoid any kind of alarm. He had landed unseenfrom Io.
The alien stretched back against the couch, allowing his long, tightmuscles to relax, as he sent inquiring feelers of thought out from theship, probing gently and tentatively, for signs of the psi-presence.The landing, after all, had been assumed. Already the natives hadconvinced themselves that ships such as his were a delusion. Suchsimple creatures, to disregard the evidence of their own senses! Thereshould be no problem here when the invasion began, with the preliminarystudies already completed, the disguising techniques almost perfected.A primitive world, indeed, but a world with psi-presence alreadydeveloping—a possible flaw in the forthcoming silent conquest.
For psi-presence could detect other psi-presence, always, anywhere,despite any disguise. The alien knew that. It was the one universaldenominator in all the centuries of conquest and enslavement in hispeople's history. Before they could come, they must know the strengthof the psi-presence on this world.
The alien moved, finally, beginning his preparations. In the centerof the cabin an image flickered, swarming flecks of light and shadowthat filled out a three-dimensional form, complete and detailed. Thealien sat back and studied it through hooded yellow eyes—carefully,oh so carefully, for there must be no mistake, not here, not now. Thescouts had come and gone, bringing back the data and specimens ofthe man-things necessary for a satisfactory disguise. Now the alienstared at the image, regarding the bone structure and muscle contourcritically. Then, slowly, he began work with the plastiflesh, modellingthe sharp angles of his members into neat curves, skillfully layingfolds of skin, molding muscle bulges and jointed fingers, alwaysstudying the strange, clumsy image that flickered before him.
It was the image of a man. That was what they called themselves. Therewere many of them, and somewhere among them there was psi-presence,feeble and underdeveloped, but there somewhere. He eyed the imageagain, and pressed a stud on the control panel, and another imagemet his eyes, an electronic reflection of himself. He studied it, andcarefully superimposed the two, adding contour here and there, yelloweyes seeking out imperfections as he worked.
There must be no mistake. Failure would mean disgrace and death,horrible, writhing death by dissociation and burning, neuron byneuron. He knew. He had officiated at e