And so the Beast came to Washington.
Strangely, it recognized the Capitol. Yet it was, perhaps, natural, for the Beast had learned English, and had listened to Kirdi’s televisor for months. Descriptions of Washington had been broadcast, and the Beast knew that this was the center of government in America. Here, if anywhere on Earth, there would be men who understood. Here were the rulers, the wise men. And despite its wounds, the Beast felt a thrill of exultation as it sped on.
The planes dived thunderously. The aerial torpedoes screamed down. Crashing they came, ripping flesh from that titanic armored body.
“It’s stopped!” said a pilot, a thousand feet above the Beast. “I think we’ve killed it! Thank God it didn’t get into the city—”
The Beast stirred into slow movement. The fires of pain bathed it. The reptilian nerves sent their unmistakable messages to the brain, and the Beast knew it had been wounded unto death. Strangely it felt no hate for the men who had slain it.
No—they could not be blamed. They had not known. And, after all, humans had taken the Beast from Venus, restored it to life, tended and fed it for months… .
And there was still a debt. There was a message that Earthmen must know. Before the Beast died, it must convey that message, somehow.
The saucer eyes saw the white dome of the Capitol in the distance. There could be found science, and understanding. But it was so far away!
The Beast rose. It charged forward. There was no time to consider the fragility of the man-made structures all around. The message was more important.
The bellow of thunder marked the Beast’s progress. Clouds of ruin rose up from toppling buildings. Marble and granite were not the iron-hard stone of Venus, and a trail of destruction led toward the Capitol. The planes followed in uncertainty. They dared not loose bombs above Washington.
Near the Capitol was a tall derricklike tower. It had been built for the accommodation of newscasters and photographers, but now it served a different purpose. A machine had been set up there hastily, and men frantically worked connecting power cables. A lens-shaped projector, gleaming in the sunlight, was swinging slowly to focus on the oncoming monster. It resembled a great eye, high above Washington.
It was a heat ray.
It was one of the first in existence, and if it could not stop the reptile, nothing could.
Still the Beast came on. Its vitality was going fast, but there would still be time. Time to convey its message to the men in the Capitol, the men who would understand.
From doomed Washington arose a cry, from ten thousand panic-strained throats. In the streets men and women fought and struggled and fled from the oncoming monster that towered against the sky, colossal and horrible.
On the tower soldiers worked at the projector, connecting, tightening, barking sharp orders.
The Beast halted. It paused before the Capitol. From the structure, men were fleeing… .
The fogs were creeping up to shroud the reptile brain. The Beast fought against increasing lassitude. The message-the message!
A mighty forepaw reached out. The Beast had forgotten Earth’s gravity, and the clumsiness of its own gross bulk.
The massive paw crashed through the Capitol’s dome!
Simultaneously the heat ray flashed out blindly. It swept up and bathed the Beast in flaming brilliance.
For a heartbeat the tableau held, the colossus towering above the nation’s Capitol. Then the Beast fell… .
In death, it was terrible beyond imagination. The heat ray crumpled it amid twisted iron girders. The Capitol itself was shattered into utter ruin. For blocks buildings collapsed, and clouds of dust billowed up in a thick, shrouding veil.
The clouds were blinding, like the mists that darkened the sight and the mind of the Beast. For the reptile was not yet dead. Unable to move, the life ebbing swiftly from it, the Beast yet strove to stretch out one monstrous paw… .
Darkly it thought: I must give them the message. I must tell them of the plague that destroyed all life on Venus. I must tell them of the virus, borne on the winds, against which there is no protection. Out of space, it came to Venus, spores that grew to flowers. And now, the flowers grow on Earth. In a month, the petals will fall, and from the blossoms the virus will develop. And then, all life on Earth will be destroyed, as it was on Venus, and nothing will exist on all the planet but bright flowers and the ruins of cities. I must warn them to destroy the blossoms now, before they pollinate… .
The mists were very thick now. The Beast shuddered convulsively, and lay still. It was dead.
On a rooftop, a man and a woman watched from the distance. The man said: “God, what a horrible thing! Look at it lying there, like the devil himself.” He shuddered and glanced away.
The white-faced woman nodded. “It’s hard to believe the world can hold so much horror, and yet can give us anything as beautiful as this… .” Her slim fingers stroked the velvety petals of the blossom that was pinned to her dress. Radiant, lovely, the flower from Venus glowed in the sunlight.
Already, pollen was forming within its cup.
SOME ARE BORN CATS
Terry and Carol Carr
If creatures from another star wanted to visit Earth in secret, perhaps they could do it by changing their shapes so that they’d look like the everyday life-forms we’re used to seeing … such as cats. But even if the aliens could make themselves look like cats, how would they know how to act? And a cat that doesn’t act like a cat is very conspicuous… .
Carol and I have been married for a long time, and we’ve each written science fiction stories, but Some Are Born Cats was the first one we wrote together. Perhaps that’s the reason this story is one of our favorites.
“Maybe he’s an alien shape-changing spy from Arcturus,” Freddie said.
“What does that mean?” asked the girl.
Freddie shrugged. “Maybe he’s not a cat at all. He could be some kind of alien creature that came to Earth to spy on us. He could be hiding in the shape of a cat while he studies us and sends back reports to Arcturus or someplace.”
She looked at the cat, whose black body lay draped across the top of the television set, white muzzle on white paws, wide green eyes open and staring at them. The boy and the girl lay on her bed, surrounded by schoolbooks.
“You’re probably right,” she said. “He gives me the creeps.”
The girl’s name was Alyson, and it was her room. She and Freddie spent a lot of their time together, though it wasn’t a real Thing between them. Nothing official, nor even unofficial. They’d started the evening doing homework together, but now they were watching “Creature Features,” with the sound turned down.
“He always does that,” Alyson said. “He gets up on the television set whenever there’s a scary movie on, and he drapes his tail down the side like that and just stares at me. I’m watching a vampire movie, and I happen to glance up and there he is, looking at me. He never blinks, even. It really freaks me out sometimes.”
The cat sat up suddenly, blinking. It yawned and began an elaborate washing of its face. White paws, white chest, white face, and the rest of him was raven black. With only the television screen illuminating the room, he seemed to float in the darkness. On the screen now was a commercial for campers; a man who looked Oriental was telling them that campers were the best way to see America.
“What kind of a name is Gilgamesh?” Freddie asked. “That’s his name, isn’t it?”