“Yes, sir. Well be months in the dock. And we have casualties. Dr. Strangefinger was injured.”
“This is terrific. Listen, let me talk to the chiefs of staff and the pols and get back to you. We just might have them where we want them. As for you, Captain… ”
“Yes, sir?”
“You were in the wrong place at the right time and… incredible as it sounds, you did the right thing. Congratulations, Captain Vahnker.”
“That’s Wanker! I mean … Oh, never mind.”
“You’d better see about that Kruton spy. Return to base immediately. Dickover out.”
Wanker for a moment looked stunned. Then, slowly, a smug, self-satisfied grin spread across his freckled face.
He sprang to his feet and crossed the bridge to the spot where Rusty and the scientist were still playing cards. “Oh, Dr. Strangefinger?”
“Yeeeeessss?”
Strangefinger was back in character.
“Looks like there’s a Kruton spy aboard. Any idea who it could be?”
“Well, now, let me see. Spy, spy… ” Of Rusty he asked, “Know of any spies around here?”
Rusty honked and pulled out a magnifying glass.
“Actually I haven’t seen a spy around these here parts in a month of Sundays.”
“Well, well see. Lieutenant Roundheels! Front and center!”
Darvona got up from her post and came over. Wanker grabbed Darvona and pushed her toward Strangefinger and she wrapped her arms about him. “No, you couldn’t be anything but human, Strangefinger. You’re too sleazy.”
Wanker maneuvered Darvona toward Rusty. She kissed him, and the flaxen-wigged clown blushed like a schoolgirl.
Wanker said, “I guess idiot, here, is human, too.”
The blow tube whooshed and everybody looked. Alighting from the bounce pad was yet another strangely dressed man. This one wore a shabby, ill-fitting, wide-lapeled suit and a curiously conical narrow-brimmed hat. He approached.
“Hey, boss. What’s-a matter for you? We hear a big-a boom and then we hear another ka-boom and then-a we don’t hear nothing. What’s-a going on?”
Wanker said, “Good lord, another one. Now, who’s this?”
“One of my other assistants. Calls himself Chicolini.”
“I’ve never seen him before,” Darvona said.
“Yeah, neither have I,” Sven corroborated. “He never made the Stateroom scene.”
“I kind-a like to keep to myself,” Chicolini said.
Wanker pushed Darvona toward the stranger. She squealed and ran away.
Dr. O’Gandhi had been watching. He stepped up to the new visitor with an instrument that resembled a salt shaker. He whistled softly.
O’Gandhi said, “Temperature too high, heartbeat all wrong… Dave, this man is indeed a big fat Kruton!”
Wanker looked at the instrument. “How can you tell using a salt shaker?”
Dr. O’Gandhi looked at his instrument and his eyes went round. “Oh, my gosh. What a fool I am being. I picked up the wrong thing.”
“Krutons can simulate any human life function,” Wanker said.
“I am feeling a perfect ass,” Dr. O’Gandhi said, blushing.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Strangefinger said.
“He’s got to be a Kruton,” Wanker said. “One of you does, anyway. Is this the one who chose the test site?”
“That’s him,” Strangefinger said. Wanker folded his arms and stared at Chicolini. “Well?”
“Shu’, I’m a Kruton! But Im-a study to be a salad!”
“You won’t like life in the slaw lane,” Strangefinger quipped.
Wanker said, “Well, here’s our Kruton spy. What do you have to say to THAT, Dr. Strangefinger?”
Strangefinger didn’t have the opportunity to answer. In an instant, Chicolini was gone, replaced, his stocky, hunch-shouldered human body utterly transformed into a three-meter-tall monster out of the worst nightmare any human being could fear to have: a hulking horror that towered above the humans, brandishing pincers, tentacles, stingers, and clawed appendages. Its head looked like an elongated melon. The horrible mouth clicked and snapped, its metallic teeth gleaming.
Screams, panic. The crew scattered and dove for cover.
The creature howled, and then, mind-bogglingly, collapsed on itself and was gone. All that was left was a puddle of green liquid, but it was a curiously mobile one. The puddle moved, flowing over the deck toward the blow tube. Reaching its destination, it shot up the tube in a thin gurgling stream, like liquid being poured in reverse, and disappeared.
Slowly, the crew came out of hiding.
“Now what?” Darvona said.
“Now,” Wanker told her, “we have a Kruton loose on the ship. A creature that can assume any shape whatsoever, instantly.”
“It could look like me,” Rhodes said. “Or you.”
“Or any of us,” Captain Wanker said.
CHAPTER 17
The Repulse streaked back through the neutral zone, leaving Kruton space.
A tense quiet filled the ship. A head count of all humans aboard was taken, and the toll turned out higher than Wanker had expected. Strangefinger had no less than three technicians whom the captain had never set eyes on: two men and one woman. They were, compared to their boss and his sidekick, relatively conventional in dress and demeanor.
In addition, two security men were aboard, one of whom was the redoubtable Smithers. The other spaceman was named Blake.
The total count was thirteen.
“Nice round number,” Wanker commented. “What are the chances, Mr. Rhodes, that the creature took the place of one of these people between the time it escaped the bridge and everyone reported here?”
“Slim, sir. I was on the horn real quick, and everyone got up here real quick.”
“Yeah, if the creature is clever, and we know it is, that would be the time to do a substitution, when we least expect it.”
“If we can be sure about everybody now,” Warner-Hillary said, “what about when we fan out to search for the thing?”
“All search parties will go out in twos,” Rhodes said. “The bridge will be manned by no less than three people at all times.”
“Why don’t we all just stay on the bridge,” Darvona said, “until we get back to base?”
“We can’t give that creature the run of the ship,” Rhodes told her. “No telling what it’ll do.”
Wanker ordered, “Smithers, take Blake here and get to the engine control pod. And make it fast.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Too late,” Sadowski said, watching readouts at his station. “The beastie’s doon it.”
Everyone trooped over to engineering.
“The beastie’s doon what?”
“He must be in the power control pod,” Rhodes said.
“Aye,” Sadowski said.
“There go the engines!” Sven exclaimed.
A dying whine filled the ship as the engines lost power and the electrogravitic fields faded. The engines throbbed their last. The ship’s velocity was still tremendous, but below that of light.
“I goofed again,” Wanker said. “Should have sent the security men there to start.”
“Captain, the monster could have sabotaged something just about anywhere in the ship,” Rhodes said. “We can’t cover everything.”
“At least this way we can vouch for everybody here,” Sven said.
“There’s always a silver lining to every turd,” Wanker said.
“Is that how the saying goes?”
“Never mind. All right, the sooner we find the creature, the better off we’ll be.”
Rhodes was at his station. “Captain, you can say that again.”
“What d’you got in your crystal ball, Mr. Rhodes?” Wanker asked, walking over to him.
“A black hole, or whatever that singularity is,” Rhodes said.
“Oh, yes, the black hole.”