Night of the Saucers, Page 2

  He waved at Thane. “As we all know, this Earthman joined our forces and provided the big breakthrough we needed—the location of the Morlian main base on an Earth-grazing asteroid, which we blew up. That ended the threat of the world Morli.”

  Thalkon hunched his shoulders. “But what we did not realize was that while all our attention was centered on the Morlian problem, another plot had arisen. A similar lawless world, not a member of the United Worlds of the Milky Way Galaxy, had meanwhile worked surreptitiously for at least twenty years.”

  Thane stiffened. A new menace to Earth, launched that long ago? He waited tensely to hear the rest.

  “Our spy-agents on Earth,” Thalkon continued, “recently gathered data showing that the dwarf-sized humanoids of the world Vexxa are there in unprecedented numbers, far more than would be necessary for any purely scientific observation program.”

  Thalkon turned to Thane, to explain more clearly. “You see, besides our Vigilante forces, various other worlds at times send expeditions to earth purely for peaceful purposes: scientific studies of earth’s geology, or of fauna and flora, or of human society, and the like.”

  “That accounts,” Thane nodded, “for the bewildering variety of UFOnauts that have been reported—tiny humanoids from one-and-a-half to four-and-a-half feet tall, hairy dwarfs with clawlike fingers, robotlike creatures walking stiff-legged, and such, and tall beings sometimes fifteen feet high, some with a single Cyclops eye, others with huge melon-heads or with red-devil faces.”

  “There are others even more weird,” Miribel commented. “Some so nightmarish that Earth-people seeing them are sure they are a dream or hallucination.”

  “But all these varied visitants,” Thalkon resumed, “come only in a few ships with limited personnel. Thus, when any certain type of nonhuman appears in great numbers all over the earth, it becomes suspicious. The Vexxans have been tabulated”—Thalkon referred to a slip of paper before him—“no less than 3,500 times in the past year alone.”

  “According to earth sighting of UFO’s?” asked Thane.

  “Yes. We depend on certain earthly groups of UFOlogists, as they call themselves, for significant changes in sightings of UFOnauts—NICAP, APO, and other organizations of UFO researchers. Also such private publications as Saucer Scoop, Flying Saucer Review, Skylook, and many others.”

  Thane had read all about these eager amateur groups of zealous ‘saucer hunters’ who were constantly trying to convince the scientific world that UFO’s really existed—with no success. Though this smoke screen was welcomed by the Vigilantes, and even fostered by them, it was ironic. The greatest truth in human history was still being called a lie on earth.

  Thalkon held up a hand for attention. “Their tabulations, by retrogression back through the years, show the true significance of the Vexxan visitations. Since 1950, the ‘little man’ reports began to come in, slowly at first, but rapidly building up. The years 1952 and 1954 yielded big ‘waves’ or ‘flaps’ of humanoid landings, especially in France and Brazil.”

  Thalkon was reciting well-known UFO history, Thane pondered, that the dedicated UFOlogists had patiently grubbed for. These sudden concentrations of UFO sightings, landings, and humanoid appearances had been largely ignored or missed by the world’s news media, the scientific establishment, and governments. Yet the UFOlogists were like a voice crying in the wilderness, despised and scorned by world authority for their harebrained belief in flying saucers. Thane ached at times to come to their aid and furnish solid proof… but that was in violation of the Vigilante code he had sworn to uphold. The pathetic UFOlogists would have to continue their lone and bitter fight, with little hope of victory in the foreseeable future.

  Chapter 3

  Thalkon was going on. “The years from 1960 on saw great increases in humanoid landings. Most of that increase was due to the Vexxans only, as we realized upon analysis of all sightings. Over and over, the descriptions given by Earth-people are essentially the same, showing that the majority of little-man sightings were due to the Vexxans…”

  Thalkon pointed a finger at a large phosphorescent screen hung on the wall. His psy-forces projected images in lifelike form, much sharper than TV. Thane stared closely at the figure of a dwarfish creature three-and-one-half feet tall, clad in a silvery suit and helmet, who stepped from a flying saucer. His face, through the visor, was humanlike—and yet utterly unhuman. Two large owl eyes that glowed, a slit mouth, tiny flat nose that almost seemed absent, a bald skull. The skin was ashen-gray, somewhat like dulled aluminum. The creature’s gloves held only three fingers, and his feet seemed to be mere formless stumps in very narrow boots. Then the outer suit melted away, at Thalkon’s mental command, and a hairy body was revealed from the cheeks down.

  Into Thane’s mind leaped a dozen or more UFO reports he had seen, in which precisely such little men—or a reasonable facsimile—had been seen. Often reported in South America, they were called the “hairy dwarfs.”

  “Notice that they are quite distinct,” said Thalkon, “from the other small humanoids with wrap-around eyes and smooth, hairless skin who are our allies from the globular cluster Bootes. While the Bootes humanoids will dash away as soon as humans see them, the Vexxans at times have viciously attacked human observers.”

  Thane recalled in particular two “classic” cases. On November 28, 1954, in Venezuela, truck drivers Gustavo Gonzales and Jose Ponce had come upon a saucer blocking the street in the early morning hours when everyone else was asleep. Two hairy, powerfully built humanoids about three-and-one-half feet tall, had attacked the men and clawed at them with their three-fingered talon-like hands. When Gonzales drew a knife and attempted to stab one humanoid, the knife glanced off as if he had struck an iron skin. And with one blow of its hand, the humanoid flung Gonzales fifteen feet away. Then the two vicious little aliens, as if tired of the sport, had leaped back into their saucer and sped away.

  The second case was on December 16, 1954, when two young Venezuelans, Lorenzo Flores and Jesus Gomez, were out rabbit hunting. They too came upon a small saucer from which leaped four hairy humanoids between three and four feet tall, who tried to drag Gomez into their saucer. When Flores used his shotgun as a club, breaking it over their heads; the little men scampered back to their craft and fled.

  “And so we know,” summarized Thalkon, “that in the past two decades, the Vexxans have been building up their forces on earth, far beyond what is required for any peaceful scientific study or program. The signs point with little doubt to a plot against Earth. But what is that plot? That is the emergency we face, gentlemen.”

  “And that’s all you know?” Thane queried rather startled “You have no idea what they are up to, or in what way Earth may be menaced?”

  “No slightest clue,” Thalkon admitted somewhat lamely. “Our spy-agents have been unable to ferret out any pattern to their activities on Earth. And that is where you, Thane Smith, may be able to help us.”

  Thalkon shoved over a bulky sheaf of papers. “Here are all the sighting reports involving hairy humanoids from 1950 until today, as copied by psy-taping from UFOlogy records on earth. We want you to pore over them and pick out clues—if any—as to why the Vexxans are here and what their scheme is.”

  “But you people,” Thane began hesitantly, then blurting the rest out, “are so much more advanced, intellectually, from Earthmen like me. If you’ve already gone over these reports and found nothing, how can I hope to find anything?”

  “Ah, but you are an Earthman” said Thalkon. “No matter how long we’ve studied your people and your world, we still do not know things that you instinctively know. Things you are born with. Therefore, it is possible that you will stumble on some clue, or pattern, or tip-off that we missed entirely.”

  Thalkon suddenly looked drawn. “This is one of the most puzzling cases the Vigilantes have ever run across, out of the
two-hundred alien plots against Earth in the past two million years. If you can’t help us, Thane…” His voice trailed away ominously.

  Thane felt himself growing in stature in their eyes. Super-scientists they might be, denizens of a civilization a million years old, but still they had to come to him for help. Even Miribel was looking at him with pride. All right, that’s enough, Smith, he growled to himself. Don’t blow yourself up like a bullfrog.

  “I’ll do my best, Thalkon,” said Thane, arising and gathering the sheaf of reports.

  * * * *

  On the way back to earth in their saucer, Thane turned with a light-hearted grin to Miribel. “Hey, star-girl. How do you like being married to a man who has a chance to save his world twice?”

  Before she could answer, Thane’s lips tightened as he added, “If I do. That’s like asking for two jackpots in a row. How lucky can I expect to be?”

  * * * *

  Miribel poured Thane a sixth cup of coffee. His lean face, topped by a crew cut, was somewhat haggard after three long nights of poring over the UFO reports. His smoke-blue eyes reflected bafflement.

  “Damn,” he muttered for the thousandth time.

  “No luck, dear?” Miribel ventured.

  “Nothing, nothing,” Thane snapped, rubbing his overused eyes. “Just a randomized group of sightings with only one thing in common—the landed humanoids are little hairy stinkers three-and-a-half feet tall with vicious tempers. No wonder Thalkon and his staff gave up.”

  “They use no instruments or devices?”

  “Never,” said Thane disgustedly. “No clue to what their purpose on Earth is. Here’s a typical report. ‘In the early morning of December 19, 1954, outside of Caracas, Venezuela, Jose Parra was running along a road for exercise. Suddenly, utterly surprised, he came upon six little hairy men who were loading rocks into a disk-shaped craft nearby and…’”

  Thane stopped. “Rocks… rocks?”

  “What is it?” asked Miribel, seeing the sudden excitement in his face.

  Thane made no answer, busily thumbing back through the reports and yanking out certain ones. Finally he had a stack of reports separated from the others. He picked up the first one and leaned back.

  “Now listen, Miribel. In 1954, also in Venezuela, Gonzales and Ponce came upon a group of hairy dwarfs who were collecting rocks.”

  He picked up the next report. “France, 1952. M. Debeaux sees two small creatures with hairy three-fingered hands picking up stones and putting them into a box.” Thane picked up several more reports, flipping through them rapidly. “In West Virginia, 1958, undersized hairy beings pawing through a pile of rocks. England, 1959, diminutive furry men sorting out minerals. Australia, 1961, hairy humanoids gathering pebbles. Sweden, 1963, bearded gnomes digging in stony soil. Italy, 1967, hirsute humanoids smashing apart boulders with heavy hammers. Similar reports go on and on…” He swung around toward Miribel, his eyes aglow. “A common denominator at last: hairy humanoids examining rocks, time after time.”

  “Is it a significant percentage?” Miribel asked, practically.

  Thane counted the reports he had pulled aside. He made a rapid mental calculation. “Thirty seven point five percent. That’s already far above coincidence. And many reports mention the UFOnauts gathering something without the witness knowing exactly what. The chances are good that in all the hairy humanoid sightings, they were collecting rocks.”

  “But that’s silly, Thane,” Miribel protested. “Of all things to collect or examine, why rocks? The most common thing on your world? How could that be any sort of menace?”

  “Um,” Thane said, crestfallen. “You would think of that, you sharpie. It does add up to a big fat nothing…”

  “Unless,” went on Miribel quietly, “they are looking for something within the rocks. Something valuable or useful, like gold nuggets, diamonds, jewels, rare substances.”

  Thane sat up, his excitement rekindled. “That’s it, of course. Good girl, Miribel.”

  Miribel shook her head. “But where does that lead us? Surely they are not common thieves, come to steal mineral wealth from Earth. What good would jewels or rare metals do them, when they can pilfer them from a million uninhabited worlds?”

  Thane banged his fist into his other palm, in exasperation. “You’re whipsawing me with rising hopes that get dashed,” he growled. Picking up the separated reports, he weighed them in his hand thoughtfully. “But it’s still statistically significant that many if not most of the little furry fiends collect or examine or deal with rocks and stones, for some unknown purpose.”

  “I agree,” nodded Miribel. “Let’s report that to my father.”

  “No,” grunted Thane. “No yet. I want to give him more than that to go by. Let’s find out just why the hairy humanoids—or Vexxans—are rock collectors, or just what they’re doing with them.”

  Thane strode over and picked up the Tanglewood Weekly. On the back page, he quoted a small item. “Saucer Flap in Western Nebraska. For three weeks now, various towns in that area have reported UFO sightings which are still continuing without let-up. Many of the wild reports insist that saucers have landed and small hairy men have emerged…”

  Thane lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “Before that flap ends, Miribel, we’re going there, with a good chance of observing the hairy Vexxans at work, gathering stones. Maybe, as first-hand witnesses, we can figure out exactly why they collect the most worthless material on earth.”

  * * * *

  The man on horseback, speaking to the couple outside their tent had a western drawl. “Naw, I never seen no flying saucers roundabouts here. Don’t think anybody else did either. Just a lotta fancy lying, that’s all. Well, hope you enjoy your camping trip.”

  He trotted off. Thane looked at Miribel, as he put another stick on their open campfire. “Another staunch ally of yours,” said Thane. “A man from Missouri.”

  “Missouri?” Miribel was puzzled. “But he lives here in Nebraska.”

  “Just an expression,” Thane grinned, “meaning a hard-headed man who believes only what he sees in front of his nose, and not much of that either. The kind who help you keep up the myth that UFO’s are myths. If this is a hot-spot for saucer sightings of Vexxan craft, we’ll see one sooner or later, with luck.”

  Thane swung an arm around at the barren rocky hills and semi-desertlands that occupied western Nebraska. Their tent was pitched on stony rubble. “With all these rocks around, no wonder the Vexxans are combing this area.”

  Thane saw a glinting mineral and brushed their balloon car aside with one arm. Stooping to pick up the shiny rock, he looked it over carefully. “Worthless feldspar. No precious metals or gems. Whatever the Vexxans want, it’s not riches.”

  “Thane, you nearly lost our car,” Miribel reproved, running and catching it before it rose too high. She pulled the rubberized replica of a modern car down to the ground and refastened the suction-pads.

  “Neat job, that fake car,” Thane said, amused. “But necessary. We certainly don’t want people thinking we arrived at the campsite by flying saucer!”

  “Certainly not,” Miribel choked, glancing back at where their invisible saucer was parked, well off the road where nobody would blunder into it.

  They enjoyed a campfire meal in the crisp dry air, admiring the changing hues of the rock formations in the distance as the sun sank. When night came, their eyes hawked the sky continuously, in all directions.

  “You cover the northern half from horizon to zenith,” Thane said. “I’ll take care of the southern half.” Nothing moved among the blazing stars in the clear sky. Once Thane opened his mouth as a brilliant super-star suddenly appeared, but then said nothing as it arced steadily across the star-field. An Earth satellite, one of the two-hundred-and-fifty-odd now in orbit, Russian, American and European.
<
br />   Their necks became stiff as the hours passed, but they stuck to it until dawn. “Sightings drop in daylight too much for us to waste our time,” Thane said. “Time for us to get some shut-eye and get ready for tonight’s session.”

  For three nights they held their monotonous vigil, interrupted only by several pulse-quickening objects that soon proved abortive: falling stars, a high-flying jet, a weather balloon glinting weirdly in the moonlight. Knowing that flying saucers really existed, they were too familiar with their shapes to be fooled by the false UFO’s many other excitable people took to be genuine. And despite the genuine saucers reported, the rule still held that some seventy-five percent of all alleged UFO’s seen were bogus.

  On the fourth day, after Thane tuned their radio and listened, he was baffled. “I’d be discouraged except that according to the news from local stations, the big saucer flap is still on here, all around us. Luckily for us, the news media of rural and small-town areas still treat UFO’s as big news and faithfully report most sightings sent in by people; all the big metropolitan areas have long ago given up UFO’s as a tiresome illusion not to be foisted on their ‘sophisticated’ audiences.”

  “It happens that the small-towners are right,” Miribel commented. “But Thane, even during a flap, only a small percentage of the people happen to see UFO’s. How long should we keep trying?”

  “Till the end of the flap,” Thane growled doggedly. “And sometimes they last for three months.”