Queen of Blood

Copyright © 1966 by Charles Nuetzel

All right reserved.

CHAPTER ONE

Allan Brenner awoke slowly, his mind trapped in a half-sleep, remembering the sound which had been plaguing everybody at the Institute of Space Technology for the last days, ever since the mysterious signals from outer space had been picked up by CRRC — Communication Radio and Radar Control.

He lay there in his bunk, captured by the thoughts racing through his mind, feeling the excitement grow. It was like a taste in his mouth, one he couldn’t decide if he liked or not. Yet the thrill, the adventure of what First Contact might mean, affected his every thought, as with everybody at the Institute. Conversation had been limited to the one idea: What could the signals mean?

Last night, Laura James had excitedly told him that

Crypto Center was on the verge of decoding the mysterious signals. It was only a matter of hours now.

Anybody in the world would react to the idea of another intelligent race contacting Earth, but to an astronaut like himself, the meaning had far more significant implications than the thrill or fear of something new.

Science fiction writers had toyed with the idea of First

Contact for years, but that had been only fantasy on paper — now the real thing might be happening, and a lot more was at stake than might have seemed at first glance. For, though it was a romantic idea, there could easily be great danger to the whole human race.

Slowly, Allan sat up and ran a hand through his black hair, attempted to clear his thoughts, slip away from the half sleep which had held him captive to the mental speculation about the signals.

His thoughts turned to Laura James, a blonde beauty who had come into his life only a few months before.

They had met at the Institute upon its opening less than six months before. The Institute of Space Technology was a newly developed operation created through funds from the Space Exploration Agency of the United Nations. The mission was to handle the joint international exploration of space beyond the moon. After years of cold-war space racing between Russia and the United States, it had become obvious that the cost was too high for any one nation. Then an agreement was made between the two major competing nations, and plans were drawn up to start a joint effort through the United Nations. SEA came into being, and its first act was to raise funds for the Institute.

Allan Brenner was one of many cogs in the wheel, part of the joint team effort, but on his shoulders might depend the success or failure of the first probe to the planet Mars or Venus. He was one of the chosen few who would pilot the first manned ship to Earth’s sister planets. Oceano would take three astronauts to Mars shortly, and his name was near the top of the list as a member of the crew.

To Allan it would be a lifelong dream come true, one which had plagued him since childhood, when he had watched the first feeble attempts to build a moon base. That television image had sparked his youthful imagination and from that day on his every thought and effort had been to learn all he could about space, about rockets and all the technology that would be required by any man who desired to be one of the first to explore the planets. In this way he was like so many of his classmates, but different in that he made it straight to the top.

Slowly he dressed in the two-piece Astro-suit assigned to astronauts for daily wear.

Allan was just stepping out of his one-room sleeping quarters when a tall, good-looking man in his mid-forties came down the corridor in his direction.

Any word, Dr Forrester? Allan inquired, stopping the other man.

Dr Forrester smiled winningly. Nothing yet, but Dr Farraday is expecting word from Crypto any minute.

Allan grinned as he started toward the mess hall. It was becoming a habit with the personnel at the Institute to know instinctively what unqualified questions were about.

Nobody really talked much about anything else.

His grin widened and became strangely tender as his thoughts skipped over Forrester and remembered the man to whom the doctor had a striking resemblance, Forrest J Ackerman. Forry Ackerman had been a dreamer, and builder of children’s dreams, for so many years it was hard to believe the man was still around, still spieling out his copy for the numerous magazines he had created in the mid-fifties. Ackerman had been an idol of Allan’s when he was a kid, reading the monster magazines the man wrote. He’d met Forry once, and found him surprisingly friendly and warm, more than willing to talk to the young stranger who had come to his Ackermansion, a house just outside of Beverly Hills, a haunt for creatures from the unknown, from the shadow world of horror and fantasy fiction.

Every time Allan saw Dr Forrester, Dr Farraday’s assistant, he was reminded of his boyhood hero, the monster man.

As he turned into the large mess hall, he remembered his luncheon date with Laura.

Laura James sat amid the cluster of other operators crowded before their control panels in Radio and Radar Control, silently listening to the endless pattern of the alien space message, which was being picked up by her monitor, making sure that the tape recorder faithfully captured the sounds for Crypto.

She was an attractive blonde who gave the impression of being no more than an average girl, doing a routine job. But the appearance was quite deceptive. Few people would realize by looking at her cute upswept nose, her wide, innocent-looking blue eyes, or her curvy, delicate figure, that crammed into her brain was the complete information and data required for all astronauts, male or female.

Laura looked anxiously at the clock, it was a few minutes before noon. She turned, glancing at the doorway which led into the Radio and Radar Control room, expecting to see Allan walking through.

To Laura, it seemed like time dragged endlessly when she was separated from Allan. Thoughts of Allan constantly filled her mind. If times were different, if they were not of the chosen few, the lucky ones hand-picked from hundreds of thousands, they might already have been married. But the responsibility of their work, and the importance of the missions they would soon take part in, had brought them to the decision to wait until the scheduled flights were over and they could settle down to a normal life — normal for astronauts, that was.

Laura reached to her earphones, adjusting them against her head. The sound ringing from them continued, suggesting so much, promising so many things.

From that first day when Laura had heard the mysterious signals, she had felt a strange sense of uneasiness. Before then the missions to Mars and Venus had seemed more important than anything else. The signals implied intelligence in the galaxy, a race of aliens who might already have conquered space. That had taken away from Laura some of the thrill of being one of the first to explore the planets. But the idea of contacting such a race had almost replaced the sense of disappointment. What would they be like?

Laura gasped in surprise as an arm lowered itself slowly before her face. She laughed with pleasure as she saw the note the hand was holding. Ready for lunch?

Laura turned, removed her earphones and smiled up at the tall, handsome man standing beside her.

You shouldn’t scare me like that, she said, but her voice was laughing.

Astronauts aren’t supposed to scare easily, Allan grinned, touching her shoulders possessively.

And, she countered, scolding him, male astronauts aren’t supposed to go around startling people at work.

Listening to the music of the spheres? he asked, amazed.

That’s work?

Boy, you don’t know how much.

I thought you liked listening to all those messages.

I would, if I knew what was being said. She put her earphones aside.

Let’s go get lunch, I’m starved, he said.

You look tired. How do you feel? she asked, concerned.

Not bad, considering the beating they gave me in the centrifuge. He grinned, then asked, How’s the music of the spheres, today?

Impulsively, Laura reached over and tuned in the loudspeaker.

The pulse of the sound was a strong, rhythmic beat. At first there seemed to be no shape or logic, but after several minutes a pattern could be heard which was unmistakably controlled, as if some code message was being sent over and over again. It continued without stop.

Laura watched Allan as his lean, strong features tensed as if in thought.

As she turned the volume down, Allan said: It seems strange, just the idea of another intelligence —

It frightens me, she said, restraining a shudder.

What’s there to be frightened about? Allan said. Oh, I’ll admit an alien race might not be exactly ‘friendly,’ — but then why are they trying to communicate with us?

"What makes you think they are trying to communicate with…us? Laura asked. Maybe they’re just sending out signals and…"

Maybe. But Dr Farraday doesn’t think so, does he? Allan inquired.

No. Still, he doesn’t say what he thinks. Not really. Only… She was thoughtful for a moment, then continued: He believes that if it is truly a message from an alien intelligence, it probably is being sent directly to us in an attempt to communicate, to make radio contact. He’s certain it’s coming from some planet within our galaxy, but outside our solar system.

I take it Crypto hasn’t come up with anything yet? Allan said.

They’re working hard, double shift, trying to decode it, but no break since last night. Laura turned to a fellow technician.

Bill, she said, "I’m leaving the recorder on automatic.

Will you keep an eye on it for me?"

Sure, the husky man told her, winking. If the bug-eyed monsters come out with good old American English, I’ll call you.

Laura looked at Allan and said: Bill thinks it’s all a lot of… rot. Doesn’t believe in messages from —

"Them! Bill finished for her. Just some kind of cosmic disturbance. Such things just don’t happen."

How do you know they haven’t been trying to contact us for a long time? The equipment we’re using is newly developed, Allan said.

So we have discovered some new data on the universe, that’s all.

Maybe you’re right, Allan said, but I’ll keep the bug-eyed monster idea until Dr Farraday claims otherwise. He’s not fool enough to believe something that —

Dr Farraday, Bill interrupted, is a dreamer like many scientists and —

"But he’s a scientist first!" Laura said defensively.

Okay, okay, you win! Bill laughed.

Laura took Allan’s hand and squeezed it. He’s a nut. Working with him should make me lose faith in Santa Claus.

The demon of radar! Bill said as Laura started toward the exit with Allan.

Black space, darker than anything the human mind could imagine stretched out between the stars, illuminated only by the endless expanse of the Milky Way. Star system after star system, naked and lifeless, speckled interstellar space between the source of the radar signals and Earth.

Under normal conditions the signals would have taken hundreds of years to reach Earth, but they didn’t move through normal space. They moved through a fourth dimensional warp discovered by the scientists of Centurion, which gave the signals an unnatural speed.

Centurion’s sun mothered a planetary system of seven worlds. It was far larger than Sol, its mass spreading out over a distance which would have dislodged Mercury’s orbit if it were in the Solar System. Centurion, from which the signals were steadily transmitted, was tinged by an orange atmosphere which seethed around it like a smoky screen, hiding its features from any observer who might be looking at it from a telescope. But there was no telescope close enough to be trained on it.

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