THE SWORD
By Frank Quattrocchi
Illustrated by Tom Beecham
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of ScienceFiction March 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence thatthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
George Harrison noticed the flashing red light on the instrument panelas he turned onto the bridge to Balboa Island. Just over the bridge, hepulled the car to the curb and flipped the switch with violence."Harrison," he muttered.
"How's the water, fella?" asked the voice of Bob Mills, his assistant.
There was a beautiful moon over the island. The surf lapped at the tiersof the picturesque bridge. Soft music was playing somewhere. There was atinkle of young laughter on the light sea breeze.
Harrison was vacationing and he viewed the emergency contact fromIntersolar Spaceport with annoyance.
"What do you want, Bob?"
"Sorry, George," Bob Mills said more seriously. "I guess you got to comeback."
"Listen—" protested Harrison.
"Orders, George—orders from upstairs."
Harrison took a long look at the pleasant island street stretching outbefore him. Sea-corroded street lamps lit the short, islandthoroughfare. People in light blue jeans, bronzed youths in skippercaps, deep-tanned girls in terry-cloth.
"What the hell is it?"
"Don't know, but it's big. Better hurry." He clicked off.
Harrison skidded the car into a squealing turn. Angrily, he raced overthe bridge and onto the roaring highway. Thirty minutes later IntersolarSpaceport, Los Angeles, blazed ahead of him.
The main gate guards waved him in immediately and two cycle guards raninterference for him through the scores of video newsmen who lined thespaceport street.
Bob Mills met him at the entrance to the Administration building.
"Sorry, George, but—"
"Yeah. Oh, sure. Now what the hell is it all about?"
Mills handed him a sheaf of tele-transmittals. They bore heavy secretstamps. Harrison looked up quizzically.
"You saw the video boys," Mills said. "The wheels think there might besome hysteria."
"Any reason for it?"
"Not that we know of—not that I know of anyway. The thing is comingin awfully fast—speed of light times a factor of at least two, maybefour."
Harrison whistled softly and scanned the reports frowning.
"They contacted us—"
"What?"
"—in perfect Intersolar Convention code. Said they were coming in.That's all. The port boys have done all they could to find out what toexpect and prepare for it. Somebody thought Engineering might beneeded—that's why they sent for you."
"Used Intersolar Convention code, eh," mused Harrison.
"Yes," said Mills. "But there's nothing like this thing known in thesolar system, nothing even close to this fast. Besides that, there was asighting several days ago that's being studied.
"One of the radio observatories claims to have received a new signalfrom one of the star clusters...."
The huge metal vessel settled to a perfect contact with its assignedstrip. It hovered over the geometric center of the long runway andtouched without raising a speck of dust.
Not a sound, not a puff of smoke issued from any part of it. Immediatelyit ros