He Who Shrank: A Collection of Short Fiction by Henry Hasse

Author:Henry Hasse [Hasse, Henry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

II

They spent much of that night in going over their plans. Ketrik had no misapprehensions about landing on Mars; he could do that despite Vaajo's patrols. Turibek presented the real problem.

Carefully he perused the tele-strip recordings from Mark's operatives, E-39 and EV-5. There had only been two reports, and they were brief.

"This last one was sent two weeks ago," Mark said, "and I haven't been able to contact them since. The channel's dead. I'm afraid it means their hide-out was discovered!"

Ketrik studied the rough map Mark had made, showing the location of the hide-out in the K'Mari Range, and its position from Turibek.

"This will help. I'll try to get over there, see if anything's left of their sending equipment. Then I want to make a try for the city. If I can get inside of Turibek, and maybe get a line on this scientific thing they're working up ... I was at Turibek eight years ago, and know it fairly well."

"Here's a photostatic air view," Mark said. "Afraid it doesn't show much."

"It shows one thing," Ketrik said, studying the film. "Dar Vaajo's had a wall built completely around the city. That wasn't there eight years ago! And those towers stationed around the wall—what do you suppose they are?"

"Control towers. That's an electronic wall! And you'll observe there's another within the city itself, surrounding that group of buildings which must be the laboratories. Ketrik—if you ever get in there...." His voice dwindled away in doubt.

"You don't think I can do it? I don't either, Mark—not as an Earthman!"

"Come. We'll fix that."

They passed through endless corridors, arrived finally at a large white-enameled room. It was complete with operating tables, instruments, plastics, ray-lamps—everything necessary to Earth's espionage system.

Ketrik stripped piecemeal, allowed every inch of his superbly muscled body to be subjected to the stinging Ulmo lamps. Gradually under the hot rays, the very pigmentation of his skin changed to the deep reddish-copper of a Martian. Mark proved himself an expert at this. Even the insides of Ketrik's ears did not escape the ray.

"Don't worry," Mark told him. "This will all wear off eventually."

"Yes? How long?"

"In about two years! Now, your eyes. You never saw a Martian with gray eyes. Look up just a moment."

A few drops of liquid, a harmless vegetable composition, changed Ketrik's eyes to a muddy golden color.

"Those bangs have got to come off!" Mark went to work in earnest. Ten minutes under another ray, and Ketrik's unruly hair was transformed into tight, crisp curls in keeping with the Martian fashion. His features presented the hardest problem, but Mark worked miracles with the plastics and equipment.

At last the job was done. When Ketrik surveyed himself in the mirror he saw a tall, somewhat arrogant Martian of the middle class, with slightly flaring nostrils, bulging cheek-bones and lips curving in a thin, cruel smile. He nodded, more than satisfied.

Mark consulted his wrist-chrono. "Four hours until dawn. Better grab a few hours' sleep, it may be your last for a while."

"Sure, but I'll rest better if I know one thing.

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