Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from Comet, July 1941. Extensive research didnot uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publicationwas renewed. 

 [Illustration: _Something--like an inner eye--glowed for just a moment as the sphere advanced. _]

 The Whispering Spheres

 _An alien life-form--metallic sinister--threatening all mankind with annihilation. _

 by R. R. WINTERBOTHAM

 * * * * *

CHAPTER I

THE CAULDRON

The factory saw-toothed the horizon with its hideous profile asthe moon rose in the east. The red glow of the furnaces bathedthe tall buildings, the gigantic scaffolds, the cord-likeelevated pipelines and the columnar smokestacks in the crimson ofanger. Even the moon seemed to fade as the long-fingeredsmokestacks reached toward it belching their pollution. The air, which should have been clean, was filled with the reek ofunfamiliar odors. 

From the machine shop, where giant cannon were forged intosmooth, sleek instruments of death, came noise: unchecked, unmuffled, blasphemous din. But something odd was afoot. Therewas a sudden hush. It seemed as if a giant hand had covered themetal city to muffle its screams. 

In the nearby city of box-like houses, where the workers lived, there was an echoing stir. Lights glowed in the windows of thetiny homes. People were awakened in the night by the suddencessation of din. 

Something was wrong in the factory. 

But there couldn't be anything wrong. The factory was enclosed bya high, electrified fence. There were guards on duty night andday, armed to the teeth and ready to shoot an intruder who failedto give an account of himself. There were wars and rumors of warson the face of the earth and there was need for the uninterruptedproduction of sleek cannon. 

But, if something were wrong, why didn't the whistle blow? Therewere signals: three short blasts, repeated many times, meantfire; one long blast meant a breakdown; five toots meant alayoff. But now the whistle was silent. 

Heads popped from the windows of the houses in the city. Theylistened. Was it a whistle that the workers heard? No. It was awhispering, barely audible at first, then louder. It was thewhisper of tongues of flame. But no flames were visible. Only thered glow of the furnaces lighted up the factory's profile. 

One by one the lights of the city went out as workers went backto bed, to toss restlessly. Without noise there could be nosleep. 

The tongues of flame still whispered. 

 * * * * *

A car moved rapidly through the streets of the city. At the wheelwas a man dressed in a captain's uniform. The machine whirledonto the highway that led toward the factory. A barricade, lighted by torch-lanterns, barred his path. A sentry with abayoneted gun stood to one side, signaling a halt. 

The car slowed. 

"Captain Ted Taylor, ordnance department!" the captain said, extending his pass toward the sentry. 

The sentry signaled him on. 

The car came within a stone's throw of the factory, where itturned into a parking lot. The officer climbed out, noiselessly, and moved into the shadows. 

Once Captain Taylor had been a scientist, but that was long ago, before wars had made biology very unexciting. 

Out of the shadows a second figure moved. He was a short, stockyman, compared with the slender, graceful figure of the captain. 

"Ps-st! Captain!"

"Masters!"

"You got my short-wave call, I see. I was afraid you would beasleep. He came late, but he's in the tunnel now. "

"Who is it?"

"The fellow we've suspected all along. Poses as an ignorantlaborer, but he's not ignorant by a long shot. His name is HankNorden. "

Masters pointed toward a clump of bushes. As he did, he caughtthe captain's arm with his left hand. The bushes were moving. 

A black hole appeared at the base of the bushes and from itemerged the head and shoulders of a man. Taylor drew his pistol. The man's head turned, searching the shadows to see if he wasobserved. He failed to detect the figures of Taylor and Masters, huddled nearby in the shadows. 

The man scrambled from the hole. He closed the trap door behindhim and then started to move rapidly away. 

"Halt!" barked Taylor. 

The man began to run. The captain's pistol spat, kicking up dustbeside the running feet. The fleeing man jumped to one side, tospoil Taylor's aim on the next shot, but as he did so, hestumbled and fell. 

A moment later Taylor had landed on top of him, pinning him tothe ground. 

The faded moonlight showed angry eyes, a jutting, undershot jawand a sharp, pointed nose. 

"Damn you!" spat the captive. 

Taylor removed a revolver from the prisoner's clothing and tossedit to Masters. 

"It's Norden, all right, " Masters said, scrutinizing the captive. "I'd know that jaw in a million. What are you doing here, fellah?"

"I'm blowing the factory to hell!" Norden said between his teeth. "You can't stop me. Everything's fixed. In a minute a bomb'll gooff. You, I, everyone will be smashed to atoms. And I'm glad. Forthe fatherland. "

"We know why you're doing it, " Taylor said. "Come on, Masters. Get your short-wave working. Notify the factory office. Where'sthe bomb, Norden? Come on, speak up, or I'll pull you to pieces!"

Norden said nothing. Masters was calling the office. He turned tothe captain:

"I can't raise anyone. "

"We'll go to the gate. " Taylor prodded the prisoner ahead on therun. 

"You can't make it in time, " Norden panted. 

"We'll die trying!"

A floodlight turned the area in front of the gate into a patch ofdaylight. An armed sentry challenged from a small building. Thecaptain answered. 

"Sorry, but you can't come in. Strict Orders. After hours, " thesentry said, when the captain asked to be allowed to pass. 

"But it's urgent--life or death. We've got to use your telephone. Or--you call the office. Tell the super there's a bomb in theplant--"

The sentry's jaws gaped, but only for an instant. Down the roadinside the plant came a running, bareheaded figure--screaming:

"Let me out! Let me out of here!"

"Halt!" shouted the sentry. 

The figure stumbled to a stop at the gate. The light showed thepale, sweating face trembling with fear. 

"What's the matter with you?" the sentry asked. 

"The metal pots! They're alive! Big, orange bubbles are floatingfrom the cauldrons!"

"Nuts!" said the sentry. "You're drunk. "

But as the soldier spoke there was a trembling movement of theground beneath the feet of the men at the gate. Captain Taylorthrew himself on the ground. But there was no blast. 

The red of the sky-glow suddenly faded to orange. Up through theroof of the casting room crashed a huge, glowing sphere thenfloated like a will-o'-the wisp in the moonlight. 

CHAPTER II

THE SPHERES

When the sentry faced the captain again, he stared into the mouthof a service pistol. 

"Sorry, " said the officer, "but I've got to get inside. " CaptainTaylor turned to Masters. "Keep him covered. I'll be back unlessthe bomb goes off. "

"The bomb, " whispered Norden, fearfully, "should have exploded. Iwas double-crossed. They sent me here to get caught! The dirty--"

"Watch Norden, and you might keep your eye on Funky, here, "Taylor said, pointing to the slobbering man who had dropped tohis knees at the sight of the orange sphere. "I'm going inside. "

The captain moved through the gate. The silence was uncanny. Since the war began this factory had never been idle. Thousandsof cannon made; contracts for countless more! But now quiet, savefor an undescribable, whispering overtone that seemed to permeatethe air. 

Something glowed in the semi-darkness ahead like a pile of hotashes on the ground. 

Taylor entered the long forge room. A white hot splinter of metalhung from the crane. There were a dozen heaps of the glowingashes scattered about the room, but no sign of life. 

He moved on into the finishing room, where the long tubes ofhowitzers and field pieces lay in various stages of construction. Still there was silence. 

The whispering grew louder, like a breeze stirring dry cornstalks. 

The silence suddenly was broken by a scream. Then another. Therewas a sound of running footsteps. 

Taylor dropped behind a lathe. 

Through the door came an orange glow. Sharply outlined againstthe eerie light ran a human figure, a man in overalls, carrying ahammer. On the fellow's face was frozen fear. He halted, turnedand looked behind him. 

The darkness vanished as through the doorway floated a huge, orange sphere of light. 

"Stop! Go back! I mean you no harm!" screamed the workman. 

The ball of orange fire floated on toward him. The man's armraised. He hurled the hammer straight at the sphere. 

The missile rang, bounced back and fell to the sandy floor. 

A small flicker of flame wafted over the surface of the sphere. Then it lashed out like a whip toward the trembling man. Hisentire body glowed like a torch, then crumpled to the floor in aheap of ashes. 

 * * * * *

Scarcely daring to breathe, the captain watched the sphere floatover the ashes of its victim for a moment; then, apparentlysatisfied that the man no longer lived, floated back through thedoorway. 

Taylor took a deep breath. It might be well if the bomb wouldexplode, but he knew now it had been silenced. 

In an insulated panel on the wall were the remains of an electricswitchboard. The copper switches were fused, the wires burnedthrough. The huge cables that brought the electric current to theswitchboard lay molten on the floor. 

The bomb probably was electrical and undoubtedly had been fusedlike the switchboard. 

The captain had one objective now, to get out of the plant beforethe orange spheres discovered him. He didn't know what he faced, but something told him that it had never faced mankind before. Hehad no weapon to combat the sphere. 

Taylor reached the forge room again. He stepped over moreglowing piles of ashes. 

Then his ears caught a crescendo of the whispering that he hadheard before. He looked behind him. In the doorway was an orangeglow. The sphere was coming--looking for him!

Behind the forge was a machine which had been used to operate thecrane. Beyond it was stygian darkness. He might hide there. 

The captain slipped toward the machine. Every bit of electricalwiring on the controls had been fused. 

The room grew lighter, the whispering louder and then, throughthe doorway, floated the dazzling sphere. 

Something gripped Taylor's shoulder muscles. A mild electricalshock coursed through his body, as if an invisible feeler hadpassed over him. 

The sphere halted, changed its direction and floated slowlytoward the captain. 

Instinctively, Taylor backed into the corner behind the machine. He dropped to his hands and knees and was free of the invisiblefeeler! Again the orange sphere halted, as if trying to relocateits victim. 

Taylor rounded a pillar which supported the track for the crane. His fingers struck an accumulation of rubbish that had beentossed into the corner. He started to push it out of the way, when the floor beneath it moved. It was a trap door!

A gasp of surprise came from Taylor's lips. He had a chance. Butthe sound gave him away. The electrical feeler touched him again. The shock jerked at his muscles and the sphere started floatingnearer. 

The trap door swung back. Taylor's right boot touched the toprung of the ladder. He moved his left boot down to the next rung. Each movement seemed to take ages and every exertion of hismuscles was agony as the electrical shock gripped him withincreasing intensity. 

He forced his body down into the opening. He saw the flameflickering over the surface of the sphere as the thing preparedto strike. 

The sphere seemed to pulse briefly as he released his grasp onthe rim of the opening and shoved himself downward into the hole. He dropped several feet. 

Above him a brilliant flash of fire lit the opening. 

The sphere itself hovered above the hole. 

CHAPTER III

PRIMARY OBJECTIVES

The sphere pulsed again. But this time no flaming whip sprangfrom its surface. There was a single flash. For an instant Taylorcaught a glimpse of bestial eyes, looking angrily at him from thecenter of the flash. Then there was nothing. He was in thedarkness of a tunnel. Even the charred embers of the wooden trapdoor above him seemed dimmed by a cloud of dust. 

The sphere had simply exploded. 

Taylor had no time to analyze the situation. His hands gropedalong the side of the tunnel, the one Norden had used to enterthe plant on his spying expeditions. Taylor crawled slowly, feeling his way. It seemed eternity until at last he reached theend of the passage and felt the trap door overhead. 

A minute later he rejoined the others, huddled in darknessoutside the gate. 

"The searchlight went out, " Masters explained. "Something wrongwith the power, I guess. "

"I know what it was, " Taylor said gruffly. He turned to thedisarmed sentry. "Has anyone come out of here since the factorystopped working?"

"Nobody but him, sir, " the soldier said, jerking his thumb at thesobbing man huddled against Norden. "He said his name wasOrkins--Jim Orkins. He works in the warehouse. But you can't tellanything about the rest o' what he says. He just babbles, sir. Something about livin' lightnin' and balls of fire. He ain'tdrunk, sir, so he must be crazy. "

"Help him get up, " Taylor ordered. "Masters, you take charge ofNorden. We're going back to the car. "

"Excuse me, sir, " the sentry said, hesitantly. "But that'sagainst orders. I can't leave. I'm to guard this gate, sir. "

"Your orders are canceled, " the captain said. 

"If I desert my post, it's court martial, " the sentry explained. "How do I know you aren't a spy? Captains don't go around makingprivates break the orders of the day. If you've got business inthe plant, why was I told to keep _everyone_ out? Why didn't theytell me to pass Captain Taylor? I got a duty here and I'll do itif it kills me. So help me, sir. Sergeant o' the guard!"

The echo of the sentry's bellow rattled against the bleak factorybuildings. A sphere bobbed up through the hole in the roof. Orkins opened his mouth to scream, but Norden clapped his handover the man's lips, choking him off. 

"Quiet!" Taylor ordered hoarsely. He addressed the sentry: "Seethat thing? It means death to you, to all of us if it finds us. The sergeant of the guard, probably all of the other sentries aredead. Every workman in the plant is dead. Somehow we were missed. The searchlight power went off before they found this post, Isuppose. Now then, all of you follow Masters back to the car. I'll bring up the rear. "

"I won't leave, " the sentry said, stubbornly. 

Masters stepped forward and put his pistol against the soldier'sback. 

"You'll go, " he said. "Maybe this ain't regulation, but neitherare the spheres. "

The stubby little secret service man pushed the soldier ahead ofhim. The sentry marched with his hands in the air. 

Drawing his own pistol, Taylor turned to Norden. 

"Help Orkins to the car, " he said. 

Norden drew himself up stiffly. 

"Go ahead and shoot, " he said. "It'll save the firing squad sometrouble. "

Taylor took one step forward. Norden faced him unflinchingly. Taylor's hand shot out, caught Norden's coat and threw him afterMasters. 

"Don't leave me alone!" Orkins cried, crawling after Norden andclasping him about the legs. Norden kicked him aside. 

"Keep moving!" Taylor ordered Norden, who had halted. 

Norden did not move. 

Taylor swung his fist. The blow connected and the officer caughtthe falling man, swung him over his shoulder, then turned to thecringing Orkins. 

"If you don't want to be left here alone, follow us, " he said. 

Orkins suddenly regained his ability to use his muscles. 

Masters, watching over his shoulder, chuckled. There was a faintwink of one eye visible in the moonlight. 

"Kinda screwy, ain't he?" he said, jerking his head in Orkins'direction. 

"I don't know that I blame him, much, " Taylor said. "Look at theplant. "

Over the roof and the smokestacks floated the yellowish-red ballof fire. Another sphere was emerging from the hole in the roof. 

"What are they? A new kind of bomb?" Masters asked. 

"Norden's bomb never had a chance. Compared with what actuallyhappened in there, a bomb would have been a picnic. There's not aliving person left in the whole place. "

"Not a--hold on there, Cap! Do you know how many were working?"

"They're all dead, " Taylor said. Briefly he outlined what he hadseen in the plant. 

"Norden, the blankety-blank!" Masters swore. "Shooting's too goodfor him. "

"This isn't connected with the war--at least not directly. It'ssomething else, Masters. What, I don't know yet, but I'mbeginning to think that it's something the human race has nevermet before. Those spheres have killed a couple of hundred workerswith bolts of energy--"

"I'm no scientist, captain. "

"That's the best I can describe this force, Masters. I might callit heat-bolts, but it's probably partly electric and partly heat, not entirely either. You see, Masters, heat is energy, just likeelectricity and light. The energy these spheres shoot out is amixture of energies. We can imagine a spark of electricityshooting out and striking a man like a bolt of lightning, butit's hard to visualize heat behaving that way. "

"Say, mister, " the sentry interrupted, "my arms are gettingtired. "

"Okay, buddy, " Masters replied. "If I let you put your arms down, will you behave like a nice little boy?"

"I'll be a perfect angel, " the sentry said, lowering his arms. 

"You'll be an angel if you aren't, too, " Masters added. 

"What's your name, soldier?" Taylor asked the sentry. 

"Private Pember, sir. Company A, 110th infantry--"

"All right, Private Pember, you can carry this fellow. "

Taylor shifted the faintly stirring Norden to the shoulders ofthe soldier. 

"If it will make you feel any easier, Pember, " the captain wenton, "I can assure you that exigencies demanded your removal fromyour post. Your life was in danger and you could do no good byremaining there. In fact, there was nothing left to guard. Youcan do more good for your country by coming with us. "

"Yes, sir, " Pember said. "I guess you are right, captain. "

"You're a good soldier, Pember, " Taylor went on. "A situationlike this is unique. It demands use of individual initiative, rather than blind obedience to orders. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, " Pember said, adjusting the burden on his shoulder. 

 * * * * *

They reached the car. 

A dozen of the orange-red globes now floated above the plant. They were circling slowly, in widening arcs, toward the limits ofthe factory grounds. 

"Searching for human beings, " Taylor decided, watching them. 

Orkins clutched Taylor's coat tails. 

"They're coming out!" he cried. "There's hell to pay. "

Taylor took Orkins' arm and forced him down on the running boardof the car, where Norden already was coming out of his daze. 

"Keep quiet!" Taylor ordered. "They'll discover us. "

"They'll find us anyway!" Orkins said, frantic with fear. Hegroaned loudly. 

"Okay. He asked for it, " Masters said. 

There was a splatting sound as Masters' fist landed. Masters madea face over a distasteful duty done and turned to Pember:

"Put them both in the car. " He indicated Norden. "Here'shandcuffs. Lock them together. "

Taylor and Masters watched the circling spheres. Suddenly onedarted down. From its pulsating body shot a flash of flame. Ahuman scream rent the air. 

"It's the darnedest thing I ever saw, " Masters said with ashudder. "Those fireballs squirt heat-electricity out at a guyand roast him!"

"Yes, " Taylor said with a nod, "and that isn't all. Those spheresact as though they were alive. When that one went out above theopening of the tunnel, I thought I saw a pair of eyes. "

Masters studied the assertion, then spoke:

"Captain, I may look dumb, but I've been in the secret servicelong enough to be found out if I really am. I've a hunch youkilled that sphere. "

"I've thought of that, but how could I? I didn't touch him. "

"Maybe you don't have to touch 'em to kill 'em. We don't knowwhat they are, except they're different--"

"We don't know the real natures of anything, as far as thatgoes. Man's a mixture of chemicals, but that doesn't explain him. The spheres are a mixture of energies--we can observe that much, but it still doesn't explain them. Where are they from? Why didthey come here? What are their primary objectives?"

"Primary objectives? That's a military term, ain't it?"

"Partly military, and partly scientific. We know the secondaryobjective of the spheres. It's the same as man's or any otherliving creature. The spheres are alive and their objective is tokeep on living, but that isn't their primary motif. The primaryobjective is the difference between a good man and a bad one. Whatever is more important to a man than life itself is hisprimary objective. "

"Life's pretty important, " Masters said, solemnly. 

"Yes, but life isn't everything. Any man, no matter how yellow ormean he is, has some ideal he's willing to die for--or at leasthe's willing to risk dying to attain. Look at Norden. He's hard, cold-blooded and he doesn't think twice about putting a bomb in aplant to wipe out scores of lives. He dared me to kill him, rather than help us. His code as a spy is his primary objective. Look at Pember. He must have been frightened by the spheres, butwe had to force him to leave his post. We've shown him that hisduty now is with us--he realizes that the spheres are theimmediate enemy of his country and he'll do his best fightingthem. And you and I have ideals--we know each other too well tolist them. "

"I getcha so far, but what about Orkins?"

"The man's not afraid of death, but afraid of the unknown. Menlike him commit suicide rather than face reality. He wantssecurity. He's afraid of uncertainty. He lives in an unreal, imaginary world and when uncertainty, which is reality, intrudes, he is completely lost. "

"You make me feel sorry for the poor devil. "

"That's because you understand why he's funky. Primary objectivesmake men do what they do--but understanding Orkins doesn't solveour problem. "

"No. What are the spheres? Are they alive? If so, they must wantsomething. What do they want?"

"A conquest of the human race?" Taylor pondered. "Maybe. But itisn't likely. They can't gain much by conquering us. It wouldn'tdo man any good to stage a conquest of earthworms and swordfish, since neither could pay taxes. The spheres are as different fromman as man from an angle-worm. Are we a menace to the spheres?Apparently the only time we really menace them is when we crawlinto a hole like a rabbit--maybe there's something in that thatwill help us, but I don't think that's why they kill us. Are we anuisance? If so, why? Are we a food? There is energy in sunlightand chemicals in the human body. A creature of energy would feedon something like sunlight, not chemicals. His menu would beelectric wires, storage batteries--"

"Great Scott, Captain!" Masters interrupted. "Let's get away fromthis car. There's a battery in it--food for the spheres!"

Masters looked nervously up at the circling globes. Taylor, deepin thought, did not stir. Instead, he continued his speculation:

"Maybe they kill us for sport. "

He was thinking of small boys torturing frogs; of Roman emperorsat the circus; of sportsmen exterminating game; of the mobwatching the guillotine on the streets of Paris. It wasZarathustra who said that when gazing at tragedies, bull fightsand crucifixions, man has felt his happiest; and when maninvented hell, he made hell his heaven on earth. Couldn't this bea characteristic of all life? Couldn't the spheres be cruel andruthless, too?

Man, the mighty hunter, had become the prey. 

A sphere detached itself from the group and circled toward thecar. 

"I guess you're right, Masters, " Taylor decided as he watched thespheres. "We'd better move. "

CHAPTER IV

PREY

Masters unlocked the handcuffs of the two men in the car. Hedisposed of his short-wave set in a ditch, for it, too, hadbatteries which might attract the spheres. 

"Get out of the car, Orkins, " he ordered. 

"Watch him, Masters, " Taylor warned. "If he starts yelling, chokehim. "

"But not too hard, " Masters added. "If we're going to be rabbits, human values will change. Men who run into holes will live to eatturnips, those who bare their teeth won't. Orkins might be theforefather of a new race--a helluva race. Come on, Orkins. Getout. Hurry up, Father Abraham, or I'll drag you out. "

Orkins, cringing, emerged. 

Taylor took charge of Norden, who followed Orkins out of themachine. 

"I hate your guts, Norden, " he said. "You're a dirty, lousy ratand you ought to be shot. But after all, you're a man. You'vecourage and I admire it, as much as I hate the way you use it. Overseas there's a war between countries. Here there's anotherwar between humanity and a species of alien monsters. Whether welike it or not, we're allies. "

Norden's undershot jaw moved in a grin. 

"I know about the spheres, Captain, " Norden replied. "I overheardyour remarks to Mr. Masters. I've listened to Orkins' babble. "

"Will you help us?"

"I will bargain with you. "

"For your life? You know I can't do anything about that. I'll domy best--I'll speak a good word at your trial, try to save youfrom the firing squad, but I'm only a captain. That's all I cando. I haven't the power to do anything more. "

"Then I will not help. "

"Do you know what we're up against?"

"It looks pretty bad, doesn't it, Captain? But consider myhopeless case. "

"We have a chance, Norden. I know, more than any other living manperhaps, what those spheres are. I've seen them close at hand. Any hope of defeating them rests in us, using the meagerknowledge I've gained from contact. What happens to yourfatherland after the spheres finish on this side of the oceandepends on whether we conquer them, or they exterminate us. "

Norden stopped smiling. 

"When you put it that way, Captain, how could I refuse?" heasked. "I'll cooperate, not to help you, but to help thefatherland. "

The moonlight showed a gleam in Norden's deep-set eyes thatTaylor did not like. 

 * * * * *

They moved to a wooded spot in a nearby field. There was afeeling of semi-security as they settled down to rest under thetrees. Orkins' moans of fear were silenced by sleep. Norden satmotionless and Taylor could not tell whether he was asleep orawake. Pember removed his pack and used it for a pillow. Masterssnored peacefully on the grass. 

Only Taylor remained awake. A sphere floated overhead. Taylor, watching, saw the leaves of the tree stir restlessly as theinvisible feelers probed toward the earth. 

It was a reddish-orange orb, like the setting sun. Taylor oncemore got the impression of deeply embedded eyes glowering beneaththe shining surface. 

Were the eyes an illusion? Did the creatures really have eyes, like those of higher forms of animal life? Illusion or not, theeyes seemed to be there, intense, glaring and savage. Theyseemed to peer into the depths of Taylor's soul. 

Taylor sat motionless, almost positive he was under observation. He expected to feel the jerk of the electric shock of the feeler. Instead, the sphere drifted on. The eyes had not seen. 

A moment later flame streaked down from the sphere toward theparking lot. There was a roar as a gasoline tank exploded andflame shot skyward. 

"There goes the battery!" Taylor muttered. 

The others were roused by the explosion. Orkins sobbedhysterically. Masters, Pember and Norden watched the roaringflame. 

"We'll never escape them!" Orkins moaned. "They'll find us sooneror later. They can sense us. "

"They're not infallible, " Taylor said. "Remember I got away fromthem in the tunnel. " He turned knowingly toward the others. "Perhaps, if we dug a cave--"

"Sure!" said Masters. "It's a good idea. "

"Yes, sir!" Pember said with a nod. He pulled his trench toolfrom his pack and handed it to Orkins. "Maybe you'd like to dig, Mr. Orkins. It'll keep your mind off them things. "

Orkins seized the small shovel almost instantly. Taylorhalf-smiled. He had made the suggestion for Orkins' benefit. Thecave probably would never be finished. One deep enough to offer arefuge for five men could hardly be dug in a practical length oftime. 

Dawn was not far off and the spheres were drifting over the town. Already streets were filled with panic-stricken people. Theappearance of the strange balls of fire brought residents fromtheir homes in the middle of the night. Some fled in terror, believing a new type of raider had been invented by the enemy. Others stood watching. 

The spheres circled. Taylor watched them, realizing he could donothing to stop what would happen. There was no way to warn thesehelpless people that the spheres dealt death in a most sudden andviolent form. 

Something nagged at Taylor's mind. Why had the sphere gone outwhen he crept into the tunnel? What had caused it to die? Had thesphere been grounded, trying to reach him under the surface ofthe earth? Not likely, otherwise the creatures would not be ableto attack a man standing on the ground. The bolt, besides, wasnot electricity, like lightning, but heat, which is not groundedeasily. 

Where had the spheres come from? They surely were not of thisworld. On the basis of biological evolution they could not be thechildren of any life known to science. Had they evolved suddenly, by accident? Some scientists thought all life had grown byaccident; the right combination of circumstances had occurred anda chemical action had followed. Had the right combination for thespheres come about as the result of the war and the releasing ofuntold amounts of energy?

But even if life had begun on earth by accident, all other typeshad taken ages to develop. These spheres, thinking creatures, could not have evolved overnight. 

These seemingly invincible creatures could not have come fromthis world. Biological development comes through struggle andsurvival. An invincible creature does not have to worry about itsexistence--in fact, struggle was necessary to develop aninvincible being. These spheres must be from another world. Refugees, perhaps, from another, even more powerful race; ormaybe they were seeking a new world to conquer. 

One was circling overhead again. The leaves rustled. Taylorthought he heard a choked-off scream. Orkins. He gritted histeeth grimly. 

There was only one link of hope in Taylor's chain of thought. There must always be a check to every form of life. Terrestrialplagues of insects were followed suddenly by flocks of birds. Inwestern states an increase in the number of jackrabbits always isa forerunner of an increase in the number of coyotes. But thejackrabbits carried parasites fatal to the coyotes. If man was arabbit, then perhaps he harbored the check to these creatures offlame. 

What check would limit the whispering spheres? No germ, surely. What possible check was there except man's nature? What part ofman's nature? That was the answer Taylor wanted to know. 

His chain of thought was suddenly interrupted. 

Pember was coming on the run. The private saluted the captain. 

"Something's wrong, sir! Orkins is throwing a fit. "

"Can't you quiet him? The spheres are near. "

"Norden held his hand over Orkins' mouth, but it made Orkinsworse. I--I think it's serious, sir. "

Taylor followed Pember to the place where Orkins had beendigging. Norden was there, bending over Orkins, who lay on theground. Masters, standing behind Norden, shook his head. 

"He's dead, " Norden said, straightening. 

"He was scared to death by the spheres, " Masters said. "No oneharmed him, except to hold a hand over his mouth. He wasn'tchoked. He could have breathed through his nostrils--"

"Wait--"

Taylor held up his hand. Something clicked in his brain. 

Masters had said something about the spheres that fitted. He said, _Maybe you don't have to touch 'em to kill 'em. _ Figurativelyspeaking, Orkins hadn't been seriously touched either. 

The answer!

CHAPTER V

AN ESCAPE

Taylor ordered Pember and Norden to bury Orkins where he had beendigging, then the officer took Masters aside. 

"We've got a weapon, " Taylor announced. 

Masters grunted:

"Yeah? Indians had bows and arrows, too. Look at what happened tothem. "

"This is different. A new weapon. We can beat the spheres throughtheir emotions. "

"You mean fear, love, hate--all that stuff? How do you know thesespheres have emotions?"

"What is life but a series of sensations and emotions? If thespheres are alive, they must have something which correspond toemotions. The emotions may be different from ours, but they'll beemotions just the same. Orkins died of fear. Of course, you cancall it heart attack, but fear brought it on. That sphere thathad me cornered in the plant died, too. Do you see?"

"Was the sphere afraid of you or the tunnel?"

"Don't be flippant. The emotion wasn't fear. It might not havebeen any emotion we have, but an emotion that we'd expect acreature made of energy to have. An emotion of frustration! Ithad me cornered. I escaped. The energy sphere met resistance. When energy meets resistance it changes!"

"I don't get it. "

"Look, Masters. If the spheres are mixtures of energies, like weare mixtures of chemicals, death means extinction, just asbiological death means the extinction of the chemical action inour lives. Theologians say we don't die--that there's a changeand we go on existing in a spiritual life. Now let's take a peepat what science tells us about energy: Newton says energy isnever extinguished. When it ceases in one form, it changes toanother. What happens when you run electricity through aresistance coil?"

"It turns to heat, of course!"

"And when you enclose light where it can't escape?"

"It turns to heat!" Masters' face brightened. "And if you pen upheat, it turns to light. I learned that in school. Resistancecauses a change. But what do the spheres turn to?"

"Radio energy, Masters! Something absolutely harmless to man. These living, energy spheres will change to radio energy whenthey meet resistance. Frustration is resistance. Frustration isan emotion. An overwhelming emotion for the spheres! The sphereis frustrated--meets resistance--it disappears. In other words, it dies!"

 * * * * *

From the city came screams and cries. The spheres had attacked atlast. 

The men in the wooded field could see the darting balls sendingtheir searing bolts down on the heads of hapless victims. Thecrashing roar of the slaughter sounded like distant thunderstorms. 

Streets were jammed with panic-stricken human beings, fleeingfrom the unknown menace which slashed with bolts of heat energy. 

From the hole in the factory roof poured more spheres to join thedestruction. 

"They breed fast, the devils!" said Masters. 

A figure in khaki approached Taylor. It was Pember with bloodrunning from a cut on the side of his head. He saluted briskly. 

"Norden escaped, sir!" he blurted. "The dirty so-and-so crackedme over the head with the trench tool and got away!"

"I never thought he'd turn yellow, " Masters said. "Well, maybeit's a good thing he's gone. I never trusted him anyhow. "

"Which way did he go?" Taylor asked. 

"He went toward the factory, sir!" Pember replied. "He didn'tknock me out. Just a glancing blow. I was too dazed to stop him, but I saw him running toward the factory. "

"He'd rather take it that way than the firing squad, I guess, "Masters decided. 

"Masters, " Taylor said. "We overlooked something. Norden knowssomething we don't know. He was around Orkins most of the timeafter we left the plant. He listened to what Orkins said. Orkinswas in the factory when the spheres first appeared. I overlookedOrkins as having an answer to the problem. I thought I knew itall, but I was wrong! Orkins knew more than I know about thespheres. "

"Sure! I should have thought of it, too. How did Orkins get awaywhen everyone else got killed? I never asked that. I just took itfor granted that he got away by accident. Orkins might have knownenough to help Norden get the spheres on his side!"

Taylor already was running toward the factory. At his heels cameMasters and Pember. 

CHAPTER VI

INFERNO

They found no sign of Norden as they approached the factory. Several times they had to take cover in ditches and weeds aswhispering spheres floated overhead in search of prey. But theyescaped the electrical feelers which stirred the grass and brusharound them. 

Pember recovered his Garand rifle, which had been left near thesentry box during the retreat. 

Taylor led the group into the tunnel, with Masters following andPember bringing up the rear. 

The din of the slaughter in the town and the shrill whistle ofthe spheres was blotted out underground. They reached the farend, where the ladder led upward to the sphere-haunted factory. 

Taylor ascended. He could hear the shrill whistle of spheresdinning through the bleak building. He peeped into the forgeroom. The first flush of dawn was streaming through the windows. 

Norden was there, creeping along the barrels of some naval gunstoward the casting room. 

Norden halted at the door. He took a deep breath. From his lipscame a shrill, whispering whistle, a close imitation of the callof the spheres. 

An orange light was reflected from the room beyond. 

Still whistling, Norden stepped back a few paces. Through thedoor, floating toward the spy came an orange sphere. 

Taylor watched, expecting to see a bolt of heat lash out towardthe spy. But the sphere pulsed slowly, as if half pleased by thesound Norden made with his lips. 

So this is how Orkins escaped from the plant, Taylor thought. Orkins had imitated the creatures. They had spared him as a pet, like a man keeps a talking parrot. 

Norden stood very still, whistling while the sphere approached. Alittle tentacle of flame reached out toward him. 

Taylor expected to see Norden disappear in a flash of fire, butthe flame seemed to caress. A soft glow seemed to diffuse fromthe man's clothing and body. 

The sphere, too, seemed to change, growing softer and moremellow. It wasn't a tangible substance, but something ethereal, like the flicker of flame over an open hearth. Some tremendousforce seemed to hold the sphere in globular shape. 

Taylor could see the chimerical eyes peering through the surfaceof the sphere. He looked into the depths of those eyes and stillcould not be sure they were not an illusion. The intensity of thecreatures' intelligence seemed to shine from within, giving theimpression of staring, haunting eyes. They were not organs ofsight, but they were the windows of the mind. They were thesource of those tenuous flames that seemed to caress Norden. 

As Taylor looked at the eyes he felt plunged into the pathlessdepths of a vast, powerful brain. He was in contact with an infinityof intelligence far beyond limits of human comprehension. It was asurging intelligence of energy, abysmal, vaporous and limitless, transcending the dimensions, out-reaching boundless time, overshadowing matter. 

The eyes made Taylor forget he was a man. His own mind seemedmerged in the intellectual energy floating among the monstermachines of the forge room. Dimly, he was conscious that thispower was not directed at him, but at Norden who stood, stillwhistling, in front of the globe. 

The sphere was whistling, too, and the sound transformed itselfinto music of the stars. 

A discordant note rose in the song from Norden's imitation of thevoice. Norden was shrieking hatred for Taylor's nation, for allthose who opposed the self-designated supermen of the world. 

"My race must be preserved!"

The thought was Norden's, reflected to Taylor from the shorelessdepths of the energy brain. 

"All other peoples are evil, decadent, and are doomed to slaveryunder the man of the future. The future man will be a child of myrace. My race is superior. From it the _uberman_ will rise. Youmust help. Prey on these inferior peoples. They do not deserve tolive. "

The sphere's hues changed, reddish, then yellow, back to orange. 

"Is this Norden a man?" came the sphere's questioning thought. "Why doesn't he flee? Why doesn't he scream in terror? He'sdifferent from the others. Perhaps he is, as he claims, asuperior being. There was one, who called himself Orkins, whotalked with us. But when Orkins saw us slay he ran away interror. This Norden begs us to kill. "

"It is only through destruction of the weak that the strongestsurvive, " Norden answered. "Man is a cruel, but noble creature. Those who fail to kill are weak. "

The sphere's whistle grew thunderous. 

"You speak the philosophy of my world!" it said. 

From the depths of the sphere a rhythm of thought arose. Awhispered epic sang through the fibres of Taylor's mind, tellingof a world of energy, whipped into a storm of war. Spheres ofenergy, overwhelmed a weaker race made up of gaseous clouds ofatoms. 

In the midst of this titanic battle a huge disc appeared, carriedby the gaseous clouds. It was a concave lens, like some powerfuloptical instrument. But instead of focusing beams of light, itreflected, not only light but all forms of energy. As the spheresattacked they were shattered into spores and shot away throughspace. 

The whispered song told of the flight through space. Behind lay aworld, unlike the earth, which the spheres called home. It was agaseous, flaming world where matter and energy mingled as onesubstance. It was mottled with spots of cold gases which warredwith the whispering spheres. _It was the sun. _

The sun was power, yet a ceaseless struggle between energy andmatter. But neither energy nor matter was in control. Shouldmatter control, the sun would cool. If energy triumphed, the sunwould explode. It was war, like the wars of the earth, where onephilosophy was based on power, and the other seeking justice. Avictory for might would make a ruthless world. Justice wasworthless without injustice. The ideals were mutually dependent, yet always at war. 

"The cold gases tricked us, " whispered the sphere. "The weak haveno right to outwit the strong. The weak has no right to survive. Justice is an unnatural condition. Progress means nothing, excepton the road to glory. Your race, sharing our philosophy, canbuild another great energy reflector to send us back. We can aidour people in triumphing over these inferior beings who claimrights in a world of might. "

"We can built what you wish, " Norden promised. 

It was a promise like other promises Norden had made, Taylorthought. Norden once had promised to help Taylor fight thespheres. 

"I will call the others!"

The sphere floated upward toward the hole in the roof. It circledthe factory and moved away, toward the town, where a score ofother majestic, glowing globes floated like bubbles of fire. 

Norden watched, a smile cracking his jutting jaw. 

There was still a whispering sound. A single shrill hiss camefrom the casting room. 

"Why do you claim superiority, Norden?" Taylor spoke. 

The spy turned. For the first time he saw Taylor. 

"_Himmel_!"

Norden's eyes looked beyond Taylor and rested on Masters, who wasemerging from the tunnel. 

"Is it because you pose the doctrine of slavery and destruction?Is it because your cultural contributions are keyed to militaryconquest? Is it because of your lies and broken promises? Is itbecause you are more skillful in butchery? It is because you haverefined the art of terrorism?"

Taylor was advancing, half crouching, toward Norden. 

Norden's arm swished in a swift motion. He drew an automaticpistol from his pocket and leveled it at Taylor and Masters. 

"Because I am the stronger!" Norden said. 

Taylor had not expected Norden to be armed. He had overlooked thepossibility that the spy might have an extra weapon hidden in thetunnel. 

CHAPTER VII

HUMANITY'S ARMY

Taylor and Masters raised their arms. They were caught. 

"There is nothing you can do now to save yourself, or yourcountry, " Norden said. "Nothing. The spheres will destroy you andyour people. They will destroy every living creature who does notsurrender to my nation. Might will come into its own. "

"Are you sure the spheres are so invincible?" Taylor asked. "Remember, they were expelled from the sun. They must have beenchecked on the sun many times, otherwise they would havedestroyed the creatures who opposed them. "

"They are greater than anything on the earth, " Norden said. 

"The spheres are not for the earth. Our battles are not theirs. By betraying your world to these creatures, you are betraying thewhole human race. "

"This is not so!" Norden said, thickly. "I know how to handlethem. Orkins told me. He said he imitated their whistle and theyspared him, while they killed the others in the plant. He didn'trealize the value of his discovery. He was too much of a coward. "

Norden beckoned his prisoners to him and disarmed them. Hepointed to the door of the casting room. 

"Look!"

In the center of the room was a metal pot used for smallcastings. It was filled with molten, glowing metal. Beside it sata single orange sphere, spraying the pot with bolts of heat tokeep the contents warm, for the electrical energy that hadsupplied the melting pot had long-since been cut off. 

In the center of the pot an orange-red bubble was rising from themetal. A sphere was forming on the surface of the metal. 

"The rise of living energy!" Norden said. "Our own kind of lifemay have begun ages ago in much the same way. A spore from somefar off world may have drifted here through space, foundconditions just right, and taken root. Thus the spore of thesun--the whispering spheres--found a set of conditions fitted forgrowth. That metal pot is filled with seeds of the spheres. Oneby one they will hatch and grow into a force that will bringextinction to all men, except those of my race. The spheres donot want the world, they want the sun. We will see that they goback to the sun, after they have had their sport, killing theweaklings of your nation. "

Taylor shuddered as he looked at the growing sphere. This deep, intense intelligence, which found sport in killing human beings, already seemed to be pouring from the depths of its half-formedbody. 

"The fact that I am alive, proves my superiority, " Norden said. "Your people ran in terror at the sight of the spheres, but Ibargained with them. I made an alliance. "

"You and your superiority!" Masters growled. "If you really weresmart, you'd have counted us. Don't you know there are three ofus who aren't afraid of the spheres?"

As Masters spoke, the point of Pember's bayonet touched the smallof Norden's back. The soldier had crept from the tunnel, unobserved by Norden, who was engrossed in the mental torture ofhis prisoners. 

With a cry of rage Norden whirled and fired. 

But Taylor had expected such a move. Even as Norden swung around, the officer sprang, knocking the spy off his feet and spoilinghis aim. 

A warning whistle came from the sphere heating the cauldron. 

"Back! Out of the doorway!" Taylor shouted, grappling withNorden. "I'll take care of him!"

Pember obeyed orders. He jumped back, dragging Masters with him. 

Taylor wrenched the gun from Norden's hand, just as the spylanded a jarring blow to the body. Taylor staggered, lost hisbalance and dropped the gun. 

Norden leaped forward to retrieve the weapon, but Taylor blockedthe move. He drove Norden back with a hard right. The two menclosed in and stood toe to toe, trading blows. 

The screaming of the sphere grew louder. The creature by themetal pot seemed to be calling the others over the town. Thehalf-formed sphere in the melting pot joined and the entirebuilding rang with the shrill screams. 

Taylor was slowly driving Norden back toward the door of thecasting room. A tentacle of flame reached out from the monster bythe metal pot, but it only circled the men. Apparently it wasafraid to strike, for fear of destroying friend as well as enemy. 

Norden's knee came up. Taylor dodged in time to avoid a cripplingblow, but the leg caught him on the thigh, sending him back andupsetting him on the floor. 

With a cry of triumph, Norden dived toward his foe. But Taylorrolled on his back, doubled his legs and met the hurtling bodywith a two-footed kick. 

Norden grunted with pain. He staggered back, straight toward thesphere by the metal pot. 

A whistled warning had no effect. The momentum carried Nordencrashing into the orange nucleus of energy. There was a blindingflash. 

A small pile of glowing ashes appeared on the floor. 

The whistle of the sphere stopped. It pulsed once. A feeble rayof heat lashed out toward Taylor, but the bolt halted in mid-air. 

A _plop_ cracked in Taylor's ear. The sphere disappeared like abursting soap bubble. 

"Cap! Are you all right!"

Masters appeared in the doorway behind Taylor. 

"Gosh!" His eyes settled on the pile of ashes, the remains ofNorden. He turned to Taylor. "Are you all right, Cap?"

Taylor nodded. 

"Where's the sphere?" asked Masters. 

"He died of frustration--or sorrow--over having killed the wrongman, " Taylor said grimly. Taylor indicated the half-formedmonster in the pot. "Now we've got to get rid of that one and allthe unhatched spores. "

"If that metal pot hatches 'em, we will, " said Masters. "We'lldump the metal. "

The undeveloped sphere made no move to launch a deadly bolttoward the men. Apparently at this stage of incubation thespheres were harmless. 

"Pember!"

"Yes, sir!" the soldier appeared in the doorway, carrying hisbayonetted gun. 

"Keep a lookout for other spheres. Masters and I are going todump this metal pot. "

"Yes, sir!"

An electric motor ordinarily dumped the pot into molds, but thismotor, like everything else electrical in the plant, now was outof commission. Masters, however, found a block and tackle andrigged it to a beam above the pot. The hook he attached to thebottom of the pot. 

"Grab hold, Cap!" he said, taking the end of the rope. 

Taylor loosened his tunic and seized the rope. 

"Heave!" Masters chanted. 

The two men strained. Slowly the pot tilted. 

Pember, standing at a window, called out over his shoulder:

"They're coming back!"

Above the creak of the pulleys rose the murmuring whisper of thespheres. 

"Heave!" Both men joined in the rhythmic call, putting theirweight on the rope. The pot tilted more. 

The half-formed sphere whistled loudly and the spheres circlingover the plant answered. 

"Hurry!" Pember urged. 

"Heave!" chorused the men on the ropes. The pulleys creaked. 

The room suddenly blazed with a brilliant orange glow as amaddened sphere floated through the hole in the roof. It hung inthe air, pulsating, scanning what was taking place below. 

"Heave!" cried the two men. The pot was at an angle. The hatchingsphere screamed to the globe above. 

The floating sphere shrieked. Flame danced over its surface. 

"It--It's got--eyes!" Masters said, spacing his words with tugson the ropes. 

"Don't look!" Taylor warned. "Heave!"

Pember faced the sphere. He patted his Garand. 

"Give 'im hell, boy!"

He swung the rifle to his shoulder and fired. The bullet whinedoff the sphere as if it were steel. Pember jerked his head indespair. Angrily he fired again. His tin hat slid to one side ofhis head at a rakish angle. 

"You spawn of hell!" he cried. 

Pember lowered his gun. The sphere pulsed ominously. Then thedoughboy charged. 

Beneath the brim of his helmet Pember's jaws were set. Hishalf-closed eyes, glazed by the dazzling light from the sphere, were two slits of savage determination. 

There was something glorious in that charge. It was a soldiergoing into battle against hopeless odds. And it was more. Thearmy of human civilisation at that moment consisted of one buckprivate, pitting everything he had against something that evenscience could not analyze. 

The sudden attack seemed to surprise the sphere. It bounded back, moving swiftly out of the way of the advancing one-man army. 

Pember roared. There were no words in what he shouted. It wasjust a cry, the battle cry of humanity. 

"Heave!" chorused Taylor and Masters. 

They too had a battle cry. Every man was doing his best and woulddie doing it, if necessary. 

There was a crack and a hiss. A flicker of flame flashed over thecharging soldier. An odor of charred human flesh filled the room. 

Then came a new sound, the hissing splash of spilled metal. 

The pot was dumped. 

Taylor dropped the rope and faced the sphere. He saw the charredpile of ashes beside the inhuman creature. Nearby was a fusedtube of metal, all that was left of Pember's rifle. 

"All right, you devil!" shouted Taylor. "Strike and be damned!There's one thing you can't fix, and that's the metal pot. Yourspores are dead. Your mistake was in having a metal pot for amother!"

Taylor sensed understanding in the sphere. Those eyes that werenot eyes, but windows of the mind, seemed to fade. Flame lickedout again from the monster, but it did not launch toward Taylor. Nor was Masters the target. 

Instead, the flame reached toward the fading yellow hemisphereand the cooling pool of metal on the floor. There lay the hopesof the species on this planet, wrecked with a block and tackle. 

_Plop_!

The hemisphere exploded like a bubble. 

_Plop_!

The mourning sphere disappeared. 

_Plop. Plop. Plop. _

Three more spheres appeared in the opening in the roof andvanished. 

Masters tugged on Taylor's sleeve. 

"Come on! We've got a chance, if we can get to the tunnel!"

Taylor shook his head. 

"No need. We're safe now. If they've changed to radio energy, thebig broadcast is on. "

The sky was filled with exploding spheres as the whispers sobbedthe tale of the disaster. A score of the energy monsters, bredfrom the metal pot overnight, burst in the rays of the risingsun. Energy, meeting resistance, was changing to something else. The war of energy and matter might continue on the molten surfaceof the sun, but on earth there would be only the wars of ideals. 

 * * * * *