Invader from Infinity

By GEORGE WHITTINGTON

"Destroy the Invader," the orders read—and Captain McPartland's expendable spacer flashed into suicidal battle.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Winter 1944. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Commander Jon McPartland stared with hard blue eyes into his view screen. He watched a tiny dot in one corner grow slowly, and heard the unnecessary words of his Lieutenant-Commander, Clemens:

"Observation Officer reports enemy craft sighted, Sir."

"Very good," acknowledged McPartland. "Have Lieutenant Parek compute their speed and course."

Clemens spoke softly into the intra-ship phone, and Commander Jon McPartland returned momentarily to his thoughts. His square jaw was set as though cast in bronze, with hard muscles machined into its contour.

Here was the enemy—the unknown, the alien, who spoke only with destruction! This was the ship that had destroyed System patrols; later a full battle fleet of the Solar System's most powerful space fighters. The interceptors had been unable to establish communication of any sort; and they were blasted into fiery chunks of space debris before getting close enough to use their own guns.

"Well, here they are, Clemens," the Commander said aloud, "and getting uncomfortably close to the System. It looks like they're some other System's dominant intelligence, and we've got planets they want."

"Yes, sir," said the other, "and here we are, with the fastest, most heavily armed space fighter ever built—in the System."

"In the Universe," snapped McPartland. His full lips curved into a grim smile. "Under sealed orders which every citizen from Pluto to Mercury knows are: 'Destroy this ship—or it conquers our System.'"

Lieutenant-Commander Clemens bent to his intra-phone, turned to relay. "Navigation Officer reports enemy ship has altered course to head on. Speed fifty Spatial units."

"Thank you," McPartland stepped to the phone himself.

"This is it, men. You know what it means!" His hands flicked levers swiftly, as he spoke to component units individually:

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