Empty Planet

When they returned to the shuttle, they discussed the situation. Vulstein shook his head, "I don't understand it. I pinpointed the alien signal to this precise spot. Yet, there's nothing here."

"Maybe the aliens are ghosts," suggested Ryan sarcastically.

"Even if they were, certainly their equipment wouldn't be ghostly," remarked Odysseus.

"I have an idea, Captain," said Vulstein. "Let me take my signal detection gear on the flyer and see if the radio waves are emanating from other locations."

"Go ahead. We've nothing to lose except a few hours," replied Odysseus . Vulstein and a pilot climbed aboard the two-seater jet mounted atop the shuttle and took off. They returned five hours later. Vulstein reported that the strong alien signal could only have come from the area where they had landed the shuttle. "I detected weak radiation in the radio range from several places, but the signals were too weak to determine whether they were produced by intelligent beings or by some natural phenomenon."

Ryan said, "Okay. Now that Commander Vulstein is back from his round the world tour, let's finish up here and return to the ship."

Odysseus chuckled. "What's the matter, Doc? Aren't you enjoying the scenery?"

"It's downright depressing -- no plants, not even a blade of grass, no animals, not even insects -- nothing but rocks and fine sand. I thought you brought me down here to determine why life never evolved beyond the bacteria stage. Well, I haven't a clue. Perhaps early conditions on this planet prevented it. According to what I've read, the earth was quite a bit different at the time that life developed than it is now. But, of course, medical science is my real bailiwick, not biological evolution or planetology. You should be getting your answers from Vulstein, not me."

Vulstein did not join the conversation since he was mesmerized by the readings on his hand-held all-purpose detector that all Affiliation science officers carried.

Odysseus turned to him. "Well Vulstein, have you determined the origin of that signal?"

"No, but this is interesting. There's a large iron ore deposit below our feet."

"I'll mark it on the map. The metal exploiting team will want to know about it. But what about that transmitter?"

"I've got a definite fix on it."

Ryan said, "It's about time. Where is it?"

"Be patient, Lieutenant. Captain, radio the ship."

Although Odysseus raised his eyebrows at being given orders from a subordinate, he removed his comm unit from his shirt, sticking himself with the pin that held it on. "Ouch. Curses, I hate these stickpin comm units. What'll I tell them?"

"Anything. I have a theory I want to try."

Odysseus spoke into the comm unit. "Calling the Capitalist. This is Captain Odysseus. Over." Instead of one of the Capitalist's crew answering, the alien transmission that they had heard on the ship came over the speaker. Odysseus turned to Vulstein. "I can't raise them. The alien signal is interfering."

"Just as I thought. The alien transmitter is right here, but we can't see it."

Ryan snorted. "You're nuts. That's impossible."

Odysseus said, "No, he may be right. That's why the natives of this planet weren't detected by the survey ship. They must live underground. Right, Vulstein?"

"Wrong. The iron deposits would make communication from below the surface impossible."

Ryan grinned impishly. "Ah ha! For once in your life, Vulstein, you're baffled."

Odysseus remarked, "Well? Has our always-right science officer failed us?"

Although Vulstein knew that this good-natured kidding was because of his propensity to exaggerate his own knowledge and intelligence, he raised his chin with disdain. It was difficult to kid with the pompous Vulstein. "I never laid claim to infallibility. My instruments seem to be in conflict with reality, which is illogical. Therefore logic dictates that something untoward is going on. I have a theory."

Odysseus tried to hide his grin. "And that is?"

"The aliens are right here where we are standing, but invisible. You see, they ..." Before Vulstein could finish the sentence, he started hopping around like a madman scratching himself in various spots until he finally tripped and fell, hitting his head on a rock.

Ryan knelt down to examine him. "What happened, Vul? Can you speak? Are you in pain?"

Vulstein opened his eyes, slowly raised one hand to draw Ryan's face down near his lips, whispered into his ear and lapsed into unconsciousness.

"What's the matter with him?" Odysseus asked, a concerned look on his face.

"He's probably got a concussion for one thing. But I'm not sure what all these tiny welts are on his skin. We'll have to take him back to the Capitalist."

Odysseus looked pained. "I'm afraid we can't do that. Lieutenant Zack tells me that there's a problem with the shuttle. I'd try to contact the Capitalist and have them send another shuttle, but that damned alien signal is interfering. Isn't there anything we can do for him here?"

"Not much. I'm not sure what's wrong. Let's put him in the shuttle and make him comfortable."

After Ryan and a subordinate strapped Vulstein into an acceleration couch, Ryan performed what tests he could on the ill man. Shaking his head, he said, "He's got some kind of strange rash. I'll try an all-purpose skin cream." He rubbed the skin cream unto various parts of Vulstein's body, any place he could reach without actually removing his clothing. He turned to Odysseus. "It could be an alien microbe or virus. I'm afraid I'll have to quarantine us to the planet until we discover the exact nature of the rash. Shit, I screwed up. We should've worn antibiological suits. We knew that there was microbiotic life here."

"My fault as well. As Captain, I'm the one responsible to see that standard procedures are followed. But, no sense crying over spilled milk. What did he whisper to you just before he passed out?"

"Something meaningless. He said, 'I'm under attack.'"

High above them, the starship Capitalist was in a geocentric orbit. Lieutenant JG Lily White, the communication officer, made herself comfortable in the captain's chair. She felt proud to be chosen to be in command while the captain was on an away mission, women were seldom given such authority. The view screen showed the barren area below where the shuttle had landed. She leaned over to Lieutenant Wong Way, the vessel's navigator. "The captain told me that the planet is a great mystery."

"What makes it such a mystery, Lieutenant?" Although Way outranked White, he did not dare address her by her name, which she hated because she had been teased about her fair skin and name as a child.

"The preliminary survey probe reported A-1 environmental conditions for life. You would expect the place to be teeming with plants and animals. Yet, it detected no living thing larger than a dust mite." The planet that filled the view screen was very earth-like, with large land masses surrounded by great blue oceans with billowing white clouds above it.

"That should make President Makido of the Affiliation happy -- a virgin planet ripe for exploitation. We should make a bundle. All the colonization preparation team will have to do is fertilize the soil, plant vegetation and import animals. So our job is to confirm the preliminary report. But if only microscopic life exists, what is that strange signal?"

"We can only assume that an alien race we know nothing about has beat us here. Do you want to see what they look like? I'll switch it to the main viewing screen"

The view of the planet was replaced by the head of an alien creature that resembled a human superficially in that it had two eyes and a mouth. Otherwise it was noseless and earless. It had a lizard-like crest sticking through an ornate helmet, similar to the ones used by the ancient Romans and Greeks. A language-like gibberish emanated from the image.

Way quipped, "What d'ya know, a talking lizard. Have you any idea what it's saying?"

"Nope. That nonsense had been continuous for over ten hours, and our computers haven't been able to break down the alien's language."

Just then, Chief Engineer Pat O'Douley stepped onto the bridge. "Lieutenant, me last translation was close, begorrah. Give it a few more minutes."

"Okay Irish-guy, keep at it."

After ten seconds the audio changed from gibberish to Affiliation Standard.

The alien on the screen was saying, "Warning. Outworlders, you are not authorized to orbit Brkzzrt. You must depart at once. If you are not gone in one rotation of our planet, our space fleet will destroy you." The message kept repeating.

"One rotation? That's less than twenty hours."

White said, "We don't even have that long. They probably meant twenty hours from the time they initiated the message. We must do something immediately. But I should have Captain Odysseus' blessings before I take any drastic action. Have you been able to contact the away team, Way?"

"No Ma'am. The alien signal keeps interfering."

White shook her head in dismay. "We're between a monolith and soft place." Way snickered at her misquotation of an ancient adage. "I would not like to leave the landing party stranded on the planet. But we'd be sitting ducks if I stayed in this orbit while we're being attacked."

Trikos, whose message had been recorded and broadcast continuously to the Capitalist, strode down a long rocky corridor. He wore a shiny silver uniform and jackboots with wings on them, the uniform of the elite space corps, which he commanded. He headed toward double doors guarded by two soldiers bearing rifle-like weapons. As he neared, the guards saluted and opened the door to a large throne room. On a dais at the far end, Protos, an old wrinkled alien in robes and a crown, sat upon a throne. Trikos halted before him, bowed his head and saluted by thumping his fist against his chest. "Hail Mighty Ruler of All, Commander of the Sun, Emperor of ..."

The monarch held up a trembling hand. "Enough. No need to be formal, Trikos. I expect good advice from the commander of my armed forces, not ceremony."

Trikos face stiffened. His disapproval of this informality only thinly disguised. "Very well. I'm your servant, mighty Protos."

"What news have you concerning the outworld spaceship? Is it really as vast as the strange reports I've been getting say?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. It's a truly gigantic machine. But I'm sure that our space fleet can handle it."

"Have the outworlders disregarded our warnings?"

"Completely. They've landed a smaller ship."

"Have you contacted their landing party?"

"I sent a division of soldiers to destroy them."

"Why destroy them? Perhaps if we captured them and kept them prisoner, we could learn something of their technology."

"Impossible. They must be destroyed, or they will destroy us. Haven't you been told what sort of creatures they are?"

Protos shrugged. "Yes. But the reports must've been exaggerated. It's inconceivable that such monsters as were described to me could exist."

"The reports you saw were conservative if anything. The one we attacked destroyed fifty percent of Grop City hopping around without even being aware that it existed. They are inconceivable creatures and must annihilated."

"Half of Grop City? That's our largest city outside of the capital. Were there many causalities?"

"It's an inconceivable tragedy. The final casualty count will be in the multiple thousands."

"I agree. It's either them or us. A shame though. Our scientists would have a field day studying such strange creatures."

Trikos sniffed with the disdain of the warrior class regarding the interests of the scientist class. "They will have plenty to do examining their inconceivable corpses."

"But won't they be difficult to kill."

Trikos took out his ceremonial dagger and examined the intricate carvings on the hilt. He grinned evilly. "Don't worry, Great One. The very thing that makes them so inconceivably fearsome is also their weakness."

Ryan examined the shuttle pilot, Lieutenant Zack, who he had just given a sedative after the man went into a scratching fit. "Zack's symptoms are the same as Vulstein's. If I only had access to my instruments aboard the Prince Henry, I might be able to isolate this rash and combat it. It is really strange. The spots just pop out several at a time as though someone was painting them on or firing tiny itch makers at them."

"Is it contagious?" asked Odysseus, backing away from the stricken man.

"I'm not positive. Nevertheless, we must take every precaution. Also, I'm not sure that the skin cream I'm using on them really works. You know how rashes are, you try this compound and that one until you find one that actually relieves the itching."

"Then we can't return to the Capitalist until you know for sure that it is not contagious."

"Definitely. Is there any way we can contact the ship though and let them know what's going on. They could send down the equipment I need."

"Sorry. Starman Jones told me not five minutes ago that the alien signal is still blocking all communication. Soon or later, Lily will send down a rescue party."

"And they'll be in the same fix as we are. Of course, we won't care; we'll all have torn our skins off scratching by that time."

An hour later, the ill men were still alive, but in a coma from all the sedatives Ryan had been giving them. A shuttle appeared in the sky and landed. When Chief Petty Officer O'Douley emerged from it, Ryan hollered at him, "Stop, Irish-guy. Stay where you are. Don't come near us."

"What? I've got to talk to Captain Odysseus, sir. It's terribly important."

When he started down the ladder ignoring Ryan's warnings, Odysseus yelled at him, "Go back into the shuttle immediately, Irish-guy. That's an order."

At the bottom of the ladder, O'Douley turned but made no move toward them. "What the fork is going on, begorrah?"

Ryan replied, "The shuttle pilot and Vulstein have contracted an alien rash. We may all be infected. Go back into the shuttle before you get the rash too. It's worse than jock itch."

"But you must return to the Capitalist immediately. Can't you treat the sick men better there?"

"Not until I find out more about their illness. The whole crew could be infected if we go up there."

"But we translated the forking alien signal. It was a warning, begorrah. They're going to send spacecraft to destroy the Capitalist unless we leave this star system."

"Tell Lieutenant White to raise our energy shields. If she believes the attacking force is too strong, she is to leave orbit, take evasive action and leave the system at Burp Five."

"We can't just abandon you."

"You may have to. The Affiliation will send a rescue party. Bring down enough supplies to keep us going for several years and the equipment that Ryan needs to diagnose the rash. If the alien disease doesn't kill us, we should survive until a rescue party arrives."

Ryan stared at Odysseus. "But a rescue ship would take years to get here. We'll be stuck in this hellhole for years."

"Yes, it's a terrible sacrifice we're making, but we've no choice. Tell Irish-guy what you need in the way of medical equipment." He turned to O'Douley. "And Irish-guy, decontaminate yourself, the shuttle inside and out, and whoever else is aboard the moment you dock in the shuttle bay. Use the same procedure as if you arrived from a plague planet."

After Ryan shouted out his list, O'Douley saluted and returned to his shuttle. Nobody noticed that he was swatting at his neck as though a mosquito had landed on it. Moments later the shuttle's rockets churned up dirt and sand and flew into the sky. Ryan watched until its vapor trail was all but gone. He turned to Odysseus. "Six years on this godforsaken planet. Condemned criminals have it better."

After O'Douley sent down a drone with the requested medical equipment and enough supplies to keep the men on the planet alive for several years, he reported to the bridge. White was issuing orders from the captain's chair. "All hands to battle stations. Raise shields. Clinker, armaments status."

"Armed and tracking all movement for a thousand klicks, Ma'am. I can down any enemy ship the moment it appears." Petty Officer Clinker was the gunnery mate, a position usually considered cushy as the exploration team seldom met armed foes except for a few renegades or an aggressive pirate or two. This made him a bit sour. He was a fierce alien warrior from the planet Klang whose inhabitants regarded war as their recreation. "We're ready for them. To die in battle is a great privilege." This was the first time anyone aboard the Capitalist had seen him smile.

White turned to the navigation officer. "Anything on your sensors yet, Way?"

"Just micrometeorites."

"I wonder whether the aliens were bluffing. Their deadline expired hours ago."

Suddenly a loud siren-like alarm went off, and a red light flashed on and off several times, indicating they were under attack. White shouted, "Red alert." In addition, the spaceship rocked back and forth causing the crew to slide around. The interior lights began flashing on and off.

"Tiny energy particles striking our shields," cried Way, "but nothing shows up visually or on by our sensors. Where in blazes is it coming from?"

"Damage report." ordered White. Before she received a reply, she raised her hand to her head and began to scratch vigorously, "What the ... I think I'm getting a yeast infection," and rolled on the floor scratching at every part of her body.

On the planet, those crew members who were not scratching themselves silly used robots to construct a temporary building. In a portion divided off as Ryan's laboratory, Ryan studied a skin scraping through a microscope. Meanwhile, Odysseus paced back and forth. "I wish I knew what was going on in space," he said. He listened to his communicator for a moment. "Hey Doc, the alien transmission has stopped. Maybe I can contact the Capitalist."

"That probably means that the battle has started." He returned to his microscope. "Say Jim, since you can rouse the ship, I could use a couple of more items."

Odysseus spoke into the communicator. "Captain Odysseus to the Capitalist. Come in Lily White." He repeated this several times without receiving a reply, stared at the communicator for a moment and put it away. "No answer. White must've had to leave the system. Looks like we're stranded."

Ryan was too absorbed in the microscope to hear the bad news. He replied, "Um, guess so." He paused for a moment. "Holy smokes! Am I seeing things?" He looked up from the instrument and stared at Odysseus with a look of wonder on his face. "Jim, look at this."

"What's up?"

"Look for yourself. I think we've solved the mystery of this planet."

Odysseus peered into the microscope. "Unbelievable. So that's why we couldn't locate their transmitter." Through the lens, he saw several aliens with laser rifles shooting holes in the bit of skin.

Ryan said, "That's what the rash is, not a germ or a fungus, but tiny aliens. No wonder it struck so suddenly and only some people and not others. They attacked like an army, not like fungi."

"And that's why we couldn't locate them. They were here all the time, but too small to see. That's what Vulstein meant when he told us he was being attacked."

"Now it'll be a simple matter of finding a chemical agent that's toxic to these creatures and not humans."

"Sorry, I can't let you do that."

"What?? Why? It's the way I would treat any rash."

"But don't you see. These creatures are not a disease, they're intelligent humanoids, even though they are tiny. We've outlawed biological and chemical warfare centuries ago."

"Are you mad? Vulstein and the other men are ill. They could die. We're over a thousand lightyears away from Earth. These creatures are making war on us. You must make a field decision that may be counter to the First Directive, but its necessary." Surreptitiously, Ryan picked up a blunt metal instrument and stepped around until he stood directly in back of Odysseus.

"Nonetheless, you must find another way. That's an order."

"Look Jim, I understand. You've got to consider your position as captain of the Capitalist." He raised the heavy rod. "But you don't have to make the decision. Just walk away for a while. The whole thing will be on my shoulders."

"That wouldn't make the crime any less mine."

Ryan raised the blunt instrument. Before he could actually strike, the captain's communicator buzzed. Odysseus moved out of the way while answering the summons, not noticing that Ryan had just swatted empty air behind him. He paced up and down while listening. After a few minutes, he clicked off and turned to Ryan. "We've got to return to the Capitalist. The aliens have boarded her."

As swiftly as possible they loaded the sick men on to the shuttle and took off, leaving the temporary building, Ryan's equipment and their supplies behind.

Protos and Trikos had set up an army encampment among the sand near the area where the shuttle from the Capitalist had landed. To the aliens, the grains of sand were huge boulders. Several tents were nestled between them. Alien soldiers hurried between tents, carrying laser rifles and other military equipment. A guard stood at attention at the entrance to the command tent, which was bare except for a lamp and a table overflowing with maps and charts. Garbed in armored battle dress, Protos and Trikos gestured over the maps.

Protos said, "Well Trikos, where are your terrible space monsters."

Trikos chuckled. "Begging your pardon, Great One, but they are too large to see all at once. One of the outworlders is as vast as the land of Boros. Besides, I believe their landing party has returned to their starship."

"And I let you talk me into making war on such, such -- giants is hardly an adequate word. We should sue for peace before it is too late. I understand that one of their shuttles destroyed half of the Province of Nega when it took off."

"Don't be ridiculous. We're winning. They're few in number against our millions, and we have the advantage of being invisible to them. We immobilized three of the six who landed here."

"That's good. But what about our space fleet? Have they destroyed the outworld ship?"

"I'm waiting word form Spacefleet Commander Hortos. The outcome of that battle is of no significance, however."

"I don't understand. How else can we drive the invaders from our skies?"

"By killing every outworlder on the ship. You see, our crack Airborne Division is aboard their dreadnought."

"How was that accomplished?"

"A bit of luck. The troopers parachuted onto an outworlder who came down to resupply the others. We had them hold up their attack on him until the monster was back on board the starship. The outworlders who landed are bringing additional thousands of our soldiers to their space vessel."

"And what happens once the outworlders are all dead? How can our people escape from their monstrous ship?"

"Possibly they won't. But isn't it worth it to sacrifice a few thousand soldier's lives to rid ourselves of the alien monsters forever especially after the war crimes they've committed?"

Protos pounded his fist on the table. "You're right. We must pursue this war with all vigor. We'll fight to the last man. However, we should give the giants a chance to surrender. Have you contacted them and demanded that they cease all hostilities?" He took a deep breath.

"It would be madness, Great One. Suppose they did surrender. They would simply return from their home planet with more of their ilk."

"Nonetheless, I would like to speak to them."

As the landing party exited the Capitalist's docking bay, they were greeted by a breathless and harried Way. He was dancing around as though he had ants in his pants. "Thank God you're here, Doc." Before he could say more, he collapsed at their feet and began rolling around on the deck. Ryan knelt down to examine him. "He's got the alien rash."

Odysseus cried, "The aliens must've gotten aboard through O'Douley or one of his men."

They hurried to the bridge. When they arrived, the entire bridge crew were either dancing around or rolling on the floor.

Ryan cried, "This is horrible. They're all suffering from that terrible itch." He grabbed the captain by the front of his uniform. "Jim, you've got to let me find a chemical spray before it's too late."

Odysseus held his head in his hands and moaned. "You're right. I'm afraid that this situation requires desperate measures. Mix up your killer chemical."

After Ryan left, Odysseus went to the comm officer's position to check for an incoming signals. A strong one came from the planet's surface. He flipped the switch to visual, turned on the translator and stared at the view screen. The head of Protos appeared. "I wish to speak to the commander of the outworlder vessel."

"Speaking. I am Captain Odysseus of the Capitalist."

"Captain, you and your crew are doomed. Nothing can save you. We Booglanders have won our war against you despite your unimaginable size. Yet, we are merciful. We will allow you to live if you surrender unconditionally."

"Will we be allowed to return to our home planet?"

"Absolutely not. In a few years you would be back with others of your kind to destroy us."

"What are your terms? What do you want us to do?"

Protos' forked tongue lashed out and licked his thin lips. "You must leave your spaceship. You will be assigned an area on the surface of our world where you must stay until you all die."

"But we cannot live on your planet. After our supplies run out, we'd starve."

"That's your problem. Those are my terms. Do you accept?"

"You're being unreasonable. We'd just be putting off our deaths for a few months at the most. Let us return to our home planet with a solemn pledge that no human will ever return to this system. I am authorized by my government to make such an agreement."

"Bah. Your promises are worthless. Accept or die."

Protos picked up a microphone. "Attention. Move Group U to Sector A5 immediately." He put the microphone down and glared at Odysseus. "I have just given the order to attack you personally, Captain."

"You're making a mistake. My superiors will send others to investigate our disappearance. I ... oh." He faltered, sweat dripping from his brow. It was as though he were receiving the bites of hundreds of tiny insects. Every part of his body began to itch like crazy. He had to hold onto the edge of the console to keep from going mad.

Trikos said, "You have only moments before you become completely helpless. Surrender now, and I'll call off the attack."

Just then Ryan entered carrying an insect sprayer which he sprayed all around the bridge.

Protos suddenly he glared at someone not visible on the view screen. "What? Our fiercest airborne troops defeated by chemical weapons. These giants are more horrible than we expected, using such weapons of mass destruction. Trikos, call off your attack on the human. Fall back to your former positions." He replaced the microphone and directed his attention to Odysseus, who was applying a new skin balm that Ryan had handed him. "Outworld starship commander, are you all right?"

Odysseus returned to the captain's seat and nodded his head. "I'm okay now."

"Good. I, Protos, Emperor of Boogland have called off the attack. We would like a cease fire to negotiate."

Odysseus turned to Ryan. "Stop spraying. The aliens want a cease fire."

Ryan shook his head. "I don't know Jim. Can we trust them? They started this war."

"Are you sure about that? Isn't it possible that we could have damaged them simply by landing on their planet?" He turned to speak to the alien emperor. "I see. I'm Captain James Odysseus, commander of this vessel. We are here on a peaceful mission, but have been under attack by your armed forces. What is your position regarding the war you've waging against us?"

"I favor a cease fire and a negotiated peace. However, as a prerequisite to the cessation of hostilities, you must agree to return my subjects to the planet. Also, if you are authorized to speak for your government, the meetings must take place via telecommunications with all humans aboard your ship."

"I am authorized to deal with foreign governments up to a certain point. And I heartily agree to send your people back to the planet and keep mine in space. But in order for me to put your subjects aboard a shuttle to bring them to the surface, they must all gather in one location. I also agree that because of the differences in our sizes, it is best that we hold our negotiations via telecom."

"Very well, I will order my armies to abandon their current positions and come together in one location of which I will give you coordinates after we setup a defense perimeter in case of duplicity on your part. But do not try any trickery. If a single Booglander is harmed, hostilities will be resumed immediately."

Sometime later, Odysseus handed a test tube to Vulstein, who was now quite recovered. He placed it aboard an unmanned probe which was launched a few minutes later.

As Ryan, Odysseus and Vulstein gazed at the view screen as the probe dove toward the planet, Ryan remarked, "I still find it hard to imagine thinking beings so tiny that an army of them fits into a test tube."

Vulstein replied, "Size is merely relative. Perhaps someday we'll run into planets with beings so large that we'll be microscopic to them."

Lily White looked up from the comm console. "If these beings were so small, who was attacking us?"

"Their space fleet."

"A space fleet? I thought they were micrometeorites."

"You know something else. This Boogland is barely a square mile in size. It would hardly make a good ranch. The planet's land area is millions of square miles. Earth is going to have to send a lot of ambassadors to do business with these people."

This got a laugh. The entire crew was happy to be returning home, even though strictly speaking their mission was a failure, since they did not find a planet that could be colonized by humans.

What they did not know was that the ambitious Trikos with several thousand of his loyal followers, half of which were female, had hidden themselves aboard the Capitalist as it headed back to Earth. Trikos rubbed his hands together as he spoke to his second in command. "We will not strike until the alien starship is in orbit around their home planet. During that time we will breed until we are millions strong. When we wage war against their planet, they will believe that the starship has brought back a killer plague." He shook with evil laughter as he pictured himself as emperor of an entire virgin planet. "Perhaps it will." It gave him great joy to envision billions of the great, unimaginably horrible giants hopping around trying to scratch an itch that just wouldn't stop.

Bio: Joseph Vadalma was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois but is now a retired technical writer living in upstate New York. He is married, has four children, ten grandchildren and one grandchild. His writing credits include "Sands of Time" which appeared in the E-Zine Black Moon Rising, January 2001.

E-mail: papavad@juno.com

URL: www.geocities.com/papajoev

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