He saw his mother’s wide gray eyes lift slowly toward John Star, from the document she had taken from the envelope.
Her face was white with an incredulous dismay.
“John.”
Her voice was very quiet.
“This is an order for me to destroy the object in Virgo, at once, with AKKA.”
John Star’s nod had a military severity.
“The resolution to destroy the cometary object was approved by the Council eight hours ago,” he said briskly.
“I brought the order to you at the full speed of the Phantom Star—a record crossing.”
The big gray eyes rested for a time on John Star’s face.
“John,” his mother asked very softly, “do you know what you are asking me to do?”
“Certainly.”
John Star looked at her with an annoyed impatience.
“I spoke before the Council, in favor of the motion.
The vote was very close.
There were sentimental objections.”
“Perhaps I’m sentimental,” she answered quickly. “But I don’t want to destroy that object—not unless we must.
Because it’s something very wonderful—so wonderful that none of our scientists will undertake to say what it is.”
She stepped quickly toward him.
“Can we just erase it from existence, without ever knowing?”
“We can—we must!”
Still standing, John Star had drawn his lean body very straight.
“Consider the arguments for the destruction of that unknown object and the beings who appear to operate it like a ship—the news reporters had coined a word for them, before we set up the censorship.
The Cometeers!
“Their science must be immensely ahead of our own—except that they probably don’t possess your weapon.
And their hostility is as certain as their power!”
An oratorical ring had come into John Star’s voice, as if he were quoting phrases from his talk before the Council.
“On Earth, everywhere in the System, the law of survival has set even the most closely kindred forms of life to killing one another.
The Cometeers can’t be our kinsmen, in any degree—they may be something we couldn’t recognize as life at all. “Logically, they must be our enemies. “The peculiar motion of the cometary object is itself sufficient evidence of some purpose in relation to our planets. That purpose is necessarily for the benefit of the Cometeers, because they are obviously a successful and hence a selfish type of life—however they may look!”
Aladoree was shaking her head.
“I’m not so sure of your logic.”
“The sentimentalists in the Council tried to question it,” John Star answered.
“Fortunately, the Cometeers have already given us more convincing evidence of their hostile intentions.”
He paused dramatically, and Aladoree asked softly:
“How is that, John?”
“They have already visited most of our planets.”
“People,” Bob Star broke in, “have actually seen them?”
“Not exactly.”
John Star didn’t look away from his wife.
“The creatures of the comet are—or made themselves for the occasion of their visits—invisible.
But they’ve left signs enough.”
Aladoree asked quickly,
“What have they done?”
“They came hi some massive machine, whose drive-fields were powerful enough to disturb our ultrawave communications.
Evidently their first object was to investigate our defenses—the invisible ship always landed near some Legion stronghold.
On Earth, twenty-four hours ago, the raiders killed four guards—with a frightful weapon.
They entered a locked vault, which we had thought impregnable.
They escaped with a precious military secret.”
John Star stepped quickly toward his wife.
Suddenly he was no longer the soldier and orator, but only a man, anxiously begging.
“Please, darling!” he whispered.