To him it had been a tragedy. The ecstasy of the vast reaches of space; the illimitable freedom, birthright of explorers, the intimate communion with the stars had been transmuted into a guarded existence as if he were one of the most valuable factors in the security of Earth, which unquestionably he was. Every luxury, every whim even, was his to indulge, he could have anything ... literally anything, but freedom!
And now he had failed. In his sardonic mood he was glad that he had been unable to find even a tiny clue. In all that glittering, heterogenous assemblage Bill had not found even a slight nuance to pounce upon. Involuntarily he shook his head, and the dark red mane that fell to his shoulders in the conventional style of the day, swirled about his shoulders, again he shook his head as if some almost imperceptible irritant were annoying him. And suddenly he sat upright, his eyes narrowed and steel-blue. In his intense absorption in the scene on the Ethero-solidograph, the elfin probing of his mind had gone unnoticed. A profound surprise mingled with the instant pointing of all his faculties as he became aware. That anyone could penetrate his mental defenses was unthinkable!
Even before his awareness of peril was complete, Bill became a blur of motion that coiled and sprang erect. And the incredible shape that had launched itself with razor-like talons outspread unerringly for the sprawling Terran's throat thudded against iron-hard stomach muscles, over which a thin beryllium mesh tunic afforded protection. Almost at the very instant it struck, the creature launched itself again, with demoniacal fury, taloned hands reaching with super-human strength for the bared throat, its taloned feet trying to disembowel the Terran. Bill fought silently, driving a shattering blow to the open mouth with its gleaming fangs, with the other striving to keep it at arm's length. But the thing twisted with a sinuous motion and flung itself to one side, then leaped in again, driving like a tiger for the Terran legs, as Bill sprang to one side and then dived for the flashing creature.
Bill caught one of its legs and instantly it coiled back upon itself and fastened its fanged mouth upon his forearm. Only the invulnerable Beryllium mesh saved it from being fanged through; as it was, the awful pressure of those inhuman teeth was excruciating agony. In desperation Bill aimed another slashing blow at the maniacal face of the being, and saw it become indistinct with blood; using every ounce of strength at his command, the Earthman slowly forced back the face of the thing and with a convulsive movement shattered its vertebrae. When Bill released it, the creature dropped limp on the bloodied translucence of the Jadite flooring.
Reeling from fatigue, his body a mass of bruises, Bill methodically examined his attacker. It was about four feet tall, humanoid in shape, even as to features which were delicate—surprisingly beautiful in the repose of death. It had the face of a very beautiful woman in miniature. But there was nothing lovely about the competent taloned hands with their cording of steely muscles, or about the oddly shaped flexible feet—almost hands in themselves, like that of the now extinct apes of thousands of years back when Terra had been young. The body had evidently been evolved with a great simplicity of purpose—and, strangest of all, it was sexless!
And this was the thing that had been able to penetrate the defenses of his mind, almost succeeding in probing it without Bill being aware of it. In coordinating his findings, it occurred to Bill Nardon that this unholy creature was the nearest thing to a homunculi he had ever known! But whence had it come? How correlate such a mind of power with such utterly ruthless, coldly calculating ferocity.
Bill shivered a little, and it was not altogether from his recent exertions in defense of his life. Stretched upon the exquisite whiteness of the plastic Jadite flooring, there was an infinitely appealing beauty to its face in the ultimate sleep, as if it were a welcome repose. The light brown eyes still open mirrored sadness—that was the incredible fact. The mind that had tip-toed the shores of his consciousness with sandals of foam, was still. But Bill Nardon's mind recovered from the horror of the unexpected attack, felt even more the icy chill of failure as it sought factors and only found an impenetrable mystery instead.
"No planet ... no world known to me," and Bill had traveled half a galaxy in his time, "has spawned this creature. This," he paused, his eyes electric with excitement, "is a manufactured, an artificially evolved being! But who? Not the Martians surely; the Venusians? The Neptunians? No, no race in the entire six planets is capable of creating...." In the very midst of his soliloquy he paused startled. "The Panadurs! Only they with their strange powers could achieve such a miracle.... But would they? In all the annals of Europa there is no clue to the "Will to Conquer." Besides, to the Panadurs life was sacred...." His thoughts swirled feverishly, and, impenetrably, the mystery became more and more involved as the glittering assemblage of delegates from other worlds traveled to the great Universarium.