Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Is ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION “Har enough,” said Brannoch. “The known universe only reaches a couple of hundred,” | He took a turn about the room, hands clasped behind his back. “I doubt (hat the humans matter,” he said. “Especially if they really did come from Karth; then they’re only of historical interest. But this alien, now—that electron-control effect is a new phenomenon. Just imagine what a weapon!”’ His eyes blazed. “Put the enemy guns out of action, even turn them on their owners—disable the Technon itself— Father!”’ ‘The same thought has doubtless occurred to the Solar authorities,” said the Thrymans. ‘Uh-huh. Which is why they’re pressing the hunt so hard. If they don’t catch him, these human friends of his may know how to do it. Even if they do make the capture, he’s still likely to be influenced by his crewmates. Which makes the fellow of more importance than I'd realized—”’ Brannoch prowled the floor, turning the fact over in his mind. All at once, he felt very alone. He had his aides here, his bodyguard, his agents, his spy ring, but they were few among the hostile billions of Sol. It would take almost four and a half years to get a message home . . . as long for the fleet to come here— Sharp within him rose the image of his home. The steep, windy mountains of Thor, whistling stormy skies, heath and forest and broad fair plains, gray seas rolling under the tidal drag of three moons, the dear hard pull of the planet’s mass; the hall of his ancestors, stone and timber rearing heavily to smoky rafters and ancient battle flags, his horses and hounds and the long halloo of hunting; the proud quarrelsome nobles, the solid, slow-spoken yeomen; great hush of winter snowfall and the first green flames of spring— the love and longing for his planet was an ache within his breast. But he was a ruler, and the road of kings is hard. Also, and here he grinned, it would be fun to sack Earth, come the day. His mission had suddenly narrowed. He had to get this alien for Centauri, so the scientists back home could study the power and duplicate it in a military unit. Failing that, he had to prevent Sol from doing the same—by killing the creature if necessary. He dismissed the idea of joining the chase with his own agents: too much of a giveaway, too small a chance of success. No, it would be better to work through those human prisoners. But what hold could he get on men whose world was five thousand years in its grave? ; Returning to the scanner, he went back through its spool. Some of the frames showed pictures and other objects which must be of a personal nature. » There was one photograph of a woman which was quite excellent. An idea occurred to him. He walked back onto the balcony, picked up his wineglass, and toasted the morning with a small laugh. Yes, it was a fine day. Il. Langley sat up with a gasp and looked around him. He was alone. For a moment, then, he sat very still, allowing memory and thought to THE LONG WAY HOME 19 enter him in a trickle. The whole pattern was too shatteringly big to be grasped at once. : Earth, altered almost beyond recognition: no more polar caps, the seas encroaching miles on every shore, unknown cities, unknown language, unknown men—there was only one answer, but he thrust it from him in a near panic. be There had been the landing, Saris Hronna’s stunningly swift escape (why?), and then he and his companions had been separated. There were men in blue who spoke to him in a room full of enigmatic machines that whirred and clicked and blinked. One of those had been switched on, and darkness had followed. Beyond that, there was only a dreamlike confusion of half-recalled voices. And now he was awake again, and naked, and alone. Slowly, he looked at the cell. It was small, bare save for the couch and washstand which seemed to grow out of the green-tinted, soft and rubbery floor. There was a little ventilator grille in the wall, but no door that he could see. He felt himself shaking, and fought for control. He wanted to weep, but there was a dry hollowness in him. Peggy, he thought. They could at least have left me your picture. It’s all Pll ever have, now. A crack appeared in the farther wall, dilated until it was a doorway, and three men stepped through. The jerk which brought Langley erect told him how strained his nerves were. | He crouched back, trying to grasp the details of appearance on these strangers. It was hard, somehow. They were of another civilization, clothes and bodies and the very expressions were something new, a total gestalt was lacking for him. Two of them were giants, nearly seven feet tall, their muscled bodies clad in a tight-fitting black uniform, their heads shaven. It took a little while to realize that the wide brown faces were identical. Twins? The third was a little below average height, lithe and graceful. He wore a white tunic, deep-blue cloak, soft buskins on his feet, and little else; but the insigne on his breast, a sunburst with an eye, was the same as that of the two huge men behind him. He shared their smooth tawny skin, high cheek- bones, faintly slanted eyes; but straight black hair was sleeked over the round head, and the face was handsome—broad low forehead, brilliant dark eyes, snub nose, strong chin, a wide full mouth, overall a nervous mobility. All three bore holstered sidearms. | Langely had a sense of helplessness and degradation in standing nude before them. He tried for a poker face and an easy stance, but doubted that it was coming off. There was a thick lump as of unshed tears in his throat. The leader inclined his head slightly. “Captain Edward Langley,” he said, pronouncing it with a heavy accent. His voice was low, resonant, a superbly controlled instrument. Vegi? “I take it that means sya.” The stranger was speaking the foreign tongue, and Langley understood it as if it ha rey his own lt was a cli , rathe high-pitched language, inflectional C ® A 8 icbo oks:com