The Friendly Killers
By S. M. Tenneshaw
How do you fight an alien race invisible
to Terran eyes? Particularly when you suspect
your enemy is really masquerading as an ally!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
June 1958
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Mankind never learned where the Kel came from. They were, apparently,a remnant of some uncontacted island culture.
"The first hint the FedGov had of their existence was the suddenappearance of their strange silver globeships off Cadar. Sweeping downwith not even an effort to communicate with the helpless inhabitants,the Kel desolated the entire planet. Other outlying worlds met the samefate.
"Then the FedGov rallied. A rigid defense net was set up, and thecontroversial compulsory conditioning laws enacted.
"But since the Kel maintained no fixed base of operations, it seemedimpossible to strike any really damaging blow against them.
"The result was a stalemate, in which neither side appeared able togain any real advantage.
"This situation continued for well-nigh two hundred years, untila disastrous break through in which the Kel wiped out the entirepopulation of Bejak II.
"The next four years saw a whole series of renewed assaults on thehuman race. Interplanetary shipping was disrupted so badly that in manyareas worlds were virtually without mutual contact save through thelimited and highly restricted facilities of FedGov space-warp.
"The final climax developed on the bastion world of Rizal, when itbecame apparent that in this struggle man was faced with enemieswithin...."
—Hedikawa, GALACTIC HISTORY
CHAPTER I
THE LUCKY ONES
Outside the space-warp chamber, Rizal's great green sun had alreadyset. Thick olive dusk eddied through the interplanetary transit center.
I swore under my breath and slammed shut the warp-hatch switch.
Locking bars whispered back. The hatch revolved on its axis, slow as anasteroid eroding. I threw another quick glance at my chrono.
It still read the same as before: six Earth hours more ... six hours toferret out the truth or be forever reconditioned.
—Six hours, that is, if Controller Alfred Kruze didn't cut it shorter.
And if he did, Rizal might very well change status. Today, it wasbilled as the FedGov's outermost bastion against the Kel. Tomorrow, itcould prove man's fatal flaw, the Achilles heel in our whole system ofdefenses.
In which case—
Involuntarily, I shivered.
And still the hatch's cylinder moved at its same snail's pace.
Then, abruptly, there was a click of gears meshing. Tenons dovetailed.The hatch slid inward on its thick, girder-rigid tracks, back betweenthe island banks of micromesh transistors.
Not waiting further, I squeezed between cylinder and slot and scrambledout into the night.
"Agent Traynor—?"
The voice came from the shadows. A dull, phlegmatic, tranquilized,conditioned voice. I stopped short; turned fast. "Who's asking?"
The man shrugged stolidly, not even picking up my tension. "I'm a portrep, Agent Traynor. Port rep second, that is—"
"So who told you to come out here? Who said you should meet me?"
"Oh...." A pause. "Well, you see, there's this sigman, Agent Traynor.Up in the Interworld Communications sec