The Monster

: The Monster

What will cosmic rays do to a living organism?

Will they destroy life, or produce immortality?

The eminent Dr. Blair Gaddon thought he knew ...





Fred Trent pulled his coupe into the curb and leaned his head out the

open window beside him.



"Hi, Joan, need any help?"



He called to a trim-looking girl in a nurse's uniform. Joan Drake was

holding on to a
eash with both hands, and her slender body was tugging

against the leash as she strained against the pull of a Great Dane on

the other end.



She looked over her shoulder as Trent called out, her blonde hair

glinting in the warm afternoon sunlight. Blue eyes smiled an impish

greeting at him.



"Hello, Fred. No thanks. Brutus and I get along famously."



Trent opened the car door and got out. He walked up the sidewalk and

stood beside the girl.




the cradled rocket. There was a tremendous roaring, and then the rocket

slowly lifted upward.]



"Business must be mighty slack for the great gland specialist, Stanley

Fenwick. Is this all he can find for his pretty nurse to do?"



The girl sniffed. "Walking Brutus around has its compensations. At least

he doesn't get fresh--like some people I know."



Fred grinned as he saw the huge dog suddenly turn on its leash and raise

itself off the ground to stick out a long rapier-like tongue and lick

the girl's cheek before she could move her head away.



"Down, Brutus! Down!" she called out, half-laughing.



Trent stepped in and pulled the big animal away from the girl, patting

the dog's head as he did so.



"What was that you said about getting fresh?" Trent asked her. "Looks to

me like the dog's life is the best around the Fenwick offices."



"Just don't get any ideas!" Joan Drake shot back.



"I've already got them," he replied. "Which reminds me, am I seeing you

tonight?"



The girl held a tight grip on the leash and looked at him coyly.



"Let's see. We'll take in a movie, stop for a bite to eat at Joe's

Hamburger Palace, and then drive out to North Butte. You'll park the car

and then you'll ask me when I'm going to quit my job and settle down

raising a family for you, and I'll say--"



"You'll say not until I get the biggest scoop in Arizona, a big raise,

and a bonus as a down payment on a house," he completed her sentence.



"There! You see? We might just as well not have our date. In effect,

we've had it already."



He looked at her for a long moment, and when he spoke again his voice

had lost its humorous note.



"You forgot one very important item. When I ask you that usual question,

and after you give your usual answer, I'll take you in my arms and tell

you how much you mean to me, and--"



"You win," she interrupted him. "I had forgotten about that."



* * * * *



The dog started to pull against the leash again and Fred reached out to

help her hold the big animal in check. Then she looked at him again.



"What brings you to the outskirts of Tucson? Don't tell me there's a big

story breaking on the edge of town."



He shook his head. "Not exactly. I'm on my way to the Rocket Research

Proving Grounds. Just a routine story on the experiment they're going to

pull off this evening. I've got to interview Mathieson, Gaddon, and a

few other scientists on the project."



The girl laughed. "That's something of a coincidence. Dr. Blair Gaddon

is in Dr. Fenwick's office right now."



Fred Trent's eyebrows raised in surprise.



"That so? Something wrong with him?"



"No. He's just having a physical checkup. Seems to be worried about his

heart. Dr. Fenwick didn't need me since it's a routine job, so I took

Brutus for a walk."



Trent nodded. "That's a bit of luck. I think I'll stick around and give

Gaddon a lift out to the Proving Grounds. I wanted to talk to him

anyway."



"In that case," the girl replied, "you can give me a hand putting Brutus

back in his kennel. Once he gets out he's something of a problem."



Fred nodded, taking the leash from her hands and feeling the big dog tug

against him.



"Never could figure out why Fenwick wanted a big hound like this. Seems

to me a terrier would be more practical."



"That's a matter of taste," Joan answered. "Dr. Fenwick is very fond of

Brutus--and so am I for that matter. But tell me something about this

experiment you're covering."



They had turned in at a large Spanish type house that Trent knew served

as a combination living quarters and office for the famous gland

specialist. He shrugged.



"Don't know much about it myself. They're shooting off this new type

rocket, a really big affair, loaded with all sorts of instruments. Some

sort of experiment with cosmic rays. The rocket will go up to the outer

layers of the Earth's atmosphere, where a clocked mechanism will release

a parachute-attached section containing the instruments. This will float

back to the surface of the Earth.



"There is one interesting thing about it though. They're also including

a live animal with the instruments. A cat I believe. They want to see

what effect the cosmic rays will have on a living creature."



The girl turned a shocked face toward him as they walked up the steps to

the front door of the house. Trent could see a panel in the center of

the door that opened from the inside, and over it, the sign, Doctor is

in, please ring.



"But I think that's positively cruel!" Joan Drake said earnestly.

"Subjecting an innocent animal to what may be certain death!"



Fred laughed at her concern. "Hold on, now. You should be the last one

to take such an attitude. Doesn't medical science experiment on animals

to find out about human ailments?"



"That's different," the girl insisted, opening the door and leading the

way into a long hall. "Doctors know what they are doing--but this is a

sheer waste of life ..."



* * * * *



Trent let the dog pull him down the hall toward a door at the end which

he knew opened on the backyard where the Great Dane was kept.



"Seems to me it's much the same thing," he answered her. "Scientists

want to explore the mysteries of space, and the only way to do it is

with an animal. Or would you like to make the trip--maybe I can arrange

it? Would make a big story, just the one I've been waiting for."



"I believe you would at that!" she mocked, opening the rear door.

"Here, give me the leash."



Trent handed over the leash to her and watched as she released the huge

dog. Brutus flicked out a long tongue once again and caught the girl's

cheek in a wet caress before she straightened.



"Brutus! Now get along with you!"



The dog took a leisurely bound through the door and into the backyard.

Trent glanced through the door at the tall fenced-in yard with the large

kennel that might well have served as a small garage. He stood beside

the girl watching the big animal romp for a few moments, then she shut

the door and they turned back down the hall.



"I'll have to go inside now, Fred," she said. "If you want to wait for

Gaddon, have a seat. It shouldn't be long."



She started to turn in at a door marked private, when Fred pulled her

gently around and before she could stop him, had kissed her.



"I was getting mighty jealous of Brutus. Now I feel better."



"I don't know which of you I prefer," she shot back, then smiled and

pulled away from him.



He watched her open the office door and close it after her.



* * * * *



He had lit his second cigarette and gotten halfway through his third

magazine on the rack beside the chair when the office door opened again.

He heard the pleasant voice of Dr. Stanley Fenwick.



"If every man had a heart as strong as yours, Blair, we wouldn't need

half the doctors we have."



Then he heard the deep, gruff voice of Dr. Blair Gaddon half laugh.



"Thanks a lot, Fenwick. You've taken a load off my mind. Goodbye, Miss

Drake."



He heard Joan reply and then saw Dr. Fenwick usher the physicist out

into the hall.



Trent rose as the two men approached.



"Why, hello, Trent," Dr. Fenwick said.



Trent nodded at the tall, white-coated figure of the famous gland

specialist.



"Afternoon, doctor."



Fenwick smiled at him. "Don't tell me you're waiting to see me?"



Fred shook his head. "Not exactly. I was waiting to see Dr. Gaddon

though. I was on my way out to the Proving Grounds and I happened to

stop by and talk to Miss Drake." He turned to the physicist, a bulky man

with firm, hard features, who moved his large body with an almost

cat-like grace.



"I hope you don't mind, Dr. Gaddon. Possibly I can give you a lift back

out to the Base. I'm covering the launching for my paper."



Gaddon smiled at him. "But of course I don't mind. And I'll take you up

on that offer. It'll save me a trip back to town to take one of the

staff cars."



* * * * *



The words had a friendly note to them, as did the smile on Gaddon's

face. And yet, somehow, Fred Trent found that he did not like this man.

It was nothing he could put his finger on, nothing he could rationalize,

unless it was the coldly calculating look in the scientist's eyes.



"That's fine, doctor," Trent replied. "Shall we go?"



He turned and said good-bye to Fenwick and passed a smiling glance at

the girl. He could see her blush slightly as Fenwick caught the glance

and laughed. Then they were out of the house and Trent led the way to

his car.



Inside, he started the motor and drove away. Beside him, Gaddon lit a

cigar and blew a long plume of smoke through the open window.



"You said you wanted to talk to me, Trent?"



Fred nodded. "That's right, doctor. I'm writing up the rocket experiment

for my paper, and I thought maybe you could give me a few details of

interest." He paused for a moment, then asked: "Would it be too personal

to ask if your visit to Dr. Fenwick had anything to do with the coming

experiment?"



Gaddon shot a quick glance at him.



"Why do you ask that?"



Fred Trent shrugged. "It was just a thought. I heard Dr. Fenwick talking

about your heart, but you look pretty healthy to me, so I thought maybe

it was because Fenwick is a gland specialist and you might be talking to

him about examining the cat after the rocket returns ..."



Gaddon laughed roughly. "A mighty clever reasoning, Trent, but not quite

correct. The fact is, I was seeing the doctor for personal reasons. Just

a physical checkup. It had nothing to do with the rocket experiment or

the effect of the cosmic rays on the animal we're including in the

experiment."



"It was just a thought, doctor," Trent replied, as he moved the coupe

out on the open highway away from Tucson and toward the Rocket Proving

Grounds on the desert flats in the distance.



"So now that we've disposed of that, what else would you like to know?"

Gaddon asked him, a peculiar edge to his voice that Trent did not miss.



"Well, I would like to get a first hand bit of information on just

exactly what you plan to prove with this experiment. If I'm correct, Dr.

Mathieson, the head of the project, contends that cosmic rays may be

lethal, and this experiment is to prove his point."



The physicist snorted. "It is no secret that Mathieson and myself

disagree violently on that subject."



Trent's eyebrows raised. "Is that so? I wasn't aware of it?"



Gaddon paused, seeing that his words had slipped out too freely. Finally

he said, "What I meant to say, Trent, is that up until now it has not

been a public issue of disagreement. And I would prefer to have it

remain a private matter until after the experiment."



"I see," Trent mused. "You have my word that I won't print anything you

say without your permission. But just what is the difference of opinion

between you and Mathieson?"



Gaddon took a long pull at his cigar and waited a few moments before

replying. It was apparent to Trent that he was debating continuing the

subject with a newspaperman. But Trent had gauged the man correctly.

There was a flair of vanity in Gaddon that dated back to his English

ancestry. Trent remembered that Gaddon, quite a figure in English

scientific circles, had created a stir when he had come over to the

United States to assist in rocket research at the Arizona proving

grounds. It seemed that Gaddon had not wanted to take a back seat to the

famed American scientist, Mathieson. It had made a few gossip columns in

the newspapers before Washington put an official clamp on the matter.



* * * * *



Now, as Trent waited for the Englishman to reply, he could almost sense

the thoughts that were going through Gaddon's mind. The Englishman was

debating whether to take an open stand against the viewpoints of his

American colleague. But Trent felt that the British stubbornness in the

man would make him reveal his own theories. Especially since Trent had

already promised not to print anything without Gaddon's permission. That

would give him an opportunity to gloat safely, should his own ideas be

proven correct.



"Very well, Trent, I'll take you at your professional word to keep this

matter confidential. But if what I contend is correct, you'll have a big

story to tell."



Trent waited expectantly, not wanting to break the Englishman's train of

thought.



"The fact is, Trent, that Mathieson is all wrong. To go even further,

most of your American scientists don't have the haziest idea of exactly

what the cosmic rays are. We in Britain have made quite exhaustive

studies of the phenomena."



Trent didn't bother to argue with him. He only nodded his head. It would

have been silly, he knew, to contradict Gaddon, to tell him that the

English didn't know a thing more about the cosmic rays than the American

scientists, that American science had made, and was continually making,

exhaustive research into that scientific field of study on as great if

not more so a scale than Britain could possibly achieve. It was only

Gaddon's vanity talking, Trent knew, so he let him put in the barb of

ridicule, waiting.



"I was sent over here, as you may know, to aid in the current

experiment. To formulate it as a matter of fact. This test is being

conducted to determine just what effect cosmic rays will have on a

living organism. As I said, Mathieson, and your other scientists are of

the opinion that the rays are lethal. That they will destroy life. In

effect, that they are death rays.



"But I contend that they are wrong. What would you say if I told you

that cosmic rays are the very source of life and energy in the

universe?"



Trent whistled judiciously, and noted that Gaddon's face smiled at the

apparent surprise Trent evinced.



"You find that a startling statement?"



Trent nodded. "I'd say that it sounded like the beginning of a very

interesting theory."



"And you would be right," Gaddon replied, warming to his subject. "It is

my contention that the cosmic rays will prove to be the fountain of

youth that men have sought through the ages. That they will react on the

glands of a living creature and produce immortality.



"Now take your choice. Whose theory would you rather believe?

Mathieson's idiotic claims of a death ray, or mine as a source of the

utmost benefit to science?"



Trent took a moment before replying. When he did so, he spoke with tact,

and also with the feeling that his trip to Fenwick's office had proven

very valuable. For there was a story here. A big story.



"I'd say, doctor, that I'd like to believe your theory was correct. But

isn't it a little premature to be so definite about it?"



Gaddon snorted. "No more premature than Mathieson's. And I'll tell you

something else, Trent. You may not realize it, but you're about to take

part in what may be the biggest story of the century. And when it

breaks, you'll remember our conversation here. I intend to prove that

your American scientists are wrong."



Trent noticed the personal emphasis that Gaddon put in his last

statement, but he was drawn away from the conversation as he turned the

coupe into the guarded entrance to the proving grounds.



There was a moment of credential flashing to the guards, and a

respectful salute to the scientist in the car beside Trent. Then Trent

moved his coupe through the entrance and up the cement roadway to the

Administration building.



As Gaddon got out of the car he turned to Trent.



"I'll leave you here. The members of the Press will be conducted to the

launching site at dusk. I'll see you then. In the meantime, don't forget

that you've given your word not to release any of the information I've

given you."



Trent nodded and watched him walk away. He followed the Englishman with

his eyes, a frown crossing his face. There was something too cocksure

about the man. His ridicule of American scientists could be ignored, but

the way he spoke about his theory, as if it had already been a proven

fact against the ideas of Mathieson....



A faint chill ran up Fred Trent's back. He couldn't explain it. But it

was there. An ominous note of foreboding.



He shrugged it off and left his car to walk toward the Administration

building.



* * * * *



The remaining hours of the afternoon dragged by in a monotony of idle

speculation. Trent listened to the gathered newspapermen discussing the

coming experiment at dusk, accompanied them as Dr. Mathieson, the head

of the project, conducted them on a tour of the project, to the

launching site, and then back to the central building.



The launching site itself had been an impressive sight. The huge

rockets, much in appearance like the famed V2 of World War II, but on a

much larger scale, were cradled in their launching platforms like some

huge monsters about to be unleashed into the unsuspecting heavens.



They had listened as Mathieson explained the various number of

instruments that were being included in the first rocket, to record its

hurtling trip through the atmosphere to the outermost layers of the

Earth's surface.



And they had been told of the other, and to the gathered newspapermen,

the most interesting part, the inclusion of a cat in the rocket, in a

large oxygen-fed chamber, to study the effects of the cosmic rays on a

living creature.



Then back to the central building. Back to wait. And the tension began

to mount. For the shadows were lengthening, the sun sinking behind the

horizon to the west. The moment was now close at hand.



* * * * *



A stocky figure detached itself from the shadows beside the huge bulk of

the laboratory building and slowly edged out into the dusk.



It paused momentarily, to survey the scene. Sharp eyes scanned the

looming rockets and their launching platforms, watchful, alert. They

finally settled upon the armed guard who walked a measured distance back

and forth in front of the rockets. Then the figure moved forward again,

cautiously, purposefully.



The distance from the giant rockets shortened gradually, and then the

guard, turning to retrace his steps, saw the approaching figure.



There was a snapping sound as a rifle was brought into position, and a

rapping command barked out.



"Halt! Who goes there?"



The shadowy figure halted abruptly a short distance away from the guard.

And a voice answered.



"Dr. Blair Gaddon."



The guard's rifle snapped into present arms and then back to the

soldier's right shoulder.



"Oh, it's you, sir. Is there anything wrong? The launching is set for

fifteen minutes from now, isn't it?"



Gaddon walked slowly up to the soldier and the guard could then see his

face in the thickening shadows.



"That's right," Gaddon replied. "I'm making a last minute inspection."



The guard nodded. "Dr. Mathieson and the newspapermen will be along any

minute, sir?"



Gaddon moved closer to the soldier, and then suddenly his hand came out

of his coat pocket and there was a gun in it.



"Drop your rifle, soldier. Quick!"



The guard stared at the scientist in shocked astonishment.



"What is this, sir? A gag?"



Gaddon motioned with his gun.



"It is no gag! Do as I say--or must I shoot?"



* * * * *



There was an ominous note in Gaddon's voice. And a strained quality to

it that told the guard the man meant what he said. Very slowly the

soldier removed the rifle from his shoulder and dropped it to the

ground.



Gaddon motioned with his gun.



"Now step back! Move!"



The guard moved slowly back a pace, and then the Englishman stepped

forward and kicked the rifle away from the man. Then he motioned around

the rocket.



"Now move over around the side of the number one rocket to the far side

of number two."



He watched as the guard turned and began to walk slowly around the huge

base of the waiting rocket. He followed the soldier.



"I don't know what this is all about, Dr. Gaddon," the guard protested.

"But I can tell you one thing, you're playing with the United States

Government right now. When Dr. Mathieson hears about this--"



"When Dr. Mathieson hears about this, soldier, I'll be a long way from

here--out at the edge of space itself!"



Gaddon could hear the guard draw in his breath sharply, but the man kept

walking around to the far side of the second rocket cradle.



"You can't mean that you're going to go up--"



The soldier's voice broke off uncertainly and Gaddon laughed shortly.



"You are a discerning man, soldier. That is exactly what I intend to do.

And I warn you, don't make a false move or I'll shoot. My plans are made

and I intend to carry them out!"



They had reached the far side of the second rocket now, away from view

of the rest of the buildings, out of sight. Away in the distance the

faint outlines of the great wire fence circling the testing grounds

could be seen, and beyond that, the twinkling lights of Tucson, already

visible in the dusk.



"This is far enough," Gaddon said suddenly.



He watched as the soldier halted. Then Gaddon moved up quickly behind

the man. Before the soldier sensed what was about to occur, Gaddon's

hand raised over his head and the butt of the weapon in his hand crashed

against the back of the man's head.



There was a soft groan in the shadows as the soldier crumpled limply to

the ground. In the silence that followed, Gaddon's tense breathing was

the only sound. He looked down at the still body of the unconscious man,

then he quickly turned and retraced his footsteps back the way he had

come.



When he had reached the far side of the first rocket, he stopped before

the metal steps of the cradle leading up to the closed door of the

rocket. He looked quickly about him, making sure that nobody was in

close proximity, then he threw his gun under the rocket beside the rifle

of the soldier, and ran up the steps.



A cool breeze sprang up in the western night and whispered softly around

Gaddon as he fumbled for a moment with a switch set in the smooth side

of the rocket beside the sealed door.



There was a click, finally, and the door slid open.



Gaddon took a last look about him and then quietly slipped through the

opening. A moment later there was the sound of the door sliding shut.



Inside the rocket, Gaddon lit a small pocket flash and looked around

him. A soft sound struck his ears. The mewing sound of a cat. He turned

the flash on the startled animal and a low laughter crept from his

throat.



He moved through the large instrument chamber then and sat on the floor

beside the cat.



Then the flash went out and his laughter came again ...



* * * * *



"All right, gentlemen, the time has come. In a few minutes an automatic

control, synchronized with controls in the rocket will be set off in the

main laboratory building. If we want to watch the launching we'll have

to hurry."



Fred Trent listened to the voice of Mathieson, and saw the famed

American scientist start out of the central lobby toward the launching

site. The gathered newspapermen followed, their voices filled with

excitement now that the moment had come.



Trent followed along with them, but felt a peculiar tenseness within

him. He had been watching for Gaddon to make his appearance. But as yet

the Englishman had not showed up. Was it possible that he wasn't going

to watch the rocket launching? As Trent followed the others out into the

gathering night, he frowned to himself. It was certainly strange. And

entirely unlike the blustering manner Gaddon had displayed on the drive

back from Tucson. Or had the man suddenly realized that he had made a

fool of himself and was taking this easy way out?



But that too didn't seem natural. And Trent found himself edging

forward through the ranks of the newsmen, until he had reached the side

of Mathieson.



The scientist was talking to one of the journalists as they rounded the

corner of the Administration building. Now the rockets were in sight,

standing tall and immense in the shadows.



Mathieson held his hand up in a gesture of halt, and the men behind him

drew into a compact circle.



Fred turned to Mathieson.



"Dr. Mathieson, isn't Dr. Gaddon going to be here for the launching?"



The head of the rocket project turned to Trent. Fred could see a

suddenly puzzled look in his eyes.



"Yes, that is strange ..." Then he laughed. "I suppose Gaddon is in the

laboratory supervising the firing controls. Well, if he wants to miss

the show, that's his fault. He knows the schedule."



Trent accepted the scientist's words without replying. But he still

wasn't satisfied. What was it that Gaddon had said in the car about the

biggest story of the year? What had the man meant? Question after

question arose in Trent's mind as he stood there, and always the queer

feeling inside him grew in intensity. He could not place his finger on

it, but somehow, he knew that something was wrong.



But then his suspicions were put aside for the moment as he heard

Mathieson say:



"All right, gentlemen, the time is nearly here. In precisely one minute

the rocket will be fired."



The statement was made with a quiet eagerness, and then suddenly the

gathered witnesses grew silent.



Trent's eyes, along with the others, fastened on the looming bulk of the

waiting rocket.



And the seconds ticked off in Fred's mind.



As he counted them, he thought that it seemed impossible that within a

very few moments that gigantic hulk of smooth, tapered metal would

dislodge itself from the cradle it rested in with a burst of roaring

flame. That in another few seconds it would shoot into the blackened

sky, and in a few short minutes would reach unbelievable heights in the

heavens, to the edge of space itself before the automatic controls

released the instrument section to be returned safely to earth.



And the seconds passed.



"Time!"



Trent heard the voice of Mathieson rap the word out sharply.



And then there was a roar of sound from the cradled rocket.



A spear of flame shot from its base, exploding the night into a

brilliant display of pyrotechnics.



* * * * *



The roaring grew louder as the tremendous power of the now unleashed

rockets took hold of the night air. Fred watched as the flames grew

white-hot bright, and then he saw the gigantic rocket shudder in its

cradle.



The shudder grew into a spasm of movement, and then slowly, but steadily

growing faster, the rocket lifted from its cradle.



Fred's eyes were fastened on the rocket now, a feeling of awe sweeping

through him. He suddenly realized how puny man was against the forces

man could unleash. Forces that here were being utilized to scientific

ends, but forces that upon a moment's notice, could in turn be unleashed

upon the rest of humanity in a burning, devastating terror of death.



And as the thought flitted across his mind, he saw the rocket gather

speed as it left its cradle. It was now rising in a swift, sure arc,

lashing into the dark sky like a fury.



And then the terrible speed of the rocket took hold against the forces

of gravity and it shot into the heavens, its roaring becoming a fading

hiss of sound, the brilliant flash of flame from its exploding tubes, a

receding beacon of light that gradually faded to a pinpoint far over

their heads.



After the terrific thunder of sound that had accompanied the launching

of the rocket, the sudden silence now was almost palpable. The gathered

witnesses stood mutely, awe still in their eyes, their ears still

ringing with the sound of the takeoff.



Finally the voice of Mathieson broke the quiet night air.



"Well, gentlemen, that's it. Tomorrow morning we'll scout the returned

section. It should land somewhere in the open country to the south.

We've computed that pretty carefully. I guess that's about all for--"



His voice broke off suddenly and Fred Trent heard what must have

distracted the scientist.



A man was shouting from the vicinity of the second rocket, and as they

looked, a dim figure could be seen staggering away from the side of the

other rocket, coming slowly toward them.



"Good Lord!" Mathieson breathed. "What's that man doing out there? He

could have been killed!"



Then suddenly they saw the staggering figure stumble on the ground.



And then Trent and the others were racing across the ground to the side

of the fallen man.



When they reached him, Mathieson came forward and knelt beside the

figure.



"Why, it's one of the guards!" he said in shocked surprise.



And it was then that the strange feeling of foreboding hit Fred again.

As he knelt beside the groaning guard, it swept over him in a chilling

wave. He lifted the man's head from the ground and the guard opened his

eyes. He recognized the face of Mathieson as the scientist looked

anxiously in his direction.



"Good heavens, man, what happened? You were ordered to leave five

minutes before launching time!"



The guard's mouth opened as he struggled to a sitting position. The

man's hand reached up and touched the back of his head painfully.



"Sir--Gaddon--Dr. Gaddon attacked me ..."



There was a momentary stunned silence as the soldier's words sunk in on

the gathered men.



"What?" Mathieson's voice was incredulous.



And as Trent watched the soldier nod his head, the suspicion he had felt

suddenly overwhelmed him in a grim realization. Even as the soldier

blurted out pain-filled words, Trent knew somehow what he was going to

say.



"Gaddon--he pulled a gun on me ... He forced me to the far side of

number two--he said he was going up in the rocket--he said he had

plans--then he hit me with the gun ... I came to when the rocket went

off--I was away from the blasts, luckily ..."



Then the soldier was standing on his feet again, swaying as he fought to

clear his fogged senses.



But Trent was no longer aware of the soldier. And he saw that Mathieson

was no longer looking at the guard. For a brief instant their eyes met,

and Trent saw a stunned look in the scientist's, then Fred's gaze swept

up into the night. Up into the darkened sky where, miles above them, the

hurtling rocket was even now reaching the apex of its flight.



Up where a man rode on a perilous trip into the unknown.



* * * * *



Gaddon hunched in the darkness of the rocket, waiting. He had counted

the remaining minutes off, one by one. And he knew that finally the

moment was at hand.



It would be too late now to stop him. They had not noticed his absence,

and if they had, they would not delay the launching for him. He had

taken that fact into consideration.



And now that the moment was close to completion, he felt a glowing sense

of triumph within him. He would now show those fools, and especially

Mathieson. He would prove conclusively that cosmic rays were what he had

said they were--a source of the energy of life, a fountain from which

youth and vitality would pour, making his body immortal. He would go

down in history as one of the greats of science. A man who had risked

his life to prove his theory. A man who would be the first to achieve

the goal of the ages, the dream of the philosophers, eternal life.



The triumph would be his. All his!



And the rocket tubes exploded into sound.



Gaddon tensed in the darkness, gripping the safety straps he had

attached to himself. Beside him he felt the cat let out a frightened

mewing sound as the roar of the exploding rocket power grew. He felt the

furry body rubbing against his side, seeking sanctuary against this

dread sound.



And then the rocket trembled with sudden movement.



It was slow at first, but then it grew faster, and Gaddon felt a faint

intensity of fear in his temples at the shuddering power of that

movement.



And then he felt the blood draining from his head, making him faint with

dizziness as the rocket accelerated suddenly into a terrible burst of

speed.



He could feel it moving swiftly through the atmosphere now, feel the

tortured rush of air that whipped against the sides of the projectile in

a moaning dirge that mingled with the roar of the exploding rocket fuel.



And as the seconds passed, he became accustomed somewhat to the

increasing velocity of the projectile, and the dizziness passed from his

head. Then he became aware of the trembling body of the cat beside him

and a soft laughter rose in his throat.



But it died stillborn as the roar of the rockets grew to a thundering

hiss now in his ears.



And he felt the cool sweetness of the automatically released oxygen fill

the chamber about him and he drank it into his lungs hungrily.



With each second now, he knew the projectile was racing higher into the

rarefied atmosphere, heading steadily out to where the air of earth

would be almost non-existent.



And a grim smile crossed his face in the darkness, for he knew that

shortly the rocket would enter the outermost layers and the cosmic rays

would play with all their energies upon the projectile.



And he tensed suddenly.



There was a glow that sprang into being in the chamber about him.



It was dim at first. But it grew steadily in intensity around him,

revealing the interior of the chamber in its weird light.



An exultation swept through him then. He knew they had entered the field

of the cosmic rays, and that the manifestation of light he saw was a

result of those forces of nature.



Beside him the cat mewed plaintively in fear and huddled closer against

Gaddon's body. His eyes watched the tiny creature for a moment and then

swept around the large chamber at the massed instrument panels that were

recording every minute fraction of a second of the flight.



And the glow grew.



And suddenly the hissing of the exploding rocket fuel began to diminish

in volume. The apex of the flight was nearly at hand then.



And the glow around Gaddon began to color. From a weird phosphorescent

whiteness it changed to a dull but intense yellow. And with the change,

a strange feeling crept through his body.



* * * * *



It tugged at him with invisible hands. It played upon his every nerve,

his every fiber, the innermost feelings of his sensibility. It grew

stronger, this alien probing within him, grew as the glow pulsed in the

chamber around him.



And suddenly, instead of a fierce feeling of triumph, a sense of dread

swept through him. He fought at the gripping sensations within him,

tried to dispel them, to no avail. They grew stronger, like invisible

hands that were changing the very essence of life inside him.



And as the thought passed through his suddenly tortured mind, he

realized that was exactly what was taking place. A change. A change

beyond his comprehension, beyond the understanding of any man. Beyond--



And the whining fearful mew of the cat beside him changed. It tensed

against his body, and the whine in its animal throat became an irate

hiss. He looked down and saw the hackles rising on the back of the cat,

saw the creature looking up at him now, not with wide frightened eyes of

appeal, but with a ferocity of wildness that brought a chill to his

inner being.



And the glow grew around him, brilliant yellow in texture now. And with

the increasing brilliance of the light, the feeling of change grew

within him.



It was stronger than he now. It held his every heartbeat in its pulsing

grip. It throbbed in his temples, ached to the ends of his toes, set

his body aflame with it.



And the cat suddenly lunged against him, its sharpened claws biting

through his garments and into his flesh.



His hands reached down in a quick movement and gripped the body of the

cat. He tore the raking claws away from his body and held the cat in the

air beside him.



The creature writhed in his grasp, fighting madly to escape. And as his

grip tightened on the animal, the eyes of the cat suddenly locked with

his.



He felt the forces within him reach a crescendo at that moment. And his

body was frozen immobile, his eyes locked on the cat's eyes, burning

into the animal, the animal burning into him. Burning and burning ...



It could only have been a matter of seconds, he knew. But they were

seconds that stretched into the farthermost reaches of eternity. Seconds

that lived a million years and passed in another fleeting instant.



And then he could move again.



And he felt strange as he moved. It was as if he was another person, as

if the body he moved was alien to him, as if it had never belonged to

him, to any man, to any thing.



And his eyes tore away from the now dulled expression in the cat's eyes.

He did not find it strange that this was so. He knew in some inner sense

that the mighty life force in him had quelled the cat. Had stilled the

fighting in its feline eyes.



And he saw his hands clutching the body of the cat.



He stared at them for a long disbelieving moment. For they were not the

hands he had known. They were not the hands of Blair Gaddon. They were

not the hands of any man. They were long and tapered and claw-like.

There was dark fuzzy fur around them, fur that was cat-like.



Deep within him a fear struggled upward through his mind. A cold dread

that forced his lips to move, to utter a gasp of the terror he felt.



And the sound left his lips.



It left his lips and echoed terribly in his ears. A harsh sound. A

mewing sound. A cat sound ...



The creature in his grasp struggled feebly then. It was a small

movement, a movement without vitality, almost without life. And as the

creature moved, a sense of rage welled up inside him. A rage that he

could not control, an anger that he wanted to unleash to its fullest.

And as it took possession of him, the human part of his mind shrieked

and forced words from his lips.



"You fiend! You fiend of hell!"



And his fingers crept up to the neck of the cat and closed in a mighty

grip. He felt the animal give a single desperate effort in his grasp,

but his grip tightened and he saw the mouth of the creature open wide

and heard a faint hissing gasp as its tongue stuck far out and its eyes

bulged in a last moment of life.



Then the animal lay limp in his claw-like hands and he dropped it to the

floor of the rocket chamber, a growl of frustration leaving his lips.



He stared at the cat's body for a moment, then his fingers stole up and

touched his face. He felt the hairy coarseness of it, the furry tingle

of his once smooth skin. And he screamed into the now fading glow that

he knew was the energy of the cosmic rays.



"No! No! It can't be true! I haven't changed like this!

I--I--meowrr ..."



Around him the thunder of the rocket fuel suddenly vanished into

silence, and then the rocket gave a lurch.



Deep within his mind he knew that the instrument section had been

released from the main body of the projectile, and even now he knew the

sealed chamber was falling back toward the earth, back toward the

atmosphere where the parachute would take hold and drift the chamber

safely down to the Arizona soil.



And a dread closed over him in that moment. Back to the men. Back to the

things of men. Back he must go, a mewing thing that was not a man. A

thing that he felt was taking hold of him, driving the last vestige of

human instinct from him.



He fought it. He fought it mewing on the floor of the rocket chamber.



* * * * *



"He must have gone mad!"



Fred Trent pulled his gaze from the sky and looked with stunned eyes at

the figure of Dr. Mathieson standing beside him. The scientist was

trembling with an inner feeling, and his head was shaking in disbelief.



"Gaddon! The man is going to his death! It's insane!"



Again Mathieson's voice broke the silence in the huddled group of men.

Then the newspapermen came to life and excited talk became a jabber of

words around them. Trent took the arm of Mathieson and turned him. He

tried to lead the scientist away from the newspapermen but one of them

stepped forward and grabbed his arm.



"But why did he do it, doctor? The man must have had a reason!"



Mathieson shook his head numbly.



"I--I don't know, unless ..." his voice trailed off for a moment and

then he spoke again. "Unless he really believed what he said ..."



"What did he say, doctor?" the newsman asked.



There was a puzzled note to Mathieson's voice as he answered.



"He disagreed with me on the supposed effects of the cosmic rays. It has

been my contention that they are of lethal effect, and Gaddon

maintained that I was wrong. He kept insisting that they were a source

of life energy. That was why we decided to experiment with an animal--to

see what effect the rays would have on a living creature ...



"But this! I never dreamed of such a possibility--to prove his point he

signed his own death warrant!"



"That's a story, doctor, a real story!"



Trent heard the newsman exclaim excitedly. And then it came to him that

the real story was as yet untold. The real story that had been unfolded

in his car earlier that day.



Fred moved suddenly away from the clamor of the newsmen around the

scientist. He knew what he had to do.



He hurried across the ground to his waiting coupe outside the

Administration building. Then he got behind the wheel and started the

motor.



He drove to the gate and waited until the guard passed him through, then

he turned up the road toward Tucson.



As he drove he felt an odd tenseness sweep through him. For he was

thinking of what Gaddon had said on the drive up to the Proving Grounds.

He was remembering the man's words on the cosmic rays and the secret of

eternal life they held. And Fred Trent knew that this was the biggest

story. The story that he alone held. It was the big break that he had

been waiting for. It would be his exclusive. The inside, personal story

of a man who had died to prove his theory. Told as Gaddon himself had

related it. With all the vanity of the man, all the pompous assurance he

had shown. It would make the headlines and feature sections all over the

country. The story of a man who had flown to his death in quest of

immortality.



And then Trent's thoughts grew sober suddenly. But was he going to his

death? Could he be sure that Mathieson was right? That Gaddon was

suffering from some streak of insanity that had manifested itself in

this final venture of madness? Or could it be that Gaddon might be

right, that ...



Trent set his lips and sighed. No, that couldn't be true. It was beyond

the comprehension of man.



What mattered now was the story. The story that would put his name in a

thousand papers all over the country. And he thought in that moment of

Joan Drake. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he thought of her. This

would force her to quit her job now and marry him. The one condition she

had made--he had finally overcome.



He thought of the date he was supposed to have with her that evening.

It would have to be postponed until later. The story came first. And

then ...



He drove his car swiftly through the outskirts of the city and into the

main part of town. Then he pulled up before the offices of the Tucson

Star and left his car at the curb.



* * * * *



He entered the building, took the elevator to his floor and walked into

the city room. The clatter of typewriters met his ears and the sound was

sweet to him in that moment.



He crossed swiftly to his desk and sat dawn. Then he motioned to a copy

boy. The boy came up to his desk.



"Jerry, tell the chief to hold up the form on page one. I've got a

special--an accident out at the Proving Grounds. Headline copy."



The youth hurried away toward the office of the City Editor, and Fred

picked up his phone and dialed a number. He waited a moment and then the

voice of Joan Drake came across the wire.



"Dr. Fenwick's office."



"Joan, this is Fred."



The girl's voice laughed across the wire. "Don't tell me you're planning

to break our date? Just when I get all dressed up."



A smile crossed Trent's lips. "You're almost psychic, honey. Fact is, I

was calling to tell you I'll be a little late."



There was a pause and when the girl spoke again there was an injured

note in her voice.



"Well, that's a fine thing. I wait here deliberately after hours for you

to pick me up and now you tell me you'll be late! Just what's so more

important than me right now?"



"I haven't got time to tell you now, Joan, but believe me, I've got the

break of the year. A story that will rock the front pages across the

country. I'll tell you all about it later. You can wait at Fenwick's

place. He won't mind, will he?"



He could hear the girl sniff on the other end of the wire.



"I don't suppose he will, but I don't think I can say the same for

myself."



"That's a good girl," Trent laughed. "Just wait for me. It may be an

hour or so--"



"An hour or so! What are you writing, the great American novel?"



He looked up and saw the frowning face of the City Editor approaching

his desk. He spoke hurriedly.



"I've got to sign off now. The boss is coming up. I'll see you later.

Give my regards to Brutus."



He replaced the phone as the editor reached his desk.



"What's all this about a remake on the front page, Trent?"



Fred nodded. "That's right, chief. The biggest story since the atom

bomb. Listen!"



He gave a short account of what had happened, and then added the

personal details of his talk with Gaddon. He saw the eyes of the editor

widen as he went on, and by the time he had finished, there was a look

of excitement on the editor's face.



"Get to that story, Trent. Write it hot, and write it fast. I'll hold

the first form and tear down the front page. Stress the human interest

angle. Play it up big. We'll hit the news wires with it after we go to

press."



Then a smile crossed the editor's face. "And you'll get a by-line on

this, Trent, that ought to put you in for some big money. Nice work."



Then he turned on his heel and was hurrying across the city room toward

his glassed-in office, hollering for a copy boy as he went.



Trent turned back to his desk and slipped a sheet of paper into his

typewriter. There was a tenseness around his eyes as he brought his

fingers down on the keys. For a moment the old questions rose again in

his mind. Was Gaddon right? Could it be possible that ...



Then he forgot everything but the story. And his fingers clicked against

the keys, putting it down on paper.



* * * * *



The rocket chamber swayed gently through the night air, whistling its

way slowly downward, moving more slowly as the great parachute above it

caught in the rapidly thickening density of the cabin's atmosphere.



Inside it, the thing that had been Gaddon, the thing that was no longer

a man, sat on the floor of the chamber, idly toying with the dead body

of the cat.



Strange thoughts coursed through the mind inside its head. Half of the

mind that belonged to Gaddon, and half of the mind that was an alien

thing, a creature unnamed.



There was a thought of killing and the thought was good. The claw-like

hands played with the cat's dead body, fondling it idly, wishing it

were still alive so that it might die again.



And the other part of its mind, the part that still knew it was Gaddon,

rebelled against the thought. Tried to drive it away. Tried to move that

alien intelligence into the rear of his consciousness.



A growl left his lips as he struggled with it. And then a whimpering

sound.



For now the alien thought of killing and the joy it had experienced as

the cat died scant moments before, was replaced by another thought. A

thought of loneliness.



It was a weird feeling, an utter loneliness that came from the great

void beyond man's planet. It cried out in silent protest for it knew it

was alone in this world of men.



And it knew it would remain alone, friendless. For what manner of men

such as the other part of its mind showed would react in a friendly

fashion? Where would be their common meeting ground? There could only be

one, it knew. And that one was fear. Fear and the hate that went with

it.



A growl left its lips again, and Gaddon's thoughts tried to force their

way through. Tried and failed again.



But was it necessary to want companionship? It thought about that for a

moment. And then the alien beast thoughts grew sharper, clearer. It knew

suddenly that it did not want man's compassion. It knew that there was

only one driving thought in it. Hate. Hate that would inspire fear. Fear

that would freeze its victim into terror. And terror that would be

replaced by death. And then it would be happy again. Happy to sit and

fondle the thing that had been alive. And it knew something else. It

knew that a hunger would have to be satisfied. A hunger that called for

flesh.



Deep, primeval thoughts raced through it then. Thoughts that were

spawned in the ancient jungles of a new and steaming world. A world

where great cats roamed, where screams of cat-rage split the air as

tawny bodies arced in lightning leaps to land on the trembling bodies of

their victims. It was a satisfying thought. A thought that spanned the

ages of Earth, a sense that was inherent in all cat minds through the

ages.



And as the thought raced through that portion of its mind, the part that

was Gaddon struggled to fight it back. For it realized with a sickness

that spread horror through it that the thought was part of the animal

existence that had been created in him. Part of the monster that lay by

instinct in all feline creatures. And Gaddon knew that the dead creature

at his feet, the limp and twisted body of the cat, had died long before

his hands had crushed it in their mighty grip. For the essence of that

life, that animal existence, had been merged with him, fused by a mighty

source from outer space.



* * * * *



And as he struggled with the thought, fought to regain the balance of

control of the strange body that was now his, the rocket chamber swayed

in a gust of wind from without. And as he clutched the sides of the

chamber with his strong claw-like hands, the chamber gave a bounding

lurch as it struck the ground a glancing blow.



There was a grating sound as the metal chamber gouged into the earth,

sank its weight upon the Arizona soil. And the thing was thrown

violently against the side of the chamber.



Then there was quiet again.



Gaddon's mind fought to the fore, took control of that feline man-shape

that was his, struggled to its feet and moved in a lithe bound to the

opposite side of the chamber. A clawed hand reached up where Gaddon

knew the release mechanism of the door lay, and pressed it.



The door slid back with a sliding sound and the cool night air rushed in

upon it.



Gaddon moved his cat-body through the opening and bounded to the ground

in a lithe, powerful movement. He felt new muscles react as he landed on

the ground, and knew that there was a great strength in them. Strength

that was waiting to be used.



And he felt the other thoughts starting to move forward in his mind

again and he forced them back. He knew he must keep control of that

mind. For there was something that he must do.



He thought desperately about it. And the pattern became clearer in his

mind.



The cosmic rays. The reaction in his body. He had sought immortality in

the door to outer space and had found a monster waiting for him. A force

that had changed his glands, grown the shaggy fur on his body. Glands

that had warped his mind. Opened an age-old cunning of feline thought.



Glands.



Gaddon's thoughts whipped the word. Held it. Knew it must be the answer.

And then it found a prayer of hope. And a name that went with that

thought.



"Fenwick! I've got to reach Fenwick before it's too late. Before it's

too late!"



His voice came hoarsely, strangely formed. And he looked wildly about

him. He saw, off in the distance, a glowing of lights in the night. And

he knew somehow that it was the city of Tucson.



And in that city, at its very edge, was a house he must reach.



He stumbled away into the darkness, feeling his limbs move rapidly

then, smoothly, covering the ground in great leaping strides.



And though Gaddon's thoughts kept the balance of control, deep inside

his mind, the monster growled with a cunning laughter ...



* * * * *



Fred Trent pulled the last sheet of paper from his typewriter and leaned

back in his chair exhausted. That was it, the end of the story. He waved

his hand at a copy boy and the boy ran up to take the final page. Each

sheet had been taken like that, to be immediately set in the composing

room. Now it was finished, the story of the year.



And as Trent slowly lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, he knew that he

had done a good job on the story. And a smile crossed his face as he

thought of it. His future was assured now. There could be no more

stopgaps, no more delays in his plans to marry Joan and settle down. And

the girl would have to agree. For the first time in many months, Fred

felt that his troubles were over with. And the feeling was nice. It

spread through him and he was content.



He glanced at his wrist watch and frowned. The story had taken longer

than he had anticipated. It was nearly eleven. Some of the enthusiasm

ran out of him as he thought of Joan waiting for him at Fenwick's. He

could imagine how angry she must be by now.



He got up quickly from his desk and reached for his hat. As he started

to walk away, the phone on his desk rang.



He stepped back and picked up the receiver.



"Trent speaking."



"Fred!"



Trent heard his name uttered in terror across the wire and he felt a

chill run through him as he recognized the voice. It was Joan Drake.



"Joan, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously.



"Fred! Come quickly! Bring help before it's too late--he'll kill us!"



"Joan! For God's sake, calm down! Now what's the matter?" His voice held

a tenseness in it as he spoke.



"It's Gaddon, Fred! Only it isn't Gaddon--it's a monster! He'll kill

us!"



"Gaddon?" Trent's voice spoke incredulously. "But that's imposs--"



"Oh, Fred, hurry-- I--oh--no--no! Keep away--"



He heard the girl scream over the phone then. And he heard something

else. A growling sound. A sound of animal noise unlike any other sound

he had ever heard. And then as he shouted into the phone: "Joan! Joan!"

the line went dead.



He stood for a moment, staring stupidly at the receiver in his hand.

Then he slammed it back on its cradle and turned. He nearly knocked over

the copy boy who hollered at him.



"Hey, Trent, the boss wants you in his office!"



But he swept by the boy unheeding. He didn't wait for the elevator. He

took the stairs in leaping bounds, and then he was on the main floor of

the building and out on the street.



He slammed the door of his car shut and started the motor. His hands

trembled as he meshed the gears and shot the coupe away from the curb.

Then he was moving swiftly through the traffic.



As he turned down the street where Fenwick's office was, Fred Trent's

mind was a whirl of confused thought.



There was fear there. Fear and dread. And there was puzzlement too. A

puzzlement that made his brain spin. Joan had spoken with terror in her

voice. Terror that had said somebody was going to kill. And Joan was

not a girl to be easily frightened. And she had mentioned Gaddon's

name. Gaddon, the man who had shot into the heavens in an experimental

rocket. Gaddon, who was supposed to be dead.



* * * * *



He felt now that same feeling that had crept through him after the

launching. The feeling that had whispered in his mind that maybe Gaddon

had been right after all. That maybe he wouldn't die. That maybe ... And

now the dread swept him. For he thought of the sound he had heard over

the phone. The last sound before the line went dead. The sound of an

animal growling in wrath. And he remembered the girl's scream about a

monster.



A cold sweat was on his forehead as he pulled the coupe into the curb in

front of the Fenwick house. He switched off the motor and closed the car

door after him.



Then he was hurrying up the walk to the front door, his eyes taking in

the house in a swift glance, noting that the lights were lit in the

consultation room. Lights that slivered out from the closed venetian

blinds.



He stood then on the front porch, his hand closing over the knob of the

door.



It was locked.



He pressed the bell then and heard its clarion sound inside the house.

But other than that there was nothing to be heard. A deep, ominous

silence that somehow brought a feeling of panic to him. Was he too late?



And then suddenly the panel in the front of the door opened and a face

peered out at him.



Fred Trent felt the blood drain from his lips. A paralysis seemed to

grip his body at what he saw framed in the opening.



For it was not the face of a human being. And yet, it was not the face

of an animal. It was a horrible, twisted, cat-like visage that peered

out at him, furred and ugly, with bared teeth and glowing, feline eyes.



And as he looked, a sound came from the twisted lips. It was the same

sound he had heard over the telephone. The sound of a growling rage.



And as the sound hit his ears, a terrible realization swept over him.

For his eyes, riveted on that monstrous countenance, had registered an

impossible fact upon his mind.



As twisted as it was, as horribly changed into an animal grimace, it

was the face of someone he knew--the English scientist, Blair Gaddon!



And then suddenly the face vanished from the opening. And Fred Trent

felt his paralysis leave him. He knew now that he should never have come

alone. That he should have called the police first. That he--



The door swung open then and Trent found himself facing the thing that

had been Gaddon.



He took a backward step and started to turn and run for his car and

help, but he was too slow.



An arm shot out and a claw-like hand suddenly gripped his shoulder in a

swift, steel-like movement. He felt himself being pulled forward and

into the house, as another growl snarled from the lips of the creature.



Trent tried to break the grip of that vise-like hand. He tried to smash

his fist into the ugly visage of a face that confronted him. But he was

like a child in that grip. And like a child, he was hurled across the

hall, and he heard the door slam shut behind him.



As he got slowly to his feet and turned to face the creature, he heard a

sobbing sound from the open door of the consultation room. It was the

voice of Joan Drake.



And then the monster had reached him and the clawed hand reached out

and spun him through the doorway, into the consultation room. And he

heard a growling voice utter harshly: "You will regret this

interference, Trent!"



And he knew that it was the voice of Blair Gaddon. And yet he also knew

that it was not the same voice. It was changed. It had a bestial quality

to it.



Then Trent looked around him. He saw Joan Drake, huddled in a corner of

the room, beside Dr. Stanley Fenwick. The specialist was sitting in a

chair, holding his right hand to his mouth. Fred could see blood oozing

from a gash in the surgeon's lips.



* * * * *



And then he heard another sound. A sound from without the house, coming

from the rear. It was the baying of Brutus. The big dog must have sensed

the presence of the monster. And it was protesting in its animal voice,

a mournful dirge.



Then his attention was drawn once again to the animal body of Blair

Gaddon. And now that the first shock had left him, Trent stared at the

man. He heard the girl sob.



"Fred! I told you to bring help--"



"Be quiet!" the voice of Gaddon issued from the twisted lips. And the

girl's sob stifled itself in a look of dread.



Then the face that had been Gaddon turned to Trent. There was a twisted

leer to it, and Fred sensed that there was a struggle going on in that

warped mind.



"You are Gaddon? The Blair Gaddon who went up with the experimental

rocket?" Trent's voice came incredulously.



The face of the creature twisted in a grimace of acknowledgment.



"Yes, Trent. I am Blair Gaddon. I am not a pretty sight to look at, am

I?" Words left the twisted lips, and there was a bestial pain in them.



"But--you're supposed to be dead! Mathieson--"



A strange sound of irony came from Gaddon.



"Mathieson was right about the cosmic rays--I know that now. Look at me!

You see what has happened to me? I sought immortality through the life

energy of space--and look at me!"



Horror reflected in Fred's eyes in that moment. For he felt the pained

terror in the voice of the animal shape before him. And he saw the

claw-like hands clench spasmodically.



"My glands!" the voice screamed. "The cosmic rays reacted on them--fed

the essence of the cat into them--changed me into this monstrous being!"



Trent stared at the rage-filled face. Felt the emotion that was sweeping

through the creature. Felt a sudden compassion that was erased by the

bestial look that came into the monster's eyes.



And then it turned toward the chair where Fenwick sat. The doctor was

looking at the creature, his eyes wide and terrified.



"But what do you expect me to do for you, Gaddon? Why do you stand here

threatening--" Fenwick's voice came hoarsely.



"Why? You fool! Because there is so little time! I am changing! Even now

my human instincts are nearly gone!... You're a gland specialist! There

is something you can do--stop this change--stop it!"



Fenwick shook his head slowly. "You're raving like a madman, Gaddon. I'm

not a God--do you think I can change something that is beyond human

understanding? If you'll only let me call in the authorities ..."



A growl of rage left Gaddon's animal lips. "Authorities! So you can have

me put in cage like a wild beast? So you and your medical experts can

stand and watch me as you would a freak? You're a fool! You'll help me

now! You'll do something--before it's too late! Do you hear me?"



The creature advanced slowly upon the doctor, and the girl backed away

to the far wall, fear mirrored in her eyes.



Then Fred Trent stepped forward, his voice tense.



"Hold on, Gaddon--of course the doctor will help you--won't you,

Fenwick?"



There was an urgent emphasis in Trent's last words, and his eyes caught

those of the surgeon's, and held them in a meaningful look. He couldn't

say what he wanted to, but the message in his eyes was imparted to

Fenwick, and the doctor suddenly nodded.



"Yes--yes, of course ... But you'll have to remain quiet, Gaddon, and be

patient a moment...."



The creature stopped its advance upon Fenwick then. And a growl rumbled

in Gaddon's animal throat.



Then Fred watched as the doctor stepped swiftly to a table with

instruments and hurriedly began to prepare a hypodermic.



"I'll give you a special extract injection to start...." Fenwick

explained as he worked.



And Trent knew that the doctor was preparing an injection that would

subdue the monster. That would enable them to call the police....



And the eyes of Gaddon watched the fingers of the surgeon prepare the

hypodermic. And for a single moment the human part of Gaddon's monster

mind relaxed its tenacious hold.



* * * * *



There was a rumble of raging thought deep within his twisted brain. It

swept up, gripped the human element, and enveloped it. A hoarse mewing

sound left the twisted lips as the mind became a single, bestial thing.



And now it thought with a viciousness. It knew now that it was finally

in control. That the full change had been completed. And it knew

suddenly what it wanted.



Its animal eyes stared at the three humans. And it felt a hatred for the

men who did not understand it.



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