Brief description:
From the Tunisian desert during World War II, four twentieth-century human beings, stranded in the North African desert. These four are Alan Drake of U.S. Army Intelligence; Sir Colin Douglas, a distinguished_Scottish scientist, Alan has been assigned to protect; and two Nazi agents -- the beautiful spy, Karen Martin, and a former American gangster named Mike Smith.
"Don't shoot,” a girl’s light voice said from the darkness. “Weren't you. expecting me?”
Drake kept his pistol raised. There was an annoying coldness in the pit of his stomach. Sir Colin, he saw, from the
comer of his eye, had stepped back into the dark.
“Karen Martin, isn’t it?” Drake said. And his skin crawled with the expectation of a bullet from the night shadows. It
was Sir Colin they wanted alive, not himself.
A low laugh in the dark, and a slim, pale figure took shape in the wavering glow from the meteor.
“Right. What luck, our meeting like this!”
Underbrush crashed behind her and another shape emerged from the bushes. But Drake was watching Karen. He had met her before, and he had no illusions about the girl. He remembered how she had fought her way up in Europe, using slyness, using trickery, using ruthlessness as a man would use his fists. The new Germany had liked that unscrupulousness, needed it—used it. All the better that it came packaged in slim, curved flesh, bronze-curled, blue-eyed, with shadowy dimples and a mouth like red velvet, the unstable brilliance of many mixed races shining in her eyes. Drake was scowling, finger motionless on the gun-trigger. He was, he knew, in a bad spot just now, silhouetted against the brilliance of the-the thing from the sky. But Sir Colin was still hidden, and he had a gun.
“Mike,” Karen said, “you haven't met Alan Drake. Army Intelligence—American.”
A deep, lazy voice from beyond the girl said, “Better drop the gun, buddy. You’re a good target.”
Drake hesitated. There was no sign from Sir Colin. That meant,—what? Karen and Mike Smith were probably not
alone. Others might be following, and swift action should be in order. He saw Karen’s eyes lifting past him to the glowing surface above. In its red reflection her face was very curious.
......
They come upon a monstrous, strangely brilliant sphere that appears to have risen out of the sand, and they are compelled by some irresistible alien power to open the door in its side and enter. Once inside they fall into a drugged sleep.They are transported in the sphere to a strange, gray, slowly dying world of many centuries ahead. Faint in their memories, as they awaken and step out of the sphere, is a fearsome and shadowy force that they know only as the Alien.
"Don't shoot,” a girl’s light voice said from the darkness. “Weren't you. expecting me?”
Drake kept his pistol raised. There was an annoying coldness in the pit of his stomach. Sir Colin, he saw, from the
comer of his eye, had stepped back into the dark.
“Karen Martin, isn’t it?” Drake said. And his skin crawled with the expectation of a bullet from the night shadows. It
was Sir Colin they wanted alive, not himself.
A low laugh in the dark, and a slim, pale figure took shape in the wavering glow from the meteor.
“Right. What luck, our meeting like this!”
Underbrush crashed behind her and another shape emerged from the bushes. But Drake was watching Karen. He had met her before, and he had no illusions about the girl. He remembered how she had fought her way up in Europe, using slyness, using trickery, using ruthlessness as a man would use his fists. The new Germany had liked that unscrupulousness, needed it—used it. All the better that it came packaged in slim, curved flesh, bronze-curled, blue-eyed, with shadowy dimples and a mouth like red velvet, the unstable brilliance of many mixed races shining in her eyes. Drake was scowling, finger motionless on the gun-trigger. He was, he knew, in a bad spot just now, silhouetted against the brilliance of the-the thing from the sky. But Sir Colin was still hidden, and he had a gun.
“Mike,” Karen said, “you haven't met Alan Drake. Army Intelligence—American.”
A deep, lazy voice from beyond the girl said, “Better drop the gun, buddy. You’re a good target.”
Drake hesitated. There was no sign from Sir Colin. That meant,—what? Karen and Mike Smith were probably not
alone. Others might be following, and swift action should be in order. He saw Karen’s eyes lifting past him to the glowing surface above. In its red reflection her face was very curious.
......
They come upon a monstrous, strangely brilliant sphere that appears to have risen out of the sand, and they are compelled by some irresistible alien power to open the door in its side and enter. Once inside they fall into a drugged sleep.They are transported in the sphere to a strange, gray, slowly dying world of many centuries ahead. Faint in their memories, as they awaken and step out of the sphere, is a fearsome and shadowy force that they know only as the Alien.
Publication
Argosy Magazine, 4 parts, April - July 1943
Original publication date
1943