THE STRANGER By Gordon R. Dickson If the alien space craft was not a rocket ship, what was it? And an even bigger question: should they investigate--or run for their lives! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy May 1952 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] We will not consider the odds involved in their finding the stranger, for the odds were impossible. They came down to rest their tubes on an unnamed planet of a little-known star in the Buckhorn Cluster. Because they were tired from weeks in space, they came in without looking. They circled the planet once and spiraled down to an open patch of sand between two rocky cliffs. Only then did they see the other ship. Jeff Wadley was at the controls and his eyes widened when he saw it. But his fingers did not hesitate on the controls, for a deep-space starship is not the kind of vehicle that can change its mind about landing once it is within half a mile of the ground. He brought the Emerald Girl in smoothly to a stop not five hundred feet from the stranger. Then he sat back. "Dad," he said flatly, into the intercom, "swing the turret!" Peter Wadley, up in the instrument room, had already seen the strange ship, and the heavy twin barrels of the automatic rifles were depressing to cover. Jeff leaned forward to the communicator. "_Identify yourself!_" The tight beam in Common Code snapped across the little stretch of open sand to the cliff against which the other seemed to nestle. "We are the mining ship Emerald Girl, Earth license, five hundred and eighty-two days out of Arcturus Station. _Identify yourself!_" There were steps behind Jeff, and Peter Wadley came to stand behind his son's tense back. "Do they answer, Jeff?" "No." "_Identify yourself. Identify yourself! Identify yourself!_" The angry demand crackled and arced invisibly across the space between both vessels. And there was no answer. * * * * * Jeff sat back from the communicator. The palms of his hands were wet and he wiped them on the cloth of his breeches. "Let's get out of here," he said nervously. "And leave _him_?" his father's lean forefinger indicated the strange silent ship. "Why not?" Jeff jerked his face up. "We're no salvage outfit or Government exploration unit." There was a moment of tenseness between them. The older man's face tightened. "We'd better look into it," he said. "Are you crazy?" blazed Jeff. "It was here when we came. It'll be here if we leave. Let's get going. We can report it if you want. Let the Federal ships investigate." "Maybe it just landed," his father said evenly. "Maybe it's in trouble."