Produced by Greg Weeks, Meredith Bach, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Stories, March 1932. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] [Illustration: _Our sprays met them in mid air._] Vampires of Space By Sewell Peaslee Wright Commander John Hanson recounts his harrowing adventure with the Electites of space. Sometimes, I know, I must seem a crotchety old man. "Old John Hanson," they call me, and roll their eyes as though to say, "Of course, you have to forgive him on account of his age." But the joke isn't always on me. Not infrequently I gain much amusement observing these cocky youngsters who strut in the blue-and-silver uniforms of the Service in which, until more or less recently, I bore the rank of Commander. There is young Clippen, for instance, a nice, clean youngster; third officer, I believe, on the _Caliobre_, one of the newest ships of the Special Patrol Service. He drops in to see me as often as he has leave here at Base, to give me the latest news, and to coax a yarn, if he can, of the old days. He is courteous, respectful ... and yet just a shade condescending. The condescension of youth. "Something new under the sun after all, sir," he commented the other day. That, incidentally, is a saying of Earth, whence the larger part of the Service's officer personnel has always been drawn. Something new under the sun! The saying probably dates back to an age long before man mastered space. "Yes?" I leaned back more comfortably, happy, as always, to hear my native Earth tongue, and to speak it. The Universal language has its obvious advantages, but the speech of one's fathers wings thought straightest to the mind. "What now?" "Creatures of space!" announced Clippen importantly, in the fashion of one who brings surprising news. "'Electites,' they call them. Beings who live in space--things, anyway; I don't know that you could call them beings." * * * * * "Hm-m." I looked past him, down a mighty corridor of dimming years. Creatures that lived in space.... I smiled in my beard. "Creatures perhaps twice the height of a man in their greatest dimension? In shape like a crescent, with blunted horns somewhat straightened near the tips, and drawn close together?" I spoke slowly, drawing from my store of memories. "A pale red in color, intangible and yet--" "You've heard, sir!" said Clippen disappointedly to me. "My news is stale." "Yes, I've heard," I nodded. "'Electites,' they call them, eh? That's the work of our great scientific minds, I presume?"