WHO GOES THERE? By CHARLES H. DAVIS Hurtling down from cold and hostile space, battle-worn Ekrado and Ronaro gazed with joy at the lovely watery world below. Here, surely, they would find friends--and the precious help they needed! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1950. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Through the outer limits of our solar system, two great ships flashed through the void. Light from distant Sol gleamed feebly on their dark hulls, paled to insignificance by the flare of pure energy that blasted each ship through space at inconceivable velocity. Sol's illumination was just enough to pick out the jagged gash near the base of the leading vessel where a force beam had struck a deadly blow. As the interval between the spaceships lessened, a pale beam lanced out from the pursuing ship and caught the wounded Alarian cruiser on the flank. Mighty steel plates buckled inward and life-giving water spouted out through the torn side to freeze instantly in the terrible cold of the void. As the pressure dropped, razor-edged bulkhead doors shot automatically into place to seal off the stricken compartment. Although badly damaged, the Alarian ship was not yet out of the fight. Number Five turret lashed back with a heat ray that glowed cherry-red, then white, on the upper forward turret of the pursuing ship of Ru'ukon. A cluster of atomic torpedoes darted from the far side of the Alarian ship and headed for the Ru'ukonian cruiser in an intricate series of zig-zag maneuvers, only to be caught half way by a force beam and exploded in a blinding flash. Another single torpedo, swinging wide through space in an arc hundreds of thousands of miles long, came up from behind the pursuing ship. For a moment it seemed that it might strike a vital blow, but the Ru'ukonian detection apparatus went into action at the last possible moment, and the single torpedo was caught by a force beam when it was but a scant hundred miles from its target. Again the pale beam struck, and the Alarian ship staggered as the Number Two port engines exploded. In the control room, a squid-like shape churned through the clear water to the vision screen where Ekrado, the ship's commander, floated. "Yes, Ronaro," his thought was sharp and urgent, "what is it?" "Number Two port engine out," telepathed his deputy. "Number One turret out." "That is bad. Prepare our personal lifeboat for immediate use. It may become necessary to abandon ship." "Right away," acknowledged Ronaro. But even as he turned to carry out the order, Ekrado caught the indication of a half-formed question in his mind. "You have doubts, Ronaro," he challenged. "Out with them." "If we abandon ship now, how can we carry our message?"