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  Then we heard it—that ominous sound. It was like a thousand crystal chandeliers vibrating together in a roaring crescendo. The sound tore through our eardrums. We winced and cried aloud with pain. We dove for our helmets and pulled them down over our ears.

  The sound was at least bearable now. We gazed about the camp. An incredible sight met our eyes. Thousands of glassy creatures encircled us, in columns of at least a hundred deep. Their eyes glittered fiercely like sharp-cut diamonds. Thin, pointed spurs stuck out of their bodies, quivering like spears. They reminded me of a tribe of warriors set to attack. The incessant tinkling sound they made resembled the music of a savage war dance.

  As if with one mind, the creatures inched slowly forward. Daggers of light streamed from their sharp, chiseled facets. They moved with a jerky, jangling gait.

  "Quick, into the ship!" my father ordered.

  Without a moment to spare, we scrambled inside and sealed the hatch.

  Instantly, the creatures swarmed over the hull.

  My father seized a flame thrower. "Hurry, open the starboard portal!"

  Sloane flipped a switch. The portal slid open.

  My father poked the flame thrower through the portal. He aimed a jet of fire at the creatures.

  Hundreds of them melted to a thick gel. They fused together into a grotesque mass of molten glass.

  Hordes of them still clung to the opposite side of the ship. With a grinding, grating sound they scratched and clawed at the hull. They were trying to bore a hole through it.

  "Close the starboard portal," shouted my father. "Quick, open the one on the port side!"

  Morgan slid the portal open.

  Dad shot a torrent of flames through the opening. The creatures scuttled off the hull, slipping and sinking into the seething pool of liquid glass formed by their fellows.

  Hundreds of others still remained. They scattered frantically in all directions. Slivers of glass peeled off their backs. They scampered for the safety of the bushes.

  Dad sent a sheet of fire after them. The brush ignited into a towering wall of flames. Billows of smoke shot into the air. The creatures shrank back in terror as tongues of flame engulfed them in the blazing inferno that had erupted around them.

  When the smoke had cleared, a pool of molten liquid lapped at our ship on all sides.

  We didn't lose a moment in taking off. We had seen all we ever wanted to see of the planet Minox.

  We rose in the sky with a roaring thrust of our rockets.

  As we soared into space the eerie music of Minox still lingered in our ears.

  Afterwards, when we had settled down for the return trip home, I nudged my father and asked, "Do you still claim nothing exciting ever happens on mining expeditions?"

  "Well," said my father, with a twinkle in his eyes, "maybe our next expedition will have some excitement."

  The word next stood out in big, bright letters. I flashed a happy grin.

  "But it won't be any joyride, shavetail. That I can promise you."

  Werewolf Girl

  by Nic Andersson

  Professor Callicantzaros was a nut. Everybody kept insisting he was a scientific genius. But to Sybil Stewart, his blond, twelve-year-old, next-door neighbor, he was nothing but a fuzzy-headed, fuzzy-minded professor who threw rocks at Miff, her cat. And yelled at her when she went into his weed-choked backyard to look for her pet.

  No question about it, she didn't like him. Nevertheless, every noon, her mother sent her next door with a tray of hot food "for the poor man who would starve if someone didn't bring him something to eat."

  Most times he never thanked her, or even noticed her when she carried in the tray. Today, however, was a little different. Apparently he had just finished his work on the goofy machine he was developing and wanted to spout off to somebody about it.

  As she listened to him trying to explain his transmogrification device, she thought again how looney he really was. Looney! Completely off his bean! Foolish in the head!

  It wasn't so much the machine itself, although to Sybil the whole thing looked like just a lot of pieces of scrap sheetmetal and loose, dangling wires hung around a big metal box. The professor had worked on the machine for five years, ever since he had retired as head of the anthropology department at the university.

  What bothered Sybil was what the professor said it could do.

  "Imagine," he said proudly in his squeaky, high-pitched voice, his eyes fairly popping out in his enthusiasm, "it can change one kind of animal into another. The machine is finished. It is now fully perfected. You would be amazed, my girl, at what I'll be able to do with it. I'll be able to turn a dog into a cat. Or a cat into a dog."

  "Why would you want to do that?" Sybil asked, thinking how awful it would be to have her white Angora cat, Miff, turned into a dog.

  "Why?" the professor exclaimed. "Don't you see? If I can do that, I can do anything. My theory is that every living thing has an original spark of life. What form it takes has been left up to Nature. Through the forces of evolution, creatures have changed from one form to another. What my machine does is speed up these changes. What Nature takes a million years to do, this machine will be able to do in seconds."

  He patted the side of the metal box with pride. "With this, I can become the most powerful man in the world. Not just by turning animals into other animals. But by turning weaklings into super-athletes. By transforming the stupid into geniuses. By making ugly people into beautiful people. Didn't you ever want to be somebody else?"

  Sybil shook her head. She couldn't imagine being someone else.

  Professor Callicantzaros glared at her with his mad, beady eyes. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. You're a nice young girl the way you are. But isn't there anything you ever wished you could be?"

  Sybil thought for a moment. "I've always wanted to be a ballerina."

  The professor smiled knowingly and turned back to the machine. "I suppose I'll have to start with animals. Later, when I know better what the machine can do, I'll try it on humans."

  He looked quizzically at her. "Unless, of course, you would be willing to let me try it on you?"

  "No thanks, Professor Callicantzaros. Not today. I think you should eat your lunch while it's still warm. I'll come back later for the dishes."

  "Just think, Sybil," the professor continued. "I could turn you into a tiger or a deer or even a racehorse. Are you sure you wouldn't like to try it? You'd be the first human ever to know what it feels like to be an animal. And there's no risk. If I set the controls a certain way, you'll stay in the animal's form for only an hour. Then you'll return to your own form automatically."

  Sybil shook her head. "I'm sorry, professor. I haven't time. I promised my mother I would help her with the cleaning. Anyway, I don't want to be an animal. I like being me."

  The professor nodded his head and began to pace slowly around Sybil. Suddenly he stood stock-still in front of her. He peered deeply into her eyes. Deeper and deeper he stared as he waved his hands slowly before her face. Sybil felt herself drifting into a kind of wide-awake slumber. She could see and hear everything about her, but she seemed to have no will of her own.

  "Now," Professor Callicantzaros murmured as he rubbed his hands with glee, "now my girl, we will see if my machine can do what I have designed and built it to do."

  Strangely, terrifyingly, Sybil felt almost as though she were two people. One person was there inside herself. The other was somewhere outside her body, watching everything as it took place.

  She felt—and watched—herself being led into the big metal box, and she couldn't stop it from happening. She stood where the professor placed her, in the center of the machine, and she couldn't move. All around her, on the ceiling, on the walls, was a maze of colored wires.

  As the professor stood in the open doorway looking back at her, he chortled. "What should I make you? A leopard? A panda? A kangaroo? A unicorn?"

  He laughed. "Wouldn't my friends at the university be surprised if
I could produce a real live unicorn for them." He shook his head as he gazed pensively at the motionless girl. Suddenly his face lighted up with a new idea. "Ah, I know! A werewolf! A she-werewolf!"

  He clapped his hands childishly at the thought. "That's it, my dear girl. I shall turn you into a she-werewolf and settle once and for all time whether or not they ever lived. No need to have you drink water from a lycanthropic-tainted stream in the full moon at midnight. No need to have you swallow a potion of aconite, the witch's brew. No need to have you smell the herb wolfsbane, or to use magical spells and incantations. All this I can do with my machine. Here, my dear, is my answer to the doubters who have laughed at my efforts for the past five years. You, Sybil Stewart, will now become a she-werewolf !"

  As he closed the door of the metal box, Sybil tried to cry out. But no sounds came. She tried to move, but there was no response from her legs or arms. She was helpless. All she could do was wait.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain ran through her body. Then another. And another. They were like jolts of electricity.

  Something was happening to her. She felt herself changing. As the machine's action took effect, her body jerked and twisted. Moments passed and she felt herself slip out from under the professor's hypnotic spell. Now she could move her legs and arms, even cry out.

  But, oddly, when she tried to call for help, the cry was not in her normal voice. It was more like a bark that wavered into a howl. She raised her arms and realized that her

  clothes were hanging loose on her. Almost without effort she was rid of them. She felt herself. Where there had been soft, human skin there was now a thickening fur. She was covered with it!

  Could it be true? Was this really happening to her? Had she actually turned into a werewolf? All she had ever read about them was that they roamed through the forests of old, killing sheep and young children, drinking their blood, eating their flesh, and then resuming human form at the first light of morning. Was that what she was now becoming—a blood-seeking werewolf!

  On all fours, she began to pace around the narrow confines of the metal cabinet. There had to be a way out. Where was the door? She had to find it.

  The door opened then, and the professor stood in the opening, peering in anxiously. Sybil, crouched low at the side, realized he didn't see her at first. When he did catch sight of her, his eyes widened with joy at the obvious success of his experiment.

  Snarling with wolf-rage, she leaped at the man-figure in front of her. Frightened, he tried to slam the door to keep her inside. Too late!

  Springing through the opening, she glared up at the man, her lips curled back to reveal sharp wolf-teeth. A low growl came from deep within her. She crouched for a leap at the hated figure in front of her.

  She still retained remnant thoughts of herself as Sybil, the human girl. But, by the minute, she was more and more becoming a ravening werewolf. Not only her body had changed, but her mind was altered too. A lust for blood seized her.

  She faced the now-terrified scientist. What she craved was to clamp her jaws around his throat and drink deep of the red blood she knew coursed there. As he backed fearfully away from her, she advanced slowly across the laboratory, her body almost touching the floor, her slitted eyes fixed on him with deadly intent.

  Then she sprang. . . .

  In her leap, however, she found she had misjudged the great strength of her new wolf-legs. She sailed over the head of the cowering professor.

  Before she could turn to attack again, he scrambled into his transmogrification machine and slammed the door to protect himself from her bloodthirsty assault.

  After scratching futilely at the panel for several minutes, the werewolf-creature that had been Sybil realized she had no way to get in. She began to claw at the rows of dials and control levers at the front of the machine. Using her strong teeth, she turned and twisted all the switches she could reach. A crackling sound came from the machine, as though electrical energy flowed through the wires. She had no idea what was happening inside the cabinet, and yet her animal cunning told her something was happening.

  Satisfied, she trotted around the laboratory sniffing at the strange objects. Finally, she went through the house to the front door to look out.

  The smells that came to her from the street outside were nauseous. She recoiled in disgust at the noxious fumes that filled her sensitive nose. But curiosity forced her back to the doorway.

  Two small boys had just walked by, followed by a mongrel dog. The little black and brown animal was pushing its nose under some bushes right in front of the doorway where the she-werewolf crouched.

  What a tasty morsel it would be, she thought. One fast dash out of the doorway, one swift crunch of her long, sharp teeth, and she would be drinking the small animal's warm lifeblood.

  Just then the dog looked up. For a second it froze with fright. Then, with a yelp, its tail between its legs, it ran frantically after the two boys.

  The she-werewolf loped slowly through the front yard, out to the sidewalk. The boys were looking back at her in bewilderment. She started after them. With a cry of terror, they ran down the street, their small dog racing ahead of them.

  She would have continued the chase, but she could see a huge truck coming, and something told her that this was a foe she could not contend with. Crouching low, she slipped back into the front garden and around the side of the professor's house to the rear. The yard, long a neighborhood disgrace, was rank with bushes and weeds.

  For the moment, it offered her a refuge. It even felt good to pad around amid the wild undergrowth, feeling the rough branches of the bushes scrape against the fur on her hide.

  When she was sure that the danger had passed, she cautiously resumed her prowl. Instinctively she headed away from the street toward the gate at the back of the yard and then to the alley behind.

  Off the alley, the people on both streets had installed garages for their family cars. She looked in each direction nobody was in sight.

  Staying close to the side of the alley, she moved along past the closed garages, using her keen sense of smell to investigate each gate leading into its own backyard.

  At one, she paused, her nose telling her that beyond this gate was a potential enemy. She sniffed for a moment. Then she issued a growled challenge.

  Out of the shadows of the house strode a huge black mastiff with broad, powerful jaws. Arrogantly it approached her, ready to defend the yard against any intruder. Three, or four steps from the gate it stopped. Only then did it realize what manner of beast it was facing. The black dog halted its advance. The challenging growl died in its throat.

  The she-werewolf, whimpering with joy at the chance to battle with a worthy foe, pushed at the gate. It opened and she went through.

  Slowly the mastiff backed up, its eyes fixed on the approaching animal, its hackles rising in fear.

  Not to be cheated this time, the werewolf hurled her powerful body at the hated beast in front of her. There was a clash as the two bodies met. Rearing up, the mastiff attempted to defend itself against the deadly wolf-fangs. Its own teeth were trying for a hold on the stronger, quicker, more ferocious animal. Snarling and growling with fury, the gray-coated werewolf slashed and tore at her dog opponent. Savagely, she snapped at the other's throat. The big dog went down on its back, trying to use its four feet to keep the attacker away.

  The she-werewolf paused to look around before she made her final kill. In that instant, the mastiff rolled away and leaped to its feet. With a yelp of pain and fear, it turned and ran around the side of the house toward the street in front.

  There was the sound of a car in the alley. The motor raced and switched off. A door slammed. A man had gotten out of the car and was opening the door of the garage opposite where the werewolf was crouched, half-hidden by the gate.

  She left her place of concealment and noiselessly slunk next to the car. The man turned to come back to it.

  At that moment he caught sight of her. His jaw dropped. His hands i
ntuitively came up to protect his throat.

  She leaped at him...

  With a cry of horror, the man stumbled back into the garage and pulled down the overhead door.

  Foiled, the she-werewolf paced back and forth in front of the door for a few minutes. Sounds of another car turning into the alley sent her scurrying back to the professor's backyard. The ground there was more pleasing to her than the hard pavement in the alley.

  For several turns around the untended area, she luxuriated in the wildness of it. She enjoyed feeling her paws on the half-rotted leaves and vegetation covering the soft ground. Her snout caught wisps of weedy odors that pleased her.

  But suddenly, her nose picked up another scent. Then a flash of white caught her attention—a cat!

  Of all her instincts as a werewolf, hatred of a cat was the strongest. She crouched behind a low bush waiting for the tiny animal to come closer. She would spring out and kill the cat with one crunch of her strong jaws. The killer lust filled her with a passionate joy. It was a heady feeling.

  The white, furry Angora came closer. Only a step or two more, and the cat could not escape.

  But, apparently, the cat too had an instinct for survival, for it stopped and turned its head to face the fearsome werewolf. With a screech of panic-stricken fear, it gave a sideways bound and hightailed it out of the yard.

  Half-reluctantly, the werewolf loped around to the front. Across the street, the two boys she had seen earlier were talking to a man in a uniform and pointing in the direction of the professor's house. One of the boys was holding the black and brown mongrel in his arms, trying to comfort the still-quivering animal.

  While a truck was going by, shielding her from their view, she slipped back into the house.

  Once inside, she began to realize that strange new things were happening to her. A few minutes before, she had had only werewolf-thoughts and the werewolf-hunger for blood. Now, more and more, she began to think and feel as Sybil, the girl, would think and feel. Could she be changing again?