THE BRIDES OF OOL
By M. A. CUMMINGS
The Goddess of Love had never showered Ool with
her favors. He was the saddest lover this side
of Io ... either that, or the most skillful lady
killer since the invention of Gilk's death-ray.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
As the soft tones of the morning gong sounded through the cabin Oolyawned and stretched. Then he grinned, remembering. This was thefirst morning of his honeymoon. Of course, honeymoons were even moreout-of-date than marriage services. But Loris had wanted both and Oolwas willing to let her have her way.
Funny to think that after all this time Loris was really his. His handcaressed the form lying beside him, the flesh smooth and cold as marble.
Cold! He sat up suddenly, staring at the girl. The pearly lustreof her skin had faded to a chalky white, and he could see no signof breathing. Frantically he felt for a heartbeat. There was none.Loris—his beautiful Loris, was dead.
As the lights glowed on the board, the young Watcher forgot discipline,even forgot the inter-office video. Stumbling into the captain'soffice, he shouted,
"It's Commander Ool. He's requesting permission to land—" he gulped,came to attention, "sir."
The captain was equally startled. But years of training helped him tokeep control.
"Wonder where he's been all this time. No report from him in weeks.Permission granted. And tell him to report up here at once. The Old Menwill want to hear about this. I wouldn't want to be in his boots."
"If I'd been gone this long I wouldn't have bothered to come back," theWatcher said.
"They'd have found him sooner or later. He couldn't stay up forever,"the captain said. "Better get those signals out." And the youngWatcher went back to his post, shaking his head over anyone foolishenough to anger the Old Men, while the captain put through a call toCommittee headquarters.
Between the frequent tests and long periods of questioning, Ool wasalso wondering where he had been. Two weeks gone out of his lifewithout the slightest glimmer of a memory about them. Two weeks offloating in space. Had Loris been dead all the time? Or had she diedwhile he lay unconscious? Had he—could he have killed her withoutknowing it?
Furiously Ool tried to assemble his thoughts, to force his tired brainback over all that had happened, trying to find some explanation.
He could remember perfectly except for the last two weeks. TheInvasion—which had threatened to wipe out Civilization. When, in thelast desperate moments, the untested Gilkite rays had been used, andlike an invisible screen, had held off the foe. How he alone had stoodfor hours at the machines, after Gilk, the froglike Martian inventorhad run from the scene, howling with terror.
The crowds claiming him as the hero of the hour, screaming for thesight of him. Then the meeting with Loris—Loris of the silver hair,the long slim body which gleamed like pearl, the husky voice.
It had been a struggle to get the Old Men to grant them permission tomate, for Loris was a Venusian and not at all the proper sort of matefor a Warrior. But with the success of Gilkite, there might be no moreneed for Warriors—so permission was granted. And now Loris was dead.
Once more Ool was summoned before the committee.
"The committee agrees," said the Oldest Man, "that you could not havebeen responsible for the death of