"Mistress of torment" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bedford Clive)

CHAPTER TWO

The false "Sonia" returned to her suite at the Westland and paused outside the door with her finger poised over the buzzer-button. From inside the door she could hear the sound of two voices, one strongly masculine; the other softer, feminine and weak. At once she realized what had happened. She bit her lip momentarily in anger, then turned back to the elevator. This was no time for heroics. She descended again to the foyer, walked through the revolving doors and signaled to the man in grey uniform to call her a cab. He put a silver whistle to his lips and blew, then opened the cab door as it came alongside the sidewalk. He repeated the woman's instructions to the driver.

"Lancaster Gate, north side," he said. The cab moved south on Hyde Park down to Hyde Park Corner, edging to the right as it fought for a space to make a right turn around the busy circus. But before it made the turn, the woman leaned forward and called through the open window, "Take me to Victoria Station please."

With a resigned shrug the driver pulled back to the left again, to make the left turn into Grosvenor Place. Just over an hour later the woman got out of the electric train at Hayward's Heath Station and began to walk with long, purposeful strides toward the edge of the town. Soon, despite the high heels on her boots that looked so dangerously unsafe to any watcher, she was on the edge of the heath. She took a narrow path slightly uphill, until she reached the brow of the declivity. There she sat down on a bench and took a small black instrument from a pocket. She pulled out a short antenna, not more than six inches long, and pressed a button on the side of the box. Then, as a small red light came on, she pushed back the antenna and replaced the box in her pocket. She leaned back comfortably on the seat, one glossy black leg crossed negligently over the other, and waited.

There was no sound of a "rushing, mighty wind"; no flaring of rocket motors, no roaring of atomic-powered machinery to give warning of the approach of the craft. That sort of accompaniment had been inevitable until about two-thousand Earth years ago, but today was no longer needed. About ten minutes after her arrival, the woman stood up. Ahead of her and lower down, out of sight of the main road, there was a kind of phosphorescent glimmer on the heather; then, as she walked toward it the craft slowly materialized, taking about two minutes to become completely visible. It was a huge thing, nearly a thousand feet long and cigar-shaped with a maximum diameter of some two-hundred feet. No openings along the sides gave out gleams of light to betray it. It rested, about six feet above the ground, silent, inert. As the woman came near, a square door opened in its side and a ladder was let down. She ascended, and as soon as she reached the doorway, the ladder silently retracted and the door closed.

The craft did not roar away at twice the speed of sound. It just – dematerialized! One moment it was there, plain to see. The next, it was not. During the few minutes it had sat in full view, it could have been photographed, would have shown as a solid blip on a radar screen. Now it was invisible, both to a sensitive film and to the questing electronic eyes that had been searching so greedily for something of this kind for the past five years.

Only, where it had rested just above the surface of the heather, it left a tell-tale phosphorescent glow and a slight darkening of the foliage. And it was late the following night that a pilot on reconnaissance noticed that glow and pinpointed it. As dawn broke a group of Air Force and Army officers, accompanied by photographers and experts inspected the area. Apart from the unaccountable darkening of the foliage, and a few marks of sharp toes and stiletto heels in a soft, marshy area, there was nothing to help them…

The woman… and now we may give her the English equivalent of her real name… the woman Gulda came into the craft by way of a small room in which she removed every article of clothing she wore. She stepped into a cubicle where she was showered and disinfected, and passed out into another room where she dressed again in the black shiny plastic cat-suit that was her habitual clothing. Her hair was concealed beneath the close-fitting hood that encircled her face. Her hands were covered by gloves to match the suit, and on her feet were boots with high stiletto heels. She walked, with that purposeful stride, along grey metal corridors to press a button outside a door.

A voice told her to enter. She opened the door, closed it carefully behind her, then turned and held her left hand vertically beside her head in salute.

"Gulda 9734106 reporting back," she said.

Seated at a desk in the center of the room was another woman, older-looking than Gulda, but so much like her in appearance that she might have been Gulda's mother.

"Sit down, Gulda. Tell me what happened."

Gulda sat down, but this time her legs were not crossed. She sat, thighs and knees demurely together, back straight, hands clasped and resting on her knees, very alert and very respectful.

"They've changed their tactics, Lady," she said. She did not actually say that, of course, nor did she call the other woman "Lady", but that is the best literal translation we have been able to make so far of that curious language which seems to follow no rules with which we are familiar.

"We expected that… How?"

"The last two agents they sent us were liquidated… as you ordered, but there was a mistake, Lady…"

The older woman raised her thin eyebrows. Her face was suddenly cold, tense, lizard-like.

"A mistake? What kind of mistake?"

"The bodies were disposed of too soon. They were still wearing the Deprivation Belts!"

"And who was responsible for that folly?"

Gulda closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again to look square into her superior's eyes.

"I was," she said.

"What happened?"

"It was harmless, Lady. Thoughtless too but harmless…"

"I'll be the judge of that. What happened?"

"When your signal came through, I had been waiting a long time… I was bored… I was making the boy and girl… amuse me. They are always so fascinating to watch, Lady, as you know," Gulda continued, rapidly, her nervousness evident.

"And?"

"At once I tied the boy up and took the girl out for a walk, near the great river – the Thames. When we were near the bank, I pressed the destruct button on my transmitter, then pushed the body into the water. The next morning, before I had disposed of the boy, the body was discovered. And then I realized that I had left the Deprivation Belt on her…"

"After all the warnings you had had about the others? After you had seen the fate of those other fools responsible? What is the matter with you, Gulda?"

"I… I don't know, Lady. These Earth people they fascinate me somehow…"

"What about the boy?"

"I held him prisoner for a week. Then I had your urgent message about the arrival of the American girl in London. So I sent him on an errand by underground train. I followed, and as the train came into the station, I destroyed him, and he fell under the train. He was… cut almost in two. But… I forgot the Deprivation Belt again, Lady." Gulda clasped her hands. "Lady, I'm sorry, I really am. You don't know what it's like down there, with everyone's hand against you, danger at every turn – and always the fear of infection – I've been ill, Lady. It is the food I think."

The Lady stared at Gulda with eyes which held no emotion.

"What are the new tactics against us?" she asked.

"The authorities in Britain and America have at last realized that we are some kind of a threat. They have decided to try to get information about us that they can share with the two other power blocks, what they call the Russians of East Europe and Asia, and the Chinese and Japanese, the yellow men of East Asia. They hope to align the whole world against us in defense. But the method they are using is either very clever or else extremely stupid. I don't know which. They have put together a silly little blond American girl and a young English policeman, more notable for his physique than his brain. They are to make themselves bait to attract us, and after that it is left to them to do what can be done to get proof of the threat we offer to their security."

"What do they call themselves?"

"The girl is called Sonia Evans, and the man is Gerry Glasner."

"What else do you know about them?"

"I have pictures here. They are in the cleansing room and will be sent to you as soon as they are safe."

"Why are you here, Gulda?"

Gulda gave a hasty account of the events in the Westland Hotel, leaving out a number of salient facts. The Lady frowned her obvious annoyance.

"Not only have you badly failed us, Gulda, in allowing your obsession with these Earth people to overcome your judgment; but in addition, you are compounding your error by lying to me! I want the whole truth, and I will have it… but not here, I think…"

Gulda clasped her hands convulsively. "I am sorry, Lady. I will tell you the whole truth. This is what happened…"

The Lady held up her hand. "You no longer have my confidence," she said and the words were like the knell of doom to Gulda. The Lady passed her fingertips over a metal plate which glowed to life. The door opened to admit two terrifying figures who advanced to stand, one on each side of Gulda, who half-started from her chair, looking wildly from side to side.

"Take her to the cells," said the Lady. "I shall come to question her in ten minutes."

As the figures each grasped a shoulder, Gulda began to struggle and scream. "No!" she cried, "No! Not torture! No!" She fell to the floor on her knees, her hands clasped imploringly. "Have mercy, Lady, mercy, I beg you…"

The Lady stared at Gulda coldly. "Mercy?" she asked. "What nonsense is this? I think you have mixed too much with Earth people and have absorbed too much of their feebleness of character. What mercy can there be for a fool who imperils the future of two million Andromedans, refugees from galactic disaster? With no more than two years of survival left to us if we do not find a new home, what can I, one of the Leaders of our people, know of 'mercy'. You have outlived your usefulness, Gulda. Take her away!"

The guards grabbed Gulda who was carried screaming and struggling from the room. The Lady sat silent for a few minutes, deep in thought. She regretted the loss of Gulda, as a butcher might regret the loss of a favorite knife. She had been a useful tool, but the edge had become blunt. Worse still, the very metal was soft and useless. Yet Gulda had been brave and had done a lot of good work. A period of punishing and humiliating slavery would reinstate her – but never again for outside work. She must stay under control for the rest of her life which, measured in Earth terms might well be another six-hundred years. It was this longevity of her people that had made it possible for the Lady to bring her fleet from the empty space beyond the solar galaxy into this kinder and safer place – but time was fast running out. There was no room for fools! She stood up and walked from the room, traversing the empty, silent corridors, occasionally nodding to another busy figure who stood back against the bulkhead to allow the Lady to pass. She entered a small elevator and sank rapidly to the depths of the great craft that was her only home.

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And there, in a small room, in total darkness, the Lady found Gulda, with hell in her heart, trembling with fear, knowing some of the ways in which her leader would certainly discover the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about Gulda's earthly activities. And although at the moment the Lady might be willing to let her live, Gulda felt sure that when the whole story was told, the only possible end of her saga could be death!

The two guards who had led Gulda away stood, one at each side of her, detached, uninvolved. Gulda knew well how they felt, because in her time she had been a guard on several occasions. The work was taken in turns of about a solar year each. During that time, the guards, who did all the unpleasant work of discipline in the craft, were segregated from the others. They were dressed austerely, always in black, always totally masked and hooded to increase the non-personality of what they had to do. Really severe punishment was rare, but with so many people living together so many light-years from the home that no longer existed, so desperate to find a new home, tension was always high. Quarrels were frequent, and all disputes, even of a relatively minor nature were punished. In harmony was too dangerous to be permitted. Whenever there was a quarrel, both parties to it were punished equally, on the reasonable assumption that there never was a quarrel in which either party was innocent.

But such punishments were mild and of short duration. During the past hundred solar years or so, there had been only two executions, both for hot-blooded murder. And there had been five or six cases of torture! Gulda had been present at one of these, as a guard, only a few years ago. Under the influence of a real or imagined grievance, one of the crew had removed a vital piece of equipment and hidden it. For three hours, while the Lady had reasoned with the defaulter, the craft had lain in full view in the middle of an arable field in Eire, not twenty miles from the center of Dublin. The craft could not be made to dematerialize. Realizing that reason was getting her nowhere, and desperately worried about the safety of the craft and her crew, the Lady had at last, reluctantly resorted to torture and, inside five minutes the defaulter had been only too glad to say where the missing item had been hidden. But the confession was too late for the victim. The only possible end for her had been a quick and merciful strangulation.

Gulda had been one of the guards that time, and as she stood, strained in every joint and muscle, she sweated as she recalled the sound of the screams of agony she had heard. When the torture and execution was over, Gulda and her co-guard had been immediately relieved from guard duty for a period of twenty-five years. She had not expected to find herself in this dreadful place again, so soon!

They had backed Gulda to the wall and had clamped her wrists high over her head, jacking the clamps up so that she was forced to stand on the tips of her toes. Then they had clamped her ankles in the same way. Sunk into the wall were metal pistons, in cylinders filled with hydraulic fluid. At the end of each piston was a short cross-bar. When Gulda was in position, one of the guards stood as observer while the other one, working at a console, had moved the pistons outward so that the cross-bars pressed against Gulda's joints. At her knees instead of a bar there was a clamp around her leg. Each bar was moved out to make contact with Gulda's shrinking flesh and then, very slowly and carefully they were moved out under pressure further and further, forcing the joints of her ankles, hips, vertebrae, neck and elbows outward. Her head was restrained by a clamp, and the clamps around her knees were drawn inward.

The tension was increased far past the threshold of acute pain, almost but not quite, to breaking-point. Every little joint of her body became a screaming agony, but Gulda knew this was merely the preparation for the real pain. Even though she feared the arrival of the Lady, Gulda felt almost relieved when at last the door opened and she entered. Gulda did not wait to be spoken to.

"Lady," she cried, "there's no need to torture me, really there isn't. I'll tell you everything that happened, everything! It was nothing that mattered anyway. I didn't mean to do any harm… Maybe I was foolish, but I wasn't wicked. I'll tell… I'll tell…"

The Lady looked at her with a face that was filled with a kind of understanding; not compassion, not pity; but understanding of the fact that Gulda was subject to the temptations and follies of all living creatures. Indeed, the Lady liked Gulda; she had thought so highly of her that she had personally selected her to go out into the Earth as her special emissary.

But Gulda had been a tool that had turned in the Lady's hand. She had become enmeshed in the dangerous passions of the Earth people. She was spoiled now. There was no place for her in the plans of the Andromedans. The final service she could give would be to reveal every detail of what she had done, down to the last word and action. After that…! The Lady shrugged her shoulders in a scarcely perceptible movement. There was no shortage of Andromedans, all with nowhere to rest. One would not be missed.

The Lady nodded to one of the guards. "Twenty seconds," she said, "full strength."

Gulda began to scream even before the guard's hand had reached the switches, but it was only a tentative, half-hearted scream. Two seconds later her screams were full-bodied, well grown, strong, hearty, and genuine!

With every bone-joint in her body under the extreme limit of compression, the pistons attached to the cross-bars began to vibrate, not slowly, nor even quickly, but at such high speed that in a fraction of a second the sound rose out of the audible scale and became merely an ache in the ear. Not that Gulda noticed that minor discomfort. The ultrasonic vibrations of bone against bone had an amplitude of about a quarter of an inch. At such high speed, the effect on the nerves that passed close to the joints was incredible. It was comparable to having a hundred teeth drilled at once, without anesthetic. But far worse was the fact that within two minutes at the outside the bone-joints would begin to soften and wear away. As they collapsed, so the pistons would move outward to maintain the compression; and still the fantastic vibration continued.

After a twenty-second treatment, Gulda would be unable to walk for two weeks. Alter two minutes all her joints would be useless forever. She would flop limp like a jelly fish out of water. Nothing would save her life, and unless she were put out of her misery, she would die in agony in a few hours!

The twenty seconds seemed so long to Gulda that she was surprised when the vibration stopped. The note of her screams diminished in scale, but she did not stop. The pain was perhaps less than before, but such things are only relative. How can one relate pain to pain, compare one with the other? Over all was Gulda's fear of her lovely, strong body which she knew must be ruined, smashed in a few moments, saving a miracle to prevent it. And Gulda was not a believer in miracles. Into her mind came a vague memory of something she had heard of, or maybe witnessed. The Andromedans had been around the Earth for a very long time now… broken on the wheel! That was it. Way back – about two centuries, no more, in France, they used to lash a criminal to a crude wheel, revolving in a horizontal plane. The wheel was turned by a couple of assistants at capstan underneath. The executioner stood by, armed with a heavy iron crow-bar. Every time the criminal came past him, the iron bar would fall to smash a bone, until at last the poor wretch was a shuddering, screaming mass of bloody, palpitating flesh. More often than not, when they untied him from the wheel, he would be still alive, still conscious, and he would fall to the stone floor and lie there, a mere lump of meat!

And that was how she, Gulda, of the narrow waist and the full breasts, the long limbs and the beautiful face would be – in just over a minute! In the meantime, the pain was almost unbearable – almost, but not quite. She became aware that the Lady was talking to her.

"Tell me about it, Gulda," she said, and it seemed almost as though there was a note of pleading in her voice. The Lady was not cruel; she took no pleasure in what had to be done. But she was the leader of a great and numerous people. Like Moses of old, she had not brought them across the wilderness of empty space to go wool-gathering!

Gulda told her, in every little detail. She was anxious to omit nothing, until at last even the Lady had ask her not to be quite so meticulous with times and dates and names. Gulda babbled on and on, every word recorded for future study. And as her words poured out of her, the Lady became enmeshed to some extent in the passions that had torn her emissary. Dimly she understood that there was still a mystery about the Earth people which avoided her keen intellect. The history of the relationships between the Earth people and Andromedans went back thousands of solar years.

The danger to their planet had begun to show itself some four thousand solar years ago. It had taken a thousand of those years to develop the technology permitting the faint possibility of invading another planet. And after that, for some two and a half thousand solar years there had been hundreds of patient, scholarly and terribly dangerous expeditions, most of them to Earth, and exclusively so for the past five-hundred years. And now, this was the final exploration prior to the full-scale invasion which was imminent. Half a million picked immigrants in some five-hundred passenger-carrying craft, backed up by about a thousand carrying cargo were almost ready to land – and the Lady still had to admit there was much neither she nor any other Andromedan knew about these primitive creatures; these bloody-minded, self-destructive animals.

She sighed. Gulda would have to be kept alive. She would have other uses.

"Give her another thirty seconds at full power, in two periods of fifteen seconds each, with an interval of five minutes," she ordered. "Then deliver her to the sick bay and leave her their, under close arrest and solitary confinement." The Lady turned away, unwilling to witness the terrible punishment to which she had condemned Gulda. As the door closed behind her, she heard the girl's frantic screams rising to an hysterical note…

Gerry's first action had been to release the blond girl he had found in the closet. Until he had taken her down and loosed the bonds that were cutting so cruelly into her white skin, he had forgotten his own nakedness, but as soon as she was free, he became acutely aware of it, grabbed the terry robe that was hanging there and put it on. He had found the girl bound and gagged, just conscious, but obviously on the brink of total collapse. Now, freed, she lay on the bed, her eyes closed, the lids lying like petals over the pupils. As Gerry watched her, her eyelids fluttered, then opened, and he felt a pang at the look of sudden terror that came into them.

She tried to sit up, but Gerry put a restraining hand on her bare shoulder.

"Lie down," he said. "Rest."

"Where… where is she?"

"Gone," said Gerry. "She won't be back… I guess." But, to be sure he walked to the door leading to the hallway and checked it. He went back to the bedroom and stood beside the bed, feeling suddenly helpless and oddly incompetent. He was faced with something outside all his experience, and had not yet come to terms with it. Looking at the blond girl lying there, wearing one of those strange chastity garments made from the mysterious substance he had already seen on others, he wondered where to start.

"Who are you?" he asked at last.

"I'm Sonia Evans," she said, her voice a mere whisper.

"That's what she said…"

"I can imagine. She captured me and stole my identity card."

"I thought there was something phony about it… but I couldn't put my finger on it. How do I know you are Sonia Evans?"

"Come to that, who are you?" asked the girl, with some asperity.

Gerry smiled. "I see your point. I'm Gerry Glasner of Special Branch, detailed to meet you here. But this puts us both on the spot, doesn't it? I can't prove it because that… woman… flushed the ashes of both cards down the toilet."

"We'll have to get someone officially to identify us both," said the girl, practically.

"You're right, of course. I'll make a phone call and get things moving. We can't take any chances now. That damned woman knows exactly what the plan was…"

"We'll have to play it by ear," said Sonia. "In the meantime, how can I get this thing off?"

Her hands smoothed the metallic chastity belt that covered her breasts and loins.

"You can't!" said Gerry. He told her about the explosion at the hospital.

"It can't be cut off – and if we use oxy-gas on it, the damn thing will explode, which will do you no good at all."

Sonia frowned, then the ghost of a grin twisted the corners of her mouth.

"At least I'll be safe for a time, alone with a handsome English policeman!" she said. "Are you…"

Gerry said, "No. She didn't have time…"

"Then why are you?"

"It's a long story," said Gerry, and had the grace to blush.

"I can believe it!" Sonia's glance was sardonic for a moment. She sat up. "I'm OK now. Do you think we could have some coffee sent up? Then we'd better start thinking about how we are going to earn our keep!"

Gerry called room-service for coffee, and a secret number which, inside half an hour sent a discreet, rather dowdy middle-aged woman to the suite, with photographs and fingerprints enough to satisfy both of them that they were what each claimed to be.

Alone at last, and considerably relieved, they began to discuss their plans.

"She's taken my copy of instructions," said Sonia. "In any event, now she knows about them, we'll have to change them. This is darned serious, Gerry. You know that, I guess. Somehow, you and I have got to find some way either to overcome these Andromedans, or to get them into contact with our governments."

"It's a tall order for two people," said Gerry, gloomily.

"It will be easier for two than it would be for two thousand!" snapped Sonia. "Let's forget the difficulties for a time and concentrate on realities. I'm told there are a number of known landing places in this country."

"Yes. We've found traces on Wimbledon Common, Hampstead Heath and Wormwood Scrubs, all within the Greater London area. And several dozen other places in more distant locations."

"Any pattern? Any known date-associations? Any periodicity?"

Gerry thought about that one. For the first time he realized that a common language was not necessarily conducive to the meeting of minds.

"You mean, is there any regularity about appearances?"

Sonia nodded, impatiently.

"No. They come and go, that's all."

"Any idea where the most frequent sightings have been in the past three months?"

"It's a toss-up between Wimbledon and Hampstead, but somehow I think Hampstead would be the best bet."

"Why?"

"Because it's the top of a high hill. There's places where you can see all over London. With binoculars you can see right down to the Thames estuary on a clear day. They'd probably feel safer where they had good vision."

Sonia nodded. "Do you know the exact place?"

"I've seen a map. It's on the hill-top, overlooking what's known as The Vale of Health – that's a sort of village that was established there about one-hundred years ago when the fad for fresh air and the country life first started. It's full of people like artists and writers and antique dealers these days!"

"We'd better go there and wait, I guess."

"Wait?"

Sonia looked at Gerry severely, and when she spoke it was with some asperity. "Yes, wait! What else would you propose we do? Run around in circles?"

"OK, OK, I'll go along with that. There's a good small hotel there – more of a pub really. Maybe we could stay there – and frolic about on the heath for the good of our health!" Gerry was nettled, and showed it.

"Why don't you get on the phone and try to book rooms?"

Gerry looked up the number of the hotel and dialed it. Enquiring for rooms, he ran up against a snag. Cupping the earpiece he said, "There's only one room – a double!"

"Take it," said Sonia. "Say we're married!"

Gerry confirmed the booking, promising to be along inside a couple of hours, then rang off.

"It'll be a bit difficult…" he said.

"Not for me, it won't," said Sonia, running her hands ruefully over the smooth, flexible sheath that covered her. "Of course, if you're afraid I shall rape you…" She smiled sarcastically.

"Might be more afraid you won't!" Thought Gerry, but he left it unsaid. The memories of her predecessor were still too strong. He knew now that he could not trust himself as he had believed he could.

They dressed. Sonia was relieved to find that her traveling case was intact, and her clothes undisturbed. She was so much smaller in every way than Gulda that the Andromedan had not stolen or even disturbed anything. She left Gerry to dress in the sitting room, while she used the bedroom. When she came back to the sitting room, Gerry was waiting for her dressed in his business suit.

"My, don't you look formal!" she said, mockingly. "You don't exactly look prepared to play games on Hampstead Heath!"

"I'll get something more suitable on the way," said Gerry, stiffly. "I came direct here from the office. In England, at any rate, in my job, we don't run around in false beards and dirty jeans all the time!"

Sonia laughed outright. "OK let's call a truce, shall we? I won't criticize you for being English, if you promise to forgive me for being American!"

Gerry grinned. "That suits me. After all it's not our fault, is it? Besides…" his face grew grave, "we've got serious business at hand, Sonia. And these people we're up against are probably more advanced than we are. We'll need all our energies to deal with them!"

He looked at Sonia. "At least no one could say you were excessively formal!"

The small blond girl was dressed entirely in white leather. Her boots were zipped to the knee and had high heels. The miniskirt and short jacket were made of soft nappa leather, and under the jacket she wore a skirt of the softest kid. On her hands she had wrist-length white leather gloves. Her honey-gold hair hung down her back and over her shoulders, making a delightful contrast. Gerry felt he had never seen a more charming and thoroughly delicious sight. He stared so frankly and so long that at last Sonia began to blush.

"Seen it all?" she asked at last, breaking the spell.

Gerry started, and stood up. "I'm sorry I was being rude. The fact is I was thinking I've never seen a prettier girl in my life – especially among policewomen!" He smiled.

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"Let's go!" said Sonia. "Time's a-wasting!"

They found the small hotel easily enough, although the cab driver complained about being taken so far off the main road. Gerry was tempted to lecture him about the legality of the situation, but repressed his police instinct and shut him up with fifty pence over the legal fare. The room was in a small outbuilding, attached to the main structure by a covered corridor.

"Nice," said Sonia, appreciatively, looking around at the genuine antique furniture.

"Used to be a stable," said Gerry.

"The horses wouldn't know it now! What's the best time to start looking for the Andromedans?"

"There's no special time. There's no pattern at all. They may come at any moment, and stay a few minutes. We don't know why they do it. There's a theory that they have to switch off whatever mechanism they use to give their craft invisibility from time to time – possibly for service. But it's only a theory. We'll just have to stay around and wait."

"It's a good thing the weather is good," said Sonia. "Since one time is as good as another, why don't we have dinner first? I'm darned hungry. And you'd better change now, so we can go out immediately after."

Gerry felt that it was a wry comment on contemporary life that he was required to dress so conspicuously in order to avoid comment! He took off his suit and white shirt and put on tight jeans, a floral shirt and, as a final touch, two strings of love beads. Sonia sat quietly interested watching him. At one stage, when he was stripped to his briefs, modestly with his back to Sonia, he turned to pick up his shirt which was lying on the bed.

Sonia let her eyes rest on the scarlet weals on his buttocks. They widened and then rose innocently to meet his. There was not a trace of mockery in her gaze, not a shade of amusement. But Gerry flushed and turned away, conscious of the outline of his bard penis under the thin briefs.

After dinner they walked slowly along the narrow footpath, up the hill. From where they stood it was just possible to see a perfect oval marked on the smooth, short grass in a hollow place. It was just slightly darker than the surrounding grass; so slightly darker that no one who was not in the secret would have realized there was anything special about it. The oval was about eight-hundred feet long and three-hundred feet wide. Close up, it was invisible.

"Their craft must be huge," said Sonia softly, as though she was afraid of being overheard.

"Enormous," agreed Gerry. "I wouldn't want to be lying on the grass when it landed!"

"We are conspicuous standing here," said Sonia. "What do we do?"

Gerry looked around him. "When in Rome," he said, "we do as the Romans do!" There were half a dozen couples lying full length on the grass, decently spaced to give each couple a degree of privacy. From their attitudes it was obvious that they were oblivious to everything but the close proximity of their partners.

"Maybe it's a good thing I've got this sheath on, at that," said Sonia. "Let's find a good place."

They lay down on the grass, under an oak tree, sheltered from the footpath, but in full view of the mysterious oval on the grass below them. Gerry lay stiff and rigid beside the American girl, who turned to look at him.

"For Pete's sake, Gerry," she snapped. "Don't lie there like a Goddamned log! Anyone seeing you would know you were a copper! You stick out like a sore thumb! I'm not all that repulsive! Put your arms around me!"

This was exactly what Gerry had wanted to do, but not merely for the sake of appearances!

He took the girl in his arms and drew her close, smelling the perfume of her hair. "An Englishman," he murmured, "needs time!"

Sonia giggled and moved to a more comfortable position. "Not too much time, I hope!" Her mouth was not two inches from Gerry's, slightly parted, tempting, inviting. He pressed his lips against hers, breathing hard in the warm dusk, conscious of the hardness of his genitals under the coarse cloth of the new jeans. To his surprise Sonia responded to his kiss, so that for a few minutes the world seemed to stand still. Then he felt a small, firm hand groping between his legs, moving upward. Even so, at the first contact with his balls, he jumped. Sonia's mouth came away from his momentarily.

"Got to look authentic," she explained, grasping the slider of the strong brass zipper. Gerry felt the cool air as the zipper came open, and writhed as the small hand went into the gap and began to stroke gently at his hot and throbbing penis. His thighs came together momentarily, trapping Sonia's hand, then relaxed and released it. The fingertips moved under the elastic edge of his briefs.

"Lift yourself a bit," whispered the soft voice, and Gerry obeyed. Swiftly she tugged the briefs so that her hand had all the freedom she wanted, and a second later Gerry felt his penis gripped firmly. Sonia's lips came close to his again, so that he could feel her breath, it was dark now, and he could not see the girl, but he had no doubt that she was still there! Before he kissed her again, she whispered, "This looks authentic enough! No one will bother us now!"

No one, thought Gerry, but twenty or thirty uniformed police who would soon be wandering the heath in pairs, with Alsatian police dogs, intent on disturbing the erotic peace of the heath. But his critical faculties were dulled by the sensation of that tiny hand gently massaging his penis, never stopping, so that he was quite incapable of moving away.

Gerry's own hands began to explore Sonia's warm body, stroking her legs, moving upward until he could feel the smooth softness of the thin white kid briefs she wore under the leather skirt. And then he was stopped short as his fingertips made contact with the cool metallic sheath that covered her sex.

"Not much joy for either of us there, I guess," Sonia murmured, and Gerry felt a sudden surge of anger and resentment against the creature who had taken possession of Sonia's body in this way. It was like having a bucket of cold water poured over him! This was not really a warm, romantic summer's night with a lovely and surprisingly adaptable girl. It was merely a clever disguise, adopted so that while they were about their deadly serious business, no one would remark on their presence. Sonia sensed the sudden change in Gerry's mood as passion drained away. She moved away from him as he sat up, closing the zipper of his jeans. Suddenly he gripped her hand.

"Look," he said, pointing ahead into the darkness.

They sat watching, their eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness. Below and in front of them, a few hundred yards away, the large oval marked on the grass was glowing with a faint phosphorescence. Sonia shivered, and Gerry put his arm protectively around her slender shoulders.

For over an hour they walked around the heath in the dark, arms around waists. Several times they stopped to kiss, not because anyone could see them, but from a kind of mutual need. They were not exactly afraid; both had been in tough situations before. But this was beyond and outside anything they had ever before encountered.

"What shall we do if it materializes?" asked Sonia, voicing Gerry's own thoughts.

"There's only one thing we can do," said Gerry. "We must get ourselves captured."

"What… what do you think they will be like?"

"I can only guess. Obviously they'll be technically advanced. Probably far beyond us. But we've got to face up to the possibility that their whole attitude may be entirely different from ours. It's hard to explain what I mean, but our behavior as human beings is set to a definite pattern. You're American and I'm English – and you're a girl and I'm a man – but even so, we've got an awful lot in common."

"For an extreme instance, we've both been reared and educated to think that murder is wrong. We can kill when we have to, without too much trouble of conscience. In a war we can accommodate it. But apart from that, we are repelled by it… and that's not something special to English-speaking people either. It's the same all over the world, among the most civilized people and among the most primitive tribes. There's something fundamental in human nature that is repelled by murder. I've met a few murderers in the past couple of years, and I can tell you that they are repelled by it too."

"But these Andromedans… we don't know. Maybe their values are entirely different from ours. From what we saw of her, they have the same physical shape as us – but do they have the same… moral shape?"

"All the fiction writers I have read assume that creatures from outer space are either supermen, or else submen. Either benevolent, 'men like Gods'; or else wicked, as we understand human wickedness. But suppose they are neither of these things, but different?… I'm not making a good job of this," he ended, lamely, "but I know what I mean."

Sonia said gravely, "I think I understand too. We all have an attitude we adopt to other human beings. For instance, if another human being was starving, we'd do our best to feed and comfort it. That at least is something everybody understands. But we have an entirely different attitude toward animals, for instance. We exploit them, shamelessly."

"Yes. And the Andromedans may look on us as animals! In which case it's going to be difficult to get to first base with them. But I'm going to try. By God, I'm going to try! If I can get one responsible one to agree to talk to my government, or yours, that's my job done!"

Gerry felt Sonia shivering under his arm.

"You're cold! Why don't we go back to the hotel and get a drink, and some hot coffee. Then we can come back here for an hour."

"But suppose they come while we're gone?"

Gerry laughed grimly. "Then they'll have to come back again another day, Sonia. We can't stay out here twenty-four hours a day for weeks on end, can we? If we don't keep fit and well, someone else will have to take over, and the whole thing will be back to square one. At least we know a bit more about one Andromedan than anyone else does."

As they turned to walk down the hill toward the lights of the hotel, Sonia said, "Yes, Gerry, what did you learn about her? Why were you naked when you found me. What had been going on?"

"It's a long story," muttered Gerry. "How did she get that sheath on you?"

"That's another long story," said Sonia, "a very long one." And with that Gerry had to be content!

When they got into the bar and Gerry saw how pale Sonia was, he vetoed any further watching for that night. "You've had a tough day," he said. "You've got to keep up your strength. Early to bed tonight, and tomorrow we'll start work in earnest. One day more or less will not make any difference. If the world is going to end, it will end and that's all there is to it!"

The management, as Gerry had already noted, had thoughtfully provided a double bed! However, with Sonia's enforced chastity this presented less of a problem than it might have done otherwise. However, there was one practical problem.

"I don't have any pajamas," announced Gerry. "I haven't even had the chance to go back to my apartment today… I'll sleep in my shirt and briefs."

"Do you usually wear pajamas?" asked Sonia, mischievously.

"No!" said Gerry, shortly. "I sleep in the raw."

"Then why not do the same thing now? You won't offend my maidenly modesty – and with this damned sheath on I'm not afraid of anything you might do when I am innocently asleep!"

The idea of sleeping in his underwear was not attractive to Gerry, and since Sonia did not mind, why should he? He shrugged and stripped off.

"I'm going to have that bath I started on when I found you at the Westland," he said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

They lay side by side in the dark intimacy of the double bed. Gerry desperately wanted to take the girl in his arms again, but like so many Englishmen he was held back by a strong repression of instinct. If he tried to do it and she resisted him, he would in some subtle way suffer a psychic injury. He dared not risk himself.

"How did you get those red marks on your body, Gerry?" asked a voice from the darkness.

"Like I told you, it's a long story."

"I've got plenty of time…"

And so, at last he told Sonia the whole story in detail, holding nothing back, not even trying to cover up the fact that he had found himself to be ready to fall into perversion.

"Do you think she was telling the truth when she said the Andromedans were attracted to sexually perverse Earth people?"

"I don't know. Maybe she made that story up to get me going."

There was a short silence. "Did you enjoy it?" the girl asked.

"Yes… yes, I did. I admit it, although I'm ashamed of it."

"Ashamed? Why?"

"Because it's wrong. You know that as well as I do."

"I'm not sure that I agree, Gerry. As I see it, you got pleasure from it, and obviously so did she. You did not come to any harm. So what's more wrong about that than, say both of you getting drunk? That's not the best thing in the world to do, and it can be darned dangerous especially when someone decides to drive a car in that condition. But a whole lot of folk enjoy it, and so long as they don't lose their social capacity, no one condemns them! Why condemn anything just because sex is involved?"

"I don't know," said Gerry slowly. "But I've always thought of that kind of thing as essentially wrong."

"Well, I guess it's a matter of opinion," agreed Sonia, "but to me sex is something that should be enjoyed. Not that I can enjoy it much at present!" She moved, so that for an instant her flank touched Gerry's side and he could feel the soft implacability of the metallic sheath that deprived her. "Do you think she was right? I mean about the Andromedans being attracted to perverse people?"

"Hanged if I know. How could they tell?"

"Maybe they can read thoughts!" Sonia giggled. "Like I can read yours! Move over here near to me," she added.

Gerry slid across the intervening space, surprised that a mere six inches could have seemed such an unbridgeable gulf. He felt the warmth of Sonia's body beside him in the friendly darkness. As he folded her in his arms, he drew breath sharply. One small hand cupped his testicles, and the other grasped his penis in a proprietary manner.

"I could easily become very perverse with you, Gerry Glasner," whispered a soft voice. "But I wouldn't want to hurt you. I'm not made that way. I'd have other ideas; lots of very good ones!" Gerry stopped her talk with a kiss. It was a long time before they fell asleep.