The Invaders Plan

He thought of some numbers, committed them silently to memory, set the lock, put it on his wrist and laid his hand and the recorder on the table. He adjusted the position so it would show what was happening.

The recorder was ru

Heller was watching in a rather bored way as the doctor began to get out knives and forceps and probes and wheel things about.

Prahd was chattering along soothingly. "It's the small things in life that are a

Finally Prahd wheeled a portable anesthetic gas machine into place. He said to me, "Could you hold this?"

"Oh, no," I said. "The sight of blood makes me quite ill lately for some reason." Prahd shrugged, turned up the oxygen and turned on the sleep gas. He put the mask over the other part of Heller's face. Heller began to inhale it. The needle on a meter clamped to the back of Heller's skull registered Unconscious.

The young doctor picked up a scalpel.

I said, suddenly, "Oh, my Gods, I'm going to be sick at my stomach!" I rushed headlong from the room, making heaving sounds.

Still groaning, I paused in the hall and letting the heaving sounds diminish gradually, reached down and pulled the string I had planted there yesterday. It pulled the wheeltable on which the recorder was resting back just enough to let the hand and wrist fall off, as though naturally, and drop below sight level of the bed. It would look as if he had moved his own arm. The recorder would now have sound but only the side of the bed for a picture.

I let my groaning die out in volume further as I tiptoed outside.

I had him! Of course, it wasn't as good as just plain doing a prefrontal lobotomy, the one the Earth psychiatrists favor; they push a common ice pick up under the eyelids and slash the prefrontal lobes of the brain to hamburger and if the patient does not die at once, he lives on as a vegetable and dies in any case from within two to five years. A highly practical solution to psychosis. But the thought of the Countess Krak restrained me. She would notice.

It is one of the trials of life that one can't have everything one wants. Still, I could do with what I had. With those optical and aural bugs in place, I would know everything Heller was doing and could block him. He now could not escape me. He was going to be totally at my mercy. Thinking of all the horrible things I had suffered at his hands, I sank into a pleasant euphoria. Justice was about to be done.

Chapter 2

A hand was tugging at my sleeve. It was the Widow Tayl. I came out of my reverie. She was pointing in the direction of a little summerhouse some distance away in the trees.

"There's something I must show you," she whispered.

It was all going quietly in the hospital. I could now and then hear a machine move. Two hours, Prahd had said. It would be a long time yet.

Wondering at this power I had over women, I followed the Widow Tayl. I really had no illusions as to what she wanted to show me in the summerhouse.

It was a very pleasant structure, surrounded by flowering trees which drenched the air with perfume. It consisted mainly of a roof and a big, soft pad of bright yellow. A tinkle of music, soft and persuasive, came from the top peak of the ceiling, below which hung an ornate, painted glowplate. It was a secluded spot, safe from prying eyes, ideal for an interchange of secrets and other things.

"WHO was that?" She was still whispering.

I looked at her as she leaned a hand against a pillar. Her mouth was a bit slack, her eyes a trifle glazed. She was having trouble breathing. I looked at her face. I was quite surprised: the warts were gone, only a slight redness remained in the areas where they had been. Her face was quite pretty, really. I looked at her breasts: under her silken robe they were now firm and upright, no longer sagging.

I looked her up and down. I began to feel excited. I walked over to the pad and lay down, smiling at her invitingly. I became aroused, which I had never been before with her.

I expected her as usual to tear and rip at my clothes. She came over to the pad, moving slowly as though in a daze. Still robed, she lay upon it, three feet away from me. On her back and looking dreamily at the ceiling, she put her hands behind her head.

Her eyes, luminous as always, began to grow opaque. Her breath began to quicken. "When I first saw him," she whispered, "I thought he was some woods God. So strong, so powerful." The lamp in the ceiling began to swing and the music took on a throb. "He stepped out of the airbus so smoothly . . . so smoothly . . . so smoothly ..." A huge multipetalled blossom by the door seemed to get larger. "Oh. Oh. Oh. OH!" cried Pratia and the blossom burst like an explosion!

I lay there, fully clothed, propped on my elbow, staring. What the Hells was going on? She wasn't even touching me!

Her slack mouth panted for a moment. Her eyes began to roll back. "Then he stretched and began to walk." A bird peered in, curious. "His feet barely touched the ground," crooned Pratia.

The lamp was swinging as the music reached crescendo. "His toes caressed . . . caressed . . . caressed ...

"Oh. Oh. Oh. OH!" she cried as her slippers flew up in the air.

I began to frown. I was just lying there unmolested. It puzzled me.

Some birds lit quietly in a nearby tree and her breathing slowed to normal. The music was sedate again.

The lamp was still. "And then he walked past the swimming bath . . . ." The lamp began to swing.

The bird was watching intently. "... and his shadow fell across my favorite place . . . favorite place . . . favorite place.

"Oh. Oh. Oh. OH!" she cried as the flock of birds, startled, flew away.

I was begi

The two of us were lying on the pad a yard apart. Her hands were still behind her head. She was breathing a bit hard but it was quieting down. "And then," she began to whisper at the ceiling, "he stopped and with a heavenly motion he removed ..." The bird was really getting intent. "... little red cap . . . little red cap . . . little red cap . . ." Once more the ceiling lamp was swinging and the music was speeding up. "... and he put it in . . . he put it in . . . he put it in ...

"Oh. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" she cried and the bird flew frantically away.

The lamp exploded into fragments!

Red cap? Lying there, the vision of him and his red cap washed over me.

Hey! This (bleep) was thinking about Heller!

And there I was, completely available, not even being talked to, much less touched!

Oh, it made me angry!

I pushed her aside in disgust. That would show her. I stalked out of the summerhouse. She couldn't trifle with me this way!

Behind me I heard her starting again. "And then he put it in his pocket. And he stood there a moment and as he started to go in . . . to go in . . . to go in . . ." I waited to hear no more. I went over to the pool and sat down. Oh, I was cross, I can tell you.

But after a little while, I came out of it. The occasional clink in the hospital was restoring my good spirits. That filthy (bleepard) was getting his! And this was just one more injury he was paying for.

I tried to think of something even more vicious I could do. But actually what was happening was really quite enough.

It was a beautiful day after all.