The Invaders Plan

I was scared spitless!

Lombar Hisst was insane!

I was under the control of a complete lunatic!

And there was no possible way to escape it!

Chapter 6

I actually was a pretty sick Soltan Gris when the Apparatus guard bus dropped me at my office. It was very late. I knew I ought to be packing and getting moved in aboard the tug for blastoff. But I sat at my desk for nearly half an hour, just looking into nothingness.

Somehow, I felt, there must be some mistake. Nothing could be quite as horrible as being the pawn of a madman. With sudden inspiration, I dug some of my psychology textbooks out of what I call my "Carrot Hole," a code name for a cavity under the planking.

For another half hour I pored over the Earth texts. Schizophrenia,I verified, is schizei –"tosplit" plus phren –"mind." It was defined as a split or detachment from reality. Paranoiais a chronic psychosis,characterized by well-rationalized delusions of persecution or of grandeur. Megalomaniaoften takes the form of a desire to rule the world. Aural hallucinationsmeans hearing voices that aren't there. These terms, excepting the last, are called the Hitler syndrome:Hitler was a defunct military ruler on Earth. He and several of his chieftains were labelled in the texts as paranoid schizophrenicsto explain their genocidal practices (they worked hard to kill off whole races).

Yes! I had the terms right. Aural hallucinationswas the right label for hearing voices. So Lombar Hisst was insane.

It brought no comfort at all.

If he started taking those amphetamines,a drug called speed,and particularly the heart-shaped orange tablets called methedrine,that I knew were in that bottle he had displayed, he really would go crazy!

I sat there for another hour, glooming.

What could I do?

Nothing!

No, not nothing!

If I didn't get going and push this mission through to the end, I would be a dead man. That had been made too vivid to be mistaken.

The realization alone made me leap up. It was way past midnight. I hastily rushed down the hill to my room to pack. I had even forgotten Ske had been outside the office with the airbus until he, alerted no doubt by the way I came crashing out of my office, took off and landed in the side courtyard.

Frantically, I began to scoop up things and throw them into bags. I was about to stuff the Heller monitors in with old broken canisters when I realized I had to get a grip on myself. I carefully packed them in a disguised case marked Fragile Heirlooms.Ske was leaning against the door. I said, "Give me a of here and move aboard. I won't get any sleep at all tonight if I don't hurry."

"You mean you'll be gone for a real long time?" said Ske. "Years and years? Oh, great. I'll help you like fury!" And he pitched right in. He needn't have been so nasty. The bandages were off his hands. Every bruise I'd given him was healed except maybe for a broken tooth or two.

And then another voice cut in. "You will get plenty of sleep on a bench in the debt court if you don't pay your back rent!" It was, of course, Meeley.

She marched straight over and picked up the box I'd marked Fragile Heirlooms.She picked it up and held it to her chest. I was going to snatch it back when I saw the butt of a blastpistol sticking out of her apron pocket.

Ske had scooped up the remainder of my things along with copious quantities of floor dirt and marched out with them.

Meeley and I stood glaring at each other. That is to say, she glared. I was frantic. I couldn't leave without the one set of Heller monitors I had.

"Fifty credits," she said.

Beaten, I got out my wallet. I didn't have all that much left. And the thought of being bested yet again by this tyrant brought in a flood of bitter memories. I owed her. I really owed her. Oh, what wouldn't I give to ...

I had a counterfeit hundred. It had some blood on one end from the hypnotist. I suddenly had to fight to keep a glorious grin from coming onto my face.

I shoved the counterfeit hundred at her. "I am giving you this in memory of my pleasant stay here," I said. "If you want to reserve this room for my return, that is up to you. But you deserve what you have earned." They would seize and execute her when she tried to present it.

She looked at the bill. She was no trained cashier.

Then she looked at me with a strange twist of her head.

"Good-bye, Meeley," I said. "May you really enjoy your immediate future." I strode out with the box.

We flew through the moonlit night. Voltar's second moon was rising now and the Apparatus hangar was a weird patchwork of thin double shadows.

I was amazed how late it was. Nearly 4:00 A.M. I felt awful for more reasons than no sleep but no sleep was adding to the depression.

Ske refused to help me get my baggage to the ship. I found a hand dolly by myself, loaded it and pushed it to the airlock. When I started to pick it up and carry it in, I was infuriated to see that Ske had just been sauntering along behind me, hands in pockets.

"Carry this stuff aboard!" I demanded.

He just stood there. I could have killed him.

Suddenly I decided on something. I dissembled. Now was the time to get even with him for his nastiness these past weeks.

"Ske," I said, "you feel aggrieved that I did not make you rich. Actually I am very sorry I have not helped your career along to the place it should go." Into the maw of Hells, I privately added.

I reached into my pocket and got out my wallet. "You know that I came into some money lately. It will be no real use to me where I am going." Indeed it wouldn't, or here either. "You should be rewarded for your service. I should not be miserly about it." I fished out the remainder of the counterfeits. Bloodstains would not deter Ske and he sure was no trained cashier. I handed him the wad.

He looked at it, he looked at me. First he used one eye and then he used the other, as though he was not seeing right.

"Well, carry the baggage into the ship," I said. "Come on, come on!" He put the money in his pocket and started to pick up baggage. I myself cradled the Heller monitors and went aboard.

A fresh temporary sign on the last cabin down the passage before the voice-operated door said: Officer Gris Ske dumped my things on the floor and, after a couple more loads, finished up.

I followed him back to the airlock.

"Good-bye, Ske," I said. "Whatever happens to you, I hope it is what you truly deserve." He just walked off across the hangar without looking back.

How is it, I wondered, that Heller can give people money and they are happy and I give them money and they look at me so oddly? I'd have to study up on it in the psychology texts.