The Invaders Plan

"By the way," he said. "Where's our crew? They should be aboard by now to get things ready to launch." I had no answer to that. Practically sinking through the din, I climbed back down the now vertical passage to my room. It was impossible to sleep, no matter how exhausted I was. I slumped down into a chair.

I instantly got right back up. I had sat on something.

A small bottle.

Where had it come from? It hadn't been there before, for that was where I had been sitting. I didn't see how it could have fallen from anything..

Then I remembered with horror that Lombar had said there would be a spy on my tail all the time and I wouldn't know who it was!

Could this be an example of it?

The bottle said: I. G. Barben, New York Amphetamine, Methedrine 5 mg., 100 tablets It seemed to me to be the same bottle Lombar had produced last night.

I knew quite a bit about the stuff. It stimulates the central nervous system by potentiating the effects of norepinephrine,a neurohormone which activates parts of the sympathetic nervous system. It is colloquially called "speed," along with several other types of the drug. I had always been leery of having anything to do with it.

But I was desperate. How was I going to get through the next four hours? I got out the Knife Section knife. I took a little orange, heart-shaped pill. I cut off about a third of it.

I put the bit under my tongue. Bitter. I let it dissolve and absorb through the salivary glands of the mouth.

A tremendous hot "rush" hit me. My heart began to speed up.

Ah, I felt much better. I became confident. I began to feel a little elated. Any worry about where the bottle had come from or the possibility of having a spy in my vicinity with orders to murder me vanished.

What beautiful, lovely stuff this speed was!

I realized I had better get dressed. It wouldn't do to keep ru

With movements that were graceful, almost in slow motion but really a bit too fast, I pulled on the skintight pants. Actually, they weren't skin tight. They were three sizes too big, but that did not matter at all. I pulled on the boots. One was too large, the other too small.

But that seemed normal.

With an almost dancing grace, I got into the tunic. It was too small. But the designs were pretty, particularly the red daggers on the back. Fastening the collar almost strangled me but that was of no concern. I was breathing too fast anyway.

The black helmet was too big but I stuffed a towel in it to keep it off my ears. The mirror showed me that the skull seemed huge but was beautiful all the same. Oh, how right everything was with the world.

I put on my rank locket as I danced some floatingly interesting steps I never had known I could do.

Then I found the uniform belts intricate but interesting. The flattened, bleeding entrails presented a problem. Did they cross from right to left or left to right? I untangled them from the rank locket a few times and at length managed to fasten them correctly.

I discovered then the package of accoutrements: red metal bands, with spikes, that covered the knuckles of each hand; a red sackful of lead that one hung on the right wrist; the ceremonial silver dagger stained with blood and beautifully enscrolled, Death to Everybody,the battalion motto. I hung it on the belt.

The mirror seemed to be in a euphoric state with the gorgeous image that it shined back. What splendid taste Ske had!

I happened to see my watch and was surprised to discover that it had taken me an hour to dress. So I hastily floated up the passageway, hardly touching the rungs at all.

The review platform was securely in place at the airlock. I stepped out upon it and gazed over the pleasant scene.

All of the platforms and bars had been erected, even a series of dressing rooms for dancing girls. Tup trucks were unloading vast quantities of drinkables.

Ba

I counted five bands unloading instruments and setting up on stages. And over there were two fifty-member choruses, one from the Fleet marines, another from the Fleet base. There was certainly going to be plenty of music. Well, I always like music.

A lot of contractors who had worked on the ship were begi

Ah, yes. And transports of Fleet officers and spacers, unloading in showers of powder blue. Well, welcome, welcome. Fine branch of the service, Fleet.

And here came our crew! They slipped off an Apparatus police van. They hastily grabbed their spacebags. They held them on their shoulders in such a way nobody could see their faces. They came slinking up the eighty feet of steps. Five ex-pirates, still under a death sentence.

I stepped over by the airlock to welcome them. I knew the racial type. Antimancos: their heads are a bit narrow at the top and then swell out on each side to make the face a sort of triangle bottomed by a wide, savage sort of jaw. Their complexions are very swarthy; they average about three hundred pounds and six foot eight. There is a lot of hate in their very small, narrow-set eyes. The Antimanco feel the universe does not appreciate them. I would show them Idid!

Expansively, I said, "I am Officer Gris. I have been waiting for you." Maybe it was the way I said it, but the one in the lead, probably the captain, stared at my welcoming hand and then at my clothes and backed up so quickly he almost knocked the rest of them back down the steps. Then he sort of steeled his nerve, uttered a low command and rushed past me through the airlock and vanished into the ship. Inside I could hear what sounded like swear words from them.

I pondered it. I looked at my welcoming hand. There was nothing wrong with it if you disregarded the red, spiked metal knuckles. There was nothing wrong with my uniform either. Quite sharp, really, especially the hangman's nooses.

Feeling quite benign, I again surveyed the vast scene below.

There was Snelz walking about, lining up a full company of men. Dear Snelz. Always a comfort to have him around.

Wait! Euphoria or no euphoria, what was Snelz doing with a companyof men? He only rated a platoon.I looked closer. Even though Snelz was five hundred feet away, the red of the captain'slocket glowed in the morning sun!

With a wave of total certainty, I knew it must have been Snelz who had told Lombar about the Countess Krak! How else would he have gotten promoted? SNELZ WAS THE SPY!

I backed up. Somebody was behind me. I turned and got a foggy view of Heller's face. "Snelz got promoted!" Heller laughed. "Yes, I know. I gave him five hundred credits to buy his next rank. He deserved it." I felt sort of spi

Heller looked strange to me. He had changed to his Fleet dress uniform. He had a round, flat-topped, brim-less cap on his head, slanted a bit to the right and held in place with a gold chin strap. His skintight, waist-length tunic was gleaming with gold citation scrolls against the dark blue. His fifty mission star was blinding on his chest. A wide, red stripe went down the outside of each leg. In his Fleet dress uniform, Heller made a picture that would cause the girls to really faint.

He was looking at me oddly, though. "What are you doing in Death Battalion full dress?"

"It's Snelz," I said. "I mean, there seems to be an awful lot of tupples here amongst the danceships." I realized I was talking too fast.