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diff --git a/40284-0.txt b/40284-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e516509 --- /dev/null +++ b/40284-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4181 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40284 *** + + Transcriber's note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence + that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + + +[Front cover: Janet was more than a beautiful woman. She was white heat +and surging womanhood all dolled up in a body like that of a French +movie star. She was as wanton as a Polynesian dancer and as demanding as +a nympho.] + + +[Cover flap: Beth Danson was about twenty-five and, besides her deep +auburn-brown hair and lovely face, she boasted an equally attractive +body. He found himself captivated by the warm thrust of her breasts +beneath the silk blouse. The clear milk of her flesh, at the "V" of her +throat excited him in a strange way. When he thought of her as his wife, +it was frightening. It was as though someone had tossed him a woman and +expected him to just fall into the routine of marriage. It wouldn't be +hard to come to love this woman, but it would take awhile. Hell, he +didn't know her. She was a complete stranger who had suddenly told him +they were married. There was nothing familiar about her; even the +fingers that were softly working over his face were alien.] + + + + + "_I think we're property..._" + --_Charles Fort_ + + + + +He was lying on a strangely made bed, the warm breezes of evening +rolling in off the crashing sea and the woman stood in the ornate +doorway that entered the bedroom. Her hair was as gold as the noon sun +and her eyes, lifting slightly at the outer curves, were as blue as the +sea. Her lips petaled back over the white strength of her teeth and her +fingers did strange things to make the flimsy robe drop from the rounded +softness of her shoulders. Then his fingers curled about the curve of +her thigh. His fingers tightened and the crimson smile broadened; he +pulled and felt her resist him with maidenly demureness, but in the end +she came to him. He felt the yielding firmness of her body pressing down +into his on the bed and his arms furled about the softness that she +offered. The warm cones of her breasts worked on the hardness of his +chest and his mouth fused against hers for a passionate kiss. + + + + + SEX LIFE OF THE GODS + + by MICHAEL KNERR + + + AN UPTOWN BOOK + + AN ORIGINAL NOVEL + + + UPTOWN BOOKS + are published at + 1213 North Highland Avenue + Los Angeles 38, California + + Copyright 1962 by Uptown Publications + + All Rights Reserved + + + + +All persons and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any +resemblance to persons living or dead, or actual events is purely +coincidental. + + + + +FOREWORD + + +He left the mother ship and headed for Terra; he smiled at the +instrument panel and watched the operation of the big scout ship as it +rocketed toward the light ribbon of atmosphere that enveloped the +planet. It was a joke, in a way. In a manner of speaking, he was the +first Terran to fly an alien space ship, but he wasn't thinking of that. +He was thinking of the woman, Elizabeth Danson of Everett, Pennsylvania. + +She was waiting. + +And he could see the warmth of her body, sheathed in the web-like gown +that seemed spun over her turgid breasts and curved hips by an army of +artistic spiders. It would not be a hard thing to love a woman like +that. + +His fingers curled about the controls, his feet working the rudder +pedals of the screaming ship as he headed for the strange darkness of +the Atlantic Ocean. The space ship was operating well and the Earth +lifted her curved bosom to meet his rush. + +Trouble came early. The danger lights flickered in his eyes and the fear +welled up within him like a flood. Fifteen hundred miles an hour and the +scout ship was out of control! The behavior of the craft was erratic, as +though a giant hand was slapping the silver belly as he plummeted toward +the ball of the earth. + +Desperately he tried to reduce the speed of the hurtling ship, his +fingers working the buttons and levers in a frenzy of determination. The +craft refused to respond. She whipped into a cloud bank, headed for the +sea, lifted suddenly and whirled back toward space. + +In an agony of fear he realized that he no longer was the master of the +space ship - he was a prisoner in a violent, uncontrollable meteor that +would finally slam him into infinity against the very earth that was to +be home... + + * * * * * + +In the early hours of morning, Jean Renault of Nova Scotia fingered the +wheel of his fifty foot boat through the grey ground swells of the Grand +Banks, almost to the place where he would cast his nets into the water. +The overcast sky was refusing to emit the sunlight and a light mist hung +over the sea like a disjointed ghost. When Jean heard the whirring roar +of the ship, it was too late. The silver streak whipped over his fishing +boat with all the furies of the gods, and nearly tore his steadying sail +away. Muttering a string of French curses, Jean picked up his radio +telephone and reported in violent tones the presence of the jet to the +Coast Guard. + + * * * * * + +In the half-light of early dawn, the United States and Canada whirled +with reports upon the strange craft. The CQ of the National Defense +system began systematically pinpointing the track of the strange craft +as it raked across the adumbral sky. + +Then, it was gone! + +The rocketing ship had appeared over one observation station near Lake +Ontario. It had been spotted by a CD worker near Auburn, N.Y., then it +was gone. The last observation of the craft showed it flying an erratic +track toward the mountain country of Pennsylvania. + +At CQ operations office, in Washington D.C., Lt. Colonel Martin Griswold +tossed the last report on his desk and pinched his lower lip +thoughtfully. Colonel Delbert, sitting across from him, looked serious. + +"It's out of control," he mused. "And it isn't one of ours. Russian?" + +"Might be." He looked at the rugged country along the Pennsylvania, New +York map for a moment, then he picked up the phone on his desk. "This is +Colonel Griswold. Get me the Pentagon." + +At 0930 a special plane left Washington, bound for the town in northern +Pennsylvania that had been chosen as a base of operations. On board the +plane were the Secret Service men who were to track down the crashed +ship. + +They were several hours too late... + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +He awakened to flame and smoke and it was as though he had been born +again. About him lay thick, summer cloaked forests and heavy carpets of +laurel and brush. Obviously, it was some sort of plane that was burning +nearby and he had probably been in it. In his mind, he remembered only +the blinding flash of white light, then a sea of darkness that had +enveloped him. Whether he had been thrown clear of the wreck, or whether +he had crawled, he didn't know. But the torn flying suit he wore +convinced him that he had once been airborne in that battered craft. + +The heavy, canvas-like material of the flying suit had protected the +blue serge business suit underneath, so that besides a ripped pocket it +was presentable. He grinned wryly in the pre-dawn darkness. Presentable +to whom? The squirrels? He peeled off the flying suit and added it to +the flaming wreckage, then staggered off through the night toward the +valley below. There was usually, he recalled, water in ravines. + +He used small saplings for handholds while his head thumped and +thundered wildly. Probing fingers found a lump beneath blood matted hair +that was sensitive to the touch. There was a scratch on his cheek, +sealed with dried blood, and his hands were skinned as though he had +broken a fall in cinders with them. It was, he decided, amazing that he +had survived a plane crash with so little injury; but then, stranger +things had happened. + +There was a run at the bottom of the hill, one of those leaf choked, +meandering little creeks that become stagnant pools in July and August, +and raging torrents of brown water in the spring. Lying on a sloping, +flat rock he thrust his face into the stream and drank deeply, feeling +the life flow from the water into the weariness of his body. He washed +his face in it, splashing it over his head until his mind began to +function with familiar clarity. + +But he still did not know who he was... + +When he tried to search backward into the past, he could see only the +white flash and the darkness. It was frightening. It was as though +someone had taken a pair of scissors and cut away the whole memory of +his past life. He fumbled through his pockets, found the wallet and the +cigarette lighter and began flipping through the cards with the help of +the tiny lighter flame. + +An identification card labeled him Nicholas Howard Danson and stated +that he lived at 2312 Weisman Drive, Everett, Pennsylvania. There was +also a draft, social security and drivers license card. The others were +membership certificates to various clubs and organizations. Finally +there were several pictures of himself and a woman; in fact, there were +a great many pictures of the woman. One was a portrait of her, +inscribed, "love, Beth", which told him that she was either a girlfriend +or his wife. + +Nick extinguished the light and put the wallet away. In his shirt pocket +he found a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He shook one out, lit it and +dragged the smoke down deep into his lungs while he pondered over his +newly discovered self. + +Of course the proper thing to do would be to get to a phone, call the +local authorities and explain the crash. The law would help him get home +and check him out. That was the proper thing - but he wasn't about to +do the proper thing. He was a stranger to himself. Who was he? What was +he? He could well be outside the law, a criminal... Then what? Turn +yourself in, Danson, he grimaced, and discover that you are wanted by +the law for something? To hell with that. Get to this Beth woman and get +some answers to a few questions before you bring in the law. + +Apparently no one had seen the crash. No one knew he was here. Perhaps +it would be better to leave it like that until he had a chance to find +out just what he was up against. + +He decided not to contact anyone. When it was light enough he would look +for a ride to somewhere. At a gas station he could find out where he was +and where Everett, Pennsylvania was. Then, by thumbing, he could get a +ride to where he lived. If this Beth woman was his wife, she could fill +him in. There was plenty of time to call the law. + +Sleep, when he tried it, refused to come. There were too many unanswered +questions rocketing around in his brain. Well, he had to find a road, +sooner or later, so it might as well be now. Perhaps the more distance +he put between himself and the wreck, the better it would be for him. He +took a final drink of water from the creek and stood up, his sore, +battered muscles protesting violently. Then he began to stumble through +the adumbral forests to find a road. + +It was getting light when he found the highway. It was small and narrow, +bedded with pebbly asphalt with a faded white line down the middle that +told him it was not a first class road. It stretched ahead of him, +dwindling among the thick hemlock forests and dwarfed by the steep, +wooded hills. He grinned, wondering vaguely which direction he should +travel to get to Everett. Finally he pulled a quarter from his pocket +and flipped it into the air. He caught it deftly. Heads, I go to the +right; tails, I go to the left. Heads won and he started off toward the +right, the stiffness and the weariness dragging at him like a weight +tied to his legs. + +While he walked he studied the pictures in his wallet, noting happily +that it also contained twenty dollars in bills. That was comforting. + +In the daylight, the picture of Beth that had looked pretty in the flame +of the lighter, became beautiful. Although it was a black and white +photo, Nick decided that her hair was brown. It swept about a soft, +heart shaped face like a cloud. The image was smiling at him and he felt +that if she was not his wife, he hoped that she was his girl. + +It was late in the morning when he found the service station. It was a +small, lonely, isolated place that sported two pumps and cramped looking +lube rack. Through the open door of the washroom, Nick could see the +shoes and coverall legs of the attendant as they stuck out from under a +Ford. Nick found a dime in his pocket and treated himself to a cold +drink, while he tried to figure out where he was. + +Across the highway a marker told him that he was on Route 87. He pulled +a Pennsylvania map - not entirely sure he was in Pennsylvania - from the +rack inside the door and, unfolding it, found Everett. The route 87 ran +through the town, but it was difficult to puzzle out whether he was +north or south of the place. He refolded the map and stuffed it into his +pocket for further reference, and glanced around. On the far side of the +office was a door marked "MEN", that was just what he wanted. His +clothes, his hair and his face needed a few emergency repairs before he +could confront the population of Everett. + +He went in. + +In a mirror, with most of the backing peeling away, he discovered that +Nick Danson was rather good looking, if you overlooked the damage. His +blocky, rugged face was smeared with dirt and dried blood, with a slight +stubble shadowing his lean cheeks. The mop of tangled black hair had a +lot of red splotches in it from the blood he'd lost. He filled the bowl +with tepid water and began soaping his face and hands vigorously, even +though it hurt. After washing most of the blood from his hair, he found +a comb in a pocket and whipped some order into the matted, dark mass. + +The attendant was standing at the counter when Nick came out of the +restroom. He was an elderly man with receding grey hair, a hawk nose and +grizzled features set firmly into a face that looked like a dried apple. +He grinned and the gold cap on an eye tooth flashed dully. + +"Thought I heard someone in here," he said around the chew that pouched +his cheek. "Car break down on ye?" + +"I'm walking," Nick told him. + +"Yer a long way from any kind 'o town, son ... say," he said suddenly +noticing the scratch marks. "Y' been fightin' a bobcat?" + +Nick shook his head and fished for a lie. "Got drunk last night and into +a brawl. My friends pitched me out of the car in a moment of +playfulness." He hoped he had put enough bitterness into the explanation +to make it ring true. + +The old man chuckled softly. "Durned shame, son. Y'from around here?" + +"New York," Nick lied. "I'm stayin' in Everett." + +"Everett," the old man cackled. "Hell, that's fifteen miles south +o'here, or better." He paused, swiveled his bird-like head and spat a +jet of brown juice through the open door. "Tell y'what, son, seein's how +you'll have t'walk it down there. Ain't no one goin' that way, I know +of. S'pose y'could thumb it, but it'd be hard. Lonely road, y'see. If +y'don't mind waitin' till after supper, I'll run y'down to town. Drop +y'off where y'want to go." + +"Hadn't thought of waiting so long," Nick told him. "What would I do? +Just sit here?" + +"Hell no! In th' back room there's a cot. Been sleepin' there myself +sometimes, since m'wife passed along back in '53. December of '53 it +was. I'll wake ye, come supper." + +"Thanks." + +With the hunger gnawing at his stomach, Nick took a cellophane wrapped +pie from the counter and began eating it. He handed the old man a +quarter. + +"S'funny," the old man said, ringing up the sale, "ye don't smell like a +drunk. Ought t'be some likker smell to y'son." + +"I was drinking vodka," Nick countered, wondering how he had pulled that +from a mind that could not remember his past. He took another bite of +the pie as the old man gave him his change. + +"Bad stuff, vodka. That's th' slop them Russian hassocks drink, ain't +it?" + +"I think so." + +"Well, it ain't for Andy Hocum. Them hassocks can have it." + +Nick was saved from further conversation by a new station wagon pulling +into the pumps. A young woman, dressed in a suit, cut the engine and +honked the horn briefly. Andy waved and headed for the door. + +"Get some shut eye, son. I'll wake y' later." + +"Thanks, Andy." + +He finished the last of the pie and watched Andy stick a hose into the +wagon's gas tank, then go around front to wipe off the windshield. + +Nick cleared the pie wrapper off the small counter and tossed it into a +box as he headed for the backroom. After closing the door, he fell onto +the bed and a moment later into the well of sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +Detective Lieutenant Nolan Brice braked the Fairlane at 2312 Weisman +Drive and got out quickly. For a moment, he wasn't sure whether Beth +Danson would be awake, but it was a long drive into headquarters and he +didn't want to go back to a dismal office, or even a lonely bachelor +apartment. He glanced at his watch. 9:30. He shrugged and decided to try +it. + +She answered his knock almost at once, smiling him into the front room. +For a moment, he allowed his eyes to finger her body, letting them spear +through the wrap around robe and the flimsy nightgown to where warm +flesh ebbed and flowed against the sigh of silk. Her brown hair was +bed-tangled and most of the makeup was gone from her face, but Beth +Danson was a woman who had the unconscious ability to look beautiful +under any circumstances. Nolan felt a thunder in his veins as he tossed +his hat on the sofa. + +"Coffee, Nolan?" she asked. + +He nodded and they went into the kitchen. "We found the Peters' kid, so +that ends another case." He dropped to a chair and watched her fixing +the coffee. "You're up early, Beth." + +A shadow crossed her face momentarily. "I had a dream, Nolan. A bad +dream." + +"About Nick?" + +She nodded and set a cup of coffee before him. The tears were close +again, but Brice hadn't seen them fall over Nick for a long while. It +was ridiculous the way she mooned over the guy, but there was no +understanding women. + +"You ought to stop dwelling on him, honey," Nolan told her. "It doesn't +do any good." + +"He's alive," she said, softly. + +"You know better than that. If he was alive, we'd have found him. Men +just do not drop out of sight in the Twentieth Century." + +Beth lifted a hand to brush her hair into place and sat down to sip at +her coffee. Nolan studied her. She actually believed that her husband +was alive and that he would return to her. He hoped not. It was a +selfish thing to think about, but he was in love with her; he'd have had +her long ago if it wouldn't have been for Nick and his dark good looks. +He mouthed a swallow of coffee and settled the cup in its saucer. She +was looking at him. + +"Is there any news, Nolan?" + +"About Nick? No." He touched her arm. "They've given up ... and so +should you. Honey, you're young, beautiful. Hell, another woman would +have gone out and had a ball. + +"Listen, there's a lousy show on down in Everett. Want to go?" + +She smiled. "Thanks, but you're probably tired from hunting for the +Peters' kid..." + +"I feel fine." + +She shook her head. "Nolan, I know how you feel about me. I'm very +flattered. But ... but I have to accustom to his loss in my own way. I'm +sorry." + +Nolan forced a smile. "That's the way the mop flops," he mused. "I'll be +around, when you are." He finished his coffee in silence. "Well, I have +to get moving, make out a report and all. Thanks for the coffee, Beth." + +She nodded, but remained staring into her cup. Nolan went into the front +room, picked up his hat and went out into the morning to climb into his +car. When he had started it and headed back toward Everett, he found +himself struggling with the feeling that he was being cheated. + +After all, he reasoned with himself, why should a guy have to play +second fiddle to a man who was probably dead. If Nick Danson were alive, +it'd be different; but dead, and that was an almost sure thing, he felt +cheated. Beth could learn to love him. She could forget. Hell, a lot of +women lost their men for some reason or another, but they accustomed, +they altered their lives. If a man dropped the reins, some other guy +should pick them up. It was only natural. + +He shut off the thoughts of Beth as he reached the busy section of town +and concentrated on his driving. He could wait, he decided in closing +off the thoughts. Sooner or later she would be ready to accept the +truth, and he would be right there waiting. He maneuvered the Ford +around several other cars parked in the lot of the City Hall and found +the berth that bore his name. He killed the engine, got out and went +inside to his office. + +When he opened the door and saw the two men and the Chief sitting in his +office, he knew it was something big. After awhile, it was so you could +spot a Fed a mile away. Especially when they were sitting in your +office. Chief Daniels looked grouchy at him, but his tone was cordial. + +"You finish with Peters?" + +"Yes." + +Daniels nodded, his florid, moon face looking lumpy and important. +"Lieutenant Brice. This is John Cartwell and Sam Morgan. Secret Service. +I've promised to give them assistance in an important matter. They'll +brief you." He nodded an important good-by and left the three of them +alone. + +"What's the problem, gentlemen," Nolan said and settled behind his desk. + +Cartwell, a stocky looking thirty year old, with wavy blond hair, did +the talking, while his dark complected friend puffed placidly on a +cigar. + +"Lieutenant Brice," Cartwell said, "your boss seemed to think that you'd +be the best man to help us set up our plan of operation. We've already +contacted the Civil Air Patrol and the National Guard outfit here. We +have an air search under way and for the meanwhile that's all we can do. +We were hoping that you could help us get in touch with all the ground +observing corps' branches; we'll use this office as a headquarters for +operations." + +Nolan blinked, "What's up? An Air Force test plane down?" + +Cartwell shook his head. "We got a UFO report..." + +"A flying saucer?" Nolan was stunned. + +Cartwell chuckled and his partner grinned. "An Unidentified Flying +Object does not necessarily constitute a space craft, Brice. But +something was spotted off the Grand Banks, early this morning, going +like hell and apparently out of control. We got our last sighting over +Auburn, New York. We checked the observation posts around Everett and +found that nothing was seen. We also checked Binghamton and Elmira, with +a negative report. Since the object was on a southerly heading, when +spotted near Auburn, we can only assume that it went down in the area +between Everett and Auburn, and Binghamton and Elmira." + +Nolan gave a long low whistle. "Not one of ours, huh?" + +"No." + +"Canadian?" + +"Not at that speed." + +"That leaves the big one, then. Russian?" + +Cartwell shrugged. "Could be. If it is, we want the wreckage. No matter +what it is, or whose it is, we are very interested in any aircraft that +travels at speeds of fifteen to nineteen thousand miles per hour." + +Nolan whistled again. "That's rolling," he grinned. + +"Yeah," mused Sam Morgan, "and we'd kind of like to know what makes it +roll like that." + +"Okay. Let's go into a huddle," Nolan said. "But I can tell you this. If +the thing went down in north central Pennsylvania, it's in some pretty +rugged country." + +"Great," Cartwell snarled. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +The dream was of a woman. + +He was lying on a strangely made bed, the warm breezes of evening +rolling in off the crashing sea and the woman stood in the ornate +doorway that entered the bedroom. About him lay all manner of bright +silks and strange colored cloths. The woman smiled and his eyes caressed +her. + +Her hair was as gold as the noon sun and her eyes, lifting slightly at +the outer corners, were as blue as the sea. Her lips petaled back over +the white strength of her teeth and her fingers did strange things to +make the flimsy robe drop from the rounded softness of her shoulders. He +watched her walk, upon curvaceous legs, to the edge of the bed. For just +a second, she smiled down at him. + +"Father is sleeping like a baby," she whispered. + +He felt himself talk: "Good." Then his fingers curled about the curve of +her thigh. His fingers tightened and the crimson smile broadened; he +pulled and felt her resist him with maidenly demureness, but in the end +she came to him. + +He felt the yielding firmness of her body pressing down into his on the +bed and his arms furled about the softness that she offered. The warm +cones of her breasts worked on the hardness of his chest and his mouth +fused against hers in a passionate kiss. + +"Lors, Lors, darling. You've been gone so long." Her voice was a kitten +purr in his ear, warm and gentle. + +"I'm back, Jela," he smiled, his hands caressing the lithe length of her +body, folding her against him tightly. + +She moved away from him, rolling, tugging at him to respond, but he +needed no encouragement. His body rolled with her, his arms pinning her +to him tightly so that she could move nothing ... nothing but her legs, +but then there was little need to move anything else... + + * * * * * + +The dream faded and he cursed, and tried to get back to sleep and the +beautiful woman who awaited him. Sleep came, but the dream was gone. + +Andy, shaking his shoulder, woke him about sundown and Nick swung his +legs off the cot and stood up. Still sleepy, he fingered the heavy +stubble on his face and looked at the old man. + +"Y'kin use my razor t'chop off that beard, son," he said. "C'mon, get +around now. Got soup and sandwiches ready an' some famous Hocum coffee." + +Nick straightened his wrinkled clothing, shaking the last remnants of +weary fog from his brain. Andy went on talking to him and said something +that woke Nick Danson up completely. + +"Yer buddies was here, couple o' hours ago, son." + +"What?" It was almost impossible to keep the surprise out of his face +and voice. Andy didn't seem to notice anything wrong. + +"Th' fellers y'got drunk with. Wanted t'know if I'd seen any strangers +on th' road. I said I hadn't, 'cause I figgered they might want t'slap +y'around again." + +"Thanks, Andy." + +Who could possibly know about the plane crash? If the wreck _had_ been +found, it would be the police asking questions, not two strangers. +Somebody, somewhere, was searching for him. Who? And what did they want? + +Fingers of fear and worry flittered along his spine. + +When they had finished eating, Nick shaved, cleaned himself up and +followed Andy out to where his car was parked. He found that he liked +the old man, but under the circumstances conversation was difficult. The +plane crash, for one thing, was a bit on the odd side. The burning +wreckage, he recalled, had shown no signs of ever having had wings or a +tail assembly. But that was probably minor; the wings could have been +ripped off by the trees when the plane came down. The important thing +was that someone knew he was here. As they drove toward the town of +Everett, the old man began talking about the strangers that had inquired +after Nick earlier in the day. + +"... Nope, I says to the big feller, ain't seen a soul on foot all day, +'ceptin' o'course, Jimmy Dilson, goin' down t'Willer Creek, t'fish. That +seemed t'satisfy them so they lit out." + +"Notice what kind of car they drove, Andy?" Nick asked. + +"Yep. Gave 'em gas. They was drivin' a Chevrolet. Looked to be a '56 or +a '57; black, it was. Blacker'n th' inside of a coal bin, with th' +shiniest chrome y'ever saw." + +"Sounds like them," Nick told him, enlarging the lie. "One of them short +and the other medium?" + +"Not exactly. The one did all the talkin' had a funny accent. Anyways, +he was about six feet, three or four, and heavy. Goodlookin', with +blond hair. The other guy was about your build, with sandy hair. Never +talked, that guy." + +"They're the ones," Nick lied and shook a cigarette from a half empty +pack. "Thanks for not giving me away." + +Andy nodded, lapsing into silence, while Nick concentrated on coming +home to a strange woman, and the two men who had been asking after him. +For some reason, he got the feeling that Beth Danson was his wife and he +accepted it that way. She couldn't be his sister ... besides, a man his +age would be married, in all likelihood. He wondered vaguely how she +would welcome him, but cast the thought aside. He'd know soon enough. + +As they approached Everett, in the gathering twilight, Andy turned to +him. + +"Where d'ye want off, son?" + +"Weisman Drive. Know it?" + +"Yep. We're almost there. Suburban area, just north of town. Y'got +friends there?" + +"Yes." Nick grinned inwardly. That is, he thought, I hope she's a +friend. Hell, I don't know whether she hates my guts, or loves me ... +but she's the only one that can help. A frightening gloom fell over him +suddenly. + +Andy lapsed again into silence and the sound of the motor became loud. +Nick continued to ponder the strange men and the woman he was coming +home to, but it was like bashing his head against a wall. He could +remember nothing. And, through his thoughts, the memory of the dream +returned to him. It was the most vivid dream he had ever had, almost as +though it was real. + +Abruptly Andy brought the car to a stop before a sign that read, +"Weisman Drive." Nick thanked him and climbed out onto the road. The old +man waved and the car spat cinders as it roared back onto the highway, +heading toward the town. For a moment, he stood there watching Andy's +car fade into the night, then he began walking along the road, looking +for 2312 Weisman Drive and trying to ignore the feeling of fear that +welled up within him. + +When he finally found it, he saw that it was a two story place that +looked to be white frame, trimmed with a darker color that was probably +blue. In the off light from the street lamp, it was difficult to tell. +There was a garage built alongside and a good sized lawn in the front, +but there was no evidence of children. A light in the front room told +him that someone was home - likely Beth - and caution told him he'd +better make sure no friends were with her. + +He slipped quietly up on the porch and looked briefly into the window. +Beth was there, sitting on the sofa reading a book. Her hair, he +noticed, was brown with a reddish cast to it and she was every bit as +beautiful as the picture he carried in his hip pocket. + +He knocked on the door. + +It occurred to him, after he had rapped, that this was his own house. +Why should he rap? But what was done, was done. He waited until she had +opened the door and stood looking at him. He tried a smile, but Beth +Danson's eyes widened in shock and her lips parted in astonishment. + +"Nick," she whispered, as though she had seen a ghost, and fell to the +floor in a dead faint. + +Stunned, he stepped over the crumpled body of the woman and walked into +the room. When he had closed the front door, he lifted her limp body and +laid her on the sofa. He began patting her face and hands to revive her, +wondering what the hell he had done to cause her to faint. + +Why the devil was she so shocked to see him, he wondered. Is she in love +with another man and did they rig that plane so it would crash to be rid +of me? If they had tried to kill him, he could damned well see why she +had fainted at the sight of him. The rings on her left hand bragged that +she was married, probably to him. But why faint? + +He was trying to decide whether to stay or run, when her long lashes +fluttered and she came to. Again her greenish eyes dilated in +astonishment, but this time she did not pass out. Her soft arms slid +about his neck and she pulled him down to where she could kiss him. Her +warm lips caressed his face, kissing his mouth, his cheeks and his eyes, +while she murmured his name over and over in absolute joy. + +Had news of the crash reached her? Did the authorities find the wreck +and presume him dead? Was that why she had fainted and was now so +overjoyed at having him back? His mind whirled with a hundred questions +that his stunted memory refused to answer, and he decided to take it +easy, waiting for her to make the first move. + +"Oh, Nick," she murmured against his ear. "Where have you been?" + +"I don't know. I've been in a crack up, Beth. I can't remember +anything..." + +She pushed him away, suddenly, looking at his face. "Darling! Your face! +You're hurt!" + +"Just scratches," he told her swiftly. "Nothing serious. Beth, you've +got to help me. Please!" He felt strange. It was like asking a total +stranger for help, and he was ashamed and confused. + +"Of course I'll help you, darling. I'm your wife. Now come out to the +kitchen where I can patch you up." Suddenly she burst into tears and +held him close. "Oh, darling, darling! It's so good to have you back!" + +He held her until she had stopped crying, then he allowed himself to be +led into the kitchen where she began applying iodine and bandaids to his +scratched face. Weariness was again dragging at him like some clutching +demon that threatened to drag him down into a bog of darkness. He +studied her, trying to take his mind off his lethargy. + +Beth Danson was about twenty-five and, besides her deep auburn-brown +hair and lovely face, she boasted an equally attractive body. He found +himself captivated by the warm thrust of her breasts beneath the silk +blouse. The clear milk of her flesh, at the "V" of her throat excited +him in a strange way. When he thought of her as his wife, it was +frightening. It was as though someone had tossed him a woman and +expected him to just fall into the routine of marriage. It wouldn't be +hard to come to love this woman, but it would take awhile. Hell, he +didn't know her. She was a complete stranger who had suddenly told him +they were married. There was nothing familiar about her; even the +fingers that were softly working over his face were alien. + +Alien! That's it! The whole damned world is alien, and I don't know who +I am, who I've been... + +"Beth?" He asked suddenly, "how long have I been gone? You act as though +it's been a long while..." + +"A long while, darling." + +"How long?" + +She looked steadily at him for a moment, her eyes deep with seriousness. +"Thirteen months," she whispered, her voice shaking. + +Thirteen months! He relaxed heavily in the straight backed chair and +stared at her dumbfoundedly. Over a year! Where had he been? What had he +done? Why hadn't he been located before now? + +"Thirteen months," he croaked, unable to say anything else. + +She nodded. "Oh, Nick, every police agency in the country has been +looking for you. I've had detectives out hunting. Nolan Brice has been +doing everything he can to locate you. But they couldn't. No one could. +It was as though you had disappeared from the face of the earth." + +"Nolan Brice?" Nick asked. + +"Your best friend..." When she realized that he knew nothing of the man, +Nick could see her starting to cry. Her eyes began filling and he could +almost see the hopelessness within her. + +"Please, honey. Don't start crying again." + +"I'm trying not to." + +He rose to his feet slowly, his head starting to thump and thunder +again, and took her into his arms. It was kind of difficult, trying to +comfort her the way a husband should, but he tried. + +"Listen, Beth," he whispered against her cheek. "It'll all come back to +me. It'll all come back eventually and I'll remember. But for now ... +for now, you'll have to bear with me. I don't know where I've been, or +what I've done, so don't tell anyone I'm here. Please! Don't tell a +single soul! No one!" + +"But why, Nick?" + +"Because I could have killed someone. I could be a thief, a desperado or +something. I don't know. I could even have gotten married..." + +"Oh, darling!" She collapsed on his shoulder and began crying violently +again. + +"Honey, honey! I didn't say that's what I've done. It's just that I +don't know. Whatever I am, I can take my medicine, but I want to know +what it is first. You've got to understand that." + +She tried a smile, blinking back the tears that lay close to the +surface, and he forced a smile to pull at his mouth. It was difficult to +comfort her, yet he knew that it was his duty to do so. She'd been +through a hell of a lot, _and_ she had the memories of it. He did not. +Despite the alien feeling that was welling within him, he knew that she +was the only person who could help him return to himself. Whether he +loved her or not was immaterial; he needed her desperately to show him +to the man he was. Perhaps it would all come back then. + +"I'm sorry, Nick. I'll try to help." + +"Thanks, honey." + +"Hungry?" She asked brightly, moving to turn the flame on under the +coffee pot. At his nod, she went on: "There's some apple pie and I can +whip up a couple of sandwiches, or something." + +"Coffee and pie is fine." + +"In a way, it'll be like courting all over again," she told him, in an +attempt at lightness. "It's terrible to lose the things we had, the +memories. I can't share them with you anymore. But we'll make a whole +lot of new ones to take their place." + +"I'm interested in the old ones right now," he told her glumly. "Things +have happened so fast, it's hard to accustom to the thing." + +"I know," she mused, working over the meal. + +He looked at her steadily. "Beth? When did you last see me?" + +"Thirteen months ago." + +"No, no. I mean, where was I going, what was I doing?" + +"You were going up to the cabin to repair the fireplace and build some +lawn furniture. You were going to stay over night and come back the +evening of the second day. When you didn't come back, Nolan took me up +to look for you. Your car was there, but you were gone." + +"No clues?" + +She shook her head. "Nothing. We thought you might have wandered off +into the woods and injured yourself; but I couldn't accept that. You +were always a good woodsman, even in desolate country like that." + +"Secluded, huh?" He asked. + +"Some of the worst country in the state. We bought the place so we could +get away from the mess in the city." + +He smiled at her. Apparently they had gotten away from one mess merely +to fall victim to another. + +She sliced him a huge piece of pie and set it before him, the same brave +smile still fixed upon her lips. Then she fixed the coffee for him, +black with a lump of sugar. He forked some of the pie into his mouth and +felt a little sick, along with the headache. A stranger feeding him and +loving him, and who knew more about him than he did. He bolted the pie +and gulped the coffee hurriedly. When he had finished, he glanced at the +electric clock above the pink refrigerator. 9:15. + +"Tired, dear?" She asked. + +He nodded dully. Now, he thought, I suppose I'm to crawl into bed with +her! He felt trapped, suddenly panic stricken at the thought; but she +was his wife. He'd married her. He'd probably slept with her thirteen +months before. Why the horror? + +"We'll go to bed now," she decided. "I usually turn in early. Have to +work, you know." + +"I'll sleep on the sofa," Nick mumbled. + +She blinked at him. "You'll do no such thing. You'll march right +upstairs to bed, Nick Danson." + +And the die, he figured, was cast... + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +In the final analysis, he was just too tired to attempt an explanation - +not physically worn out, but mentally. Since just before dawn, he felt +as though he had been on a fantastic merry-go-round. Feeling a bit +strange, he allowed her to lead him upstairs to the bedroom. The sight +of one bed startled him, even though it was a rather large double. He +slid eyes sideways, caught her smiling coyly and forced a grin. She +installed him in the bathroom, tossed a pair of pajamas to him and left +him alone. + +He took a long time showering and shaving. Then when he could avoid it +no longer, he went into the bedroom. She was combing her long satiny +hair at the dresser and had slipped into an aqua colored nightgown. For +a moment, his breath caught in amazement, then he slid between the +sheets of the bed and watched her. Finally she stopped combing and +walked over to look down at him. He looked back, feeling a little like a +caged animal - but enjoying it. + +She fell to her knees beside the bed, her eyes shining with happiness. +The red lipped smile was again tugging at her full mouth. Her fingers +wound gently in his hair and the warm pressure of her soft breasts +rested boldly upon his arm as though they knew they belonged there. + +"I love you so much, Nick," she whispered, her eyes half closed. + +He reached out a hand to touch her cheek and the softness of it against +his fingers alarmed him, thrilled him. He knew what he had to tell her, +but it was a long time in coming. "I ... I love you too, Beth," he +whispered. + +Her soft, moist lips came gently down upon his like a twin promise of +the offering of love that awaited him and he felt his own lips +responding. A slight tremor ran through him as her fingers flicked at +the wall and the room became sheathed in darkness. Moonlight filtered +through the curtains and she moved into the bed, her lithe shape molding +into the hardness of his. Her voice was a warm breath in his ear and her +arms slid over his chest while she talked. + +"You don't love me, darling. That's the whole trouble. We love with our +minds, and love is an accumulation of a million memories - but you have +lost yours. I know, I know. To you..." + +"Beth," he began but she clamped her hand over his mouth. + +"To you, darling, I'm a stranger, just another woman. I know I can't be +anything more right now. You'll have to learn to love me again. + +"But me? Nick, it's different with me. I've waited for thirteen long +months for you to love me again, and by some miracle you've come back. +You're here and so am I. I love you and I want you. Oh, darling, pretend +I'm a whore; pretend I'm anything ... but make love to me. Pay no +attention to anything except to me..." + +His mouth folded over hers, shutting off the flow of words in a +passionate kiss, while his hands smoothed down over the wisp of silk +that kept his fingers from her flesh. Her arms clung to him tightly. + +"It won't be hard, Beth," he whispered against the side of her face. +"You're beautiful ... it won't be hard to love you..." + +Then she twisted from him, making a memory of the film of nightgown +that had kept his hands away from her. He moved to her, his fingers +stroking her into passion while she pulled his face down to the soft +thrust of her breasts. Then she was clamped against him and struggling +to get even closer, her body making a prison for him ... yet at the same +time giving him freedom. + +Later, when she slept, he propped himself on one elbow to study the soft +lines of her face. Then he too dropped off to sleep. + + * * * * * + +His uniform was torn by the purple bushes and their nine inch thorns, +and streamers of blood painted the rich blue and yellow of his trousers. +His face was smeared with grey, pasty dirt and the hand that held the +auto-pistol was wet with sweat. His stomach had rolled into a tight ball +within him and he was frightened. + +They were out there somewhere, waiting for the sound of his black +leather boots to clatter on one of the grey-green rocks that littered +the hillside. They would find him. Their damned radar antennae would +spot him for them. There was no escape from the bastards, and he knew +it. Commander Imry had bungled every damned assignment he'd been given, +and now Firstspacer Lors would have to die in the supreme bungle that +had created the first native uprising on Thista. He looked up along the +face of the high mountain in his rear. Nothing moved in the +greenish-purple scrub, but he knew they were there. + +He peered over the edge of the rock into the valley, a hundred and fifty +_kinos_ away. The patrol car was still there, its driver lying +grotesquely just a few feet from the hatch. The thick, heavy spear +through his chest resembled a finger pointing toward the violet sky. +Closer to him, on the slope, one of the enemy lay dying, a +greenish-brown fluid pumping spasmodically from the hole put in his +chest by the auto-pistol. The alien's huge yellow eyes blinked owlishly +and the slash-like mouth worked as if he wanted to call for help. But no +sound came. The antennae swiveled limply as he tried to locate his +comrades, but they drooped as the alien died. + +Still tightly clutching the auto-pistol, he watched the thin, grey +antennae fall to the ground. They pointed off to the left. He swung +about and looked in the direction the native had been scanning, but he +could see no movement beyond the swaying of the desert grass moving in +the faint breath of air. + +They should have gotten the message. By now, there was probably a ship +on its way to him. He had to hold out until they got here. He flipped +open the cartridge box and checked his ammunition. Plenty. Of course, +the auto-pistol only held fifteen shots and if they rushed him... He +wished fervently that he had thought to bring the projectile launcher +from the wrecked patrol car. + +Damned natives and their uprisings! + +He searched the sky anxiously, cold sweat trickling off his forehead in +tiny rivulets. Scenes of other uprisings flickered through his brain, +and more horrible scenes of the remains of tortured captives when he +reached them too late. Those had been small. This one was for real. + +The native seemed to materialize out of the ground, screaming shrill +obscenities as he drew himself to his full nine feet of height and +brandished the heavy maul over his head. He came leaping over the ground +and up the hill of tumbled rocks in fiendish rage, his grey antennae +pointed directly at Firstspacer Lors. Behind him came the others, eight +of them. + +He fired the auto-pistol at the lead alien, watching the bullet tear a +hole in his face, ripping away one of the blinking yellow eyes. The +alien screamed and fell blubbering. He fired again and again, dropping +two more before the charge broke. + +Then suddenly, at a sound, he whirled and stared terrified at the alien +behind him. The charge had been a fake, an old military stunt that any +green Spacer could have seen through. For one brief instant, he stared +into the large eyes of the native. Then he fired. Another native rose +from the ground, then another and another. He fired repeatedly, crying +and cursing in his rage at the weapon's inefficiency, while over his +head he heard the roaring of the rescue ship. + +Tongues of flame soared over his head and into the surging mass of +aliens. He hoped the ship was not too late... + + * * * * * + +"Nick! Nick, darling!" + +He awoke, his face drenched with sweat and his stomach a tight knot of +fear. He reached out, in his fright, and grabbed the woman at his side, +pulling her into his arms to hold her tightly. She stroked his hair, +kissed his face and whispered soothing words into his ear. + +"What is it, Nick?" + +He relaxed his grip and laid his head back on the pillow. In the bright +light of the moon, he looked at her and returned to himself. Those +monsters! So vivid! + +"Nightmare," he croaked hoarsely. + +She smiled, her lips glistening in the moonlight, and kissed him gently. +"The apple pie," she suggested. "Nightmares are usually caused by eating +before bed." + +"It was so real," he muttered. "So real. I ... I was on another planet +... I wore a blue uniform with yellow stripes on the legs and my name +was Lors, or Lars. The natives, horrible monsters, were in a state of +revolution ... they killed my driver. I was alone and they were all +around me..." + +"Science fiction," she cooed and stroked his hair. "I think it's a good +sign. All you ever read, for relaxation, was science fiction. Your dream +was probably a story you once read and your mind put you in the hero's +place." + +He sat up and looked at her. "Did I cry out?" + +"You were mumbling. I couldn't hear what you said. Then you began +sobbing and thrashing about." + +Nick ran his fingers through his hair and over the back of his neck, the +reality of the dream almost too much for him. It wasn't an ordinary +nightmare where he would be running, with a huge monster panting in +pursuit. This was frightening. Like a memory. Like some damned fantastic +memory. + +He stood up and patted her shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Beth," he told +her gently. "I'm going downstairs." + +"Shall I turn on a light?" + +"No. It might cause the neighbors to wonder." He walked to the door of +the bedroom. "The moon is bright enough." + +He walked into the hall, feeling his way in the dark places, and down +the stairs into the living room. As he sat in the chair near the window, +he thought about the dream. It bothered him, because it was unlike a +dream; it had the weird consistency and logic of a memory, yet seemed +almost supernatural ... Hell, what kind of thing had huge, yellow eyes +and stood nine feet tall? What sort of a world had a violet sky and +grey-green rocks? The whole damned thing had the scent of a Walt Disney +movie, the colors vivid and sharp, the landscape seemingly done by a +watercolor brush. + +_Thista._ + +Apparently it was some kind of planet and he hoped that Beth was right. +Would it be possible for a man to get so confused via a crack on the +head, that he believed he had lived through the literature he'd once +read? What would he dream about next? _Macbeth?_ _Treasure Island?_ +Christ, what a world! + +If he could get to a doctor, a headshrinker, it might all be ironed out. +They would get things squared away in a short while, but hell ... +suppose I'm Public Enemy Number One, or something. Thirteen months! In +thirteen months kings have been broken, dynasties crushed ... What had +happened to him in the thirteen months that he had been out of touch? +One thing he was sure of; he hadn't been laying around. In a stretch of +time like that, he had worked, eaten, slept, loved ... Maybe he had +married again! An almost comical thought, compared to the possibility +that he could be a killer, a bank robber; there were a million things +he could have done. + +A psychologist? Nope. That was out of the question, until he knew more +about Nicholas Danson. And learning more about himself would be a real +problem. The cabin that Beth had spoken of would probably show him +nothing. After a period of a year, there would be damned little trail +left to hunt along. There would be almost nothing. Whatever had been +there, would have probably been sifted through by the guy, the +detective, Nolan Brice. Brice! Of all the friends for him to have, he +had to be saddled to Brice! He'd have to be real careful where that +character was concerned because the slightest slip would set the cop on +his trail like a blood hound. + +The crackup? Now there was something. He would always be stuck with the +question of how he had managed to get out of that mangled mass of metal +with merely cuts and bruises. But he could chalk that up to dumb luck, +or something. The thing that worried him was had he left a clue that +could trace him here? He had burned the flying suit ... he had tried to +cover it up to Andy ... A lot of things about the smashed aircraft +bothered him. Things like the flying suit; it had been made of strange +material; but hell, he'd burned that thing. There would be no problem +with that. + +Almost without realizing it, he found himself staring at the car that +was parked on the other side of the street. The streetlight gleamed on +the black paint of the Chevrolet sedan and he thought of what Andy had +told him earlier about the men who had been interested in finding him. +Looking at the car much closer, he could see the two men sitting in it. +The knot of fear returned to his stomach when he saw the light shining +on the driver's blond hair. + +The men from Andy's gas station! + +"Nick?" + +It was Beth. She had followed him down and he could see her framed in +the doorway at the foot of the stairs. She had slipped into a nightgown +that, in the moonlight, was more alluring than if she had been nude. She +started to speak, but he hissed at her for silence. + +"Come here, Beth," he instructed, "and don't put on a light." + +Her bare feet whispered on the rug as she came to his side in obvious +bewilderment. He pointed out the car and the two men, telling her about +how they had inquired after him at the gas station. She listened +quietly. + +"What do they want?" She asked, when he'd finished. + +She was sitting on the arm of the chair, leaning against him to study +the car. The soft pressure of her breasts was disturbing and conjured up +memories of early in the evening. + +"What do they want?" She asked again. + +"I don't know. That's something I have to find out. Listen, give me a +minute to get to the upstairs window. Then snap on the light and move +around. They're probably looking for me and I want to give them the +impression I'm not here." + +"All right, Nick." + +He got up and threaded his way to the stairs and up to kneel before the +bedroom window that fronted on the street. Through the gap in the +curtains, he could see the car plainly. The light snapped on downstairs. +For a moment, nothing happened; the men merely sat in the car and +watched the house. Finally the car began moving down the street with its +lights out. Then, out of range, the driver flicked on the lights and the +car disappeared. The downstairs light snapped off and a moment later +Beth came into the room. + +"Nick?" + +"Here." + +"Perhaps they saw the crash..." she began, but he cut her off short. + +"No one saw me crash." + +"I mean, later," she explained. "After all, a wrecked car on a highway +would..." + +"Car? Beth, I didn't crack up in a car. I crashed on a wooded mountain +in a private plane." + +"Oh, darling, don't be silly! You've never been in a plane in your +life." + +In the darkness of the room, Nick could only stare in stunned amazement +at the moonlit outline of his wife. + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +Detective Lieutenant Nolan Brice stood in the brush near the wrecked +aircraft, watching the men move about in the light of several spotlights +that had been set up by the National Guardsmen who had roped off the +area. The thick blackness of the surrounding forest, plus a glance at +his watch, told him that dawn wasn't too far away. FAA investigator +Dickson, a thin, stringy ex-pilot stepped around the scrambled bits of +wreckage and offered a light to the dead cigarette in Nolan's mouth. + +"Thanks," Brice said and blew the smoke to the night. "What d'you make +of it, Mister Dickson?" + +Dickson shrugged and pushed his snap-brim hat back with a blunt +forefinger. "Dunno. It's pretty dark to see much, but it's no private +plane." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"No wings, no tail assembly. Of course, it's hard to tell in the dark. +When it gets light enough, we'll know the story; but I don't know of any +private plane that looks like that one. Then too, the Army is holding +the news boys at bay. I think those two government fellows are playing +this one close to their chests." + +Brice nodded and dragged on the cigarette, but he said nothing about the +speed of the thing. "Any bodies?" + +Dickson shook his head. "The thing is pretty well burned, and the +bodies, if there are any to be found, could be all over the area. We did +find a kind of flying suit, though, badly burned and torn." + +"Just the suit? No one in it?" + +Dickson looked perplexed. "Bothers you huh? Me too. I can't figure out +why a pilot would carry something like that as an extra. Oh, well, it'll +all come out when we really start investigating." + +"How long does a thing like that take?" + +Dickson shrugged. "A couple of days, a week. Even a few months. It's +hard to say." + +Brice nodded, took a final drag on the cigarette and tossed it toward +the wreck, watching the red ash burst near the wreck. Dickson had +wandered off to the far side of the crash-made clearing. Hell, Brice +thought, I'd better get that butt. Leaving a thing like that around here +could get me in trouble. They'd think it was part of the crash. + +When he walked over to retrieve the butt, he saw the light from the +flood glinting on a small gold object. He picked it up and found that he +had someone's watch. The crystal had been smashed, likely in the crash, +and the hands were stopped at 4:15. The expansion band watch dispelled +his hunch that the pilot of the plane had been a Russian, or something; +it was a Bulova, and he didn't think Russians had them. But what cinched +the whole thing was on the under side of the face, in the light of the +spots, he could read: "To Nick, Love, Beth." + +And suddenly, it was there! He knew the watch. He knew it as well as he +knew his own. Hell, he had picked it up at the jeweler's shop in +Everett, two years before, when Beth hadn't been able to get into town +and wanted to surprise Nick with it! Stunned and puzzled, Brice dropped +the watch into his pocket and decided not to say anything to Cartwell +and Morgan. Maybe it would cost him, later, but he couldn't tell them - +not until he had a better picture of what the hell was going on. + +He lit another cigarette and stood there thinking about the watch. How +had it gotten here? Nick didn't know how to fly a plane, and even if he +had studied the art, could he fly an aircraft that cleared a speed of +two thousand miles per hour? Hell no! Nor had the watch been there, in +the weather, all this time. + +Of course, Nick could have hocked the damned thing in some town when he +needed money, and by some quirk of fate it had been brought back to the +same area it had left over a year before. That was possible, but Brice +didn't believe it. It just didn't fit. + +"Seen enough?" + +Brice turned and saw Cartwell standing behind him. How long has he been +there, he wondered, and forced a grin. The stocky built blond grinned +back at him. + +"Thought you might want a cup of coffee," he said. + +"Where the hell will you get coffee out here?" + +Cartwell waved an arm toward the foot of the hills. "A farm down there. +They wake up early around here. Sam conned the farmer's wife into making +coffee for the boys. Want some?" + +"Might as well. We have a few minutes - in fact, we have a lot of time, +before daylight." + +"Getting tired?" Cartwell asked, as they started down the hill past the +ring of soldiers. + +"A little. More like anxious to find out what the tale is on that +wreck." + +"You've been talking to Dickson, I see." + +Brice nodded. "Yeah. Well, one thing we know. It's apparently some kind +of experimental aircraft ... like a rocket, or something. And, if it +isn't one of ours..." Brice left it hang and Cartwell didn't pick it up. + +For a few minutes they walked in silence through the dew splattered +forests, homing in on the glow of yellow lights that winked at them +through the branches. Finally they reached the rutted, dirt road that +twisted along the stream bed toward the framed shape of the farm house. +Cartwell broke the silence as they neared the place. + +"Don't talk much about the wreck around these people, Nolan. They're +nice folks, but simple natured. They plant by the phases of the moon and +the biggest event in their lives is going to the state fair. They're +Lancaster Dutch, recently imported, and they believe in the hex signs +they painted on the barn." + +Brice nodded. "Okay, John." + +The farm couple were strangers to Brice, but their type was familiar. +Pennsylvania was full of them. They were, as Cartwell had said, good +people. They were farmers, about three jumps above the witchcraft +believing stock that had given them birth and were hard to understand. +They were the stay-at-home type, to whom Pittsburgh was the Far West, +and if they were forced to move farther than fifty miles away from home, +their relations screamed that they would never see them again. + +The woman, whose name Nolan hadn't caught, was plain appearing, with no +makeup and her hair pulled back into a severe knot at the base of her +skull. From the moment, she asked them in and poured their coffee, he +liked her. In her own, slow way she was a fine person, but her world +was the farm, her life was the soil. + +"Have you found that poor pilot, yet?" She asked, setting the coffee +before them. + +"No, ma'am," Cartwell told her. + +The heavy set woman made a clucking sound with her mouth. "Honest to +true," she mused. "You'd wonder why a thing like that had to come to +be." She sighed heavily. "There'll be some poor woman in tears tonight. +D'you think he was married?" + +"I don't know, ma'am," Cartwell said. + +"It's the children that suffer..." she said softly and allowed the rest +of what she was about to say trail off as Dickson came in. He smiled at +the farmwife and she poured him a cup of coffee. + +Dickson pulled off his hat. "I'd like to thank you," he told her, "for +being so kind..." + +The woman looked pleased and flustered at the same time; there was a +tinge of flush about her face. "Bosh," she said, smiling. "It's the +least a body can do. I know I'd feel real glad to have someone helping, +were it my boy up there." + +"Your boy flies?" + +"He did." The woman looked a bit pained. "He was killed during the war." + +"I'm sorry," Dickson said, and reached for a doughnut from the plate on +the table. + +A silence fell over them as they waited for the coming of dawn and a +chance to really look the wreck over. Nolan was somehow glad to be +spared of conversation with the others. He felt like a criminal, with +the small gold watch in his coat pocket and he wanted to tell Dickson +and Cartwell about the thing. But he couldn't. For the first time in his +life he was delaying an investigation, hiding evidence. He was well +aware of the whole thing, but he was also aware of what the presence of +that watch meant. It was a personal thing now, and until he knew which +way to go, he had to keep the watch a secret. + +If Nick Danson had somehow come back in that wreck and, if they found no +bodies, he would have gone to Beth ... the whole thing would be +complicated beyond belief. What would such a thing do? What would happen +to the woman he loved, if Nick Danson was back? + +He stared moodily into the dark liquid in his coffee cup and wondered +where it would all end. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +Nick awoke to sunlight streaming into his face and had a momentary +impression that it was dawn; then he realized that the sunlight had a +reddish cast to it. He blinked at the bedroom clock, amazed to find that +he had slept until late afternoon. + +My God, he thought groggily. + +His headache was nearly gone, he noticed as he threw off the covers and +swung his long legs to the floor. The soreness was still there, thumping +dully in his stiff muscles, but sleep had been deep and brought no fresh +nightmares to worry about. He cleaned himself up in the bathroom and got +a pair of slacks and a shirt from the closet, still feeling somewhat +like a stranger. While he dressed himself, he thought of the woman he +was married to. + +Despite the feeling of being a stranger in a strange world, and of being +caught up in a strange set of circumstances, he found himself feeling +delightful tremors when he thought of Beth. Even now, there was a tight, +fluttering sensation in his insides when he thought of the talcumed +satin of her skin, the warm lift of her brightly nippled breasts and the +strong response of her rounded thighs. She was a beautiful woman. She +was sex all rolled up in a frame of gentle curves and soft flesh, and he +could see that to love a woman like her would not only be easy, it would +be a privilege. + +He buckled the belt about his waist, trying to dispel the thoughts of +the woman, and went downstairs to the kitchen. Hunger gnawed at him +violently. + +The coffee was cold. He turned the gas on under it and the note on the +table caught his eye. He picked it up to scan it briefly. + + DARLING, + + HAD TO RUSH OFF TO WORK. KISSED YOU GOOD-BY AND YOU SAID "GLUMPTH". + BE HOME SOON. LOVE YOU TERRIBLY. + + BETH + +He grinned at the note, balled it into his fist and threw it into the +paper can. When the coffee was hot, he poured himself a cup and fixed a +couple of sandwiches with what was left of the package of cold meat. As +he was finishing the last couple of bites of the sandwich, he heard the +thud of the evening paper against the front door. For a moment, it +startled him, then, when he had realized what it was, he was half out of +the chair... He paused there momentarily, then sank back into his seat. +He _couldn't_ go out there and get the paper - if the neighbors saw him +picking it up ... He sat there, waiting for Beth to come home, the +suspense digging into his guts with ragged teeth. Had they found the +plane? Were they onto him? Who were those two men? How did they know +where to find him? Why were they looking for him? + +He drank damned near the whole pot of coffee and watched the hands of +the electric clock move with agonizing slowness. Finally, at five forty, +Beth drove up to the house and came through the door. Nick leaped from +the chair. + +"The paper!" He snatched it from her hands and began tearing it open. +Damn newsboys for folding them! + +"Nick! Aren't you going to kiss me?" + +"Huh? Oh." He kissed her briefly, fleetingly, and returned to the paper. +The crash was on page one. + + WRECKAGE OF PRIVATE AIRCRAFT FOUND + + Everett, Pa. The smouldering wreckage of what was apparently a + private plane was found late yesterday evening in the heavily wooded + area north of the city by a young Boy Scout looking for a campsite. + + Benjamin Talbot, aged 13, after locating the mangled aircraft, + promptly called local police who dispatched Detective Lieutenant + Nolan Brice, Everett Rescue Squad and FAA investigator Arron P. + Dickson to examine the wreckage. + + "It's the most unusual crash site I've ever seen," FAA investigator + Dickson told local newsmen. "There's no evidence of wings or tail + assembly. The fuselage is also of a strange design." + + Detective Lieutenant Brice, after checking with the airport tower at + Everett, and with CAP officials, informed newsmen that no private + aircraft had been reported in trouble, or even over the particular + area in which the craft was found. "Of course," Lieutenant Brice + added, "one plane may have gone unnoticed. This is highly unlikely, + but we cannot overlook the possibility. What is puzzling, to me, is + that the aircraft has not been identified and there have been no + bodies found." + + "The Civil Air Patrol," Mr. Dickson commented, "has been most + cooperative and are now engaged in an air search of the area, while + rescue squads work in the mountains." + + Mr. Dickson went on to state that the mystery crash will be + thoroughly investigated by authorities in an effort to determine the + make and model of the plane, as well as the fate of its occupants. + + At present, the crash site has been roped off and placed under guard + by local Militiamen. Only authorized personnel will be allowed to + view the wreckage. Major Gilbert Donnoue, of the Air Force + Experimental Wing, refused to make a statement as to whether the + plane was of Air Force origin. "To my knowledge, we have lost no + test planes. However, an extensive check will undoubtedly be run to + verify this." + +Test plane? Nick stared in amazement at the words that leaped at him +from the printed page. Test plane? What the hell was going on in this +screwy world? No wings? No tail assembly? No Mayday calls? No record of +the plane? The whole damned thing sounded ridiculous. Coupled with the +fact that he had been out of touch for thirteen months, it all became +weird. + +And to top it all off, Nolan Brice was one of the men who had been +placed on the investigating staff at the crash scene. Suppose he, Nick, +had left something at the scene ... a fraternity pin, a slip of paper +... anything that would link the crash to the fact that he was alive and +in Everett. The whole damned bunch would be on his tail, before you +could say, "Jack Robinson." He... + +"Nick," Beth pouted. "Will you pay a little attention to me for a +change?" + +"I'm sorry, honey, but it's the plane." While she listened he read the +account aloud and, when he'd finished, they exchanged glances. "That's +the plane I was in," he told her. + +"But you don't know how to fly." + +"I must know, unless someone else flew it. That's the plane I woke up +beside. I must have been in the damned thing. But I don't know if anyone +else was." He buried his face in his hands. + +"Nick. Should we call the police?" + +"No!" + +Alarmed at his violent outburst, she put her hand on his shoulder to +comfort him. "All right dear. I'm sorry." + +"It'd been different, if those men weren't after me. I'd call the police +if they weren't dogging my tracks. I'd turn myself in just to find out +what the hell's going on." + +"Me too," she said softly. + +At first he didn't catch the meaning behind her words, then he blinked. +"What?" He asked. + +"The car, the black one. It followed me to work this morning." She +paused, then added, "It didn't follow me home though." + +Nick slammed the paper to the floor, his lean jaw muscles knotted in +anger. "That settles it," he snapped. "I can face whatever I'm mixed up +in, but there's no earthly reason why you should be subjected to it! +I'll have to get out!" + +Beth threw herself into his arms, the ever ready tears welling in her +eyes. "No, Nick," she pleaded. "Whatever it is, we'll fight it. We'll +make out, but darling, don't leave me again!" + +He held her tightly against him, his hands stroking the warm softness of +her back and spine. The perfume of her hair filled him with a heady +thought of summer fields of flowers, of sweetness and tenderness, of ... +love. Love. Nick Danson, he told himself, you _are_ mixed up. You're +falling in love with your own wife. + +"... and we'll go away," Beth was whispering in his ear. "We'll pack +everything and go far away, where we'll never see these men again. Nick. +Please. Oh, please keep me with you." + +"Going away won't settle anything, sweetheart. They'll always be there, +just outside the door. I've got to do something..." + +He broke off suddenly and it flicked into his mind like a film of the +past, like a memory. The soft face of the girl, her hair a golden color +against the backdrop of the ochre mountains ... the softness of the pale +blue-green tree... She spun away from him, the loose, filmy blue dress +whirling about her trim ankles ... then she was coming back to him, arms +outstretched ... kissing him lovingly... + +He shut it off, clamped it from his mind. A memory! A memory that made +no sense at all. A tremor of fear ran along his spine and trembled in +his flesh. What did it mean? What was happening to him? + +"Nick?" It was Beth. "What is it, Nick? You look pale and frightened." + +"Nothing. We'll go away." + +She beamed. "I know just the place. The cabin. Far up in the mountains. +No one will know we're there. We'll learn to love each other again." + +"You have to work," he pointed out. + +She nodded. "That's true, still _you_ could go up there and try to +puzzle this all out. I can come up in the evenings, and on weekends." + +"Might be a good idea," he admitted, thinking that at least, he'd be +safe from prying eyes. + +"Then it's settled. You go sit somewhere and I'll get things packed." + +She whisked away, almost running up the stairs to pack some things for +him. He walked to the kitchen, without turning on a light, and poured +himself a glass of water. Outside, through the window, he could see the +twilight fading into evening, the heavy purple clouds of night sweeping +steadily across the sky. A star winked later and he knew it. Venus. He +stood there in the darkness and picked out many of them as they +flickered into being. Mars. Sirius, Vega and others. There were... + + * * * * * + +... She came into his arms and talk was insignificant and quite +unnecessary. The soft, white arms wound about his neck, tugging fingers +pulled playfully at his hair and she smiled at him. His lips moved down +against hers and they were lost in themselves. He could feel the taut +pressure of her breasts playing against his chest and the firm roundness +of her thighs working against his. + +Her strong fingers worked against the muscles of his shoulders, pulling +him down onto the cottony moss beneath the strange tree. The small +litheness of her body molded into his and his hands stroked her breasts +beneath the filmy cloth that covered them. Her hands moved upward to the +straps that swept over her shoulders and pulled them down. His eager +fingers helped her, working the straps down until the firm mounds of her +breasts lifted their rubbery, coral tipped nipples toward the sky. His +fingers worked them, kneaded the warm muscles, while his mouth worked on +hers. When he had released her lips, she pulled his face down into the +twin cushions of her breasts. His hand moved against the flesh of her +thighs, caressingly... + + * * * * * + +"Ready, dear?" + +It was gone. Like that. A sudden flickering memory of some long vanished +event that might have given him some hope. It had been fantastic again, +the strange colors and the weird landscape, but he wanted it despite +that. She had stolen it, ripped it viciously from his mind; but she was +not to blame. He turned and smiled at her as she came into the kitchen. + +She had turned on a soft light in the front room, but had allowed the +kitchen to remain dark. In the half-light of the room, he thought that +she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It would not be hard +to love her, he thought again. + +He reached out and took her by the shoulders, pulling her gently against +him to kiss her. Her mouth moved against his, satiny with desire, until +they parted. + +"I'm ready, if you are," he said. + +"For what, darling? The bedroom, or the car?" + +He chuckled. "The car. The bedroom will keep until we're up in the +woods." + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +In the glow of the headlights, the car swallowed the road voraciously +and they moved toward the north country - not, he noticed, on route 87. +They had not been seen leaving the city, nor had they been seen packing +the car. The garage had a door that led into the kitchen, and Nick had +laid on the back seat floorboards until they were in the country. Now, +sitting in the front seat, he wondered vaguely if Beth, in her joy at +having him home, had given herself away to her friends. He hoped not. He +glanced sidewise at her and noticed that she drove with a smile on her +face. + +"Is it far to the cabin?" He asked. + +"Not now. We're almost to the turn off." + +He lapsed again into silence, the old questions still whirling about in +his mind. Who were the men who were after him? What did they want? How +much had the FAA learned of the plane? Had they found something to pin +it on him? What were these tiny, fleeting thoughts that cropped up in +his mind? Was his mind trying to tell him something via the nightmares? +And what of his best friend, Nolan Brice. Where has he been? What is he +up to? It struck Nick as odd that he had not encountered the detective +yet: surely he and Beth had been close the past year. How close? Suppose +Brice stumbled upon Andy Hocum. Would the old man talk? + +Feeling more helpless than he had ever felt in his life, at least the +life he remembered, Nick stared at the road until Beth turned off on +another road that was little more than a wagon track beside a small +creek. A few minutes of bouncing over ruts and stones, and she turned +off again, parking beside a grey, frame cabin. + +"Here we are, darling." + +They got out, each taking a box from the back seat, and Nick followed +her up the stairs to the porch. Beth set her box down and found the key. +A moment later the lock clicked and she shoved the door open. + +"Wait'll I find the light, Nick," she whispered. + +A moment later, the light snapped on and a soft glow filled the front +room of the cabin. They took the boxes to the kitchen and set them on +the table, then went back into the front room. Nick studied the place. + +He liked the room a lot; there was a rugged manliness in the stone +fireplace and the knotty pine walls, mingled with just a touch of Beth's +femininity to make it neat. All in all, it was a well laid out place. He +was attracted to the oil paintings that hung about the walls. + +"Like it?" Beth asked. + +He nodded. + +"But it doesn't bring back any memories?" + +"No. Hell, honey, I can't even remember what I did for a living." + +She smiled sadly. "Want to see?" + +When he nodded, she motioned him to the other side of the front room and +opened the door. She flicked on the light and he stepped into a small +study filled with the trappings of an artist. Tubes of paint lay on +small tables, beside cans of turpentine, lacquer and old paint rags. A +half finished nude adorned one of the heavy easels. There were a few +water color sketches laying around as well as several oils. + +"Want to see some of your favorite models?" + +He nodded numbly, and she drew open a drawer in the table and pulled out +four fairly large oil paintings done on commercial painting boards. + +The first two were of Beth, one a nude and the other a semi-nude, with +only her lovely breasts exposed. The second two paintings were of a girl +who was not familiar at all. In the first picture, a portrait, she was +seated before a table, contemplating a vase of flowers. A rather good +looking girl with jet black hair and a soft, warm looking face. The next +painting was of the same girl, but this time she had been painted as a +Hawaiian dancer and her skin was a trifle darker. She was a pretty girl, +but her face and nicely formed body didn't ring a bell. + +"Who is she?" He asked. + +"Her name is Janet Holman. She lives about four or five miles from here, +on her father's farm." Beth nodded toward the green filing cabinet in +the corner. "You have her file over there with your records. Doesn't any +of this ring a bell, darling?" + +"No." + +She looked at him sadly, her face mirroring the way she felt. "I hope +it'll come back, darling." + +He reached out and pulled her to him, holding her tight. "It'll come +back," he whispered. "C'mon. I want to build a fire in that fireplace. +It's cool in here, even if it is summer." + +They went back out into the front room and, while Beth found some +kindling, Nick wadded up some newspapers and stuffed them in the +fireplace. When she brought it in, he lighted the stuff and after it was +going good, he added a couple of logs. He snapped off the light and +grinned at her. + +"I like firelight," he told her. "It's restful." + +She smiled back at him. "Restful? I think it's sexy." She had kicked off +her pumps and was lying before the glow of the hearth on the thick rug. +He arranged the mesh screen before the fire and laid down beside her. + +"Sexy, huh?" + +"Uh huh. I don't know, darling ... the warmth of the fire warms me up, I +guess." + +He grinned and dropped his head to the cushions of her breasts. Her +fingers played in his hair. + +"I'm glad," he told her. + +"You used to be. That used to be our favorite way of spending an +evening." + +"Laying in front of a fire?" Nick asked. + +"Not just _any_ fire, darling. This particular fire, sans clothes." + +"Sounds like fun," he mused and rolled over to kiss the ripe redness of +her lips. Her tongue stabbed a blade of passion at him and her arms +pulled him close; then, after a moment, she shoved him away and stood +up. + +He propped himself on one elbow and looked at her. Her smile was impish +as she unfastened the buttons of the white blouse and pulled it from the +waistband of the navy blue skirt. Her fingers unhooked the snaps of the +bra and dropped it to the floor beside the blouse. The firelight was +golden against the swelling lift of her breasts and the flat expanse of +her stomach. Nick felt the thundering beginning again to slam through +his veins with the holocaust of a napalm bomb exploding against the +ground as she unzipped the skirt and dropped it into a puddle on the +thick rug. He watched in pounding fascination as she stepped daintily +from the whorl of the skirt, clad only in the pinkish transparency of +her panties. Then they too were a thing of the past, and Beth was +smiling down at him, passion spearing from her eyes. + +"Will I still do?" She asked. + +"Do what?" He croaked. + +"You know?" She laughed at him, kneeling on the rug. "Will I still do as +a model?" + +He laid down flat and chuckled. "A model, sweetheart, is a small +imitation of the real thing. You don't look imitation to me." He reached +up and grabbed her arm to pull her down with him onto the rug, but she +jerked away. + +"Oh, no, you don't. You have to undress too." + +He grinned at her and peeled off his clothes quickly. She came into his +arms then and they made love, letting the glowing warmth of the fire +caress them hotly. His hands smoothed her breasts while his mouth worked +at the fire that was coming to life throughout her body. + +"Just like old times?" He asked, softly. + +"Better, darling ... much better." + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +Sometime near midnight, Beth took the car and went home. Nick poured a +cup of the coffee she had made for him and went back into the study to +look at the paintings a second time. It was good, professional work, and +he wondered if he could do the same stuff again. Hell, he decided, it'll +be a long time until I get back at an easel. He finished the coffee and +went up to bed. + +It took awhile to get to sleep. Thoughts of the wrecked plane, Beth, the +strange men and Nolan Brice kept running around in his head without +finding answers to the enigmas they presented to him. Finally he slept. + + * * * * * + +He was looking at himself, in the dream, but it was not in a mirror. He +was standing inside a polished room and the other Nick Danson lay on a +bed wrapped in sleep. Nick blinked at the still duplicate of himself on +the bed and turned away to look at the room he was in. It wasn't large. +It appeared to be some kind of bedroom, and it was well lighted although +there were no lights to be seen; the walls seemed to glow, and +everything was of a bright metal. The mirror caught his eye and he saw +himself in the same blue and yellow uniform that he'd worn before. The +Danson who lay asleep on the bed was dressed in blue dress pants and a +white shirt. The tie had been loosened at his throat and his clothing +was wrinkled badly. + +Suddenly the other Danson opened his eyes and looked at Nick. For a +moment he appeared to be startled at seeing him, then he smiled. The +smile erupted in a chuckle that became a laugh. The other Danson's face +grew large and full, roaring out laughter at Nick until the whole scene +changed from one of odd curiosity to one of absolute horror, the kind of +weird horror that can come only from peals of loud, echoing laughter +rolling through the caverns of the mind. + + * * * * * + +Nick awoke gasping, his fingers knotted in the sheets of the bed and a +cold sweat beading out upon his face. His heart hammered in his chest +like a drum, threatening to leap to his throat at any moment. He looked +around anxiously for Beth, but the silence of the room reminded him that +she had gone back to the city and her job. Dawn was breaking and the dim +light filtered through the unwashed windows. There was little point in +trying to sleep now. Might as well get his clothes on and try to start +unraveling a long thread of odd events. + +He pulled on his clothes slowly and slid his feet into his shoes, +wondering where to begin the climb back to himself. It would be bad +enough for an amnesia victim to regain all his memory if given an +unlimited length of time - this way, with people closing in on all +sides, the whole damned thing seemed impossible. + +He hooked the last button on his shirt, stuffed it into his pants, and +headed for the kitchen. He warmed up last night's coffee and it tasted +like warm sulfuric acid, but it brought him around to full +consciousness, even if his stomach did object to it. + +When he had finished the coffee, he found the library in the den and +began reading a few of the titles; often, he remembered, a lot could be +told from a man by his reading habits. There were books by Bridgeman, +Zaindenburg and Loomis, almost everything on the shelves pertained to +art in some form or another - except for the last row. There were about +fifteen science fiction volumes, mostly collections of short stories, +from Asimov to A.E. van Vogt. He had a fleeting idea to start reading +the stuff in an effort to determine whether or not his strange dreams +came from somewhere within the pages, then he rejected it. It would take +a hell of a long while to even skim through that mass of literature and +he didn't have the time. + +He shoved a copy of H. Beam Piper back onto the shelf and straightened. +To hell with it. He had the whole house to search, before he started +fumbling through something as far out as science fiction. He started +rummaging through the various rooms of the place with systematic +carefulness. Hoping... + +When he finished the search, it was noon. He knew a lot about the cabin, +but damned little about himself. The cramped, dismal attic contained +what was left of pictures, odd bits of furniture and clothes after the +local field mice and porcupines had their annual convention up there. +The three bedrooms revealed nothing except the usual gear to be found in +any bedroom, and of the downstairs section of the place, only the art +studio and the combination den-library was of interest. And even these +places shed no light upon the ghost of the man that haunted him. The +studio contained all of the trappings of an artist, even though it was +in rather battered up shape, and the den was a wall to wall replica of +what a woodsman might have owned. There were the books, the stuffed +heads and, of course, the guns. + +The rack, on the far side of the room, contained a table with bullet +loading equipment scattered around it, with cans of DuPont powder on the +floor. Above it, in the gun rack were the weapons - enough to hold off a +small revolution. There were two handguns and three rifles and a +shotgun. He looked them over. + +A Smith and Wesson .38, model 36 and a Ruger Blackhawk .44 Magnum that +looked like the old peacemaker model. One of the rifles was a Marlin +saddle carbine, model 336 and the other was a Winchester African rifle +with a .458 bore. The last gun on the rack was a Stevens .410 single +barrel shotgun. Nick grinned at the arsenal and took the .44 magnum down +from the rack to clean it. It wasn't in too bad of shape, even for as +long as it had remained idle; even the western style holster and gunbelt +contained enough oil to make them pliable. + +He slipped the magnum into the holster and buckled the gunbelt about his +waist, letting it hang a little on the right side. To hell with it, he +thought. If those two characters show up now, at least I'll have an +edge. He pulled five .44 Special slugs from the belt and loaded the +weapon, being careful to see that the hammer hung on the empty chamber. +Then he decided to see how good he was. + +Where the hill rose sharply for a small distance behind the house, Nick +found a good area where he could test his marksmanship. He lined up five +cans, a few feet apart, at the base of the rise and snapped off five +fast shots at them as quick as the single action would operate. Either +amnesia had nothing to do with a man's gun knowledge, or he was a +natural. All five cans were blown to hell and sent skittering against +the side of the hill. Stunned, but satisfied, he reloaded the revolver +and dropped it back into the holster. + +He prowled the grounds about the cabin with the aimlessness of a man +looking for something but not sure what. Beyond the lawn furniture and +the shed that contained his tools, the only other interesting thing was +the creek. A fast running little stream, barely a foot deep but filled +with numerous little holes that bragged of trout. He walked along the +gurgling water for a ways, then he went back to the house, still unsure +of what to do. + +He went back to the cabin and shoved the door open and stopped dead! + +She was just like the painting. Her raven black hair hung loose and free +while, beneath the scant confines of the shorts and halter, the warm +flesh rose and fell temptingly. Nick stood there, unable to say a word. +It was Janet and the light in her eyes made him wonder what kind of a +guy he'd been more than ever. She gave a little gasp of pure pleasure +and flung herself into his arms, planting the ripe sweetness of her lips +squarely on his. + +"Janet," he managed, but she had a strangle hold on him. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +"Russian?" Brice asked, looking at Sam Morgan. + +The dark complected Fed pulled the mangled cigar from his mouth and +pointed it toward the twisted wreckage. On the far side, Cartwell and +Dickson were looking it over. + +"Why not?" Morgan asked. + +"It seems outlandish, somehow." + +Morgan grinned, his peg-like teeth flashing. "You small town cops are +good. I won't take that from you. But you look at everything from a +local viewpoint. In our business, you broaden, you might say. + +"Look at the facts, Nolan. The Defense boys spotted the thing up north. +Radar locked on it and gave it a speed of over two thousand miles per. +So it crashes and we find no wings, no tail assembly ... and I have the +hunch that the damned thing ran on nuclear power." + +"Atomic?" Nolan whispered, amazed. While the Federal cop talked about +nuclear power and fantastic speeds, all Brice could think of was the +watch he'd found at the scene. How the hell could an artist learn to +pilot a thing like that in a mere thirteen months, and what the hell was +behind it all. "You mean, atomic power?" + +Morgan nodded. "See that funnel shaped gismo over there, with the round +ball-like affair?" He was pointing to what was probably the tail of the +ship, at least it was not the section that had absorbed the smash into +the ground. + +Nolan nodded. + +"That's a nuclear reactor," Sam went on. "Uncle Sam doesn't have +anything in the air with that kind of power. I think we're testing a few +engines, but nothing flying yet." + +"Then it is Russian?" + +"That's my guess. No other country would build it. Oh, Great Britain +could, but if it was one of theirs, they would have plastered the red +and blue targets on it. Offhand, it looks to me like a glorified version +of the old U-2 thing, only on their side." + +Brice didn't answer. He stared at the wreckage as though it were some +sort of demon, while a million thoughts burst in his brain. Nick Danson +was in this? He flew it? Where did he get it? How did he get it? Was it +Russian? Was Nick a Russian spy? + +He tried to cover the amazement on his face by lighting a cigarette. +"How come it didn't develop into a pint sized Hiroshima, if it has +atomic power in it?" + +Morgan grinned at him, as though he was a kid. "I said it was powered by +atomic energy, not atomic bombs. There's a kind of difference in..." + +"Hey, Sam! C'mere!" + +Both of the men turned to look across the twisted mass of wreckage to +where Cartwell and Dickson were standing. The blond Fed was holding up a +piece of the wreckage and his face glowed with excitement that he didn't +try to cover. + +"C'mon, Nolan," Sam grinned. "Let's go see what my buddy dug up ... I'll +bet its a Russian manufacturer's trade mark." + +They skirted the wreck and trotted up to where Cartwell stood with the +piece of metal. "Russian, huh?" asked Sam. + +"Russian, hell," Cartwell snorted. "It looks like a cross between +Chinese and Arabic." + +Sam took the piece and looked at it, the cigar clamped belligerently in +his jaws. After a tense moment, he grunted noncommittally and passed the +thing to Nolan Brice. + +He knew nothing of Russian, Chinese or Arabic, but he knew what Chinese +characters looked like. The imprinted marks on the metal bore a certain +resemblance to the Chinese language, but yet were not the same. It +consisted of strange marks that were like nothing Brice had ever seen +before. + +"There are similar markings on the control panel," Dickson said into the +silence. + +"Crap," Sam Morgan snorted. "I say Russian. How about you, partner?" + +Cartwell furled his blond brows. "I think I'd rather let an expert look +this piece over before I make any kind of guess as to where that wreck +flew from." He turned to Nolan. "Where can we find an expert, Brice?" + +"Everett College would be the only place I know of." + +"Okay, we'll give them a try. Where's Lieutenant Peters?" + +Morgan jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the other side of the +clearing. "Over there," he said, "dressing down one of his Weekend +Warriors." + +"Sam. How about going over and remind him to keep any characters off the +site. I have a horror of having the news boys scoop us on this." + +Sam nodded and took off to talk with the Army. Dickson looked at +Cartwell. + +"Anything for me?" he asked. + +"No. Just continue with your investigators. You can make the +arrangements about having this thing hauled down to Everett, but check +with me before you do. Okay?" + +Dickson nodded. + +"C'mon, Brice," Cartwell said. "Let's get Morgan and find out what the +college professors can tell us about this screwy thing." + +They wrapped the piece of metal in Cartwell's jacket and the three of +them headed through the forest toward the road in the valley. + + * * * * * + +Professor Nichols was a wisp of a man who peered at them through small, +bright eyes nearly hidden in fleshy folds. Although his body was about +the shortest Brice had ever seen on a man, the brain beneath his crop of +white hair had made him a giant. A linguist all his life, Professor +Nichols spoke a dozen languages fluently, in addition to reading and +writing them. Brice knew him by reputation and grinned at him as he came +into the empty Dean's office. + +"Gentlemen?" He favored them with a smile. "I'm Nichols. Doctor Bendtolz +said you wanted to speak with me." + +Brice introduced himself and the Federal men and, after a round of +handshaking, Cartwell handed the chunk of metal to the professor. + +"We'd like to know about the writing, Professor," Sam put in. + +Nichols examined the etching on the metal for some time before he looked +up. His small eyes searched their faces in turn, then he smiled thinly +as though witnessing a very bad gag. + +"Are you gentlemen playing some sort of joke?" he asked. + +"The Government doesn't pay us to play jokes," Cartwell informed him +cryptically. "Do you know the language?" + +Professor Nichols shook his head. "I know every spoken language in the +world, and I know many of the dead languages at least by sight. I don't +know this one." + +"You're serious?" + +The old man nodded. "This must be some sort of jest on me. There is no +language on Earth, dead or alive, that matches this." + +"We aren't joking, Professor," Nolan said seriously. + +"Then, my friend, someone must be playing a joke on you. No linguist can +identify this language. I'll stake my reputation on that. Where did you +get this?" + +Cartwell smiled. "I'm sorry, professor, but we cannot disclose that +information. We'll also have to ask you to forget about it. Government +business, you know." + +"Yes, of course. Is there anything else? I have a class in three +minutes..." + +"No, that's all. Thank you, Professor Nichols." + +"You're welcome. Good day, gentlemen." + +As the door closed behind him, a thick silence fell over the three men. +Cartwell looked out the window and pulled at his lower lip with a blunt +thumb and forefinger; Nolan sat on the edge of a desk, looking at the +strange writing as an ethnologist might stare at the bones of the +missing link. + +"What now?" Sam asked, softly. "Call in a Martian to get his opinion?" + +"It's not funny, Sam." + +"Don't I know it," Sam shot back. "We've got some kind of tiger by the +tail in this case ... a tiger bigger than the Kremlin, and I'm wondering +how this will all sound in a report to the capital." + +Cartwell snorted and ran a hand through his blond hair. "I'll let you +write the report, Sam." + +"You go to hell. I like my job and I don't want to get booted out +because of a science fiction twist on an otherwise normal +investigation." + +"What's the next move?" Nolan asked, trying to ignore the sinking +feeling in his stomach. + +Cartwell shrugged. "Go back to the wreck, I guess and try to figure out +something." + +Sam suddenly slammed his fist on the table and several textbooks danced. +"John," he exploded. "You _know_ what this means, don't you? If the +professor's right, and this gibberish on this chunk of metal _isn't_ an +Earth language, then we got problems! You know what we got up there? We +got a Flying Saucer! A space ship!" + +"Oh, my God, Sam cut it out! I don't believe in the damned things, I +refuse to." + +Sam snickered. "It looks to me as though you haven't any choice in the +matter. It's like refusing to believe in a Ford V-8; it don't make any +difference whether you believe it or not, it's there." + +"Jesus," Cartwell said softly. + +"And that isn't the payoff. We didn't find a body in the wreckage. +Unless that ship traveled by remote control, it had a pilot who is +wandering around the country right now. I can see it now. A wounded +little green man running around trying to hitch a ride back to Mars. +It'd be funny if it wasn't so damned serious." + +Cartwell nodded at his partner. "We'd better get back up there to the +site. Maybe the air search or the rescue squads picked something up. +Coming, Brice?" + +Nolan forced a grin. "With little green men running around?" Then he +became serious. "I'll be up a little later. I have something to do down +here." + +Morgan snorted as they headed for the door. "See if you can locate a +Buck Rogers ray gun. We might need it." + +They went back to their cars and Nolan Brice wedged himself behind the +wheel but he didn't start the engine. He sat there, instead, watching +the Government men drive off down the street, his mind whirling with a +million jangling thoughts that tore through him viciously. Flying +saucers, Martians, little green men! The whole damned thing was +impossible, ridiculous... + +But true. A man just couldn't sit down and say "I refuse to believe in +lightning." It didn't make sense. You had to believe what your mind told +you ... and his mind was telling him wild things. + +It all fit. Hell, it fit with a perfection that was absolutely +fantastic, but crazy enough to be the truth. Nick Danson, commercial +artist, disappeared thirteen months ago and every police agency in the +country can't locate him. It was as if the earth had opened and +swallowed him; but it hadn't been the earth, it had been the sky. _They_ +had done it ... the Martians, or whatever the hell they were. + +Why? Why steal a Terran? + +To replace him? To send an alien being down to take the place of the +Terran they had stolen. That took care of the confusion the watch had +represented. For awhile it had looked as though Nick had piloted that +space ship, but now Nolan knew better. It wasn't Nick. It was an alien! + +Beth! + +Had an alien, posing as Nick, located Beth and was now engaged in using +her to help in whatever they had come here to do? How many other Missing +Persons cases were wrapped up in this thing? How many aliens were +walking the streets of earth right now? To hell with that, Nolan, he +roared at himself. The important thing is Beth. You've got to find out +about this thing and stop it, before something happens to her. + +He started the car, slammed it into gear and gunned it out onto the +street, the tires screaming a protest... + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +Janet was more than a beautiful woman and a good model. She was white +heat and surging womanhood all dolled up in a body like that of a French +movie star. She was as wanton as a Polynesian dancer and as demanding as +a nympho. Lying there beside her relaxed nakedness, Nick Danson felt +like another man - a tired one. + +He laid his hand over the swelling rise of her breast and slid it down +the flat velvet of her stomach. She made a small sound in her throat and +kissed him on the cheek with lips like branding irons. + +"I'm glad you have amnesia," she cooed against his ear. + +"Why, for God's sake?" + +She snuggled the curling warmth of her body against him and chuckled. +"Because of this. You used to kiss me, but that was all. I wanted more, +but not you." + +He blinked at the ceiling at her words. She'd tricked him! It was a nice +trick, but still she'd cheated. All the time he'd figured that she was +some sort of mistress, or something - obviously that's what _she_ had +wanted, but in his other life he'd never given her a tumble. It was +funny, in a way. + +"You mean ... we never..." + +"Nope." She chuckled again. "Aren't I a rat?" + +"Vixen, is more like it." + +"That's a good word. I like it. Janet Vixen. How would you like to kiss +Janet Vixen, Nick Danson?" + +"Suppose I get another knock on the head," he suggested, "and I lose the +memory of all this, too? Then what?" + +"I won't embarrass you in front of company. C'mon, kiss me again, +stranger!" + +He rolled over and kissed her again and, tired or not, he could feel the +desire surging through him again. Her small hands moved over the muscles +of his shoulders, digging into his flesh, her teeth nibbling at his +neck. Janet was one of those odd women who can't seem to take a darned +thing serious. No matter what the risks were involved, to her making +wild love was a hell of a lot of fun and that was that. He had the hunch +that if he tried to get serious with her - marriage serious - she'd +bounce him fast. But hell, it was impossible to think of things like +that with her, besides he was having too much fun. If, he thought later, +you can call it fun when you're so weak you can't move. + +"I have to go, lover," she said finally. "Beth might come up, and I +think she would be apt to get a little put out if she caught us in bed." + +"That's putting it mildly," he grinned. "Besides, I have to start trying +to find out about myself." + +"Do me a favor and don't." She pecked him lightly on the lips. "I like +the new Nick Danson a hell of a lot better. C'mon. Snap my bra." + +They climbed out of bed and he helped her into her shorts and halter. +She kissed him lightly again, said; "Good-by, lover," and bounced out +into the hall, leaving him standing there, naked in the bedroom. + +What a world, he thought for the hundredth time and began to gather his +clothes. When he started to put his pants on, his wallet dropped from +the hip pocket and flopped open on the floor. He picked it up, his eyes +absently noticing the card that was exposed in the clear, plastic +window. It was a Selective Service Registration Certificate and someone +had written "small scar on right forearm" under the column for general +markings. Absently he glanced at his right forearm, then his eyes +widened in shock. + +There was no scar! + +A man cannot lose a scar, he told himself. He checked the card again. It +was his, made out to Nicholas Howard Danson; but the scar was missing. +He searched his arm and it wasn't there. The full realization of the +whole thing struck him suddenly like a punch in the mouth. He was _not_ +Nicholas Howard Danson! + +Who was he? What the hell was going on? Had he killed the real Danson +because they were obviously look alikes, and stolen the guy's I.D. Why? +Was he escaping from some kind of crime? Was he a criminal, and what did +the strange dreams have to do with it? + +Numbly he climbed into the rest of his clothes and made damned sure the +.44 magnum was loaded when he strapped it on. His hands shook +uncontrollably and he felt trapped. It would only be a matter of time +before those people at the wreck figured out the whole story and came +howling after him. He had to get out. + +The screech of car brakes startled him and he leaped to the window. A +police car was in the lane and a single, plainclothes cop was getting +out. It could only be Nolan. He watched as Brice pulled his Police +Positive from the speed rig and headed toward the house. Then Nick +hauled out his magnum and slammed it into the window. + +Brice dived behind a bush as the magnum threw a .44 slug that barely +missed the cop. The .38 barked back and Nick ducked the splinters as the +bullet chipped the window frame. + +"Come out, you fool," Brice roared. + +"You go to hell," Nick yelled and fired again. "Who tipped you off, +Nolan? Beth?" + +"You left Danson's watch where your flying saucer cracked up!" Brice +snapped another shot at the window. + +Flying saucer? Nick blinked. What the hell was that stupid cop talking +about? + +"What'd you do with Nick," Brice roared. + +Nick let the magnum answer for him, not trusting his voice. In the few +seconds that followed Nick, in his nervous excitement, emptied the +revolver at Brice, but never even grazed him. He cursed and began +thumbing cartridges into the Ruger. He was almost finished, when Nolan +caught onto the maneuver and decided to come in closer. He stood up and +began sprinting toward the house. Nick had just yanked the hammer of the +gun back to fire as Brice came into the open but he never made it. + +Suddenly, in the middle of the yard, Detective Lieutenant Nolan Brice +disappeared into thin air! Nick heard him yell for help, but he could +see nothing. The yelling kept going straight up into the air until it +grew faint in the distance. + +Nick stared dumbfoundedly at the area where the cop had suddenly faded +out of sight. What the hell was going on in this screwy place? Then he +heard the shout below him and he twisted to stare at the borders of the +small creek. It was the two men from Andy Hocum's gas station - the +blond giant and the sandy haired guy. Panicky, Nick snapped off a shot +and the blond dived for cover. + +"The dumb bastard is shooting," the blond yelled to his companion +several yards away. "Let's get the hell out of here, before he hits +something!" + +He got a brief glimpse of them as they took off through the brush and +snapped a shot at them to hurry them along, just as Beth's car rocked up +the rutty road and braked beside the police car. She leaped out yelling +for him and he went down the stairs to meet her, the gun still in his +hand. + +Her face was drained of color as she came into the house, the red of her +lips looking even more red against the pale wash of her face. "Nick! +Where's Nolan?" + +"I..." + +"Oh, my God, Nick! Have you killed him?" + +"I couldn't hit him," Nick told her. "I emptied the magnum at him and he +disappeared into the air." His eyes had a wild look in them, "Right into +the air," he added inanely. Everything was so balled up. Everything was +crazy. He wasn't Nick Danson ... he didn't know his name ... Brice +vanished into thin air ... the two guys were dogging his tracks ... +women came out of the woodwork to make love to him. What the hell else +could possibly happen? + +Beth was staring at him. "You killed him," she breathed. + +"No, no! He vanished. He vanished ... honest to God, I never even came +close to hitting him. I might as well have thrown rocks." + +"Men do not disappear into thin air," she said. + +"Listen, forget that for a minute. How'd he know I was here?" + +She sank wearily onto a chair and looked at him. "He found the watch I +gave you a few years ago. It was lying at the crash site. He came to the +office where I work and asked about you. I denied that I knew you were +back and he began to yell at me about my life being in danger and that I +should stay away from you until he had a chance to put a bullet into +you. My God, Nick! What have you done?" + +"I dunno," he lied. Should he tell her that he was not her husband, that +he didn't have the foggiest notion of who he was? He decided against it. +"How'd he know where to find me?" + +She sighed. "He helped you build the place. Now where is he?" + +"Goddammit, Beth, I told you! How many times do I have to tell you that +he vanished!" + +"Stop yelling at me!" + +"Then believe me! It happened! I saw it happen, and I wasn't seeing +things! Go out and look. If you can find his body out there, I'll eat +it." + +She uttered a little cry and came into his arms, holding him tightly. +"Oh, darling, I want to believe you. I want very much to believe you; +but men can't vanish." + +"Brice did." + +"All right. If you say he did. All right. Now what?" + +"I don't know. I have to think. I have to try and remember what happened +to me. It's the only way that this crazy whirl will make sense, and it +has to make sense. It has to." + +She nodded. "Let's go into the room. I want to be with you tonight. Let +me have the gun, dear?" + +He stared at her, his jaws knotted. "You think I'm nuts, don't you? You +think I'm crazy." + +"Darling, darling, of course not. But I wish you'd give me the gun." + +Resignedly he unstrapped the gun and gave it to her. He shrugged. "I +don't blame you. Hell, I think I'm crazy too." + +She didn't argue the point. + +They both went into the front room and sat there staring into the ashes +of the dead fireplace while dusk fell about the cabin. Finally Beth +started the fire. When she had finished, she bent and kissed him. + +"Why don't we get some sleep, honey," she said. "That may help." + +"I'll be up later," he told her and she kissed him again. Then she went +to bed. + +How long he sat there he had no way of knowing, but the fire was +steadily dying. The thoughts hammered in his head and he became lost in +them, trying mentally to find the key that would tear away the veil and +grant him a peek at his past. Bits and snatches had filtered through, +garbled and incoherent, that had tried to shed light yet could not. And, +while he leaned toward one conclusion, drawn from the dreams, he felt it +too fantastic for belief. + +He was so absorbed in his thinking that he never heard the door open +slowly. When he did hear the soft tread behind him, it was too late! A +handkerchief of chloroform was clamped strongly over his face! He +struggled, trying to get away from the hands that held him, but he was +powerless! The chloroform got to him. He couldn't breathe... + +He slept. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +The ship came to rest upon a flat, ochre colored plain beside a +brilliant white city encased in thick, heavy walls. There was a dull +pain in his head and fire in his leg, but he was alive. He lay limply +upon the bed while Firstspacer Narvi plied him with honeywine to dull +the pain. + +He grinned, studying the blond giant's warm, friendly face. He was among +friends; the tall, yellow eyed Thistians had failed to kill him and +Narvi had whisked him away into the violet sky. + +"Thought we'd lost you, Lors," Narvi grinned. "You almost did," he +replied, choking on the Thista honeywine. "Haven't you anything else, +something from Darkkan?" + +"Sorry, friend," Narvi grinned, "but you can be glad to get this. The +36th Command has been drinking up even this stuff. I'll see you later, +in the hospital." + +"All right, Narvi." The big man started away, but Lors stopped him by +grabbing his blue sleeve. "Narvi?" + +"Yes." + +"Thanks. Thanks a lot." + +Firstspacer Narvi punched him playfully on the arm and left the +compartment. The medical men came in then, hooking the anti-gravity +capsules to the bed and setting them into motion. The cot-like stretcher +lifted and the men towed him out to the freight elevator. As they stowed +him into the ambulance, he could see Narvi's staff car skimming toward +the Commandant's building to make out his report. + +No doubt Commandant Imry would be coming to see him, later on. + + * * * * * + +Nick groaned. Another dream that was beginning to clear things up a +little... + +"He's coming around." The words were not English, but Nick understood +them. + +The big blond cursed softly. "Speak English, Thesa. Someone might hear +you!" + +"There hasn't been anyone around this farm in months," Thesa replied, +lapsing into English. "But if you're getting particular, don't call me +Thesa." + +Nick opened his eyes and blinked at them. It was the two watch dogs, the +blond and his sandy haired friend. The giant was grinning at him. + +"Hello," he beamed. "Remember me?" + +"No! Who in hell are you?" Nick struggled to get out of the chair he'd +been dumped in, but was pushed back firmly. + +"When you didn't report, we went out to find you. The old guy at the gas +station covered up for you, so we had to watch Beth's house. Used all +kinds of tricks, Lors. Why in the blue heaven didn't you make contact?" + +"You're Narvi!" Nick stared with wide eyes. "You're the man in the +dream!" + +"Dream? Say, what's wrong with you, Lors? You refuse to report, you take +pot shots at us... That crash was a bad thing; don't tell me your +head..." + +"Narvi," Thesa put in quickly. "The crash! He was lucky to get out of it +alive. Maybe he can't remember what went on. That right, Lors?" + +Nick stared at them and foggy pictures swung vaguely into his mind. +Galaxies of stars whirled about, silver ships streaking in the sky and +tiny points of light whipping across ochre deserts. Men in blue uniforms +drilling beneath a violet sky in the heat of a solar wafer splotched +above them. It was real! The fears he had had, the crazy alternative +that the dreams presented to him ... it was all real. + +"It wasn't a dream," Nick muttered, shaking his head like a punch-drunk +fighter. "I really am Firstspacer Lors! And I know you! I know you!" + +"Take it easy, boy," Narvi said softly. "You've had a bad time. I might +have known you _couldn't_ report to us. Thesa, get some water! He looks +as though he's going to pass out!" + +"I'm all right, I'm all right." He looked at Narvi and the memories, at +least a few of them, came fluttering into place. The temporary amnesia +slipped aside and the veil began to rise. + +"You're sure you're all right, Lors?" + +"Yes, Narvi. Things are beginning to make sense. Tell me about what I'm +doing here." + +Narvi cursed angrily. "Commander Imry, the stupid thistlebug! It's all +his fault! All this fouled up thing is his doing. It would have been bad +enough even without your ship crashing; that just added to it. Luckily, +Imry has been ordered back. Someone back home heard of his idiotic plan +and the government is yelling for his hide." + +"What plan? I ... can't..." + +Thesa came in with a glass of water and handed it to Lors, who sipped at +it slowly while the big blond explained things to him. While Narvi +talked, it all began to come into sharp focus in his mind. + +"After you and I finished campaigning on Darkkan and Thista, we applied +for assignment in this galaxy. They wanted to split us up, at first," +Narvi grinned, "but we got mad, so they left us together and we were +shipped here under old Commander Imry. After a couple of years, Terran +time, studying on Mars we became agents on this planet. I got an easy +one here with Thesa, but Imry had bigger plans for you. Damn him!" + +"But why are we spying on these people, Narvi? For war?" + +"I hope not. The Terrans are getting close to space travel, and you know +what that would do to our colonies in this galaxy. They're entering a +primitive Atomic civilization and they're like little children playing +with weapons. Oh, they're serious enough, but they're so damned careless +they're likely to ruin the planet in atomic wars..." + +"Sounds like the ancient history of our own planet," Lors said softly. +The memories were coming in faster now. + +"True. And you know what happened to us? Damned near lost the whole +planet. Anyhow, you know the other planets in this galaxy? Well, since +Terra has a life form like ours, we could use this place as a link in +the supply chain. That is our main purpose. Trade. + +"But these people have a strange attitude. Why, if we would land a ship +now, they'd rip us to shreds before you knew it. These people fear what +they don't understand, and anything they can't understand they kill. So, +right now, we're sending agents, or spies, down here with instructions +to probe about. They're coming along rather well, getting out of the +trees, you might say; but we'll have to keep an eye on them for awhile +yet." + +Lors finished the water. "But what has this got to do with Commander +Imry and me? Apparently I was to take the place of Nick Danson, but +why?" + +"That was Imry. You see, many times our agents are handicapped by the +very lives they lead. In order to learn about people, one has to live +with them; when our agents do this, they have to get jobs and settle +down in one area. Imry picked Danson because he's a footloose artist who +paints illustrations for magazines. All he had to do was snatch Danson, +work a little plastic surgery on you and put you in Nick Danson's place. +You then, would not be confined and could roam all over the planet +without being questioned." + +"That's crazy," Lors told him. "I couldn't take Danson's place for the +rest of my life. He was gambling on a hell of a lot." + +Narvi grunted. "You're a good spacer, Lors. You follow orders, even when +they're dictated by a madman. When you left the ship, you _were_ Danson. +You were processed so beautifully that no one could tell the difference. +When you cracked up, a blow on the head, or something, must have created +a temporary amnesia and you thought you _were_ Danson. We certainly had +a time locating you. Anyhow, you're to go back to the ship as soon as +you can. The new commander wants to talk with you." Narvi grinned slyly. +"I imagine you'll want to talk to him too. It's Zark, our old friend +from Thista." + +"Zark. Yes. I remember him." Lors stood up and paced the room in +thought. He remembered grey haired, friendly Zark, but more than that, +he remembered Commander Zark's beautiful, blond daughter, Jela. "I +remember a lot now, Narvi. It's too bad they didn't send him sooner. +Things wouldn't be so messed up." + +"It's not so bad." + +"No?" + +"No. You'll probably be going back to the home planet now." + +"I can't go back," Lors mused. "I have to stay and see this through. +It's personal, now." + +"Personal?" Narvi was clearly puzzled. "What can be personal about a +Spacer and an alien race?" + +He looked at his friend levelly. "I can't leave this planet, Narvi, +because of Beth Danson. I'm in love with her." + +"Love!" Narvi exploded. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +In the heavy silence that followed, the two men stared at one another. +Lors regarded his friend with matter-of-fact calmness, but Narvi's mouth +was open in astonishment. The situation wasn't covered in the manual. + +"Love," Narvi choked finally. "With an alien? You must be joking." + +"I'm serious." + +"That blow on the head must have been solid as a rock." + +Thesa just stared, without speaking. + +"Beth is a wonderful woman and I'm in love with her. If the blow on the +head did that ... well then, I'm glad the ship cracked up." + +"But, Lors! She's an alien! It's like a farmer, falling in love with his +stock! It's crazy! You couldn't live on this planet the rest of your +life, and she couldn't live with you!" + +Lors shrugged. + +"What about Jela," Narvi demanded swiftly. + +He didn't answer him. Memories of the blond woman with the trim ankles, +the slim waist and the large breasts floated back to him; memories of +the many evenings they'd shared walking along the sand under the stars. +He sat there fingering the thoughts as they rolled past, without feeling +anything. He was aware, finally, that Narvi was speaking to him. + +"... know how you feel, Lors, but forget it. You could never work +anything out. Go on back to Jela and forget about this alien. It doesn't +matter how wonderful she is; probably nothing short of killing her +husband would gain her for you." + +Lors smiled thinly. "We can do that, too." He paused and looked +thoughtful for a moment "What did Imry do with Danson?" + +"Nothing. He lives better than most spacers. Since we are minus prisons +on starships, Imry installed him in your quarters, under guard, of +course. Commander Zark hasn't been able to figure out what to do with +him, yet. That's what he wants to talk to you about." + +"Have you a scout ship here?" Lors asked. + +"Certainly. We use them to make reports. The Terrans would pick up the +radio waves otherwise." + +"How about a uniform?" + +"You can borrow one of Thesa's. You'd never get into one of mine." + +"Fine. As soon as I'm properly attired, we'll go see Zark." Grinning at +Narvi, Lors followed Thesa into the bedroom for the uniform. + + * * * * * + +Later, dressed in the uniform of a Firstspacer, Lors checked himself in +the mirror of the bedroom making certain that he was properly dressed. +Trousers bloused neatly into the black, half boots, the yellow stripes +perfectly aligned, the cuffs of the tunic fastened at his wrists and +throat, the emblems of the 8th. Terran Command on the collar, the patch +of rank on his left shoulder sleeve. Yes, he was all set. Precise. + +He grinned at Thesa. "Feels good," he said. + +The sandy haired spacer handed him the black leather belt containing the +auto-pistol and the cartridge belt. He buckled it on, feeling the +familiar weight drag at his right hip. + +"Okay?" Thesa asked. + +Lors nodded. "Thanks for the loan," he said and went out to where Narvi, +already dressed, awaited him. + +"How's your head?" Narvi asked. + +"Fine." + +"Let's go, then." + +They walked, wordlessly, out to the barn. The blond snapped on a small +light near the scout ship and Lors went up close to examine it. + +"Climb in," Narvi invited. "I have to scan the area and make sure no one +will see the take-off." + +Lors leaped to the cockpit and opened the plastic-dome; he dropped +lithely into the seat, his feet moving automatically to the rudder +pedals, his hands impatiently fingering the controls. So much was coming +back. So many remembrances with each second of time. He was _not_ +Nicholas Howard Danson, and he had never been! He was Firstspacer Lors +of the 8th. Terran Command, and he felt his heart thrill to the +knowledge of who he was and where he was. It was slow, this strange +process of regaining his mind, but it was coming along. He would soon be +whole again, no longer some freak caught in the vortex between two +worlds. + +"Ready?" Narvi asked, slipping into the seat beside him and pulling the +cockpit shield into place. + +"Ready. Where's the starship?" + +"Bearing 204.5, off-planet. We'll be there in no time." + +The barn door swung open as Narvi started the scout ship and they moved +out into the night, hovering a foot off the barn floor until they were +outside. + +Narvi conned the ship, working the verti-control expertly and the +little craft whistled upward at a gentle speed. The radar screen before +them disclosed no aircraft in the area. Narvi grinned at Lors and shoved +the speed control forward, working the elevators with his other hand and +the scout ship streaked into the night sky. + +Home. + +Lors, watching the screen, saw the oblong shape of the mother ship blurp +into view and called out its position to his friend. At once, Narvi +altered the course, whipping the scout ship onto a collision bearing. +When they were close enough, they used their signal and heard it +answered. + +The ship slipped in easily as the port opened in the starship's side. +Narvi guided the craft in with tender hands and settled it gently on the +floor. A positioner hooked a line to the ship and pulled it quickly into +the repair bins. A light winked in the wall. The area was again +pressurized. + +They climbed out and dropped to the floor as a crew of repair men went +to work on the ship. Narvi slapped Lors on the arm. + +"I'm going below for a drink. Join Me?" + +Lors shook his head. "No, thanks. I might be down a bit later, but right +now I'd best talk to the Commander." + +"Right. Just don't tell him that you're thinking of jilting his only +daughter for an alien, or he'll turn four different shades of purple." + +Lors grinned and watched the big blond stride away to the elevator that +would take him down to the bar on the first level. Then he walked off in +the opposite direction, heading toward the forward end of the ship +where he would find his "future" father-in-law, Commander Zark. Spacers, +in the gleaming halls, saluted him in the traditional manner - a hand +clasped to the hip that held their holstered auto-pistol - and it was a +good feeling. He had almost forgotten. + +The Commander's guards stopped him outside the door, but when he +explained who he was and what he wanted, they nodded in unison. One of +them pressed a button which opened the door to the vestibule outside the +Commander's office. + +Lors stepped inside and the door hummed shut behind him. The vestibule +was little more than a box-like room, containing a small visi-screen. He +pressed the small, black button at the base of the dark screen and kept +his finger on it while the lines waved. + +"Firstspacer Lors to see the Commander," he said, as the rotund face of +his future father-in-law waved and blurred into focus. + +"Come in, Lors! Come in!" Zark's voice was a bellow of pleasure. + +The heavy door swung open and Lors stepped into the room to click his +heels and slap his right hand against the black holster before the +Commander's desk. + +"Firstspacer Lors reporting, sir," he said, as Zark got up from the +chair and came toward him. + +"Lors, Lors, my son! How are you?" + +They grabbed each other by the shoulders and laughed like children. +Lors, despite his love for Beth Danson and the trouble that was +undoubtedly coming up, was happy as a Terran child at Christmas to see +the older man. + +"Lors! Let me look at you! It's been eons since Thista! Jela's fair +dying to get her hands on you again." He winked at Lors. "And I imagine +you are, too." + +"She's here?" A ray of panic touched him and he hoped that it didn't +show. + +"Not that I know of, unless a ship came in. The last I heard, she was +waiting for a ship to take her off the base on Mars. She swears she'll +get you this time, or she's going back home to find an old mushshell +gatherer." + +Lors laughed with Zark, who released him to pull a flask of wine from +his desk. As he poured two tumblers of the milk-white wine, he winked at +the young spacer. + +"From the home planet," he grinned. "Mallowine. I'll wager you haven't +tasted it in a long time." + +"Not since Thista," Lors assured him, accepting the tumbler. He held up +the glass for a toast. "To you, sir, and your daughter. May she be saved +from marrying a mushshell gatherer." + +Commander Zark chuckled and they drank, the soft, mellow taste of the +wine lingering fondly in their mouths long after the drink had found its +way into their stomachs. + +"Now then, Lors. Tell me what that fool of an Imry did to you." + +He told the Commander everything, watching the older man nod his head +from time to time, the stubby fingers of his hands forming a pyramid +before his lips as he slumped in his chair. Lors left nothing out, +except his love for Beth Danson. He couldn't bring himself to tell about +that. When he had finished, Commander Zark's eyes were hot with angry +indignation. + +"I'll see that Imry cannot get a command on a planet with a pure ammonia +atmosphere for this trick! I'll see him tortured by Thistians!" The old +man stopped his tirade as quickly as he had begun it. "You know what +this means, Lors?" + +"I'm afraid to guess." + +"The wrecked scout ship can be covered up easily enough because of the +Terran politics; they always arrange it so that one branch of government +has no idea of what the other branches are doing. We'll have some of our +men in Washington mumble in their beards about experimental aircraft +until everyone is taken from the scene except our people. Then we'll +have the ship taken somewhere, ostensibly to be studied, and they'll all +forget it. + +"But these Terrans are another matter. If they can get their people to +listen to them, we're in trouble..." + +"Perhaps," Lors said softly, "if they were believed, it would speed up +our relations with the Terran governments." + +Zark shook his grey head. "No. They aren't ready yet. They're still in +such a fluctuating state that half the population believes in witchcraft +and superstition, while the other half understands science and looks +toward the future. + +"Besides, Lors, others have tried those same tactics and were not +believed. To tell the truth, I'm not quite sure _what_ to do." + +"We could continue the bluff." + +The Commander's brows lifted. "You mean you continue as our agent down +there?" + +"Yes, sir. The way it worked out, with the crash, it merely supported +the story I was to tell Danson's wife. I really did have temporary +amnesia. No one knows anything, except about the ship. Brice found +Danson's watch at the crash site, but we could work a little mental +trick on him and make him forget everything he knows, couldn't we?" + +"It would be risky. You never know if that process will work until it is +tried. As much as I hate the thought, it would be best to kill both of +them and send you back to the Terran woman. After we had tried to bluff +out Imry's plan for a month, or so, we could arrange an accident for you +in which it would appear that you were dead - perhaps utilizing the real +Danson for the accident. Does the woman suspect anything?" + +"I don't think so," Lors told him. "She seems too happy in having me +back, at the moment." + +Zark smiled at him and clamped a hand to his shoulder. "You're tired, my +boy. Get some rest and we'll talk about this thing later. You can use +Firstspacer Thesa's quarters. Danson is in yours." + +"And Brice?" + +"Unconscious. In the hospital. The shock of what took place down there +has him recalling every old wives' tale about witches that he has ever +heard." + +"All right, sir," Lors said smiling. "I'll get to my quarters, then. +Thank you." + +"I'll send Jela to you, if she comes in." + +"Thank you," Lors said, but felt shaken at the thought. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +Outside, in the corridor, Lors nodded to the guards and began walking +toward Thesa's quarters. In his mind, now that he again _had_ a whole +mind, was the feeling of being trapped, the feeling of being caught in a +mesh-like web that was about to strangle him. + +Perhaps they could patch things up on Terra, but the two Terrans would +have to die, or at least one - merely to gain him another month, or two, +with Beth. Was it worth it? In the long run, was it practical? Perhaps +he didn't really love the Terran woman - maybe it was just infatuation, +or gratitude, or even the result of long abstinence. If that was the +case, it would be brutal for them to kill the one man who could make her +happy. + +Then, on the other hand, suppose his love was genuine. If he really +loved her, the coming accident which he was to stage would never come to +pass. He knew himself too well to believe that. He would take Beth and +run, get away into another country, change his name, his features... + +He smiled to himself and remembered his training on Mars, and the +ability of the spacemen to reach out with a long arm to stop anything. +Anything! _We are the gods, he remembered. We are the gods who move with +lightning and speak in thunder. The Terrans are like so many cows that +need a watchful eye upon them at all times..._ + +Gods. Yes, in a manner of speaking, he decided that they were gods ... +but what did the book say about one of the minor gods being caught up +in a crazy thing like this? It had never happened before. + +Without actually realizing it, he found himself standing at the door to +his own quarters. A single guard, armed with an auto-rifle stopped him +when he approached the door. + +"I'm sorry, sir," the Spacer said. "You cannot enter here." + +Danson was on the other side, he knew. Nicholas Danson, the artist, the +man with whom he had traded places. Suddenly he wanted to speak with the +man, find out about him. All at once, Danson was not just another Terran +- he was a man, with feelings, emotion... + +"I'm Firstspacer Lors," he heard his voice rumble with authority. "I'd +like to speak with the Terran." + +The guard stiffened. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know who you were." + +"You will open the door, spacer?" + +"Yes, sir, but you'd best leave your sidearm with me." + +Lors nodded and pulled his auto-pistol from the black leather holster +and handed it to the guard who stuffed it into his belt. He reached back +and unlocked the door. As it swung open, Lors stepped inside. + +The room was not large; it couldn't be very big on a starship, but it +was serviceable. There was a dresser and locker for uniforms, as well as +a visi-screen, a couch and a small bed. The Terran was lying on the bed, +reading. + +Lors smiled at him. They could have been twins of the same mother, were +it not for the fact that Terran's disposition was different. He hadn't +shaved in a few days, and his black hair was tangled. Even the fatigue +uniform he wore was rumpled badly. + +"Hello, Danson," Lors said, in English, and to his acute surprise, the +Terran answered in Lors' tongue. + +"This mortal bids welcome to the great god, Lors," Danson said, with a +faint smirk. + +"You speak my language?" Lors asked, puzzled. + +"Why not? You speak mine. When they checked my brain, they found that I +had a rather high I.Q. Besides, I've read all your reading material and +decided that you have lousy taste. So I decided to learn the language, +and try to make conversation with my watch dogs." + +"You are comfortable?" + +Danson nodded. "Wonderful. First rate. Now that I know the language, I'm +going to get a deck of cards and teach my jailers how to play draw +poker. Then I'm going to win this starship and take it to Washington for +analysis." + +"I didn't come here to jest." + +Danson lit a cigarette and smiled thinly. "Why did you come here?" + +"To see you. Are you well taken care of?" + +"Certainly. They've hooked up my pint sized T.V. set so that I can look +at the earth. I've been to the Lunar Base ... terrific real estate. A +rock pile. Elaborate, but still a rock pile. I eat very well. I sleep +occasionally, except that I cannot get used to the total darkness, and I +have minor grievances ... like I want to get the hell out of here!" He +stood up suddenly and glared at Lors. "Am I happy! Am I content! Hell, +yes! I'm so goddam content I'm going stir crazy from it! + +"I'm sick of the whole damned mess, Firstspacer Lors, plain downright +sick and..." + +"Take it easy, Danson." + +"Shut up! Shut your damned mouth because I'm not finished! Tell me, god, +have you ever been confined to a pint sized prison? You ever had your +brain picked clean by a flock of intellectual buzzards? You ever sat in +a room, with the walls closing in on you, listening to a couple of +blue-uniformed knotheads stand outside your door talking a babble of +language that sounded like Chinese, and not be able to speak to them? +Not be able to take a piss because you don't know how to find the toilet +and don't know how to ask where it is? + +"Well, I have. I have and I'm up to my ears with this whole bit. I lie +here every night and dream about taking this so-called starship and +ramming it up your ass, plate by plate..." + +Danson broke off suddenly, unable to continue his wild tirade. He sat +there on the edge of the bunk, his face a livid white, with the +cigarette dangling from his lips. His left eye closed against the bite +of the smoke and his jaws knotted as he stared at the wall. + +"All finished," Lors demanded quietly. + +Danson grunted. "Yeah. Yeah, ace, I'm all finished. In a way, I'm sorry +... but it felt good. I've wanted to get all that off my chest for a +long time." + +"I can see your position, Danson," Lors told him. "I know what you've +been through, but I can't do anything about it. I follow orders." + +Danson grinned. "Who're you trying to kid, pal. You got Commander Zark's +daughter eating out of the palm of your hand. Hell, I'll bet you pull +more strings around this ship than a puppeteer." + +"I've underestimated you, Danson," Lors told him in a soft voice. "You +have an interesting mind. Quite a grasp." + +Danson snorted again. "You guys aren't the sharpest people in the world. +I will give you a bit of advice, for free. You better either return me +to earth, or kill me. In another thirteen months, I'll figure out a way +to blow this hulk into a million pieces." + +"I doubt that," Lors mused. + +"Go ahead and doubt it, but you'd better keep the powder magazine under +double guard. And while you're at it, you better have the boys be +careful of what they say around me, since I know the lingo." + +"How many Spacers have you talked to?" Lors asked. "How many of them +know how intelligent you are?" + +Danson shrugged. "Why?" + +"Just wondered." + +Nick Danson looked at him narrowly. "You have something on your mind, +Lors?" + +"Maybe. Right now, I'll keep it to myself. Until then, keep your mouth +shut about how smart you are. A weapon, Nick, is only useful when the +enemy doesn't know how well it will work. When they know, a +counter-weapon can be made." Lors moved to the door. "I'll be back, +probably," he said and went out into the corridor, leaving the Terran to +ponder on what he had said. + +The guard snapped to attention, then handed Lors his auto-pistol. The +Firstspacer slipped it into the holster and snapped the flap. Then he +walked rapidly toward Firstspacer Thesa's quarters with the germ of an +idea filtering and dancing through his mind. + +It wasn't a complete idea, but it certainly was a wild one. The chances +of its working were about a thousand to one, but if it did things might +work out. + +He hoped so. + +He reached the door of Thesa's quarters and jerked it open. His fingers +fumbled for the button, inside the door, that would switch on the +lighted walls. When he found it, he closed the door and flicked on the +lights. He stared at the inside of the room in amazement. + +She was lying on the bed, with her golden hair falling about her +shoulders like a waterfall of sunlight, and her lips pulled back over +white teeth to smile at him. But he was stunned, frozen to the spot. + +"Jela," he whispered, in shock. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +For a moment, she didn't move and, in the silence, he allowed his eyes +to finger her. + +Beneath the blond tumble of hair, her blue eyes watched him, her lips +toying with a bemused smile. She wore the odd toga-like dress that had +recently become popular among the women on the home planet; it was a +white color, trimmed in a pale blue that went well with her hair, but +Lors hardly noticed it. His eyes were fixed upon the twin lift of her +breasts as they fought against the material. + +She swung her long, curved legs to the floor, a momentary flash of +creamy flesh showing at her thighs, and stood up. She came to him on +slippered feet, whispering against the floor and stopped before him, her +breasts faintly brushing the material of his tunic. + +"I thought I'd never get here, darling." Her voice was soft and warm. +Sex, love and desire hung in her words; the emotion dripped from her +voice the way water falls from the roof of a cave, giving her tone a +throaty huskiness that started the blood racing in his veins. Yet she +held herself back, restrained her urge to fling herself into his arms. +It was a game with her, one she had always played. "Did you miss me?" +She asked. + +He nodded, unable to trust his voice. It would crack, he knew it would. +He would be able to say nothing beyond a mere croak. Too much was +happening, too damned fast. It was almost impossible to keep up with it +all. + +"Well," she mused. "I realize you're stunned to see me, but you ought to +kiss me. At least, that." + +He reached out his hands slowly, feeling the tremble begin in his +fingers as he closed them over the softness of her upper arms. A drum +began pounding in his temples as he touched her, a flashflood ripped +through his veins, and his stomach churned like a storm. He brought his +mouth down slowly against hers and felt her lithe body flatten up +against him the way a candle melts against a sheet of hot metal. + +Her mouth was a pliant sweetness that shoved all his thoughts of Terra +into the back of his mind; her body trembled against the lean hardness +of his in a shiver of passion. The very touch of her tongue against his +lips beat aside all the problems that swirled about his muddled mind and +awakened the desire and need that had lain dormant within him all this +time. + +"Darling," she breathed, when he had pulled his mouth from hers. "Oh, +Lors..." + +"Shhh." + +There was no need for talking, no sense in it at all. Her body mashed up +against him and he allowed his hands to smooth down over the material of +her dress, along the curve of her spine to the twin globes of her +buttocks. Her mouth lifted to his again, eager, demanding, while her +fingers dug through his tunic and into his flesh with a sharp need that +thrilled him. + +Her hand reached behind him, her fingers finding the light button and +suddenly the room was sheathed in the soft cloak of darkness. Only the +tiny nightlight gleamed like a small, yellow eye in the center of the +ceiling. She spoke to him, without removing her lips, her breath hot and +demanding against his mouth. + +"I don't want to wait any longer, darling," she panted, "not another +minute." + +His arms slid around her, lifting her at the shoulders and the thighs to +carry her to the bed, but she twisted away from him, whirling off into a +darkened corner of the room where the yellow light could not touch. He +could hear the sigh of the toga-like robe as she whipped it away from +her soft flesh. Then she stood there, before him, framed in the alluring +gold of the circle of light. + +Lors felt his breath suck inward at the sight of her, standing there +nude. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered and he felt +shaken, to the very roots of his being. + +The smooth curve of her shoulders glowed in the light and her face was +kissed by shadows. The arching lift of her breasts and the impassioned +nipples threw a wash of dark shadow downward over the flat of her +stomach and the lithe curve of her thighs. With the light covering the +beauty of her face, Jela lost her identity. + +She was woman. Period. + +Any and all, from time immemorial, or immoral, perhaps. She was somehow, +standing there, a composite of every woman who had ever drawn a breath. +She was the best of woman, the choicest parts of all women since the +dawn of time, suddenly thrown together in a high breasted, slim waisted +creation that was being offered to him, only to him. + +And Lors? + +It moved in him, churned through his guts like a forest fire. He was +man! All men, glaring with the red eyes of passion at all women. He too, +in the wash of lust that had swept over him, lost his identity and he +didn't give a damn. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that she +was waiting... + +His fingers ripped away his clothing and he was at her side in no time +at all, his arms sliding about the pliant warmth of her flesh to clasp +her to him. To take her. To love her with a fever that was equal to the +challenge she presented. + +She made a small sound and he hushed it with his mouth, planting his +lips roughly against hers while he lowered her to the bed. He hurt her, +but she didn't try to get away. + +It was the kind of hurt she had waited for, that they both had yearned +for all the long months that had kept them apart. His hands closed over +her. Smoothing the tender flesh and feeling of life beneath his palm. + +She moaned, tearing the sound from the very depths of her as his hands +smoothed the satiny texture of her thighs, his fingers working against +her flesh. He felt the nails of her hands digging into his shoulders, +but he paid no attention to it. + +Nothing mattered now. Nothing except the warmth of their love and the +expenditure of the raging passions that threatened to engulf them both. + + * * * * * + +They laid there for a long time, basking in the heat of their love, and +he knew. Finally he knew that it all would not work. There could be +nothing between him and the Terran woman. It was impossible. She could +not live in his worlds, nor could he live in hers. Jela was his world +and the past was merely an emotional thing. A moth and the flame. + +Yet ... somehow, he _did_ love Beth. Somehow her and her life was +important to him. Her happiness was something that he had to assure. Had +to guarantee for her. + +He had to work out a plan that would solve everything and return the +whole business to a state of normalcy. It would be difficult, if not +impossible, and he knew that Zark would never listen to him, never allow +him to carry it out. + +But he had to do it. + +There would be all kinds of risks and, if he failed in the thing, he +might have to pay with his life. If he managed to accomplish it, he +would get nothing as a reward, except perhaps the hand of the +Commander's daughter. That wasn't such a bad reward, though. + +He kissed her and the fires began to burn again. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + + +Lors finished dressing himself, buckling the black belt about his waist; +then he looked down at the still form of Zark's daughter, Jela, golden +in the light of the overhead bulb. She slept like a baby. He blew a kiss +to her and let his breath out in a rush. + +"If everything goes right," he whispered, "I'll be back before you know +I'm gone. If not..." He let it hang there and checked the loads in the +auto-pistol. + +Then he went out into the bright light of the corridor. + + * * * * * + +The guard merely accepted his auto-pistol when he stopped at the door to +Danson's prison. Lors gave it to him and the spacer opened the door. +Nick Danson rubbed the beard on his face and grinned at him. + +"Forget something, Firstspacer?" He asked. + +When the door closed, Lors said: "Shut up." + +Danson blinked. + +"Sit down." + +Danson sat. + +"How badly do you want to get off this ship, Danson?" + +"How badly do you want to make Commander?" Danson countered and lit a +cigarette. + +"You willing to risk your life?" + +"Why not? It isn't worth a hell of a lot anyhow." + +Lors reached into Danson's shirt pocket, found the pack of cigarettes +and filched one. Nick touched a match to it and Lors dragged the smoke +into his lungs. He could see the Terran regarding him suspiciously. + +"What's the play, Firstspacer?" Danson asked. + +"You're dead, Nick," Lors said softly, "if you stay on this ship. That +can be either literally, or figuratively speaking, I don't know. It all +depends on Zark's plans for you." + +Nick snorted, "Hell, Lors, it can't be any worse than whatever Imry had +cooked up for me." + +"It'll be better. That I can assure you. Zark is a just man, but he +hasn't much feeling for Terrans..." + +"Yeah, I know. The "god" theory." + +Lors nodded. + +"Well, look, Firstspacer," Danson said, snubbing out his cigarette. +"Your concern for my welfare touches me deeply, but I don't get it. How +come?" + +Lors grinned. "I've been asking myself that same question, and while I +can get answers that make sense to me, I sincerely doubt if they'd make +sense to you. + +"Why don't we just say I like you." + +"That's rich, but I'll buy it. All I've got to lose is my chains..." + +"And your memory." + +"Come again?" + +Lors sucked on the cigarette. "You can't talk about this thing to anyone +except your wife." + +"Who'd believe me anyhow?" + +"It's bigger than that, Danson. If you talk to anyone, I'll kill you." + +"You don't make sense. Why not kill me now?" + +Lors sighed. "Look, Commander Imry made a booboo, to use one of your +terms, and I got caught in the middle. This whole operation is fouled up +because of what he did. If we don't try to put things back, it's going +to be in a real tough light. + +"For the first time in history, Terra is in possession of a scout ship +even though it is wrecked. Not only that, but they know it. They're hot +on the trail of us. And if enough Terrans get wise to us, we'll be in +trouble. You've read my diaries and journals. You know what it's like up +here. My planet needs Earth as a trade base, and if you people ever wake +up as a race, we'll be able to help each other a hell of a lot. Maybe +that's why I want to take you back to your wife. Is that good enough for +you?" + +Danson nodded. "I guess so. I know enough about this situation to tell +that you're either on the level, or you're a damned convincing liar. +What's the plot?" + +"The plot, as you put it, is to get you and Brice back to earth..." + +"Brice? Nolan Brice? He's here?" + +Lors nodded. "Brice found your watch where my scout ship cracked up and +guessed who I was before I did. I was hiding up at your cabin, trying to +figure things out when he decided to put a bullet into me. Both Beth and +I thought I was you and she was trying to help me figure out what I'd +been doing for thirteen months. Brice came in shooting and my people +kidnapped him." + +"Great." + +"In any event, I think I can get Brice to the scout ship. I'm going to +rely upon you to spring yourself out of here and get down to the hangar. +You'll pass for me easily. Okay?" + +"How do I get past the guard?" + +"I'll fix it. If I can't, I'll be back." + +"Okay, Buck Rogers. It's your show." + +Lors grinned at him. "Keep your fingers crossed," he said and went out. + + * * * * * + +"I won't do it," Narvi said flatly. He lifted his glass and took a large +swallow of the drink to punctuate the sentence. "You've got to," Lors +insisted. "You know as well as I do, it's the only way to straighten +things out." + +"You talk to Zark?" + +"How can I tell him about it? What am I supposed to do? Tell him that I +love a Terran and want her to be happy?" + +"Thunder and lightning! What's so important about Brice and Danson? +They're only Terrans. This woman you're so silly about will find someone +else. Lors, by the gods, if you take those two back they'll talk to +everyone they can get their hands on..." + +"No they won't, not Danson. Narvi, that's the beauty of this whole plot. +Danson understands that our people simply want to begin trade +negotiations with Terra; he's learned to speak and read our language and +he knows how badly we want to trade with his people. He'll help us..." + +"What about Brice," Narvi snorted. + +"Brice can be handled by Danson. If that doesn't work, we can threaten +to do all sorts of things to him." + +"And you want me to take the guard's place, outside Danson's quarters, +and give you time to steal a scout ship?" + +"Yes." + +Narvi cast his blue eyes toward the ceiling and groaned aloud. "If I +keep doing all these goofy things for you, I'll never make commander. I +won't even make Vice-commander." + +Lors smiled. "Don't worry about it. If things work out, you'll have had +a hand in opening up a new planet for our trade rockets." + +Narvi sighed. "All right. I'll do it, although I should have my head +examined by the ship's doctors." + +Lors grinned at him and finished the last of his drink. "It'll work out, +Narvi, and you'll probably get a medal." + +"A prison cell, likely," Narvi snorted, "on Thista." + +Lors slapped him lightly on the arm and left the ship's wardroom. He had +a lot to do, and damned little time to do it in. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + + +Lors left the wardroom and walked along the hollow, brightly lighted +corridors toward the hospital where Detective Nolan Brice was being kept +a prisoner. He would be the tough one of the two, because his mental +roots were still very close to the witchcraft believing parents who had +given him birth. + +Brice was a Pennsylvanian; he was fairly intelligent, but like all +Pennsylvanians he had an unconscious closeness with tradition. He was of +the type who would stoutly deny he was superstitious, yet would refuse +to walk under a ladder. How would he react to Lors' proposal? Would he, +with typical Dutch stubbornness, tell him to go to hell, or would he +co-operate? It was a difficult thing to predict. + +Lors shoved the door to the hospital open and grinned at the spacer +behind the desk. "You've a Terran here?" He asked. + +The spacer nodded and laid down the sheets of paper he had been ruffling +as Lors came in. "Yes sir, we have one. He's in the care of Doctor +Zuloe." + +"What are they doing to him?" + +"I'm not sure, sir. I understand he was in a great state of shock when +he arrived. I would imagine they're giving him rehabilitative +treatment." + +Lors grinned again. Apparently the method by which they had snatched the +detective had completely unnerved him. "I'd like to see him," he told +the spacer. "Where can I find Doctor Zuloe?" + +"I'm sorry, sir. Only authorized personnel will be allowed to +interrogate him." + +"I'm authorized, I believe. I captured him. I'm Lors." + +The young spacer flushed. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know who you were." +He pointed to the door behind him. "You may go through there. Straight +down the corridor until you reach the fourth ward." + +"Doctor Zuloe will be there?" + +"I think so." + +"Thank you." + +Lors shoved the door open and walked down the long hall toward the +fourth ward, not quite sure in his mind how he could spring the Terran +from the hospital and get him down to where the scout ships were +hangared. But it had to be done. If he failed, and they all ended up +dead, or thrown into the penal colonies on Thista, the trade program +with Terra would be set back at least fifty years. All the ground they +had gained, all the knowledge and plans they had formulated, would be +useless. They would have to start from scratch. + +The wrecked scout ship could be covered up, but the loss of Detective +Lieutenant Brice and Nicholas Danson would not go unnoticed, especially +when Beth Danson spilled her story about the strange events that had +gone on at the cabin. Of course, Terra would never be able to +corroborate what she had experienced - yet they were on the verge of +space travel, and they were a war-like race. They could cause all sorts +of unnecessary trouble in space. + +It had to work. He had to get both of them back to the planet, even if +it meant stopping a slug from an auto-rifle to do it. + +He reached the door to the fourth ward and went in to look for Doctor +Zuloe. The man wasn't hard to find; he was the only person in the small +anteroom. + +"What can I do for you, Firstspacer?" He asked. "I'm Doctor Zuloe." + +"I'm Lors." + +For a moment, they stared at each other. The doctor was a middle-aged +man with a weathered skin stretched over a rather aquiline set of +features. His small, bird-like eyes were piercing in their study of +Lors' face. He smiled thinly and ran a hand through greying hair. + +"Lors, huh? You the one who went down there?" + +"I was in the accident. In a sense, I suppose I'm to blame for having +brought Brice up here." + +"You know him?" Doctor Zuloe's eyes narrowed visibly. + +"Yes. At least, I think I know him better than you people do." + +"Then perhaps you can help us with him. When he arrived here, he was in +a state of acute shock in which he was almost violent. He kept screaming +about witchcraft and all sorts of Terran nonsense. We gave him as much +treatment as we could, under the circumstances, and he stopped acting +like a wildman." + +"How is he now?" + +"Numb. He's sitting on his bed, in a special room, and staring at the +wall." + +"He isn't out of his mind, is he?" + +"I don't think so, but he has had a tremendous strain and shock. It'll +take awhile. He isn't of the same structure as the other one." + +Lors sighed wearily. "I'll see what I can do with him. Commander Zark +has plans for him." + +"Another switch?" The doctor made no attempt to cover his disgust over +the idea. + +"An accident, I believe." + +"From bad to worse, huh?" + +Lors didn't answer him. He merely made a motion with his hand for the +doctor to show him where the Terran was being kept. Doctor Zuloe nodded +and pointed toward a door at the far end of the ward. A blue uniformed +spacer stood guard before the door. He clicked his heels as Lors +approached. + +"I want to see the Terran, spacer," Lors said briskly. + +The spacer nodded and opened the door. Lors stepped inside and listened +to the lock click into place behind him. + +Nolan Brice was seated on the edge of the bed staring at the wall, but +Lors did not believe that he was in a state of shock. He had the knotted +jaws of a man who is firmly determined to betray nothing to his captors. +He sat there with his fingers laced together, hanging between his knees, +his clothing rumpled and hanging loose from his broad frame. + +"Nolan?" + +Brice swung his eyes to the Firstspacer, the muscles of his jaws +working. "I'll kill you," he said, with a horrible softness in his +voice. + +"Nolan. Listen, I'm here to help you." + +"You've done a lot of helping, spaceman. I know what you want. Earth." + +"Don't be silly. I want to help you and Danson to get back home..." + +"I don't need you!" + +"Shut up and listen. I'm risking my neck coming in here to help you, so +you damned well better follow orders. In a minute I'm going to call that +guard in here, and we're going to borrow his uniform. Then we'll head +for a scout ship and get you to hell back to Terra. Will that suit +you?" + +"This is some kind of trick..." + +"Do you want to go, or stay here," Lors demanded coldly. "I don't have +time to lecture you. I'll leave that up to your friend, Danson." + +"Play it your way, spaceman," Brice said tightly. + +"Okay." Lors stood up and spoke through the door to the guard, pulling +his auto-pistol from the holster. "Come in here, spacer!" + +The guard shoved the door open and came in. "What is it, Firstspacer?" + +"Him." + +The guard swung to look at Brice and, as his head turned, Lors brought +the butt of the pistol down hard. The guard grunted and dropped heavily +to the floor, his auto-rifle falling with a loud thud. By now, if +everything was working out right, Danson should be on his way to the +scout ship hangar. Lors looked at Brice. + +"Come on, Nolan. Get into these clothes!" + +Between the two of them, the stripping of the guard was fast. In a few +minutes, Brice was wearing the spacer's blue uniform and was buckling +the black cartridge belt about his waist. He gripped the auto-rifle in +his hands eagerly and looked at Lors. + +"Hand me his helmet," he said. + +Lors picked it up and straightened to hand it to the Terran. Lors saw +the punch coming, but surprise prevented him from making any move in his +defense. Nolan Brice's fist smashed into the side of his face with +stunning shock and he flew backwards onto the bed. + +"Thanks," he heard Brice snarl. + +Lors rolled off the bed and onto the floor, the force of the punch +making his head reel. He heard the door to the room close and the sound +of Brice's running feet outside as he staggered to his feet. You damned +fool, he thought. You can't get off this ship alone! + +He started running after the Terran, drawing his pistol as he ran... + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + + +Lors dashed down the hallway into the main corridor, passing the limp +body of the doctor and the young spacer who had been on duty at the +desk. Apparently, Brice had come into the place fast, swinging the +auto-rifle like it was a club. Both of the men were unconscious, but +there was no blood in sight. + +"Crazy fool," Lors said aloud and slammed the door as he dashed into the +corridor. + +Brice was running blindly. + +"Brice! Stop!" Lors fired the auto-pistol over the fleeing man's head. + +Brice stopped and whirled, dropping to one knee to bring up the rifle he +carried. He snapped off a fast burst and Lors dived across the polished +corridor to hug the wall. He landed, rolling, his pistol zeroed on the +Terran, but he couldn't bring himself to shoot. + +Nolan Brice, however, had no scruples about shooting at Lors. He fired +continually, cursing as the bullets missed. Beyond the Terran, Lors +could see four other spacers running down the hall toward Brice. One of +them fired. + +Brice whirled, spotted them, and brought up his rifle. The gunfire, in +the emptiness of the hall, sounded like a machinegun being fired in a +cave. Lors saw a spacer slam backwards, rolling crazily from the impact +of the bullet that Brice had triggered. + +The Terran was hunched over in a crouch, like an old gunfighter, +shooting from the hip. Suddenly he jerked to his feet, spun crazily in +two directions at once and fell flopping to the floor. The auto-rifle +clattered as he let it fall. + +Lors came slowly to his feet and shoved his gun back into its holster; +then he walked over to where Brice was staring at the ceiling through +unseeing eyes. It was a damned shame, but he had brought it on himself. +One of the spacers looked at him. + +"Are you all right, sir?" + +Lors nodded. + +"Is he a spacer?" One of them asked, looking at the uniform. + +"An escaped Terran," Lors said, then he remembered that Danson was +probably down at the hangar. "Don't jettison this body until I give you +the orders. Put it in quick freeze." + +"Yes, sir," the spacer said. + +But Lors was already on his way down the corridor. He could do nothing +for Brice now ... perhaps it had even been a good thing. The shooting +would have drawn most of the high ranking officers toward the end of the +ship, leaving a comparatively clear space between him and the hangar. He +hoped that the doctor would stay out for awhile. + +As the Terrans said, they weren't out of the woods yet. + +He found a vacant elevator and took it down to the hangar level. As the +door whirled open, he raced into the corridor, nearly upsetting a +startled spacer with his rush. He had no idea how long it would be until +it was discovered that Narvi had let Danson out, but he knew the escape +would not remain unnoticed for long. + +He burst into the repair bin area of the hangar and jerked his head +toward the tubes. When a ship came into the side of the mother-ship, +they entered through a large port which made it easier for the pilot of +the scout ship. But to leave the starship, one had to install the +smaller craft into one of the many blast tubes on either side of the big +hangar. + +He looked frantically about the area for Danson and spotted the Terran +standing unobtrusively near the pilot entry to one of the blast tubes. +Nick Danson, garbed in the blue and yellow of a Firstspacer, was a twin +for Lors. He hoped anxiously that none of the repairmen would notice the +trick. + +Lors grabbed a mechanic by the arm. "Spacer! I'm on an urgent mission. +Where can I get a ship?" + +The young spacer looked thoughtful for a moment, then pointed toward a +tube on the other side of the hangar. "In that tube, sir." + +"Thank you." + +"I'll help you rig it," the spacer said. + +"Never mind, I'll do it myself. Go about your work." + +"Yes, sir." The spacer turned away, a puzzled look on his face. + +Lors motioned to Danson and headed toward the tube door. He could well +understand the spacer's bewilderment. While it was possible for the +pilot of a scout ship to launch his own craft, it was highly impractical +and not normally done. He hoped it didn't arouse their suspicions. He +yanked the door open and looked over his shoulder. Danson was almost to +him, running hard. Heads turned as the mechanics watched him run. + +"Hurry!" + +Danson reached the door and Lors shoved him into the tube. + +"Where's Brice," Danson demanded. + +Lors slammed the door and whirled the wheel of the spider lock. He +didn't answer. He was too concerned with getting the door secured. +Through the port in the heavy door, he could see spacers gesturing and +pointing at the blast tube. + +"Where's Brice!" + +"He's dead." Lors secured the wheel and noticed that a Vice-commander +had come into the hangar area. "Get in the ship! Fast!" + +Outside, the hanger workers were milling about like a fleet of bees. +Lors turned to Danson and saw him standing beside the ship, his eyes +wild with disbelief. + +"Get in the ship!" + +"Not without Brice!" + +Lors exploded in his native tongue. "Get in that ship, Danson! How long +do you think it'll be before they come in the emergency door?" + +Nick's eyes were wide and violent. "I'm not leaving Nolan up here, +goddammit! Get out of my way!" + +Lors shoved the Terran as he came in and watched him backpedal into the +side of the scout ship. Danson muttered a curse and dived at the +spaceman. Lors had no choice in the matter. He swung hard, Terran style, +in what had come to be known as the "ole one-two." His left fist dug +into Nick's stomach and, when he bent with the blow, Lors brought his +right fist up from the floor and felt it smash into Danson's face. The +Terran slammed backwards against the ship, his head striking the metal +sides. He crumpled into an unconscious blue mound beside the ship. + +He wasted no time. Casting a glance at the lifeless panel that was the +emergency door at the far end of the blast tube, he grabbed Danson under +the arms and hauled him up the short ladder to the cockpit of the ship. +If they came through that emergency door, he was finished. He could not +push the button in the wall that would open the huge port in the side of +the starship. + +They would die if he did! + +It would be one thing, to free an alien, but to intentionally kill +members of his own race would mean disaster. Thirty seconds after he +pushed the wall button, would open the port at the end of the tube and +send the void of space rushing into the chamber. Anyone who did not have +adequate pressurization would be a fond memory. + +He stuffed Danson's body into the cockpit seat and buckled the strap +about him. Lors left the cockpit canopy open and leaped to the floor of +the tube. How long do I have? A minute? Two? Keep them outside, he +pleaded, and dived for the button. + +"Lors!" + +The shout echoed hollowly in the tube. He glanced toward the door and +saw three mechanics inside the tube. Thunder and lightning! One second +after he had slammed the button and all the doors would have locked +automatically and the port would have opened. + +Panicked by the sight of them, he whipped out his pistol and fired. In +the tube, the weapon sounded like a firecracker going off in a steel +drum. The unarmed mechanics stopped dead, whirled and ducked back +through the door. In another four seconds, the armed guards would show +up. + +Lors shoved the weapon back into the holster and slammed his hand +against the button. It would lock them out now! He had his thirty +seconds now. He dived for the ship, dropped into the cockpit and slammed +the canopy forward, twisting the lock into place. + +His fingers moved over the controls and the engines whined into life as +the port opened before him. He was on his way! He revved the engines +impatiently as the big door rolled away and the stars burned in at him. +Then he shoved the speed control forward and the scout ship surged out +into the blackness of space. His feet kicked at the pedals and his hands +worked the stick. The scout ship rolled over and streaked toward the +lighted ball of the earth. + +He turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the mother-ship. Tiny +flashes of brilliant light speared from the starship. They lifted, +fluttered and followed him like a swarm of bees. + +They were giving chase! + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + + +He had thought there would be a pursuit. He kicked at the rudder pedals +and threw the stick; the scout ship rolled over and plunged toward the +ice cap at the north pole of the planet. At 16,000 m.p.h., the rocket +was little more than a guided missile and he knew that when he reached +the ice cap, he'd have to throttle back - but then so would his +pursuers. + +Beside him, on the seat, Nick Danson's head rolled from side to side as +the ship streaked toward the earth. The four scout ships were fanned out +behind him and trying to close, yet he was holding them at bay with a +mere 16,500 m.p.h. He wished frantically that he could have figured out +a way to stymie the chase, but starships were not built to be sabotaged. +The designers had done a damned good job on them, fitting them with +every device known to prevent crippling, or damaging by the enemy, +whoever it may be. + +The four ships were hanging on him. + +I've got to lose them, he thought feverishly. I've got to lose them long +enough to get Danson back to the cabin and get the hell out again. After +that, they can have me. But not now. He looked behind him, trying to +determine whether or not they were getting set to fire on him. + +They didn't look it, but he couldn't tell. Weapons were not a scout +ship's strong point. Each ship was armed with a large rocket launcher, +but it was seldom used. Speed was the greatest weapon they needed and +the military designers of the home planet had poured all their energy +into the fast maneuvering of the craft. + +The heavy caps of ice that covered the continent of Greenland loomed up +before him and he hoped that he could lose them in the white wilderness. +He would have to throttle back when he reached the jagged waste of ice, +but then so would the four behind him. They saw what he was attempting, +and poured all the power they could into their ships. + +Lors flattened the ship out in a shallow dive and pushed the throttle +control until it stopped. The needle on the airspeed indicator leaped +violently. 24,000 m.p.h. The ice rose against the windshield swiftly. +One of the scout ships closed and fired a rocket. + +He kicked at the rudder pedal and threw the ship to the left. The scout +ship responded like a nervous horse and fluttered away as the rocket +burned and arced beneath the underbelly. + +He pulled the throttle control back, cutting the speed of the ship and +shoving on the rudder as he hauled at the stick. The maneuver was too +fast for the ships behind him. They tore past him in silver flashes, +trying to correct their error. He streaked off toward the Azores +Islands, slicing into the atmosphere viciously, while he watched the +other ships whirling off to come back at him. They would soon have to +break radio silence, or they would never get him. It was almost +impossible to close on a quarry at these speeds, unless each man knew +what his buddy was doing. + +At 15,000 miles per hour, a micro-second of delay before acting, could +slam two ships together with a violence that would atomize everything. +Still they refused to make radio contact with each other. + +Lors watched them coming back at him, minute silver specks on the radar +sweep. He shoved the stick forward and dived for the ocean in a shallow +plunge. He had the biggest advantage, in that they had to anticipate +_his_ moves, in order to get him into their sights. One of them got him +in his sights and fired. + +He watched the rocket spearing toward his ship and slammed the stick +over to the right. The discus-like scout ship flipped over in a slow +roll, the rocket barely missing the ship. Lors felt a little sick. He +eased the throttle back, flattening the ship out not fifty feet above +the water of the Atlantic Ocean. Then he shoved the throttle to the wall +and raced north. + +The Scout ship speed indicator swung crazily and stopped at 24,500 +m.p.h. Behind him, the other four were firewalling their throttles just +to keep within range. They couldn't possibly fire at him, because going +away at speeds like they were using, he could outrun any rocket made. +Not only was that in his favor, but should one of them fire, they would +fly into their own weapon. + +He glanced at Danson. Nick had awakened and was staring wide eyed at the +ocean that was spinning past them as they streaked north. Then Nick's +mouth opened and Lors looked ahead. They were almost on the freighter! + +Lors lifted the ship and whipped over the spars of the ship in a rush +that had probably broken lines and smashed windows all over the vessel. +Behind him, the others were streaking over the ship and Lors could +imagine the terrified crew-members who had probably been knocked flat +by the wash from the scout ships. + +Danson had fainted. + +Ahead of him was a heavy cloud cover. He streaked for it, with his four +buddies in hot pursuit. He hit the cloud cover and began dodging +recklessly through it, changing his course constantly to throw his +pursuers off. He burst out on the far side of the bank of clouds and +couldn't see the other four ships. He streaked for the cabin in the +mountain country of Pennsylvania, with Danson still out. + +Lors throttled back and hovered over the cabin. It was deserted. In the +sunlight, it looked like a child's toy house in a miniature clearing. He +settled the ship in another small clearing, in the woods beyond the +house and shut off the engines. He threw back the canopy and removed the +belt from around Danson. + +He slung the Terran over his shoulder and headed for the cabin. Still +nothing moved about the place. Lors breathed a sigh of relief. All he +had to do now, was dump Danson and get out. Nick could tell his wife +everything and get things straightened out. Brice could be reported as +missing in the woods and the wrecked scout ship could be covered up by +the men in Washington. + +He eased his way into the house and flopped Danson's unconscious body on +the couch. He had started to pull off Danson's borrowed uniform when he +heard the footstep. He whirled about! + +Beth! + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN + + +She stood there for a moment and stared at the two of them, and he could +see from her face that she was not sure which one was her husband. Lors +came to his feet and looked at her, not quite sure what to say or do. + +"Beth..." + +"Don't explain, Lors," she told him. Her voice was as calm and as +unruffled as though she found men from outer space in the cabin every +afternoon. + +"I brought him back," Lors began and felt silly. He wondered vaguely how +she had known about him and his being a spaceman. + +She came into the room and up to where he stood, her eyes boring into +his. "Why did you bring him back? You could have come back by yourself +and continued the whole thing." + +The realization of her words dawned upon him slowly and he blinked. "You +_know_ about me? How..." + +"I'll tell you later. Why did you bring him back?" + +"You want him, don't you? It couldn't work out. Any fool can see that." +He reached out and gripped her shoulders firmly. "It wasn't supposed to +happen this way, Beth. It was all supposed to go like clockwork; we +never figured on the scout ship being wrecked, and I never figured on +falling in love with you..." + +"That's why you brought him back? Because you love me?" + +He nodded, trying vainly to brush aside the trembling emotion that +lifted within him at the touch of her flesh. It was a weird feeling. + +"I thought about taking his place, Beth. I thought about it - but I knew +it wouldn't work. It was a half crazy thing in the beginning. I ... I'm +sorry." + +A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Don't be. I'm not the least bit +sorry, but I'm glad I know the truth. Now it doesn't seem so ridiculous +- Brice disappearing into thin air." She looked about the room. "Where +is he?" + +"Dead." + +"Dead?" Her eyes widened. + +Lors nodded. "I brought your husband back against my Commander's orders. +When I tried to get Brice out of the hospital, he went berserk and began +shooting things up. One of the spacers killed him." + +"Poor Nolan," she whispered and he could see the tears welling in her +eyes. Then she looked at him sharply. "You acted against orders?" + +He nodded again. + +"What will happen to you?" + +"Nothing. It'll all come out all right. But, Beth, how did you know? Who +told you about this?" + +"I did." + +Lors whirled about, his eyes swinging against those of the husky blond +in the dress suit who stood in the doorway of the cabin. Automatically, +his hand dropped toward the pistol at his side, but the blond stopped +him. + +"Don't bother with that, Lors," he grinned. "I'm not about to draw." + +"Who are you," Lors demanded. + +"Here, I'm Cartwell, of the Secret Service. But actually I'm +Firstspacer Nesso of the 6th. Terran Command." + +"You told her?" Lors asked, amazed. + +The blond nodded. "I had to. I came here to check on Brice and found her +ready to call the police because first Nolan had disappeared and then +you had. I had to think of something to keep her quiet, and the only +thing I could think of was the truth. I'm a lousy agent," he added +grinning. + +Lors nodded and bit his lower lip. "How do things stand now?" He asked. + +"Not too bad," Cartwell told him. "I've made arrangements to have the +wrecked ship hauled out of the area for study. This will be hush-hush +for awhile, then left to dissolve of itself. Everyone will forget it..." + +"What about Brice?" + +Cartwell pursed his lips. "That was a rough break, but unavoidable. We +can cover up by saying that he was searching the wooded area with the +rescue squads and apparently became lost. After searching and finding +nothing, we can let the people draw their own conclusions." + +"Risky," Lors told him. + +"It'll work, unless you have a better idea." + +Lors shook his head. "You can handle things down here, Cartwell. I have +my own problems up there." He pointed at the ceiling to indicate the +starship. "And I'd better get Danson's uniform off and move." + +Beth caught has arm. "Let him keep it, Lors. It won't get into the wrong +hands. I promise." + +Lors looked at Cartwell, who nodded. "Let them have it," he said. +"They're on our side anyhow." + +"All right." He paused. "I'll be going..." + +Beth linked her arm in his. "I'd like to walk to the ship with you." + +"I'd like that." + +He grinned at Cartwell and led her outside into the afternoon sunlight. +They didn't speak until they reached the small clearing where the scout +ship waited for them. Then Beth pulled his head down and kissed him. + +"Good-by, Lors," she whispered. + +"I'll come back, Beth, I'll come back. One of these days both our people +will be friends and we'll meet again." + +"I hope so." + +He glanced up at the sky and saw two of the scout ships flashing about, +high above the clouds. "My escort," he told her grinning. + +"You'll have trouble..." + +He kissed her lightly on the mouth. "No. I'll marry the Commander's +daughter and it'll all be okay." + +"Is she beautiful?" + +"Yes." He caught the sudden flash of womanly hurt rise in her eyes and +smiled. "Almost as beautiful as you." + +He kissed her lightly again and leaped to the cockpit of the scout ship. +He motioned her away from the blast area and eased the ship up above the +trees. She waved to him and looked very small among the trees. He lifted +a hand to her, then swung the ship upward, slamming the throttle forward +to head back to the starship. + +And Jela. + + + THE END + + + + + Transcriber's note: Punctuation preserved as originally printed. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Sex Life of the Gods, by Michael Knerr + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40284 *** |