The Invaders Plan (31 page)

"Spring!" said Heller. And the whole area seemed to become a blossoming of color: orchards, a young animal frisking in a field. The smell of fresh earth and buds.

"Summer!" said Heller. There was a burst of bird-song, the sweet fragrance of flowers, the sigh of a gentle zephyr. Leaved trees shaded the ground. A pair of lovers went hand in hand down a path.

"Oh, I like those," said the Countess.

"There are lots more seasons on lots more planets. I just chose Manco for tonight to please you."

"Oh, it does. It does!" But she looked like she was going to cry and Heller comforted her quickly, all contrite. "No, no," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "It's just that aside from today's trip, I haven't seen the sky or fields for three years!" She cried a little and then she dried her eyes. "I'm spoiling your show." He made certain she was all right now. Then he said, "Space!" I jumped slightly. I do not really care for space. I do not look out spaceports even when they're available. The vast, brutal violence of elemental force, the unimaginable distances, the cruel, lonely black of it, when you're in it, inspires worse than awe. To me, it is overpowering.

All around us was
space.
Studded with stars and nebulae, a near planet and moon of some system, it felt exactly like a real look at space while sitting on a suspended floor. Only the furniture made me keep my composure.

I said aloud, using the same voice volume Heller did, "Autumn!" I thought it would change back. It was only a voice-activated projector. Nothing happened. "Winter!" I said. Nothing happened. Space still gaped around us as though hungry for our lives. Cruel, pitiless space. I looked at Heller. "Why doesn't it change?"

"The whole rear section of this ship, cupboards, everything," said Heller, "is keyed only to my voice frequencies and harmonics. No two voices are alike, ever." He turned to the Countess. "There is a capacity to key it all to two or more tones. I'll put yours into the bank."

"What about me?" I said. "You'll have to show me how to set and change the voice keys. I'll be on this ship, too!" He just looked at me. He never showed me or anyone else where or how to change the voice response keys on that ship. And I never was able to open or close or operate a single thing in the rear of that ship. I think he changed the process so that not even a technician from Fleet could do it. But at that moment I felt a surge of anger. When I got him off this planet . . . I felt sick at my stomach. It must be this cursed scene which suspended me in space, supported only by a rug.

"Now," said Heller to the Countess gently, "I have a little surprise for you. This was something that was popular about fifty years ago but the driver managed to find a strip of it." He removed a little rod from his pocket and reached down to the underedge of the settee he was sitting on and slid it in. At least I knew where the projector feed was!

Space vanished! What a relief!

In its place, all about us, appeared a theater as though we were just spectators along with a couple hundred others. The people seemed live.

Directly before us was the stage. It was a woods scene, totally artificial. There were trees like cardboard cutout trees and a path. There were footlights.

Music started up. An actor in an animal suit, a lepertige, came out of the wings. He had spats on and a hat and was carrying a cane. He pretended he was peeking into the woods. Then, in a little dance, still looking about him into the woods, he began to sing and as he sang the trees all began to wave in rhythm to the music.

And then, amongst the trees, an enormous pair of phosphorescent eyes showed, blinked twice and a coquettish voice said, like an animal purr, "Why not?" The stage curtains snapped shut. The audience roared with applause.

The Countess was laughing so hard she kept falling against Heller. It took her a while to catch her breath. Then she flung her arms around Heller's neck and said, "Oh, you darling!" Then she held him off and in imitation of the last line, said, "Why not?" And they fell together and laughed again.

"There's tons of those," Heller finally said. "And a lot of games. But you haven't seen it all yet. I have a surprise for you." Was there no end to these surprises? I thought the song had been silly. Maybe he was calling up the first time he had met her and she had put a real lepertige in its cage. Yes, that must be it. And a really suitable name for this absolutely deadly Countess Krak! A real lepertige lady indeed!

We were down a little stair and back on the same side of the ship where we had started. It was a small shower and it was pictured in a lake with ducks swimming about when Heller lifted a towel.

Heller guided the Countess over a ledge into the next level but, before he let her step down, he put a hand over her eyes.

"Now look," and he lifted his hand.

And the Countess really did say "Ooooooo!" It was a second dressing room, a gyrobed and wardrobes. And on the bed lay two absolutely gorgeous garments. One was a filmy night robe, done in intricate silver lace. The other was a golden ball gown!

The Countess clutched them to her and started to cry again. After a bit she kissed Heller. "I've never had any clothes like these in my whole life." Heller petted her. After a bit, he said, "The admiral had a wife who used to cruise with him. It's all yours now, darling." He gave her another kiss.

He took me by the arm. "Well, we've been the full cycle now. Let's step down to the dining salon here and let the lady get out of her military fashion, shower and dress."

"I won't be long!" cried the Countess, looking adoringly after Heller.

"Take all the time you want," he called back. "Time is something we have lots of!" We were in the salon with its gold dishes. Time, I thought sourly. Yes, you think you have time. You pulled a total swindle on me! You didn't have any idea of starting out! You were just looking for a fancy ship!

"I think," I said, somewhat stiffly, "that you have your nerve! You have been fooling me all day!" Heller shrugged and gave me a mild smile. "Well, Soltan, you did say that Spiteos was too uncomfortable." He started to offer me a gold canister filled with pink sparklewater. But I knew they didn't want me around. I said, "I'll see you tomorrow," and stalked out.

I knew I wouldn't be able to get Heller off this planet now with a whole bag of blasting charge. I was for it!

It was a foolish thing to do, to walk out like that. But somehow I just couldn't stand to be that close to the Countess Krak. Inside the ship I had had pains in my stomach. Outside now, standing in the darkened hangar, the pains were gone. I felt hungry.

Things were quiet now: the excitement was over. The tup lorry must have come back for the decorations and empty canisters. There wasn't even the crumb of a sweetbun left on the makeshift bar.

Abruptly, the full extent of my foolishness came home to me. I was
broke.
Not only did I have not a single credit in my pockets but also my identoplate would be out-of-bounds: if I tried to use it for money or purchases of any kind, I would overdraw into next year's pay and even maybe get cashiered for debt.

Being an officer has its good points: one gets an identoplate, one gets paid; and in the ranks below, the finance officers routinely pay no pay at all. But being an officer also has its bad points: one has to pay for his own food and lodging and clothes, not only while on base duty but also on campaign.

If I could not lay my hands on a credit or two, I would not eat tonight! Or tomorrow either.

Over where the makeshift bar had been, I saw somebody sitting in a discarded gravity chair. In the dim light, I saw it was Snelz. Aha! A plan formed. I would scare some money out of Snelz!

When I came up, he remained slouching there, idly twirling his baton, humming quietly to himself, a song called "The Girls All Have Four (Boomps) in Old Kiboo," a favorite of the Fleet marines.

The calm mien of the man, well tupped and suppered, raised a vicious streak in me.

"Snelz," I said, in a very nasty voice, "do you realize that you have not only set loose a Spiteos prisoner but have also armed one with a blastrifle?"

"Oh, oh," he said mildly. "The lightning bolts of authority have been unleashed." It was possible that he was being brave because he was twirling a baton that was really a blastick. Ignoring his slur, I plowed on. "It is quite obvious that you must have had money to bribe the tunnel barrier guards. Otherwise you never could have gotten Krak out and could never hope to get her back in."

"Money?" said Snelz, tossing the baton aside and lighting a puffstick. "It would be far too dangerous to try to bribe those fellows: Hisst would hear about it for sure." He looked at me through the smoke. He saw I didn't believe him. His face is not unhandsome in a sort of Devils-take-you mold: he didn't look afraid the way I'd made him look before. I didn't think it was the blastick. He had put it down. What was I looking at here? Some renewed pride? Was his association with Heller pulling him back out of the depths? He wasn't cringing!

In a patient tone of voice, he said, "Oh, I see. You don't understand how we are operating to get her in and out. Well, I suppose you should know, if it will ease your mind. There was this transvestite . . ."

"Snelz," I threatened. "You had better not be spinning me some long string of lies!" He barked a small laugh. "Imagine that coming from you. Anyway, you know of course that Camp Endurance, aside from being a cover for Spiteos traffic, is there to dispose of Apparatus personnel who are designated as 'unsuitable' – though I might comment that it seems impossible to get lower than the low. How could anything be unsuitable for the Apparatus. I'm in it. You are too." I put my hand on my beltgun. He just laughed and blew a cloud of smoke. "So, as you in your lofty position may or may not know, they send in drafts from other Apparatus units, on or off this planet, for 'special training' at Camp Endurance: the 'special training' teaches them only how to die fast and fall, as a dead body, into the chasm."

"Oh come off it, Snelz. I know that. That's why it's nicknamed 'Camp Kill."' "Well, I'm glad you do know something," said Snelz. "I was beginning to wonder." It crossed my mind that association with Heller absolutely ruined personnel! "So, anyway," he continued languidly, "when I realized that this operation might be coming up, I told my platoon to keep their eyes open. And sure enough, there in an incoming draft of kill-bait, they spotted just what we wanted." He took another puff, blew it out and went on. "He was a fellow named Tweek. There he was standing in what they call an 'incoming garbage truck.' According to the records Timyjo managed to get a peek at, this Tweek had said 'no' when he should have said 'yes' to some horny senior and so, as you can't let
that
sort of thing happen and still have discipline – and warm bed companions – he was shipped to Camp Kill.

"What we were looking for was someone that was the height and build of the Countess Krak. And that was Tweek. He was blond, similar eye color and even a little pretty, though of course," and he let out an adoring sigh, "no real comparison to the Countess who is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.
Or
anybody else has seen."

"Get on with this," I snapped. A twinge of pain had hit my stomach at the mention of her qualities.

"So we just kept track of the truckload. When they stood them up on the chasm rim, one guy didn't get killed: Tweek!"

"That cost money to bribe the execution squad!" I snapped, remembering why I was talking to him at all.

"Well, no, it didn't," said Snelz. "They execute them in the evening so the action isn't spotted by chance overflights and it just happened that, courtesy of Timyjo, Tweek had a safety line on him. When the execution guards had gone, we simply pulled up Tweek, hand over hand. As instructed, he had fallen early before the stutterguns went off and aside from a minor bruise or two, he was fine.

"We fed him up – you'd be amazed how they starve those garbage cargos – and by the time we needed him, I had him able to walk. His hair had grown pretty long both from his own habits and his long trip from the planet Flisten and, for a transvestite, he looked good.

"So what we did this afternoon was march a detachment of four men through the tunnels and Tweek was one of them. When we got to the cubicle of Countess Krak, we stripped Tweek and then the Countess Krak dressed herself in his uniform. Tweek got into her bed and there he is, snoring peacefully right this minute."

"Aha!" I felt I had him there. "You had to give this Tweek freak
money
to get him to do that!"

"Money?" said Snelz. "I'm afraid we gave him something a lot more valuable than that. We gave him his life. And when we're through with this operation, we'll find a dead one in the recruitment drafts for Camp Endurance – they sometimes fight between the prisons where they get them and the outfit to which they're assigned – and give those papers to Tweek and simply put him in the platoon. We're short several men, including the one whose skull you cracked. He's getting well, by the way. I'll have to teach you to hit harder one of these days. Ah, well, where was I before you started carping about money?

"Oh, yes. At dawn," Snelz continued, "when we're relieved here, we'll fly her back, march her in through the tunnels. She and Tweek will change clothes and out will march Tweek. And we'll just keep on doing that, day after day, from here onward. The Countess Krak will be visible all day long, right in her own training room, and at night nobody ever dares go near the cubicle of the Countess Krak. She has a reputation, you know."