Clive Bedford

Mistress of torment

(Bondage book – 133)

CHAPTER ONE

Detective Inspector Harold Wilson of New Scotland Yard Criminal Investigation Department removed his hat in order to facilitate scratching his head. It needed scratching, but for once this habit failed to stimulate his brain. Wilson was a good, solid, stolid policeman who, by dint of doing as he was told and not arguing, had worked himself up in the CID as far as he would ever go. In a year he would retire, if not in a blaze of glory, at least not in a shower of mud! This was beyond his experience, and with the wariness of his age and nature, he could see one thing very clearly. There was likely to be a lot of trouble here! And Wilson did not want trouble. It was the very last thing he wanted.

He spoke to the young intern who stood patiently by.

"I'll have to make a special report about this," he said at last. "You'll have to hold the body for autopsy, but I want you to take special precautions. Do these, things lock?"

Wilson pointed to the rows of gruesome refrigerated cabinets that lined one side of the wall.

"Yes. There's two keys. The attendant has one, and the secretary of the hospital keeps the other in his safe."

"Hmm. I'd better have the attendant's key, now please. And then I'll come with you and collect the other one." They closed the drawer containing the young man's corpse with that degree of respect that most people give to the dead even if they withhold it from the living!

As they went along the corridor, the inspector said, "I suppose we'll have to get a disinter men order for the other one – the woman. That's a bloody nuisance, I can tell you! Every time that happens some maniac or other starts squawking about 'desecration'! Where was she buried?"

"Highgate, I believe."

"Christ, right in the middle of London! We'll have to keep the press away with bloody barbed wire!"

Wilson collected both keys gloomily, signed for them and went outside the hospital to where his driver was waiting. Detective Sergeant Gerry Glasner was an entirely different kind of police ma from his boss. For one thing he had not yet arrived and had practically nothing to lose. For another, he had come into the force from university, and had a well disciplined and enquiring mind. For a third he was by no means sure he had made a wise decision in his career choice, and did not much care whether what he did met with approval or not!

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"Trouble?" he asked, sympathetically, studying Wilson's gloomy face.

"Another one of those damned chastity belt corpses," said Wilson.

"Another one? Another girl?"

"No. A man this time – or a boy really. Only about sixteen years old."

A week before the body of a girl had been pulled out of the Thames at Teddington Lock. She was about eighteen years old, a virgin. Her clothes were good, having been mostly bought in the King's Road, Chelsea. She had been well-groomed and manicured – and dead. There had been no sign of injury, yet the autopsy had proved that she had not drowned. She had been dead before she got into the river. Yet there was no bruising or any other sign of her having been thrown in.

All that was bad enough. Already it had involved Inspector Wilson in the thing he most hated, trouble. He had some twenty Murder Squad men working around the clock, trying to trace the identity of the girl. Until they knew who she was, there was not much hope of tracing her friends, or anyone who might know anything about her death. So far, some fifteen hundred individual contacts and enquiries had drawn a blank. But the worst feature of the affair had been that the girl had been wearing a most odd appliance. It seemed to be made of some kind of grey metal, cold to the touch. Yet it yielded like rubber, so that it fitted her body like a second skin. Worst of all, it did not stretch, and all the efforts of nurses and doctors had utterly failed to remove it. There was no joint, no fastening. It might have been molded over the girl's body.

The staff of the hospital were not altogether unused to removing chastity belts! Especially from men. Every few weeks someone would be brought in from a road accident and if he was conscious his reluctance to be undressed would prove to be due to the fact that he was wearing a more-or-less complex arrangement of chains around the waist and loins – sometimes even along the torso to a metal collar as well. And, at the end of all the chains, there would usually be a metal box of some kind that completely enclosed his genitals, with a small hole in the box for toilet purposes. Sometimes the chastity belts were fastened on with padlocks. Some of them were soldered on. Only last month there had been an extremely complex and unpleasant one, with sharp spikes inside the box which would have made an erection terribly painful, and that had been welded on so that the doctor bad to send for a maintenance engineer with oxy-gas equipment to cut it off!

The standard story was that the patient had put the thing on himself, although in most cases this was manifestly impossible unless he had also been a contortionist! The inference was that the man had been playing sex-games with a woman or another man who found pleasure in depriving him of sex-satisfaction. One or two claimed they had had the chastity belts fitted for religious reasons! It was embarrassing all round, but that was the end of it. If a man cared to wear a chastity belt, that was his affair and no one else's.

But the girl, and now the boy had both been found dead in unusual circumstances. And both had been wearing these curious belts, of an unfamiliar material. Not wishing to publicize the oddity, the police had, in fact, conspired to conceal the facts surrounding the girl. They could not be concealed again. Trouble was in the air! Wilson groaned aloud. Gerry Glasner reached for a bottle lying under the dashboard.

"Indigestion?" he asked.

"I shall have! Not now… Do you know, at the hospital they've tried getting that damned thing off with bolt cutters, and couldn't even dent it! Yet its surface feels like satin… They'll have to cut it off! Or if not, I'm afraid they'll have to cut up the body and get it off that way. We've got to have it – and I guess we'll have to have the one off the girl now. It's the only clue we have."

Back in his office, Wilson asked for the file on the girl. In it were several photos.

"Look at these, Sergeant," he said to Gerry Glasner. They studied them together, with a new interest.

The sight of the young, slender body, lying stiff and cold brought a spasm of anger to them both. This, after all, was what their lives were about; punishment for this, and prevention for the future. Yet, there was no proof of murder, except that the girl could not have thrown herself in the river after she was dead! And she had not drowned. That was all they had to go on, except for the chastity belt. The soft, yielding metal thing fitted over the girl's breasts, proving that she had had a beautiful, full figure. The cups totally covered the breasts and there was an area of the metallic substance flat against her chest. This was shaped like a brassiere, and led around her chest to her back. There was no clasp or fastening of any kind. The report said that the cups over the breasts were hard as glass, but the rest was soft and resilient. The girl would have been unable to feel any sensation through the metal of the cups.

Attached to the breast strap was a wide vertical one that joined to a kind of waist belt, about four inches wide and perfectly shaped to fit between her rib-cage and hip-bones. This was as tight as it could be, cutting deep into the flesh, compressing her vital organs. In front of the waist band was a shaped piece that covered her belly and proceeded down to curve up between her thighs, narrowing as it went, and up between her buttocks to join the waist band at the back. Between the thighs was a hole about a half-inch in diameter, and there was another round hole about an inch in diameter over the anus. Investigation had shown that to each of these holes was attached a tube of the same size and same material. The front tube seemed to enter the urethra, and the rear tube was clearly in the rectum. The length of the tubes could not be determined because the metal of the belt was opaque to X-rays. Despairing of removing this garment without desecrating the body they had buried the girl in it. Now she would have to be disinterred and, somehow or other the garment would have to be recovered.

"Maybe the lab will be able to give us a lead of some kind," said Wilson. "Whoever made and fitted that belt must have had some kind of workshop!"

"What about the boy's belt?" asked the Sergeant.

"There's some polyphotos in my case. We'll get the regular ones in about an hour, but these will give you the general idea."

The boy had been wearing jeans and a roll-neck sweater, which before he died would have concealed the high collar of silver-grey metal that was fitted around his neck. It was just fitted close to his skin, not tight enough to restrict his breathing, not loose enough to move. Pushing a finger down between the collar and the skin, the doctor had determined that the inside of the collar was fitted with hundreds of small, blunt spikes that must have pressed painfully into the flesh. At back and front of the body was an extension from the collar, about three inches wide, joining to a tight waist band similar to the one the girl had worn. There was a kind of box in front of the belt, shaped so as to allow no expansion of an inert penis. When the belt had been fitted, the boy had obviously not had an erection – and he had certainly not had one since he had worn the belt! The scrotum was in a separate enclosure, equally small. At the end of the penis-sheath was a hole, not more than an eighth-inch in diameter, and investigation had shown there was a kind of catheter tube attached to it, presumably running along inside the penis. At the rectum there was a one-inch hole and tube, similar to the one on the girl's belt.

The boy had fallen in front of an underground train at Piccadilly Circus Station and had been almost cut in half. The wheels of the first two coaches had passed right over him, and over the chastity belt. But the material of which it was made had not even been marked!

"What are you going to do, Inspector?"

Wilson closed the file and rested his hand on it. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Gerry," he said. "I'm going to pass this one upward, as far and as fast as I can! I'm not a very bright copper. You know that!" He smiled. So close to retirement he could afford to; he no longer had any apples to polish! "But all my instincts tell me that this one is trouble, with a capital T. And I don't want any part of it!" He got up. "I'm going to see the chief inspector," he said. "The intern told me he was going to ask one of his maintenance engineers to try to cut through that belt on the boy with oxy-gas before he locked the cabinet in the morgue. If you get a call from him, say I'll ring him back."

It was Sergeant Glasner's turn to be gloomy. He had just seen an example of the kind of petty-mindedness that made him feel he was in the wrong job. This was a challenge, not something to be passed up the line to where the buck stopped. But there was nothing he could do. He was caught in the rigid discipline machine.

Ten minutes later the phone rang and, as Gerry answered it his face changed from boredom to incredulous horror. "OK," he said, quickly. "I've got all that. I'll tell Inspector Wilson. Yes… I expect we'll be right over." He put the phone down and was just reaching for another one to call Wilson, when it buzzed. A girl's voice spoke.

"Sergeant Glasner? The chief inspector would like to see you in his office right away please." Gerry threw down the phone and ran!

He entered the chief inspector's office soberly enough, although his eyes were bright with excitement.

"May I give Inspector Wilson a message first, Sir?" he asked, and as the great man nodded, Glasner said, "Just had a phone call from Emergency Services, Sir. There's been a hell of an explosion at the hospital, in the morgue. A young intern is dead, the attendant, two nurses and an engineer!"

The other two men sat, suddenly alert, tense.

"What was it?" asked the chief inspector.

"Did the gas explode?" asked Wilson.

"Apparently not, Sir. They've only had a quick look of course, but, you know the stuff that chastity belt was made of? Well, apparently when they started to use the oxy-gas on it it exploded – just blew up. It was a hell of a bang. Shattered every pane of glass in the building, and for about a quarter-mile around. Everyone thought it was the Irish at it again!"

The chief inspector sat still, looking at his finger-tips.

"Sit down, Sergeant," he said. "You're twenty-five and unmarried, I believe."

"Yes Sir."

"Engaged to be married?"

"Not yet Sir. Nothing serious anywhere."

"Parents?"

"My mother passed away last year Sir. Father's due to retire from the Air Force next year."

"He'll be a man who knows his duty…" said the chief inspector, mysteriously. "Glasner, Inspector Wilson has been talking to me. And he's given me a glowing account of you, I may say. I know a lot more about this chastity belt thing than either of you. And I don't think anyone is going to get very far by routine methods. This is very serious, very serious indeed. And terribly dangerous too. Both the bodies you have seen have been agent working for Special Branch!"

Gerry stared in amazement. "On the force, Sir?"

"No. And that, I think was the mistake. They lacked enough experience to be able to look after themselves." He counted his fingers carefully, as if he felt there was one missing. Then he looked up so that Gerry had to meet his gaze. "I need a young, intelligent and dedicated volunteer for a job of great danger," he said quietly. "A job on whose success may depend the security of the country – and indeed the security of the world…"

"You mean me, Sir?"

"I am not giving any orders, Sergeant. In this you are a free man. And there won't be any adverse remarks on your Conduct Record if you refuse. I'm by no means sure I'd accept the job myself, even if I were young enough."

Without a moment's hesitation, Gerry said, "I'll do it Sir, if I may."

"Good. Wilson said you'd take that attitude! There's not a moment to waste. I'd like you, Wilson, to go along to the hospital and see what you can find out, if anything. I want to talk to Sergeant Glasner."

When they were alone, the chief inspector said, "This is all covered by the Official Secrets Act, Glasner. You could get ten years in jail if you talk! And now I've said that, let's be informal. This is not routine police business. In fact, as soon as we are finished here, I am going to dismiss you from the force in disgrace!"

"Sir?"

The chief inspector smiled, thinly. "It's only to give you cover! When it's over, you can come back in as Detective Inspector if you want to – and with no loss of pension rights! But I expect we shall find something else more interesting for you to do, if you want it!" He took a small box from a drawer and opened it, pushing it across the desk to Gerry. "What do you make of that?" he asked.

Gerry took the box in his hand. In it there was what looked like a length of very fine fuse-wire, about an inch long. He looked up, baffled.

"It is a fantastic piece of ultra-micro-miniature circuitry," said the chief inspector. "We don't know how it works yet, nor even what it is for. All we know for certain is this. That piece of wire was removed from the back of Betty Bronson's neck – that's the poor kid that ended up in the river. It was driven straight in, just between two vertebrae, into the spinal cord."

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"Is that what killed her Sir…"

"Not the driving of it in. That much is certain. But some kind of signal generated by that circuitry did kill her, instantly. And I'll tell you another thing. We may never be able to check the boy after that explosion, but I am sure there was a similar thing in his spinal cord – just as there have been in five other agents we have employed in the past six months, all of whom have died accidentally – and all of whom have been found wearing one of those chastity belts!"

"Seven gone? In six months?"

"Yes. Want to change your mind?"

"No Sir."

"Good. Now, tell me, what do you know about UFO's?"

Chief Inspector Dodds smiled again, fleetingly as he saw the sudden tension in Gerry's face. He knew just what the young man was thinking!

"Unidentified Flying Objects" – witches on broomsticks? Or the delusions of weak-minded people? Or a mystery wrapped in an enigma that had not so far been opened up? Should Gerry show his chief that he had an open mind – and risk being considered eccentric at least, if not downright unstable? Or should he dismiss UFO's as nonsense, and risk being thought of as having a mind closed to new ideas? It was a difficult dilemma for an ambitious young police officer. Dodds resolved it for him.

"Level with me, Glasner," he said. "Be frank. I'm not trying to catch you out, lad… I'll tell you something – under the umbrella of the Official Secrets Act – the Prime Minister is in daily contact with the President of the United States over the hot line about this very question. And even though we may not think much of politicians, no one thinks they are that crazy!"

Gerry Glasner took a sudden resolve. If this new assignment proved to be worthwhile, it could lead him quickly out of the boring routine of police business, and into something that would give him the chance to use his intelligence to the full. If not, well, he already had in mind to resign anyway, so what had he to lose?

"I think there have been genuine sightings of UFO's, Sir," he said quietly. "A lot of the reports – maybe most of them – may be illusions, genuine or crazy, but there are some that seem, from the little I have read, to be beyond question… After all, a lot of policemen have reported sightings, on night patrol!" He smiled, disarmingly.

Chief Inspector Dodds sat silent for a moment his face hard, frosty, and Gerry wondered if he had said the right thing – then he thought, "So what the hell! I've said what I honestly believe. He can like it – or lump it!"

"You're right, of course," said Dodds, surprisingly. "There have been sightings, quite recent ones, that are absolutely genuine. And I don't mean just sightings in the sky. I mean, real, genuine sightings of craft – and of personnel – on the ground. Backed up by photographs that are unquestionable – and by eye-witness accounts that tally so well that there can be no question of collusion, or even of mass hysteria."

"I'll give you the data to read later on, but for now you may take it as certain that there are some kind of space-craft, peopled by living beings with human characteristics – or some of them at least – flying about in our atmosphere, and making landings from time to time. What's more; the creatures concerned have been interfering in human affairs for a very long time. For centuries in fact. And in the past year this interference has grown into a serious and dangerous menace."

"Was it… them… who killed Betty Bronson and the boy?" asked Gerry.

"We believe so. And the other agents too. We've used these young people because about a year ago, we became convinced that a lot of mysterious disappearances were due to abduction by these… creatures. As you know, there's always hundreds of people disappear into the blue every year. I guess most of them are husbands getting away from wives – and although the wives don't like it, it's not really our affair. So long as there's no suspicion of foul play, it's not illegal for a husband to disappear!"

"But last year the number of young people disappearing suddenly trebled, and that's serious. A lot of older, experienced officers began raking up the old stories from the 1920's about the white slave traffic, and the possibility that these youngsters were being sold into brothels and such, like in the Mid-East. But you know it's not easy these days for anyone to be taken against his will out of the country. It can be done, but not on such a large scale. I mean, we were dealing with something like an additional two thousand disappearances of people between about sixteen and thirty years."

"And then we got a lead, just one, that opened up an entirely new line of enquiry. We had to take the whole thing out of the hands of the regular force and give it to Special Branch – and it looks as though they've failed too, with all their agents dead. So now I am under orders from the home office to try a different angle."

"I'm going to use just two agents, more mature, experienced, working together. It's a slender chance, but we hope that one at least will survive to tell the tale!"

Gerry shivered, in spite of himself.

"Two agents?" he asked.

"Yes. You, now you've volunteered, and an American, a girl. She's just turned twenty-two years old, of an age to appeal to these… creatures. And old enough to have some sense and experience. She'll work with you."

"But why are the Americans involved? Isn't this a matter for NATO?"

"In a way, it's accidental. But for one thing, the Americans have the hardware and the technical capacity to help. Their satellites, for instance, have actually sighted dozens of these craft, although the damned things don't stay in one place long enough – and they move too fast – for us to be able to pinpoint them – yet. And it's better for us to work with the Americans. Oh, we have our differences, especially at newspaper level! But in a general way, we lead the-same kind of life, we have much the same kind of aspirations, we speak the same language – and that helps a lot. But more than that, these days when we confide anything to our NATO allies in Europe, it gets back to the Russkies inside a couple of days, and we're still not sure it is not them!"

"You think these may be Russian craft?"

"No. We don't think so. But they could be. And in the present state of the world, we've got to be damned sure it's not, before we blow the gaff! They are so tight-lipped that they wouldn't tell us about it even if they knew, even if it meant we could all get together to deal with the situation. In fact, we are sure they've had sightings, but they blame them on 'spy planes', usually American, and that adds to the gaiety of nations as you know! So, we're going it alone, with the Americans, and the Cabinet are convinced this is the best way. If and when we get incontrovertible proof, then we'll tell Russia and ask for their help. In the meantime, they'll have to go on assuming it's the Americans, or NATO, or even the Chinese!"

"When and how do we start?" asked Gerry.

"Right now. You go out of here to the Westland Hotel. Go up to Room 128. You'll find Sonia Evans waiting there. She'll tell you all you need to know. Before you leave, read this folder and note carefully what it says. Then give it back to my secretary – and get a signature for it to cover you in case it ever leaks out! And now, Glasner," snapped Chief Inspector Dodds, "stand up!"

Wondering at the sudden change of attitude, Glasner pushed his chair back and stood up.

"Your conduct during the past six months has been totally unworthy of a police officer of your standing. The charges of corruption against you cannot at present be confirmed. If they ever are, you will find yourself in court – and probably in jail. You are dismissed from the Service in disgrace, with pay up to 6 p.m. today. That is all! – Except for one thing!" Dodds suddenly smiled. "You'll find your account is credited at your bank with two-thousand pounds, and so long as you don't go mad and spend it too fast, that balance will be maintained all the time you are on detached duty." He held out his hand impulsively. "Good luck, lad," he said. And then, suddenly serious, "Keep safe… OK, on your way Glasner – and keep out of my sight if you know what's good for you!"

To say that Gerry was confused would be an understatement. He spent an hour in an anteroom reading the folder with growing unbelief. Then he returned it to the secretary who gave him a receipt for it, merely mentioning its official number. When he walked out through the general office and along the corridors, it was obvious that everyone who met him knew that he was in disgrace. He encountered glances that held pity, derision, disgust, contempt. He felt like a cheap crook as he passed through the swing-doors and into the street!

However, there was nothing wrong with his instincts, or his training. He walked down the stairs into the underground station, bought a ticket for a long journey, and went down the escalator to the platform. He let two trains go by, and noticed that a stout man in a fawn raincoat did the same. Someone was tailing him! When the third train came to the platform. Gerry stood well back, keeping the corner of his eyes on the man who was reading a newspaper. At the very last moment, just as the automatic doors began to close, Gerry ran forward, put both hands between the closing doors and pulled hard. With an effort he squeezed through, and had the satisfaction of seeing the man in the raincoat dash his paper to the platform and stand there, swearing. Maybe Dodds had put a tail on him, or maybe it was someone else. Whoever it was would be disappointed. Gerry had no intention of either being nurse-maided, or of being foiled in his work before he had started. He got out at the next station and took a cab to the Westland Hotel.

Without announcing himself either at the desk or on the house phone, Gerry went right up to Room 128 and pressed the buzzer. The door opened a crack, then wider and a warm, seductive voice said, "Come in Sergeant Glasner. I have been expecting you!"

Instinctively Gerry stood for a few seconds, studying the American girl, and from what he saw he felt that this job would have certain compensations, even if he ended up in the morgue, wearing a strange metal chastity belt! Sonia Evans was worth spending a few seconds – or several hours – studying in detail! She was tall and very beautiful, with a breath-taking figure. The black leather trouser-suit she wore showed off every detail of her magnificent body to perfection. It was a moment before Gerry could reply.

"Here's my identity card," he said. "May I see yours please?"

"Come right in," said Sonia. "Here it is!"

They exchanged cards and stood inspecting them gravely. Gerry held the girl's card in his right hand, checking the photograph. It was all in order, but as his thumb rubbed over the edges of the photo, something odd stirred at the back of his mind. He looked again more carefully, checking the descriptions in detail.

NAME: Sonia Evans.

NATIONALITY: United States Citizen.

AGE: 22 years 4 months.

BIRTHPLACE: St. Louis, Miss.

HAIR: Black.

EYES: Large, dark brown.

COMPLEXION: Pale.

NOSE: Straight.

HEIGHT: 5 foot 10 inches. (Tall for a girl, but she looked taller.)

Gerry's eyes traversed that glorious body noting the full, generous breasts, the incredibly tiny waist, the zip-fronted crotch – surely that was a small lock that closed the zipper? And at last his gaze fell on Sonia's feet and rested there. She was wear in black shiny boots, laced tight to below the knee, with sharp, pointed toes and the most incredibly high heels he had ever seen in his life – and working around Soho, he bad seen quite a few pairs of high-heeled boots in his time! That was why she seemed taller than her description! That was why she towered over his own six-foot height!

His uneasiness faded. There had been some thin wrong – and that was it. The girl looked far too tall for her description. Nothing more than that. A small detail, but in noticing it he showed himself that his instincts were still alert. But not quite as alert as he believed!

He handed back her identity card and took his own.

"We destroy them both now," said Sonia, in the deep, seductive voice that gave Gerry goose-pimples every time she spoke. She walked across the sitting room and took a gas lighter from the table. She held one corner of her identity card in the flame and, when it kindled, put it carefully into the large ashtray. The card smoked and flared until it was a heap of ashes. Sonia stirred the ashes with the base of the lighter, crushing them to powder.

"Your turn," she said. For an instant, some warning voice inside Gerry's brain said it was unfortunate that he could not look at that card just once more. He dismissed the thought and came beside Sonia to destroy his own card. When it too was reduced to black powder, the girl took the ashtray into another room and Gerry heard the sound of the toilet flushing. Obviously she knew her security!

She came back, striding swiftly and purposefully to answer the phone. She stood with her back to Gerry.

"It's not important now," she said. "Goodbye." She replaced the receiver. "They've lost one of my dresses in the cleaners," she said. "I'll have to let it go." Why was it that, into Gerry's mind came a sudden vision of a heavy man in a fawn raincoat?

"What's the drill?" he asked. "What do we do? How do we start?"

Sonia said, "Sit down. I'll fix you a drink." And when Gerry began to protest about "Not drinking on duty," she smiled so that at the sight of it his entrails seemed to turn to water inside him!

"This is a different kind of duty, Sergeant," she said. "I have a feeling you're going to need a drink. What'll it be? Scotch?" Gerry nodded, and the girl poured him a large Scotch on the rocks and handed it to him.

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When she, too, sat down, it seemed to Gerry as though a queen had seated herself on her throne. The chair was large, with arms and a high back, and while Sonia was not fat or overweight she was a big girl, so that she filled the chair, sitting with her back straight, not touching the chair-back. She crossed one leg over the other and sat, lightly swinging the upper foot. Gerry's fascinated gaze was upon that sharp tip – and suddenly, unbidden, came into his mind the wonder what it would feel like to kiss it, to feel the sharp stiletto heel grinding mercilessly into his genitals! He raised his eyes, and was aware of Sonia's sardonic smile; he knew that she understood his thoughts, and he flushed.

"We start here," said Sonia, "and now!"

"How can we start here?"

"I have all our instructions detailed in writing," replied the girl.

"I'll let you see them before we… start. But briefly, this is what is required. The previous agents have discovered that, for some reason the Andromedans… the, er… extra-terrestrial people, are attracted to what we know as 'perverse' people. You must realize that our information has been gathered carefully now for almost ten years, not merely on the reports, of the seven agents who have been executed."

"Executed?" asked Gerry. "That's a strange word!"

"From their point of view… executed. From ours, of course, murdered!"

"We'd better continue to look at things from our viewpoint," snapped Gerry. "Otherwise we'll get confused… What was that name you used for the… creatures?"

"Andromedans."

"Andromedans?"

"Yes."

"Is that our name for them, or their own?"

"Ours, of course."

"Meaning we believe they come from the nebula in Andromeda?"

"It could be." Sonia waved the idea aside impatiently. "It's not important. We have to call them something. 'Andromedans' is as good a name as any other, until we know better. The important thing is that the ones who reach Earth seem always to be attracted to 'perverse' people, and to no others."

"That must limit their field of operations!" said Gerry, grimly.

"Not so much as you might think," smiled Sonia. "I am told that in America and Britain it is estimated that one adult in five is actively 'perverse', and about four and a half in five are psychically perverse, in that they fantasize about perversions, or what are called perversions anyway. You, for instance, are psychically perverse!"

"I beg your pardon!" Gerry was suddenly angry, his face red.

"Just now, you were thinking extremely perverse thoughts about my boots, weren't you?"

"Well… yes… maybe… But how do you know that?"

"It was written all over your face!" Sonia laughed lightly. "You're potentially perverse at present. Before we set out to find the Andromedans… you have to be actually, dynamically perverse before we can interest them in us!"

"And you?"

Sonia smiled. "Oh, I'm already perverse! That's one of the reasons why I was chosen for this job!"

"Look, I'm out of my depth. Suppose I just take a look at the official instructions."

"Why not? It may save time." Sonia took an envelope from the table beside her and handed it over to Gerry. He was annoyed with himself to find his fingers trembling as he removed the thin letter from it.

His eyes widened when he saw the address printed at the top of the page, and they stayed wide as he read the brief letter and studied the signature. He recognized the name of the Prime Minister, but did not know the signature. However, the letter was counter-signed by Chief Inspector Dodds, and that signature he was familiar with. It looked like a spider had crawled over the page, soaked in ink! Gerry slowly folded the letter, replaced it in the envelope and handed it back to Sonia without a word.

"Well?"

He grinned. "It looks as though I'm in for a lively time, doesn't it?" he asked.

Sonia smiled back at him. "You could say that," she agreed. Fifteen minutes later in Sonia's hotel bedroom, Gerry was convinced of it. He was naked, except for a black rubber G-string which did nothing to conceal the rigidity of his throbbing penis. Also, he was extremely uncomfortable, but in no condition to protest about it. He was kneeling on the carpet with his forearms between his calves and his thighs. His wrists had black leather bands around them, tightly strapped, and joined by a short chain. In his mouth was a very large rubber ball covered with soft spikes. A tube was threaded through the ball from side to side, and there was a chain through the tube. The chain had been pulled tight at the back of his neck and fastened there with a small padlock. And from the front of the ball, a leather thong was passed to the chain between his wrists and pulled tight, so that his head had been forced down hard between his thighs. He could not raise his head – and he could not withdraw his arms.

There were similar black leather bands around his ankles, also joined by a short chain, and there was a fine chain locked tight around the neck of his scrotum… so tight that he could feel his balls almost crushed by the pressure of the skin. That fine chain was attached to the chain between his ankles. And, in that quite simple way he was fastened in a kneeling, crouching position, with his buttocks sticking up, vulnerable and unprotected.

Something dangled down to tickle his cheek, then moved before his eyes. He shivered when he saw the tip of the lash of a long black leather whip!

"Now, Gerry," said Sonia softly, her voice a caress, "I'm going to teach you how pain can become a pleasure! Lesson number one coming up!"

The tip of the whip was withdrawn from Gerry's line of vision. He actually heard it sing through the air in the instant before it made contact with his skin. At the flaming, burning sensation that ran across his body, from one thigh to the other, traversing his exposed buttocks, he would have screamed aloud – but the large rubber ball in his mouth muffled his cry so that all that could be heard was a short grunt. His body quivered.

"Hell!" he thought. "I've heard about the 'whipping perversion', and I've always thought it was damn silly. Now I know it is! How does anyone get pleasure out of this?"

His body jerked as the whip fell again. But it did not jerk much, because as he moved his legs convulsively, Gerry became aware once more of the sharp, fine chain around his scrotum. It felt as though if he moved another quarter of an inch his balls would be cut off! Again the whip fell, and again and again on Gerry's quivering hide. Then, for a brief interval it stopped and he was able to collect his thoughts. The first thing that was borne in on his dazed mind was that his penis was alive and erect, rigid as never before, and throbbing with life. Which was puzzling, because he felt that the pain should have overcome all sexual desire. But even without the touch of the whip, he had been excited almost beyond control as Sonia had quietly, impassively strapped and chained him into position.

Gerry jumped again as the whip fell once more, but with a great effort remained still under the blows that followed. And slowly, by almost imperceptible degrees, even as Sonia had forecast, the pain in some mysterious way was transmuted into sexual desire. At last, if he had been free to speak, he would have been crying out to Sonia to beat him harder, not to stop. Almost as though she could read his thoughts, the cuts came faster and harder until suddenly, almost without warning and despite the pain it caused in his balls, Gerry's body jerked and heaved as he reached the peak of orgasm and ejaculated as he crouched there. No one had touched his genitals.

Everything had taken place in his mind which, in some way he did not understand, had translated the blows of that whip into sexual messages which had at last triggered off the orgasm. He crouched there, panting for breath.

"Shall we do it again?" asked a soft voice, and Gerry thought, "Oh God! No! Not again! I can't bear it!" And then he realized not only that he could bear it, but that he actually wanted it.

He tensed as he felt something hard and cold penetrating between the cheeks of his buttocks, pressing against his anus. The smooth probe pressed hard and slid slowly right into his rectum. A belt was passed around his waist and buckled tight, and it seemed to be carrying a weight of some kind that was attached to the probe.

Gerry jumped convulsively, regretting it immediately, as the probe began to vibrate with a high-pitched electronic hum. Sonia must have moved a control, because the sound went up the scale as the vibrations increased in speed and intensity. When Gerry realized that there was nothing painful to follow from this, he relaxed and began to feel a pleasurable sensation from the stimulatory massage. Slowly he felt his penis harden again, until he was once more at the peak of his desire. This was better than being whipped! But even as the thought came to him he heard the hiss of the lash through the air, as the whip cut into his exposed and sensitive flesh.

This time it took much longer for him to come to orgasm. After the first one, he had felt he would not be able to repeat the performance for a couple of days, but now he knew that a break was imminent. Yet it took a king tizie, during which Gerry's mind became confused so that he lost contact with reality and was conscious only of the vibration in his rectum, the raging pain caused by the whip that Sonia wielded so expertly, and of the throbbing of his penis which seemed to want to find deliverance, but could not quite make it.

At last the inevitable happened and this time, regardless of the terrible pain in his balls, the young man writhed and twisted as he crouched, until the sweat ran down his flanks and tears of agony came to his eyes.

And then it was all over, and he waited to be released. But the vibrator did not stop, and a soft, seductive voice in his ear whispered.

"And now we'll do it a third time, just to prove we can do the impossible!"

The hair literally stood up at the back of Gerry's neck as the thought got through to him. There was nothing he could do about it! If Sonia cared to whip him until he collapsed, he could not resist. He was utterly helpless, at her mercy. And as he realized his position, once more, despite his fatigue and weakness he felt his penis begin to rise again.

The vibrations continued, penetrating his anus, bringing new sensations to his vitals. But suddenly, without any warning there was a change. In addition to the vibrations, he now felt violent electric shocks which seemed to cut, like white-hot irons from his balls to his anus, cutting right through his loins like a sharp bladed knife!

He groaned silently and seemed to die a little. But then he felt the lash across his buttocks, biting into weals already purple and sore, and soon it seemed almost as though one pain cancelled the other, mingled with the pleasurable vibration of the probe to produce a sensation of sexual ecstasy far advanced on anything he had ever experienced or even dreamed of. He became detached from the events, until it seemed that it was someone else who was suffering, and all Gerry could feel was the mounting sexual pleasure in his genitals. And at last, he began to wish for pain, to beg for it, to pray for it, so that the girl Sonia became, not just a casual acquaintance he had met in the course of duty, but a kind of deity to whom he owed an allegiance, and from whom he expected benefits…

After what seemed like an age, his body contorted once more. The orgasm came again, but with difficulty and agony this time as well as with pleasure, the two inextricably mingled so there was no knowing where one ended and the other began. There was no ejaculation, nothing but a dry, contortion of his body and difficult spasms of his muscles. Once more he cried out, inside the gag that shut him away from the world. And then his body relaxed, his mind went blank and he keeled over on his side and lay, twitching, sobbing, dead to the world.

Sonia stood watching him, her face impassive. Although he had fainted, she deliberately placed her right boot on the soft part of his waist and ground the stiletto heel into the flesh, twisting it from side to side, leaving a circular scarlet wound.

Then she sat down in the large arm-chair as though enthroned, legs crossed, waiting. She set her head on one side and listened. A faint tapping sound was coming from the sitting room. Agile, swift, like a sleek cat after a mouse, Sonia stood up and strode gracefully, purposefully across the room. She opened the door and went into the sitting room. She stood again, rigid, tense, aware. The sound came from a walk-in closet. Sonia pulled the door open.

By a fantastic effort, the girl in the closet had managed to move one foot close enough to the wall to be able to tap her heel against the plaster. Sonia bent down and pulled the shoe off, then the other one.

"Kick all you want now," she hissed. "No one will hear you!" She checked the bonds carefully, tightening a couple of buckles so that straps cut into soft, warm young flesh. She added two chains, fastened with padlocks, then stood back to appraise her captive critically. "You won't go far tonight!" said Sonia, grimly. She shut the door, locked it and pocketed the key. Then she went back to her "throne" and sat there impassively, waiting for Gerry to regain consciousness.

In the dark of the closet the genuine Sonia Evans moved convulsively, trying to find a way out of her bonds, but without success. The creature who had tied her up had done her work too well. Sonia strained once more against the leather straps that cut cruelly into her flesh, then she felt herself rushing down a steep slope into a dark pit as she fainted again. She sagged against the bonds, soft and sweet and gentle. Her blond hair hung like corn-silk down over her face to her waist, obscuring the pale face with its soft hazel eyes, cupid-bow lips and rounded contours. The hair was long enough partly to cover her small but perfectly shaped breasts, soft petal-pink, with virginal nipples of a darker hue. Her tiny waist was dragged in by a wide leather strap that narrowed it incredibly. Her sex was covered by another wide strap fastened between her legs, to the waist belt. Invisible were two long black plastic plugs, each set with harsh knobs, which were held in her vagina and rectum by the under-strap. The girl's whole weight hung from that strap, although when she was conscious she could relieve the pressure marginally by standing on tip-toe. But even that slight relief was denied her now, because to prevent her from moving her feet again, the woman in the leather suit had put a strong chain through the short chain that joined Sonia's ankles and had pulled it tight to a ring set in the back of the belt, so that the bound girl's legs were twisted up, all their weight now on the ankle straps. Her wrists were banded with leather and the chain that joined them was locked to a metal hook in the wall behind her, high above her head.

It was impossible to judge the exquisite beauty of her face, because it was contorted by a cruel metal gag that forced her mouth wide open, almost to breaking point of her jaws. The key was still in the mechanism of this dreadful object, and before closing the door on her, the leather-clad woman had turned the key one more whole revolution, deliberately.

Gerry Glasner stirred and a deep sigh seemed to be torn from his chest. The woman he knew as "Sonia Evans" got up and quickly released the chain that encircled his scrotum and removed the gag. Gerry felt the relief and stretched his limbs carefully. His mind was still numb, with a kind of horror mingled with memories of a peak of pleasure he had never known to be attainable. His wrists and ankles were still encircled by leather bands and connected by short chains.

"You may get up now," said Sonia.

Gerry swallowed. "I'm not sure that I can," he said. He was visibly trembling, but with a great effort he managed to get to his knees and then to stand upright.

"You'd better not sit down for a while," said Sonia. "You can take a bath in a minute. That will take a lot of sting out of your skin – after you get used to the hot water!" She grinned as though she were enjoying herself as indeed she seemed to be doing. "How did you enjoy your first taste of 'practical perversion'?" She asked.

"There were moments," agreed Gerry, thickly.

"What would you do if I said I was going to do the whole thing over again?"

Gerry shuddered. "I'd run like hell, if I was free!" he said, "But if it came to the point, I guess I'd end up right here, in this suite!"

"You take to it like a duck to water!"

"It's nothing new," said Gerry, gruffly.

"Don't tell me you've got a 'Whipping Girl' of your own tucked away somewhere, Sergeant," the woman mocked. "Why, your skin did not have a mark on it – before I attended to you!"

"No. I've never gone in for that sort of thing. I've always thought it was crazy… But I've thought about it… ever since I was about ten years old, off and on. Wondering what it would be like to be whipped by a girl, dressed like you. Why like you, Sonia? Why always in a black leather trouser suit? Why always with black hair and a pale, beautiful face?"

"Ah," said Sonia, "there's a mystery all right!" But her face betrayed that it was not quite such a mystery to her, as it was to Gerry.

"How long does the treatment go on?" he asked at last.

"Until I am satisfied that you are genuinely masochistic; until anyone reading your thoughts would know that you are a genuine masochist, that you really do get pleasure from being tortured."

"That may take weeks!"

"I think not. I can get you into the right mood in a couple of days… You've been preconditioned."

"Precondition? Exactly what do you mean by that?" Gerry's voice was suddenly hard, filled with suspicion.

"Oh, by your upbringing, by social pressures… you've already admitted as much."

Again, for an instant Gerry felt a rising doubt, a suspicion, but in face of Sonia's reasonable explanation it subsided again.

"I'll take that bath now," he said, holding out his hands. Without a word "Sonia" unbuckled the wrist bands and Gerry removed them. Then he bent to unstrap his ankles. As he bent over, his face level with his knees, he became aware of a sharp-toed boot on the floor, between his feet.

Again that seductive voice whispered, "Kiss it, Gerry! Get down on your hands and knees and adore it! You have always wanted to, and there's no one here but you and me to see. Now's your chance!"

Impelled by a force beyond his control or understanding, Gerry Glasner dropped to his knees on the carpet. His hands went to the glossy black boot, and he shivered as they made contact with the smooth leather. He bowed down and began to kiss the toe of the boot, and as he did so he seemed to lose all sense of reality. His lips moved along the foot, planting an ardent kiss at every inch, and his hands moved up the leg of the boot, encircling the tight-laced calf.

"Turn over and lie down on your back!"

Like a man in a dream, Gerry obeyed. "Sonia" stood over him, looking as high as a building as he stared up at her. She extended her right boot, resting it with the toe on his forehead.

"Open your mouth," she ordered, and Gerry obeyed. The heel pressed into his mouth, against his tongue, as he closed his lips around it. For several minutes she stood motionless while Gerry cherished the heel of her boot with lips and tongue, and as he did so, to his amazement he felt his penis grow hard for the fourth time inside a couple of hours. At last she withdrew the heel from his mouth, and he felt the toe of the boot being dragged down his chest, along the length of his belly until the sole rested square over his throbbing penis. The heel pressed against his scrotum.

"If I leaned forward now, with all my weight, I could ruin you for life!" said the woman, and Gerry was surprised to find that he did not care what happened to him. The pressure on his genitals increased as a spasm of pain shot through his loins. It was a tight, tense moment. Then the woman lifted her foot and replaced it on the floor. The moment passed.

"Go and take a bath now," said Sonia. She seemed to have lost all interest in Gerry for the time being. "I have to go down to the foyer to make a purchase. I'll be about fifteen minutes. You'd better lock the door while I'm gone – and leave the key in the lock. Otherwise the chamber maid may decide to come in to clear up the room for the evening. Don't bother to dress. Put on a robe. You'll find one of mine somewhere."

She walked out without another word. Gerry went to the door and locked it. For a moment he leaned against the door, regaining his composure.

"Better find the robe first," he said to himself. But a quick search of the bedroom drew a blank. There was nothing even resembling a robe in any of the drawers or closets. He remembered seeing the walk-in closet in the sitting room. Be tried the door, but it was locked.

"It can be useful, being a copper," he thought. From a secret pocket of his jacket he took a small leather wallet. Opening the wallet, Gerry selected a thin tool and inserted it in the simple lock of the closet. He jiggled it around carefully and, after a few seconds was rewarded by the sound of the tumblers falling. He turned the handle and opened the door wide – and at what he saw there he almost collapsed with surprise.

CHAPTER TWO

The false "Sonia" returned to her suite at the Westland and paused outside the door with her finger poised over the buzzer-button. From inside the door she could hear the sound of two voices, one strongly masculine; the other softer, feminine and weak. At once she realized what had happened. She bit her lip momentarily in anger, then turned back to the elevator. This was no time for heroics. She descended again to the foyer, walked through the revolving doors and signaled to the man in grey uniform to call her a cab. He put a silver whistle to his lips and blew, then opened the cab door as it came alongside the sidewalk. He repeated the woman's instructions to the driver.

"Lancaster Gate, north side," he said. The cab moved south on Hyde Park down to Hyde Park Corner, edging to the right as it fought for a space to make a right turn around the busy circus. But before it made the turn, the woman leaned forward and called through the open window, "Take me to Victoria Station please."

With a resigned shrug the driver pulled back to the left again, to make the left turn into Grosvenor Place. Just over an hour later the woman got out of the electric train at Hayward's Heath Station and began to walk with long, purposeful strides toward the edge of the town. Soon, despite the high heels on her boots that looked so dangerously unsafe to any watcher, she was on the edge of the heath. She took a narrow path slightly uphill, until she reached the brow of the declivity. There she sat down on a bench and took a small black instrument from a pocket. She pulled out a short antenna, not more than six inches long, and pressed a button on the side of the box. Then, as a small red light came on, she pushed back the antenna and replaced the box in her pocket. She leaned back comfortably on the seat, one glossy black leg crossed negligently over the other, and waited.

There was no sound of a "rushing, mighty wind"; no flaring of rocket motors, no roaring of atomic-powered machinery to give warning of the approach of the craft. That sort of accompaniment had been inevitable until about two-thousand Earth years ago, but today was no longer needed. About ten minutes after her arrival, the woman stood up. Ahead of her and lower down, out of sight of the main road, there was a kind of phosphorescent glimmer on the heather; then, as she walked toward it the craft slowly materialized, taking about two minutes to become completely visible. It was a huge thing, nearly a thousand feet long and cigar-shaped with a maximum diameter of some two-hundred feet. No openings along the sides gave out gleams of light to betray it. It rested, about six feet above the ground, silent, inert. As the woman came near, a square door opened in its side and a ladder was let down. She ascended, and as soon as she reached the doorway, the ladder silently retracted and the door closed.

The craft did not roar away at twice the speed of sound. It just – dematerialized! One moment it was there, plain to see. The next, it was not. During the few minutes it had sat in full view, it could have been photographed, would have shown as a solid blip on a radar screen. Now it was invisible, both to a sensitive film and to the questing electronic eyes that had been searching so greedily for something of this kind for the past five years.

Only, where it had rested just above the surface of the heather, it left a tell-tale phosphorescent glow and a slight darkening of the foliage. And it was late the following night that a pilot on reconnaissance noticed that glow and pinpointed it. As dawn broke a group of Air Force and Army officers, accompanied by photographers and experts inspected the area. Apart from the unaccountable darkening of the foliage, and a few marks of sharp toes and stiletto heels in a soft, marshy area, there was nothing to help them…

The woman… and now we may give her the English equivalent of her real name… the woman Gulda came into the craft by way of a small room in which she removed every article of clothing she wore. She stepped into a cubicle where she was showered and disinfected, and passed out into another room where she dressed again in the black shiny plastic cat-suit that was her habitual clothing. Her hair was concealed beneath the close-fitting hood that encircled her face. Her hands were covered by gloves to match the suit, and on her feet were boots with high stiletto heels. She walked, with that purposeful stride, along grey metal corridors to press a button outside a door.

A voice told her to enter. She opened the door, closed it carefully behind her, then turned and held her left hand vertically beside her head in salute.

"Gulda 9734106 reporting back," she said.

Seated at a desk in the center of the room was another woman, older-looking than Gulda, but so much like her in appearance that she might have been Gulda's mother.

"Sit down, Gulda. Tell me what happened."

Gulda sat down, but this time her legs were not crossed. She sat, thighs and knees demurely together, back straight, hands clasped and resting on her knees, very alert and very respectful.

"They've changed their tactics, Lady," she said. She did not actually say that, of course, nor did she call the other woman "Lady", but that is the best literal translation we have been able to make so far of that curious language which seems to follow no rules with which we are familiar.

"We expected that… How?"

"The last two agents they sent us were liquidated… as you ordered, but there was a mistake, Lady…"

The older woman raised her thin eyebrows. Her face was suddenly cold, tense, lizard-like.

"A mistake? What kind of mistake?"

"The bodies were disposed of too soon. They were still wearing the Deprivation Belts!"

"And who was responsible for that folly?"

Gulda closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again to look square into her superior's eyes.

"I was," she said.

"What happened?"

"It was harmless, Lady. Thoughtless too but harmless…"

"I'll be the judge of that. What happened?"

"When your signal came through, I had been waiting a long time… I was bored… I was making the boy and girl… amuse me. They are always so fascinating to watch, Lady, as you know," Gulda continued, rapidly, her nervousness evident.

"And?"

"At once I tied the boy up and took the girl out for a walk, near the great river – the Thames. When we were near the bank, I pressed the destruct button on my transmitter, then pushed the body into the water. The next morning, before I had disposed of the boy, the body was discovered. And then I realized that I had left the Deprivation Belt on her…"

"After all the warnings you had had about the others? After you had seen the fate of those other fools responsible? What is the matter with you, Gulda?"

"I… I don't know, Lady. These Earth people they fascinate me somehow…"

"What about the boy?"

"I held him prisoner for a week. Then I had your urgent message about the arrival of the American girl in London. So I sent him on an errand by underground train. I followed, and as the train came into the station, I destroyed him, and he fell under the train. He was… cut almost in two. But… I forgot the Deprivation Belt again, Lady." Gulda clasped her hands. "Lady, I'm sorry, I really am. You don't know what it's like down there, with everyone's hand against you, danger at every turn – and always the fear of infection – I've been ill, Lady. It is the food I think."

The Lady stared at Gulda with eyes which held no emotion.

"What are the new tactics against us?" she asked.

"The authorities in Britain and America have at last realized that we are some kind of a threat. They have decided to try to get information about us that they can share with the two other power blocks, what they call the Russians of East Europe and Asia, and the Chinese and Japanese, the yellow men of East Asia. They hope to align the whole world against us in defense. But the method they are using is either very clever or else extremely stupid. I don't know which. They have put together a silly little blond American girl and a young English policeman, more notable for his physique than his brain. They are to make themselves bait to attract us, and after that it is left to them to do what can be done to get proof of the threat we offer to their security."

"What do they call themselves?"

"The girl is called Sonia Evans, and the man is Gerry Glasner."

"What else do you know about them?"

"I have pictures here. They are in the cleansing room and will be sent to you as soon as they are safe."

"Why are you here, Gulda?"

Gulda gave a hasty account of the events in the Westland Hotel, leaving out a number of salient facts. The Lady frowned her obvious annoyance.

"Not only have you badly failed us, Gulda, in allowing your obsession with these Earth people to overcome your judgment; but in addition, you are compounding your error by lying to me! I want the whole truth, and I will have it… but not here, I think…"

Gulda clasped her hands convulsively. "I am sorry, Lady. I will tell you the whole truth. This is what happened…"

The Lady held up her hand. "You no longer have my confidence," she said and the words were like the knell of doom to Gulda. The Lady passed her fingertips over a metal plate which glowed to life. The door opened to admit two terrifying figures who advanced to stand, one on each side of Gulda, who half-started from her chair, looking wildly from side to side.

"Take her to the cells," said the Lady. "I shall come to question her in ten minutes."

As the figures each grasped a shoulder, Gulda began to struggle and scream. "No!" she cried, "No! Not torture! No!" She fell to the floor on her knees, her hands clasped imploringly. "Have mercy, Lady, mercy, I beg you…"

The Lady stared at Gulda coldly. "Mercy?" she asked. "What nonsense is this? I think you have mixed too much with Earth people and have absorbed too much of their feebleness of character. What mercy can there be for a fool who imperils the future of two million Andromedans, refugees from galactic disaster? With no more than two years of survival left to us if we do not find a new home, what can I, one of the Leaders of our people, know of 'mercy'. You have outlived your usefulness, Gulda. Take her away!"

The guards grabbed Gulda who was carried screaming and struggling from the room. The Lady sat silent for a few minutes, deep in thought. She regretted the loss of Gulda, as a butcher might regret the loss of a favorite knife. She had been a useful tool, but the edge had become blunt. Worse still, the very metal was soft and useless. Yet Gulda had been brave and had done a lot of good work. A period of punishing and humiliating slavery would reinstate her – but never again for outside work. She must stay under control for the rest of her life which, measured in Earth terms might well be another six-hundred years. It was this longevity of her people that had made it possible for the Lady to bring her fleet from the empty space beyond the solar galaxy into this kinder and safer place – but time was fast running out. There was no room for fools! She stood up and walked from the room, traversing the empty, silent corridors, occasionally nodding to another busy figure who stood back against the bulkhead to allow the Lady to pass. She entered a small elevator and sank rapidly to the depths of the great craft that was her only home.

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And there, in a small room, in total darkness, the Lady found Gulda, with hell in her heart, trembling with fear, knowing some of the ways in which her leader would certainly discover the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about Gulda's earthly activities. And although at the moment the Lady might be willing to let her live, Gulda felt sure that when the whole story was told, the only possible end of her saga could be death!

The two guards who had led Gulda away stood, one at each side of her, detached, uninvolved. Gulda knew well how they felt, because in her time she had been a guard on several occasions. The work was taken in turns of about a solar year each. During that time, the guards, who did all the unpleasant work of discipline in the craft, were segregated from the others. They were dressed austerely, always in black, always totally masked and hooded to increase the non-personality of what they had to do. Really severe punishment was rare, but with so many people living together so many light-years from the home that no longer existed, so desperate to find a new home, tension was always high. Quarrels were frequent, and all disputes, even of a relatively minor nature were punished. In harmony was too dangerous to be permitted. Whenever there was a quarrel, both parties to it were punished equally, on the reasonable assumption that there never was a quarrel in which either party was innocent.

But such punishments were mild and of short duration. During the past hundred solar years or so, there had been only two executions, both for hot-blooded murder. And there had been five or six cases of torture! Gulda had been present at one of these, as a guard, only a few years ago. Under the influence of a real or imagined grievance, one of the crew had removed a vital piece of equipment and hidden it. For three hours, while the Lady had reasoned with the defaulter, the craft had lain in full view in the middle of an arable field in Eire, not twenty miles from the center of Dublin. The craft could not be made to dematerialize. Realizing that reason was getting her nowhere, and desperately worried about the safety of the craft and her crew, the Lady had at last, reluctantly resorted to torture and, inside five minutes the defaulter had been only too glad to say where the missing item had been hidden. But the confession was too late for the victim. The only possible end for her had been a quick and merciful strangulation.

Gulda had been one of the guards that time, and as she stood, strained in every joint and muscle, she sweated as she recalled the sound of the screams of agony she had heard. When the torture and execution was over, Gulda and her co-guard had been immediately relieved from guard duty for a period of twenty-five years. She had not expected to find herself in this dreadful place again, so soon!

They had backed Gulda to the wall and had clamped her wrists high over her head, jacking the clamps up so that she was forced to stand on the tips of her toes. Then they had clamped her ankles in the same way. Sunk into the wall were metal pistons, in cylinders filled with hydraulic fluid. At the end of each piston was a short cross-bar. When Gulda was in position, one of the guards stood as observer while the other one, working at a console, had moved the pistons outward so that the cross-bars pressed against Gulda's joints. At her knees instead of a bar there was a clamp around her leg. Each bar was moved out to make contact with Gulda's shrinking flesh and then, very slowly and carefully they were moved out under pressure further and further, forcing the joints of her ankles, hips, vertebrae, neck and elbows outward. Her head was restrained by a clamp, and the clamps around her knees were drawn inward.

The tension was increased far past the threshold of acute pain, almost but not quite, to breaking-point. Every little joint of her body became a screaming agony, but Gulda knew this was merely the preparation for the real pain. Even though she feared the arrival of the Lady, Gulda felt almost relieved when at last the door opened and she entered. Gulda did not wait to be spoken to.

"Lady," she cried, "there's no need to torture me, really there isn't. I'll tell you everything that happened, everything! It was nothing that mattered anyway. I didn't mean to do any harm… Maybe I was foolish, but I wasn't wicked. I'll tell… I'll tell…"

The Lady looked at her with a face that was filled with a kind of understanding; not compassion, not pity; but understanding of the fact that Gulda was subject to the temptations and follies of all living creatures. Indeed, the Lady liked Gulda; she had thought so highly of her that she had personally selected her to go out into the Earth as her special emissary.

But Gulda had been a tool that had turned in the Lady's hand. She had become enmeshed in the dangerous passions of the Earth people. She was spoiled now. There was no place for her in the plans of the Andromedans. The final service she could give would be to reveal every detail of what she had done, down to the last word and action. After that…! The Lady shrugged her shoulders in a scarcely perceptible movement. There was no shortage of Andromedans, all with nowhere to rest. One would not be missed.

The Lady nodded to one of the guards. "Twenty seconds," she said, "full strength."

Gulda began to scream even before the guard's hand had reached the switches, but it was only a tentative, half-hearted scream. Two seconds later her screams were full-bodied, well grown, strong, hearty, and genuine!

With every bone-joint in her body under the extreme limit of compression, the pistons attached to the cross-bars began to vibrate, not slowly, nor even quickly, but at such high speed that in a fraction of a second the sound rose out of the audible scale and became merely an ache in the ear. Not that Gulda noticed that minor discomfort. The ultrasonic vibrations of bone against bone had an amplitude of about a quarter of an inch. At such high speed, the effect on the nerves that passed close to the joints was incredible. It was comparable to having a hundred teeth drilled at once, without anesthetic. But far worse was the fact that within two minutes at the outside the bone-joints would begin to soften and wear away. As they collapsed, so the pistons would move outward to maintain the compression; and still the fantastic vibration continued.

After a twenty-second treatment, Gulda would be unable to walk for two weeks. Alter two minutes all her joints would be useless forever. She would flop limp like a jelly fish out of water. Nothing would save her life, and unless she were put out of her misery, she would die in agony in a few hours!

The twenty seconds seemed so long to Gulda that she was surprised when the vibration stopped. The note of her screams diminished in scale, but she did not stop. The pain was perhaps less than before, but such things are only relative. How can one relate pain to pain, compare one with the other? Over all was Gulda's fear of her lovely, strong body which she knew must be ruined, smashed in a few moments, saving a miracle to prevent it. And Gulda was not a believer in miracles. Into her mind came a vague memory of something she had heard of, or maybe witnessed. The Andromedans had been around the Earth for a very long time now… broken on the wheel! That was it. Way back – about two centuries, no more, in France, they used to lash a criminal to a crude wheel, revolving in a horizontal plane. The wheel was turned by a couple of assistants at capstan underneath. The executioner stood by, armed with a heavy iron crow-bar. Every time the criminal came past him, the iron bar would fall to smash a bone, until at last the poor wretch was a shuddering, screaming mass of bloody, palpitating flesh. More often than not, when they untied him from the wheel, he would be still alive, still conscious, and he would fall to the stone floor and lie there, a mere lump of meat!

And that was how she, Gulda, of the narrow waist and the full breasts, the long limbs and the beautiful face would be – in just over a minute! In the meantime, the pain was almost unbearable – almost, but not quite. She became aware that the Lady was talking to her.

"Tell me about it, Gulda," she said, and it seemed almost as though there was a note of pleading in her voice. The Lady was not cruel; she took no pleasure in what had to be done. But she was the leader of a great and numerous people. Like Moses of old, she had not brought them across the wilderness of empty space to go wool-gathering!

Gulda told her, in every little detail. She was anxious to omit nothing, until at last even the Lady had ask her not to be quite so meticulous with times and dates and names. Gulda babbled on and on, every word recorded for future study. And as her words poured out of her, the Lady became enmeshed to some extent in the passions that had torn her emissary. Dimly she understood that there was still a mystery about the Earth people which avoided her keen intellect. The history of the relationships between the Earth people and Andromedans went back thousands of solar years.

The danger to their planet had begun to show itself some four thousand solar years ago. It had taken a thousand of those years to develop the technology permitting the faint possibility of invading another planet. And after that, for some two and a half thousand solar years there had been hundreds of patient, scholarly and terribly dangerous expeditions, most of them to Earth, and exclusively so for the past five-hundred years. And now, this was the final exploration prior to the full-scale invasion which was imminent. Half a million picked immigrants in some five-hundred passenger-carrying craft, backed up by about a thousand carrying cargo were almost ready to land – and the Lady still had to admit there was much neither she nor any other Andromedan knew about these primitive creatures; these bloody-minded, self-destructive animals.

She sighed. Gulda would have to be kept alive. She would have other uses.

"Give her another thirty seconds at full power, in two periods of fifteen seconds each, with an interval of five minutes," she ordered. "Then deliver her to the sick bay and leave her their, under close arrest and solitary confinement." The Lady turned away, unwilling to witness the terrible punishment to which she had condemned Gulda. As the door closed behind her, she heard the girl's frantic screams rising to an hysterical note…

Gerry's first action had been to release the blond girl he had found in the closet. Until he had taken her down and loosed the bonds that were cutting so cruelly into her white skin, he had forgotten his own nakedness, but as soon as she was free, he became acutely aware of it, grabbed the terry robe that was hanging there and put it on. He had found the girl bound and gagged, just conscious, but obviously on the brink of total collapse. Now, freed, she lay on the bed, her eyes closed, the lids lying like petals over the pupils. As Gerry watched her, her eyelids fluttered, then opened, and he felt a pang at the look of sudden terror that came into them.

She tried to sit up, but Gerry put a restraining hand on her bare shoulder.

"Lie down," he said. "Rest."

"Where… where is she?"

"Gone," said Gerry. "She won't be back… I guess." But, to be sure he walked to the door leading to the hallway and checked it. He went back to the bedroom and stood beside the bed, feeling suddenly helpless and oddly incompetent. He was faced with something outside all his experience, and had not yet come to terms with it. Looking at the blond girl lying there, wearing one of those strange chastity garments made from the mysterious substance he had already seen on others, he wondered where to start.

"Who are you?" he asked at last.

"I'm Sonia Evans," she said, her voice a mere whisper.

"That's what she said…"

"I can imagine. She captured me and stole my identity card."

"I thought there was something phony about it… but I couldn't put my finger on it. How do I know you are Sonia Evans?"

"Come to that, who are you?" asked the girl, with some asperity.

Gerry smiled. "I see your point. I'm Gerry Glasner of Special Branch, detailed to meet you here. But this puts us both on the spot, doesn't it? I can't prove it because that… woman… flushed the ashes of both cards down the toilet."

"We'll have to get someone officially to identify us both," said the girl, practically.

"You're right, of course. I'll make a phone call and get things moving. We can't take any chances now. That damned woman knows exactly what the plan was…"

"We'll have to play it by ear," said Sonia. "In the meantime, how can I get this thing off?"

Her hands smoothed the metallic chastity belt that covered her breasts and loins.

"You can't!" said Gerry. He told her about the explosion at the hospital.

"It can't be cut off – and if we use oxy-gas on it, the damn thing will explode, which will do you no good at all."

Sonia frowned, then the ghost of a grin twisted the corners of her mouth.

"At least I'll be safe for a time, alone with a handsome English policeman!" she said. "Are you…"

Gerry said, "No. She didn't have time…"

"Then why are you?"

"It's a long story," said Gerry, and had the grace to blush.

"I can believe it!" Sonia's glance was sardonic for a moment. She sat up. "I'm OK now. Do you think we could have some coffee sent up? Then we'd better start thinking about how we are going to earn our keep!"

Gerry called room-service for coffee, and a secret number which, inside half an hour sent a discreet, rather dowdy middle-aged woman to the suite, with photographs and fingerprints enough to satisfy both of them that they were what each claimed to be.

Alone at last, and considerably relieved, they began to discuss their plans.

"She's taken my copy of instructions," said Sonia. "In any event, now she knows about them, we'll have to change them. This is darned serious, Gerry. You know that, I guess. Somehow, you and I have got to find some way either to overcome these Andromedans, or to get them into contact with our governments."

"It's a tall order for two people," said Gerry, gloomily.

"It will be easier for two than it would be for two thousand!" snapped Sonia. "Let's forget the difficulties for a time and concentrate on realities. I'm told there are a number of known landing places in this country."

"Yes. We've found traces on Wimbledon Common, Hampstead Heath and Wormwood Scrubs, all within the Greater London area. And several dozen other places in more distant locations."

"Any pattern? Any known date-associations? Any periodicity?"

Gerry thought about that one. For the first time he realized that a common language was not necessarily conducive to the meeting of minds.

"You mean, is there any regularity about appearances?"

Sonia nodded, impatiently.

"No. They come and go, that's all."

"Any idea where the most frequent sightings have been in the past three months?"

"It's a toss-up between Wimbledon and Hampstead, but somehow I think Hampstead would be the best bet."

"Why?"

"Because it's the top of a high hill. There's places where you can see all over London. With binoculars you can see right down to the Thames estuary on a clear day. They'd probably feel safer where they had good vision."

Sonia nodded. "Do you know the exact place?"

"I've seen a map. It's on the hill-top, overlooking what's known as The Vale of Health – that's a sort of village that was established there about one-hundred years ago when the fad for fresh air and the country life first started. It's full of people like artists and writers and antique dealers these days!"

"We'd better go there and wait, I guess."

"Wait?"

Sonia looked at Gerry severely, and when she spoke it was with some asperity. "Yes, wait! What else would you propose we do? Run around in circles?"

"OK, OK, I'll go along with that. There's a good small hotel there – more of a pub really. Maybe we could stay there – and frolic about on the heath for the good of our health!" Gerry was nettled, and showed it.

"Why don't you get on the phone and try to book rooms?"

Gerry looked up the number of the hotel and dialed it. Enquiring for rooms, he ran up against a snag. Cupping the earpiece he said, "There's only one room – a double!"

"Take it," said Sonia. "Say we're married!"

Gerry confirmed the booking, promising to be along inside a couple of hours, then rang off.

"It'll be a bit difficult…" he said.

"Not for me, it won't," said Sonia, running her hands ruefully over the smooth, flexible sheath that covered her. "Of course, if you're afraid I shall rape you…" She smiled sarcastically.

"Might be more afraid you won't!" Thought Gerry, but he left it unsaid. The memories of her predecessor were still too strong. He knew now that he could not trust himself as he had believed he could.

They dressed. Sonia was relieved to find that her traveling case was intact, and her clothes undisturbed. She was so much smaller in every way than Gulda that the Andromedan had not stolen or even disturbed anything. She left Gerry to dress in the sitting room, while she used the bedroom. When she came back to the sitting room, Gerry was waiting for her dressed in his business suit.

"My, don't you look formal!" she said, mockingly. "You don't exactly look prepared to play games on Hampstead Heath!"

"I'll get something more suitable on the way," said Gerry, stiffly. "I came direct here from the office. In England, at any rate, in my job, we don't run around in false beards and dirty jeans all the time!"

Sonia laughed outright. "OK let's call a truce, shall we? I won't criticize you for being English, if you promise to forgive me for being American!"

Gerry grinned. "That suits me. After all it's not our fault, is it? Besides…" his face grew grave, "we've got serious business at hand, Sonia. And these people we're up against are probably more advanced than we are. We'll need all our energies to deal with them!"

He looked at Sonia. "At least no one could say you were excessively formal!"

The small blond girl was dressed entirely in white leather. Her boots were zipped to the knee and had high heels. The miniskirt and short jacket were made of soft nappa leather, and under the jacket she wore a skirt of the softest kid. On her hands she had wrist-length white leather gloves. Her honey-gold hair hung down her back and over her shoulders, making a delightful contrast. Gerry felt he had never seen a more charming and thoroughly delicious sight. He stared so frankly and so long that at last Sonia began to blush.

"Seen it all?" she asked at last, breaking the spell.

Gerry started, and stood up. "I'm sorry I was being rude. The fact is I was thinking I've never seen a prettier girl in my life – especially among policewomen!" He smiled.

[bb-133 illustration 05.png]

"Let's go!" said Sonia. "Time's a-wasting!"

They found the small hotel easily enough, although the cab driver complained about being taken so far off the main road. Gerry was tempted to lecture him about the legality of the situation, but repressed his police instinct and shut him up with fifty pence over the legal fare. The room was in a small outbuilding, attached to the main structure by a covered corridor.

"Nice," said Sonia, appreciatively, looking around at the genuine antique furniture.

"Used to be a stable," said Gerry.

"The horses wouldn't know it now! What's the best time to start looking for the Andromedans?"

"There's no special time. There's no pattern at all. They may come at any moment, and stay a few minutes. We don't know why they do it. There's a theory that they have to switch off whatever mechanism they use to give their craft invisibility from time to time – possibly for service. But it's only a theory. We'll just have to stay around and wait."

"It's a good thing the weather is good," said Sonia. "Since one time is as good as another, why don't we have dinner first? I'm darned hungry. And you'd better change now, so we can go out immediately after."

Gerry felt that it was a wry comment on contemporary life that he was required to dress so conspicuously in order to avoid comment! He took off his suit and white shirt and put on tight jeans, a floral shirt and, as a final touch, two strings of love beads. Sonia sat quietly interested watching him. At one stage, when he was stripped to his briefs, modestly with his back to Sonia, he turned to pick up his shirt which was lying on the bed.

Sonia let her eyes rest on the scarlet weals on his buttocks. They widened and then rose innocently to meet his. There was not a trace of mockery in her gaze, not a shade of amusement. But Gerry flushed and turned away, conscious of the outline of his bard penis under the thin briefs.

After dinner they walked slowly along the narrow footpath, up the hill. From where they stood it was just possible to see a perfect oval marked on the smooth, short grass in a hollow place. It was just slightly darker than the surrounding grass; so slightly darker that no one who was not in the secret would have realized there was anything special about it. The oval was about eight-hundred feet long and three-hundred feet wide. Close up, it was invisible.

"Their craft must be huge," said Sonia softly, as though she was afraid of being overheard.

"Enormous," agreed Gerry. "I wouldn't want to be lying on the grass when it landed!"

"We are conspicuous standing here," said Sonia. "What do we do?"

Gerry looked around him. "When in Rome," he said, "we do as the Romans do!" There were half a dozen couples lying full length on the grass, decently spaced to give each couple a degree of privacy. From their attitudes it was obvious that they were oblivious to everything but the close proximity of their partners.

"Maybe it's a good thing I've got this sheath on, at that," said Sonia. "Let's find a good place."

They lay down on the grass, under an oak tree, sheltered from the footpath, but in full view of the mysterious oval on the grass below them. Gerry lay stiff and rigid beside the American girl, who turned to look at him.

"For Pete's sake, Gerry," she snapped. "Don't lie there like a Goddamned log! Anyone seeing you would know you were a copper! You stick out like a sore thumb! I'm not all that repulsive! Put your arms around me!"

This was exactly what Gerry had wanted to do, but not merely for the sake of appearances!

He took the girl in his arms and drew her close, smelling the perfume of her hair. "An Englishman," he murmured, "needs time!"

Sonia giggled and moved to a more comfortable position. "Not too much time, I hope!" Her mouth was not two inches from Gerry's, slightly parted, tempting, inviting. He pressed his lips against hers, breathing hard in the warm dusk, conscious of the hardness of his genitals under the coarse cloth of the new jeans. To his surprise Sonia responded to his kiss, so that for a few minutes the world seemed to stand still. Then he felt a small, firm hand groping between his legs, moving upward. Even so, at the first contact with his balls, he jumped. Sonia's mouth came away from his momentarily.

"Got to look authentic," she explained, grasping the slider of the strong brass zipper. Gerry felt the cool air as the zipper came open, and writhed as the small hand went into the gap and began to stroke gently at his hot and throbbing penis. His thighs came together momentarily, trapping Sonia's hand, then relaxed and released it. The fingertips moved under the elastic edge of his briefs.

"Lift yourself a bit," whispered the soft voice, and Gerry obeyed. Swiftly she tugged the briefs so that her hand had all the freedom she wanted, and a second later Gerry felt his penis gripped firmly. Sonia's lips came close to his again, so that he could feel her breath, it was dark now, and he could not see the girl, but he had no doubt that she was still there! Before he kissed her again, she whispered, "This looks authentic enough! No one will bother us now!"

No one, thought Gerry, but twenty or thirty uniformed police who would soon be wandering the heath in pairs, with Alsatian police dogs, intent on disturbing the erotic peace of the heath. But his critical faculties were dulled by the sensation of that tiny hand gently massaging his penis, never stopping, so that he was quite incapable of moving away.

Gerry's own hands began to explore Sonia's warm body, stroking her legs, moving upward until he could feel the smooth softness of the thin white kid briefs she wore under the leather skirt. And then he was stopped short as his fingertips made contact with the cool metallic sheath that covered her sex.

"Not much joy for either of us there, I guess," Sonia murmured, and Gerry felt a sudden surge of anger and resentment against the creature who had taken possession of Sonia's body in this way. It was like having a bucket of cold water poured over him! This was not really a warm, romantic summer's night with a lovely and surprisingly adaptable girl. It was merely a clever disguise, adopted so that while they were about their deadly serious business, no one would remark on their presence. Sonia sensed the sudden change in Gerry's mood as passion drained away. She moved away from him as he sat up, closing the zipper of his jeans. Suddenly he gripped her hand.

"Look," he said, pointing ahead into the darkness.

They sat watching, their eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness. Below and in front of them, a few hundred yards away, the large oval marked on the grass was glowing with a faint phosphorescence. Sonia shivered, and Gerry put his arm protectively around her slender shoulders.

For over an hour they walked around the heath in the dark, arms around waists. Several times they stopped to kiss, not because anyone could see them, but from a kind of mutual need. They were not exactly afraid; both had been in tough situations before. But this was beyond and outside anything they had ever before encountered.

"What shall we do if it materializes?" asked Sonia, voicing Gerry's own thoughts.

"There's only one thing we can do," said Gerry. "We must get ourselves captured."

"What… what do you think they will be like?"

"I can only guess. Obviously they'll be technically advanced. Probably far beyond us. But we've got to face up to the possibility that their whole attitude may be entirely different from ours. It's hard to explain what I mean, but our behavior as human beings is set to a definite pattern. You're American and I'm English – and you're a girl and I'm a man – but even so, we've got an awful lot in common."

"For an extreme instance, we've both been reared and educated to think that murder is wrong. We can kill when we have to, without too much trouble of conscience. In a war we can accommodate it. But apart from that, we are repelled by it… and that's not something special to English-speaking people either. It's the same all over the world, among the most civilized people and among the most primitive tribes. There's something fundamental in human nature that is repelled by murder. I've met a few murderers in the past couple of years, and I can tell you that they are repelled by it too."

"But these Andromedans… we don't know. Maybe their values are entirely different from ours. From what we saw of her, they have the same physical shape as us – but do they have the same… moral shape?"

"All the fiction writers I have read assume that creatures from outer space are either supermen, or else submen. Either benevolent, 'men like Gods'; or else wicked, as we understand human wickedness. But suppose they are neither of these things, but different?… I'm not making a good job of this," he ended, lamely, "but I know what I mean."

Sonia said gravely, "I think I understand too. We all have an attitude we adopt to other human beings. For instance, if another human being was starving, we'd do our best to feed and comfort it. That at least is something everybody understands. But we have an entirely different attitude toward animals, for instance. We exploit them, shamelessly."

"Yes. And the Andromedans may look on us as animals! In which case it's going to be difficult to get to first base with them. But I'm going to try. By God, I'm going to try! If I can get one responsible one to agree to talk to my government, or yours, that's my job done!"

Gerry felt Sonia shivering under his arm.

"You're cold! Why don't we go back to the hotel and get a drink, and some hot coffee. Then we can come back here for an hour."

"But suppose they come while we're gone?"

Gerry laughed grimly. "Then they'll have to come back again another day, Sonia. We can't stay out here twenty-four hours a day for weeks on end, can we? If we don't keep fit and well, someone else will have to take over, and the whole thing will be back to square one. At least we know a bit more about one Andromedan than anyone else does."

As they turned to walk down the hill toward the lights of the hotel, Sonia said, "Yes, Gerry, what did you learn about her? Why were you naked when you found me. What had been going on?"

"It's a long story," muttered Gerry. "How did she get that sheath on you?"

"That's another long story," said Sonia, "a very long one." And with that Gerry had to be content!

When they got into the bar and Gerry saw how pale Sonia was, he vetoed any further watching for that night. "You've had a tough day," he said. "You've got to keep up your strength. Early to bed tonight, and tomorrow we'll start work in earnest. One day more or less will not make any difference. If the world is going to end, it will end and that's all there is to it!"

The management, as Gerry had already noted, had thoughtfully provided a double bed! However, with Sonia's enforced chastity this presented less of a problem than it might have done otherwise. However, there was one practical problem.

"I don't have any pajamas," announced Gerry. "I haven't even had the chance to go back to my apartment today… I'll sleep in my shirt and briefs."

"Do you usually wear pajamas?" asked Sonia, mischievously.

"No!" said Gerry, shortly. "I sleep in the raw."

"Then why not do the same thing now? You won't offend my maidenly modesty – and with this damned sheath on I'm not afraid of anything you might do when I am innocently asleep!"

The idea of sleeping in his underwear was not attractive to Gerry, and since Sonia did not mind, why should he? He shrugged and stripped off.

"I'm going to have that bath I started on when I found you at the Westland," he said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

They lay side by side in the dark intimacy of the double bed. Gerry desperately wanted to take the girl in his arms again, but like so many Englishmen he was held back by a strong repression of instinct. If he tried to do it and she resisted him, he would in some subtle way suffer a psychic injury. He dared not risk himself.

"How did you get those red marks on your body, Gerry?" asked a voice from the darkness.

"Like I told you, it's a long story."

"I've got plenty of time…"

And so, at last he told Sonia the whole story in detail, holding nothing back, not even trying to cover up the fact that he had found himself to be ready to fall into perversion.

"Do you think she was telling the truth when she said the Andromedans were attracted to sexually perverse Earth people?"

"I don't know. Maybe she made that story up to get me going."

There was a short silence. "Did you enjoy it?" the girl asked.

"Yes… yes, I did. I admit it, although I'm ashamed of it."

"Ashamed? Why?"

"Because it's wrong. You know that as well as I do."

"I'm not sure that I agree, Gerry. As I see it, you got pleasure from it, and obviously so did she. You did not come to any harm. So what's more wrong about that than, say both of you getting drunk? That's not the best thing in the world to do, and it can be darned dangerous especially when someone decides to drive a car in that condition. But a whole lot of folk enjoy it, and so long as they don't lose their social capacity, no one condemns them! Why condemn anything just because sex is involved?"

"I don't know," said Gerry slowly. "But I've always thought of that kind of thing as essentially wrong."

"Well, I guess it's a matter of opinion," agreed Sonia, "but to me sex is something that should be enjoyed. Not that I can enjoy it much at present!" She moved, so that for an instant her flank touched Gerry's side and he could feel the soft implacability of the metallic sheath that deprived her. "Do you think she was right? I mean about the Andromedans being attracted to perverse people?"

"Hanged if I know. How could they tell?"

"Maybe they can read thoughts!" Sonia giggled. "Like I can read yours! Move over here near to me," she added.

Gerry slid across the intervening space, surprised that a mere six inches could have seemed such an unbridgeable gulf. He felt the warmth of Sonia's body beside him in the friendly darkness. As he folded her in his arms, he drew breath sharply. One small hand cupped his testicles, and the other grasped his penis in a proprietary manner.

"I could easily become very perverse with you, Gerry Glasner," whispered a soft voice. "But I wouldn't want to hurt you. I'm not made that way. I'd have other ideas; lots of very good ones!" Gerry stopped her talk with a kiss. It was a long time before they fell asleep.

CHAPTER THREE

A week later, the Lady sat in her austere office with its grey metal wails, waiting. A few hours before she had received a signal from the commander of the main fleet, giving her an estimated time of arrival. It was much less than she had hoped for. The Andromedan invasion of Earth was less than a solar year away. Nothing now could turn it back – and even after all the exploration the Lady was still not certain how to arrange it. Until 1945 everything had seemed so simple. Nothing the Earth people could do to resist would have been effective. But during this present expedition they had discovered the secrets of nuclear fission and fusion, and that had changed the whole pattern that had been established so painstakingly over the centuries. Now, even if the Earth people could not win, they were in a position to cause such terrible devastation in the Earth that the whole planet could well be made unfit for habitation for a thousand years! And where could half a million immigrants live all that time? There was no other suitable place.

The Lady drummed her fingers on the desktop. Her eyes were focused on the plain wail opposite, seeing the terror and dismay that must confront her people if they learned that after four thousand years of fantastic effort and sustained self-sacrifice they could not come into the "promised land". And all because of these inferior creatures who inhabited it.

Individually not one of them was a match for even the stupidest Andromedan. But there were so many of them! Teeming billions of creatures. Their lives were admittedly painfully short, but their replacement rate was so high. What was she going to do? There had to be one last convulsive effort to gain possession of Earth without at the same time destroying it. Was a peaceful, diplomatic approach possible after all this time? It had been tried, not once but a dozen times during the past five-hundred years, but every attempt had been dismissed or ridiculed.

The only hope was that the secret cadre of Earth people built up by Gulda and other emissaries could be used to influence affairs. If the Lady herself could gain a hearing, keep things on a low key long enough for the main flotilla to land and for the necessary arrangements to be made, all would be well. Within four days of a landing, the Earth people would not be in a position to resist. The critical period would last less than a week. But how to gain that week?

The Lady sat up straight as the door buzzer sounded discreetly. She passed her fingers over a glowing metal plate and the door opened. Gulda stood in the opening, between two guards. Her face was chalk-white and her eyes bright with a febrile excitement induced by the drugs which had been administered to dull the after-torture pain, without at the same time deadening her intellect.

"Come in, Gulda," ordered the Lady.

"You two, wait outside."

Gulda walked into the room unsteadily and the door closed silently.

"Sit down." Gulda sat slowly, with a great effort at self-control. "I need your help." The Lady wasted no time on preliminaries or apologies. Gulda had endangered the whole project and had been punished, lightly in her Leader's estimation. Now she could be useful and should rejoice in this opportunity to redeem herself.

"Do you have any reason to suppose that your cadre of Earth people have become unreliable?" she asked.

"No, Lady." The words dropped from Gulda's slack lips like stones. Even though the physical torture was no more now than a memory, the mental hurt was still acute. She felt unsafe, unsure of herself, afraid of making another, final and fatal mistake.

"How many are there?"

"Of my care, in the country of Britain, there were just on fifty-five thousand at the last count. Of those, over thirty thousand live within twenty miles of the center of the city of London."

"Could you locate six of them who would be utterly devoted to our cause?"

"It would not take long. The computer could pick them out in a few minutes. There are several thousands to choose from."

"I have heard that the main expedition will be ready to land in three-hundred and-fifty-four days from now."

"So soon?" In her surprise Gulda became animated; then the light died out again behind her eyes.

"Yes. We must hurry now… As far as you know, do we still have satisfactory control over these people we selected?"

"All that are still alive and in range of our transmitters, yes. Some will have died. Others have moved away from the country. But there will still be about fifty-five thousand, all equipped with receivers. The failure rate on the circuits is very low; not more than one in ten thousand a year, so there will be no loss worth reckoning from that cause."

"So, in this country alone we have fifty-five thousand allies?"

"Yes."

"And on the American continent?"

"Only in North America, Lady." Gulda sat forward, becoming interested, losing the apathy of fear. "You will recall we decided not to bother with the area south of the United States of America as not being important to us."

"Yes. We thought we could easily subjugate these people, and I still think we were correct in that assumption. How many in North America?"

"Including the territory of Canada, there are about a quarter million!"

The Lady raised her eyebrows. "So many?"

"I did not waste all my time," said Gulda, almost reproachfully. "We have had more than a hundred agents working there for the past twenty-five solar years. And because of the peculiar gregariousness of the Americans, we have been able to arrange for 'converts' to find new adherents for us, which has made the work much easier."

"Do we have enough Earth people under our control to be able to engineer world revolution?" asked the Lady, bluntly.

Gulda sat silent for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was firm, almost hard. "Lady, you punished me for becoming emotionally involved with the Earth people… and I don't complain about that. To some extent I did. At the same time, I do not think you made sufficient allowance for the terrible strain I have been under for so many years, nor for the drain on my physical strength in combating the diseases of this planet, so different from the few that were left on ours when we came away. And I don't think you enquired sufficiently about the work I had under my control."

"In other words, you think I have been unjust?"

"Possibly, Lady. But that is all in the past. A few days before I came back to the craft, I set in train certain events in the country of Portugal designed to see whether a tiny proportion of the population, properly guided and controlled, could in fact upset a powerful police-state. The day I returned, revolution had broken out in the streets. Since then I have been in solitary confinement, and I have no news about progress."

Gulda's eyes held the Lady's gaze without flinching now, and for a fleeting moment it occurred to the Leader that Gulda might, in certain circumstances be dangerous. She pressed several buttons set around a green lamp, and instantly a news flash began to form on a screen beside her. Succinctly, in the shorthand that was the common means of written communication among the Andromedans, in which a single sign could stand for a long sentence, they read the latest information on the political situation in Portugal, as learned from Earth's news agencies. It was obvious that Gulda's plot had been all too successful. The country, an extreme right-wing military dictatorship for almost forty years, had passed in a few weeks from that extreme, through weak liberal government into extreme left-wing anarchy. To an outside observer, knowing nothing of the true facts, the whole series of events seemed absolutely incredible.

"You were successful, it seems," mused the Lady.

"Yes. I knew we should be. When we use these creatures' bodies, guided by our intelligences, we are bound to be. Their thought-processes move so slowly! We are able to transmit to their minds thoughts and ideas in ten seconds that might take them a lifetime to absorb."

"Could the same thing be done here, in Britain? And in the United States of America if necessary?"

"I am sure of it."

"Will you arrange it?"

"On certain definite conditions."

The Lady stared at Gulde in amazement. Did she dare try to make conditions?

"Which are these," went on Gulda, obviously struggling against a strong personal distress. "One; I must have your instructions in writing, with a copy lodged by radio with Master Command. I do not intend to be punished again for exceeding my duty! Second; I am to be in complete charge of the operation. Once it starts, no one is to have authority to override my decisions. Third; I am to be appointed your deputy, officially, and complete authority is to devolve on me in the event anything… unforeseen… should happen to you. I would not wish a change of leadership at a critical moment," she explained.

"Is that all?" The Lady's voice was cold, harsh.

"Not quite. Finally, I am to be given a pardon before I start work, for anything I may do in the course of this operation which either you or Master Command may disapprove of, waiting for the decision." There was not a trace of rebellion or defiance on her face, even though the Lady knew – and Gulda knew, that this was a defiance of authority that, in itself merited death!

"Suppose I do not agree?" The words dropped out between them like pebbles falling from a sack.

Gulda sighed. "Then I will not undertake the work, Lady."

"You could be executed…"

"Then the work will not be done."

"Others would do it."

"Not as well. You know that. In fact, not at all. The computer we used is primed to a code."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that if anything is started before that code is fed into it the whole program will be erased!"

Two red spots appeared high up on the Lady's prominent cheek bones, as the only sign of the intense anger she felt.

"I can get that code out of you in a minute!" she threatened.

"No."

"You are immune to torture?"

"You know I am not. But I do not know the code."

"I could find out who does… from you."

"No. No one knows it."

"Then bow…"

"The code is in the body of one of my Earth people. I could be made to tell you who it is – but if I do not go to find that person you may search the Earth for a lifetime without finding that person among all the countless millions! And you have only three-hundred-and-fifty-four days." Gulda sat back, her eyes closed, seemingly indifferent to her danger. In plot and counterplot she had designed to gain control over this expedition for the past ten years. Now she was so near to success it did not seem so very important. She was tired, and every joint of her body was a dull ache…

"Very well. I agree." The Lady's voice was cool, controlled, emotionless. She had all the virtues as well as the vices of her greatness. She knew when to yield gracefully as well as when to resist to the bitter end.

Gulda stood up, uninvited, holding to the edge of the desk. "I am ill," she said. "Send copies of the documents to my cabin. And order the guards to let me go. I'll get some treatment and start work in an hour from receipt of my guarantees." She turned without another word and opened the door. "The Lady wishes to instruct you," she said to the guards. "Come in."

Gerry and Sonia strolled along a footpath above The Vale of Health on Hampstead Heath, their arms around one another's waists. They had not exchanged more than a dozen words since dinner. There was a thin, new crescent moon, obscured now by cloud that brought the threat of rain and possibly thunder. The night was hot and the air still.

"This is the tenth night we've been here," said Sonia. "Not a sight of anything. Maybe they've given up coming here?"

"They were here a week before we arrived. We know that from the signs. Look how the glow has faded, you can hardly see it now."

"But maybe they've chosen another place now."

Gerry turned to Sonia almost fiercely. "So what if they have? What can we do? Go chasing all over England after them? This is as likely a spot as any. All we can do is wait."

Sonia sighed. "There's such a lot at stake, Gerry."

"Godammit, I know that!" Gerry checked himself in mid-speech. "Look, there's no point in worrying. We mustn't get personally involved Sonia. We're doing our best, carrying out orders. If the world goes down in ruin, we can't do more than that!"

"Like that Roman soldier at Pompeii?" suggested Sonia.

"Just like that. He'd been told to stand guard, and he did, all night, while the ashes and dust fell all around him and buried him."

"Did you know that when they excavated and found the hole where his body had been, there was a dog-shaped hole at his feet?"

"Yes. They were quite a pair, those two. Faithful unto death. And that's us, Sonia. I'm no genius. I'd like to be a second James Bond, find the villain of the piece and save the world. Only that's not my role. I'm going to do my duty, that's all. I'll stand or fall by that. It may be dull and unimaginative, but that's the way I am… any arguments?"

Sonia squeezed his waist. "No, darling. I'm with you… all the way!"

Two blue-uniformed policemen, annoyed at being back on foot because of the gasoline shortage, stirred beside a tree.

"There's a couple, Harry," said one. "Shine your torch and see what they're up to."

Harry switched on a powerful electric lamp. The two men watched in disgust as the distant couple who had been kissing broke hastily apart.

"Bloody lesbians!" said Harry.

"I hate their guts!" said the first one. "Worse than bloody homos!"

"I dunno what one girl can see in another," said Harry. "I mean, what can they do?"

"Damned perverts!" Harry switched off the light. He might hate lesbians, but under the law there was nothing he could do about it.

The two "lesbians" had broken apart hastily and walked quickly away down the hill.

"There are times," said Gerry, "when I hate all police officers!"

This was, in fact, the first time in his life when he had been marginally on the wrong side of the law, and it was, at least, an interesting experience! In itself, the fact that he was decently dressed as a woman, would not have involved him in trouble, especially since he was out of doors late at night when there was no one about to make a complaint, and in the company of a genuine young woman. However, Gerry had been trained as a policeman, and he was well aware that if his deception had been detected, a pair of experienced officers could easily trump up some kind of charge against him which, even if unproven, would give them every opportunity to harass him!

It had been Sonia's idea, from the start. After four days and nights of fruitless waiting, her impatience had begun to mount.

"Suppose that Andromedan was right," she said.

"Right about what?"

[bb-133 illustration 06.png]

"About them being attracted to perverted people."

"So?"

"So we are not doing anything to attract them, are we?"

Gerry was not so sure. Some of the things Sonia had done to him in bed had come very close to it. She had taken full advantage of her own inviolability to amuse herself, knowing that there could be no repercussions.

"What do you have in mind?" asked Gerry. She told him, and the suggestion left him angry, red-faced, eyes flashing.

"I'll be damned if I will!" he had cried.

"I'm sorry," said Sonia, coldly. "I thought you said you were devoted to your duty. But if you won't cooperate, you won't! We'll just have to sweat it out!"

"But why me?" protested Gerry.

"Well, for obvious reasons, I'd be no use! I can cross-dress as a man any old time and no one would lift an eyebrow. But if you were to cross-dress as a girl, why that would be something else again."

"It surely would," agreed Gerry, gruffly. "But what kind of damn fool would I look? Over six feet tall yet!"

Sonia had looked at him, her eyes lazy, twinkling with ill-concealed amusement. The truth was that she was getting a bit bored with the inaction of the past few days, and was looking for something to stir things up. If she could not stir up the Andromedans, it would be fun to stir up Gerry Glasner, who was a nice guy but decidedly dull. She knew from what he had told her that there were depths to his personality, but they were most often concealed under a veneer of persona which made it impossible for him to be his real self.

"I think we could fix you up very nicely," she said. Then she let the subject drop and did not refer to it again. Gerry had been uncommunicative during lunch and right through the afternoon and evening, but when once more they were on watch on the heath in the warm darkness, he raised the subject again. The truth was that the idea had been growing in his mind slowly, until it was fast becoming an obsession!

"Look," he said, "if you really think that my dressing as a girl might help… I'll go along with the idea for a few days at any rate."

"Oh," said Sonia, airily dismissing the whole subject, "I don't suppose it will make any difference. Forget it!"

Unfortunately for Gerry, he could not forget it! In fact, the more he tried to forget it, the more attractive the idea became. Obviously a serious-minded young man, with a career in the police force dare not indulge in cross-dressing, but a secret agent, engaged in a life-and-death struggle with mysterious creatures from outer space could, in the line of duty, do anything that might be helpful. It would not be a self-indulgence; it would not be "fun". It would be duty. Having reconciled his thinking along those lines, Gerry was able to press his point, so that Sonia had the amusement of allowing herself to be persuaded to a decision she had already made! Eventually she gave in gracefully, giving Gerry the face-saving claim of duty to calm his conscience!

The next morning, they went shopping for suitable clothes for Gerry, an expedition which gave Sonia a lot of amusement, and Gerry a good deal of acute embarrassment. He had not thought the thing through to its final conclusion. The vague idea that had formed in his mind was that he should put on outer clothes and get the general appearance of being a woman, but Sonia dispelled this illusion at once.

"That's no use," she said firmly. "You'll look odd! Just like a man dressed in girl's clothes. Nothing looks more absurd. No. If you are going to do it, it's got to be done right. You'll have to dress from the skin out – and something will have to be done to alter you general shape too. You're far too thick around the middle to make a convincing girl."

"I'm not thick!" protested Gerry. "There's not an ounce of surplus fat on me!"

"I didn't say there was, silly. It's just that you are the wrong shape. You don't have enough waist, for one thing. And your buttocks are too small and hard for another – quite apart from your breasts, which are ridiculous."

Gerry was not sure that he liked his appearance, of which he was with some justification proud, being described as "ridiculous", but Sonia over-rode his protests like a road-roller. Before breakfast, she spent half an hour with the Yellow Pages of the phone directory and when they were ready to go out she had a list of stores ready.

"You'd better call a hire car, Gerry," she said. "We've got a lot of territory to cover this morning!"

Gerry had hesitated for a moment. The hiring of a chauffeur-driven car was not part of his normal life-pattern, and was not the kind of indulgence he could afford. Then he remembered his lavish expense account, with relief, and picked up the phone. The expedition took the whole morning, until about 1 p.m., at which time, with all the shopping complete, Sonia insisted on having lunch, so that the car and driver had to be held for the best part of another two hours, which seemed to Gerry a shocking waste of money although he had the good sense not to say so. Soon after 3 p.m. they returned to the small hotel loaded with packages.

The advantage of having a room in the annex was immediately obvious. They had a private entrance through the garden, so that Gerry would be able to come and go without being seen by staff or guests. He threw the packages on to a chair, kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed.

"I'm done!" he announced. "My feet are killing me."

Sonia laughed. "I though you'd spent six months on the beat. You ought to be used to walking by now!"

"That was two years ago," said Gerry, stiffly.

"These days I get to use a car."

"OK. Just exert yourself enough to ring for coffee. Then you can rest up for half an hour, poor darling. And after that we'll have to start fixing you up!"

Gerry's enthusiasm had declined more and more with every store they had been to, and with every purchase they had made. But since Sonia had cleverly engineered things so that the whole idea of cross-dressing now seemed to be his from the beginning, he could not back down, much as he wanted to. But as soon as the coffee was delivered, Sonia began to unpack their purchases, and as the garments were successively unpacked, Gerry found his interest begin to mount. As it slowly dawned on his consciousness that he was going to put on those clothes, and that he was going out into the dark dressed like that, he felt an upsurge of sexual excitement which made it impossible for him to appear as aloof and disinterested as he wished.

Finished unpacking, Sonia decided to undress. The weather had begun to deteriorate. It was hotter than ever, but with a humidity unusual in London, the sun was obscured by grey cloud and over the horizon to the north thunder-heads were forming. From time to time they could hear the rumble of distant thunder.

"Going to be a thunderstorm tonight," said Gerry.

"It feels hot enough for it. I'm going to strip off!" Sonia took off her outer clothes until she stood in the middle of the room wearing nothing but the pale grey sheath, shining with a strange metallic sheen. It concealed nothing of her charming shape, but at the same time in a cruel, arrogant way it demonstrated the silent, invisible power of the Andromedans.

"God! How I hate this thing!" she cried, suddenly passionate. "It makes me feel like a thing, an object – like a damned slave, somebody's property!"

Gerry looked at her, suddenly very sympathetic. He had hardly realized how courageous and uncomplaining she had been.

"Can't we get it off, Gerry?" Her sweet face was suddenly imploring and at that moment Gerry knew that he was hopelessly in love with her.

He took her hand, tenderly. "I'm afraid not," he said gently. "It'll have to be the first of our 'war aims' to get you out of that."

"But how? How?"

"I don't know yet. But we'll find a way…" Gerry sat up and drew the girl down to sit beside him on the bed. With his arms around her protectively, he felt the cold, soft material of the sheath unpleasant to his touch, and for the first time was struck by the sheer obscenity of anyone deliberately taking possession of another body in this way. Sonia sat still beside him for a few minutes, regaining her composure. Then she stood up, under control once more. Perhaps her face was more tense than usual, but that was all.

"You'd better get your clothes off," she said.

"I'll take a shower before I dress," said Gerry as he got off the bed.

He came back to the room wearing a bathrobe. Sonia looked at him, smiling with evident amusement.

"You'll have to take that off," she said. "Maidenly modesty is one thing; but we can't dress you over a bathrobe!"

Gerry was caught in a conflict. He wanted to stand naked in front of Sonia, even though he knew that his penis was a long, thick, hard rod, standing out in front of him and throbbing with life. Certainly he was sure she would not be shocked at the sight. Over the past few days, she had shown an interest in his genitals he had never expected any woman to show. And she had played on them an emotional and sensual symphony that had left him utterly devoted to her. At the same time, Gerry was trapped in the mores of his class and upbringing. He had the attitudes of an older generation, rather than his own. Sex, while delightful, was "wrong". One should not be frank and open in enjoying it. It was something to be indulged in, rather as an alcoholic indulges in liquor, secretly, in the dark, shamefully.

Maybe Sonia detected something of this conflict. Sometimes she thought that it was this uncertainty, this hesitancy that gave him a special appeal. At the same time, even though she was cruelly prevented from demonstrating the true depth of her affection, she knew that she was in love with this rather uptight young man, and she did not want to hurt his feelings, nor to shock him more than was good for him!

"It's all in a good cause," she said, giving Gerry the excuse he had been looking for. To stand naked in front of a beautiful girl while she helped him to cross-dress as a woman would be quite improper and almost inexcusable, if it were done for pleasure. But in the line of duty, it was OK! Making a brief concession to his conscience, Gerry turned away as he removed the robe, only to find that Sonia had silently sneaked up behind him. As the robe fell, her arms came around him and she grasped his balls in one small hand, and his prick with the other.

"It'll be nice to know you've got these under your panties!" whispered a soft voice. Then she let him go and picked up the corset.

Buying the corset had been Gerry's worst experience of the day! They had been compelled to go to a very "special" place in Duke Street, off Oxford Street, which catered to people of both sexes who, for a variety of reasons, of which very few were entirely legitimate, wished to wear a tight-laced corset. Ostensibly the firm catered to people needing corsets for various surgical purposes, but in practice their prices were so high that most such people passed them by and went to more conventional makers of surgical wear.

The woman who interviewed them was so "understanding" that Gerry had felt he could cheerfully have strangled her with his bare hands!

"A corset? But of course! For Madame or…?"

"For him," said Sonia, forthrightly. She was not in the least embarrassed.

"Certainly. Madame wishes her husband to be severely corseted?"

"Yes."

Gerry stood by, his face flaming red.

"A good reduction in waist size?"

"Most definitely – and some increase – here." Sonia patted Gerry's behind in a proprietary manner.

The woman's interest was now aroused. This was going to be a profitable piece of business.

"Ah. Then you may also require some development of the… er… bosom?"

"Oh yes. A lot of 'development of the bosom'… You'd like that, wouldn't you darling?" Gerry glared at her and clenched his hands.

"It will have to be made of leather," said the woman. "There is no alternative. No other material will have the necessary strength and 'yield' at the same time… It will be expensive," she added.

"Oh," said Sonia, airily, "cost is no object." The woman's eyes gleamed. Then she dropped her bombshell. "It will take three weeks to make a suitable corset," she said.

Gerry felt a sudden surge of relief. They could forget the whole thing! He half-turned to leave, but Sonia stood firm.

"Impossible!" she said, imperiously. "I want to take something away with me, now! – What about that?"

She pointed to a fearsome-looking leather corset on a manikin in the corner of the "Consulting Room".

The woman looked dubious. "It might be satisfactory," she agreed, "but I am not sure of the size."

"Can't you check it?" asked Sonia, impatiently. There were times when she got extremely tired of the leisurely "mating dances" that accompanied so much of British life. One could not even ask for a bill at an hotel without first spending three minutes discussing the weather!

The woman seemed rather shocked by this direct, brutal approach, but probably accepted it at last as further evidence of the lack of finesse of the Americans who formed an increasingly large proportion of her clientele! One gained the impression from her attitude that if she had had to deal with the Founding Fathers, she would have had them all hanged!

[bb-133 illustration 07.png]

However, driven by the force of Sonia's personality, the woman took a tape-measure and did some mysterious things with the corset. Then she came back to Sonia and Gerry.

"If monsieur would kindly remove his jacket," she said.

"Why 'monsieur' for Pete's sake?" wondered Sonia. "Can't she say 'you'?" Gerry removed his jacket and submitted to the woman's odious operations with the tape-measure. She stood back, smiling with triumph.

"The size is perfect," she said.

"Good," said Sonia. "Wrap it up please."

"There is one problem."

"Oh God," thought Sonia, "here we go again." Aloud she said, "What is it?"

"The… er… bust size is rather excessively large – as you may see."

Sonia inspected the corset on the model, her head on one side. "It's large," she agreed, grudgingly. "But you won't mind that, will you darling?"

Gerry grunted something, gritting his teeth with silent rage.

"What about padding?" asked Sonia.

"Padding?" The woman raised supercilious eyebrows.

"False tits!" said Sonia, brutally.

For a moment she thought the woman was going to faint, but with an effort she controlled herself. "You mean… er… false bosoms?" she asked, frostily.

"That's what I said, false tits!"

The woman shrugged. Peasants! she thought. Morons! No refinement at all! She did not object to making an excellent living from selling odd garments to people with odd tastes, but she did object to having to face up to the truth!

She produced a pair of extremely large soft rubber falsies, which Sonia approved. Then, without further delay she collected a check for close on two-hundred dollars, wrapped the goods in a box and showed her customers to the door. As they left, she looked again at the check. People who were in a hurry to satisfy their strange desires could be such suckers! If Sonia had haggled, she could have had the lot for one-hundred dollars. Oh well, if people would be so… unrefined… they must pay for the pleasure!

That was the worst experience for Gerry. After that it was not really necessary for him to appear to have any interest in the proceedings, although from time to time Sonia dragged him into the deal, asking him whether he felt "She would like that?" or if he felt that "This color would appeal to her." A nod and a grunt was all the help she got.

And now the time had come to put on all these clothes, and to see whether Gerry could successfully change his appearance.

She held the cold leather corset against Gerry's bare body.

"Hold this while I lace it up," she said.

By the time Sonia had finished lacing the long leather garment, it was just pleasantly tight against Gerry's body. He was surprised; had expected it, from what he had seen on the model, to be extremely tight and uncomfortable. Certainly the strong steel boning running down the length at about two-inch intervals might make it difficult if not unwise for him to try to touch his toes, but pour etre belle, ii faut souffrir as he reminded himself. He sighed with relief as Sonia stood back to inspect the corset.

"That's not as bad as I expected," he said, cheerfully.

"You'd better wait until I've got it laced up before you congratulate yourself," said Sonia.

"I thought you had laced it up!"

The girl laughed. "So far, I've threaded the laces through the eyelets and pulled them up just enough to hold the thing in position. The tight-lacing comes later – and when it does you'll know about it, I promise you! Why, there's a gap about four inches wide at the back!"

"Oh. Well, there's no need to pull the laces up fully, is there?"

"Yes, Gerry, there is; a very good reason. All the clothes we have bought you are sized on this corset laced tight. If I don't lace it tight, you won't be able to get them on. Now, bend down a bit so I can reach you!"

Gerry bent forward glumly and Sonia pulled forward the large breast-cups that hung empty at the front of the corset. Deftly she slipped into each, one of the big rubber falsies she had bought and tucked them out of sight.

"That's much better," she said, firmly.

Gerry was not too sure of this, especially when he turned to survey himself in the mirror, but he kept silent. There really was no point in complaining any more. Besides… despite the sense of outrage he felt, he could not deny that there was a lot of sexual pleasure to be gamed from this masquerade. It was with sense of shock that he realized he would never again be able to join in the condemnation of "perversion" which was common among his brother officers. "To understand all is to forgive all" was an old French proverb, and for the first time Gerry was beginning to see that there was a whole lot of truth in it.

Sonia touched his throbbing penis without any warning, while his thoughts were far away, so that he first jumped and then almost doubled in two as she squeezed.

"Oh dear!" she mocked, "you are in a state! You'd better put these on. They may calm you down!" She bent to offer a pair of frilly panties to Gerry's feet. He stepped into them, then Sonia pulled them up his legs and settled them at the waist. They were pale blue, made of sheer nylon and covered with a froth of frilly lace. They were tight enough to hold his erect prick up against his belly. Sonia studied him carefully, standing in that endearing way typical of her, head on one side. Then she pulled the panties down a bit in front and grasped his prick. With the other hand she pulled the corset forward, then tucked his penis up under it for a distance of about four inches. She readjusted the panties.

"When I've got the corset laced up, you'll look quite good!" she said.

"I probably shan't feel too good!" said Gerry, gloomily. Sonia began to lace the corset in earnest. It took her about ten minutes of hard work, and by the time she had finished her hair was lying damp and dark on her forehead. She sat down heavily on the bed.

"Whew! That was tough!" she cried.

"WAS tough? IS tough more likely! I can hardly breath!"

"You'll soon get accustomed to it," said Sonia, heartlessly. "At least it has done what we wanted. Look at the way the compression of your waist and the padding of your hips and buttocks has changed your shape. THAT is what I meant. Without that, you'd have looked exactly like a man in women's clothes… You don't look much like a man now!" she added, with a grin.

Gerry looked down to where his penis was crushed under the front of the severe leather corset. "I'll never be the same again," he said.

"Oh, you're resilient," laughed Sonia. "I'll bet you'll spring back as soon as we take the corset off!"

She put a pair of black stockings on Gerry's legs, and was about to attach them to the garters fitted to the lower edge of the corset. She paused, deep in thought, then took them off again.

"Your legs are hairy!" she said, severely. "Not that I mind, in principle, you understand. In fact I like a man to be hairy! But I can't have a girlfriend with great hairy legs, can I? I mean, there are limits! I shall have to get rid of the hairs. Sit still."

Sonia fetched the necessary lotion and absorbent cotton and set to work. Twenty minutes later, Gerry's legs were smooth and hairless, and feeling strange and cold. "The things I suffer in the course of duty!" he muttered.

Sonia stood beside him, her face serious. "You're not the only one," she said, quietly. "I'm trying to make this fun, Gerry because if it's got to be done there's no point in making a misery of it. But it's deadly serious all the same."

Gerry grasped her hand. "I know, Sonia. Don't take any notice of me. I'll tell you honestly why I complain so much, and you can have a good laugh at me if you want to. I have to complain, to pretend to be outraged, for one very good reason. I'm enjoying it! And there's part of me that says I shouldn't be enjoying myself! So I complain to convince myself that I don't want to do it… What are you crazy about?"

Sonia put her arms around his neck. "You!" she whispered, "you big ugly, stupid and thoroughly bent copper!" and she smothered his protests with kisses. "Come on," she said at last, "let's get this job done or we'll never get out tonight!" She pulled the stockings on again. They felt odd and unfamiliar on Gerry's smooth legs. Then she helped him into a waist-slip, the first "skirt" he could ever remember wearing. It ended about six inches above his knees.

"I hope the skirt isn't too short," said Gerry.

"Too short for what? You'll have to put it on to find out. Here!"

She pulled the brief skirt up to Gerry's waist and just managed to fasten it. "A shade too small," she commented, zipping up the side. To let the clutch in lightly, they had chosen a shirt-waister that looked a bit like a man's dress shirt, with long sleeves and collar, and with lace frills down the front. It fitted well, even though the large false breasts pushed pertly up under it. Gerry's fingers trembled as he buttoned it. He held his arms out as Sonia offered him the jacket of the simple suit, which fell comfortably around him.

"Now the shoes," said Sonia, kneeling down to put them on Gerry's feet. "I'm not doing this out of deference to you," she explained. "I just doubt if you could bend this far!"

"You're dead right," agreed Gerry. "If I did, something would break, and it might be vital!"

He stood up, and grabbed at Sonia's shoulders for support as his weight came forward unexpectedly.

"These heels are high!" he said.

"Not very high. They were the flattest I could find, but that's how they go these days. You're lucky that stiletto heels are not being worn these days."

"Some folk wear them," said Gerry, grimly, memories of the Andromedan flooding back. Sonia looked at him, but did not take the matter any further.

At Sonia's request, Gerry sat down at the vanity table and she began to put the finishing touches to his appearance. He had shaved when he showered, so Sonia covered his whole face with a kind of mask of pancake make-up of neutral shade, on which she built up the finished appearance. With great care she shaped his mouth and made up his eyes. Finally satisfied she put the chestnut brown wig on him, and spent several minutes settling it to her complete satisfaction. A pair of drop earrings clipped to his lobes completed the effect. Then she applied some of her own expensive perfume, and at last stood back.

"There!" she cried triumphantly. "You look good enough to eat!"

Gerry stood up in front of the long mirror, studying his appearance critically. "I look exactly like a very expensive whore who, for a fee will do curious things in high-heeled boots!" he announced. "But at least I don't look like a flat-footed copper in drag, and for that my thanks!" He was actually smiling.

Sonia stood in front of him, and came close when she saw that he was not displeased. For the first time, Gerry felt the sensation of a hand sliding up his bare thigh, under his skirt, to touch his panties! Sonia grasped his testicles in her hand and held on, tight. "It's a pity in a way we can't do something about these," she said. "Still, they don't show so I guess it doesn't matter much."

"Nothing doing!" said Gerry firmly. "In fact, 'Not bloody likely'! You leave my balls alone. I'm going to need them again – in the not too distant future, the way I feel right now!"

Sonia's face dimpled. "I like you in a skirt," she said. "It makes you so easy to get at! I think I shall make you wear them indoors all the time when we are married!"

"Married? Who said anything about that?"

"I did! But first of all I've got to get this damned sheath off!"

With a passion indicating that hysteria was only just concealed beneath a surface of gaiety, she tugged uselessly at the metallic thing that imprisoned her body. Gerry held her close for a moment.

"If ever you do, I'll consider what you just said," he murmured.

"Will you? Do you mean that?" He could not be sure whether Sonia was serious or joking.

"You just try to stop me," he growled. Then he let her go, and sat patiently waiting while she dressed herself. She had not worn her white leather suit for several days, so she put that on again. Somehow it made her look tinier than ever, and, in a way, defenseless. Gerry's heart warmed to her. I'll marry her when this is all over, he promised himself. He was still smiling when Sonia said she was ready; they were both smiling as they left their room by the garden entrance. It was the last smile they were to share for many a long day!

Obviously they could not eat in the hotel restaurant. It would have been too difficult to explain Gerry's metamorphosis. So they walked down through The Vale of Health to one of the many discreet restaurants that cater to the wealthy residents of Hampstead and Highgate, as well as the expense account "visiting firemen" who go there seeking "atmosphere", and find – good food and wine. They did not notice the two pairs of men who emerged from side-alleys behind them and followed them down the street. As they were settling to a table, two pairs of men came into the restaurant, one after the other. They sat well apart, between the door and Sonia and Gerry's table. They ordered meals and bottles and ate, talking discreetly as did all the other clients. It was a place of candle-light and warmth, with a faint smell of good cooking and no piped music! Gerry and Sonia spoke to one another in soft whispers, not so much influenced by the silence of the place as by the fact that if Gerry had spoken out loud it would have broken his disguise at once – and this was not the place for that.

They lingered over brandy, reluctant for some reason to walk back to the heath and resume their vigil. Sonia shivered for no good reason.

"Someone's just walked over my grave!" she said.

"Don't say that! Don't even think it. We've got a long, wonderful life ahead of us," whispered Gerry, but before the sentence was out of his mouth, the last few words were drowned in a terrible crash of thunder that reverberated down the street.

Sonia jumped. "Has it started to rain?" she asked.

"No. I think this is one of those storms that will play around the hills for hours before the rain comes. We have them like this, once every few years… I guess we'd better go." Gerry paid the bill and the two of them got up and walked out into the night. It did not seem odd to them that the two pairs of men followed them at a short interval. One pair followed behind, about a hundred yards away. The other pair made a left turn and disappeared down a side road, to turn once more and follow a narrow passage that ran parallel to the road.

Gerry and Sonia, arms entwined, climbed the steep narrow path to the top of the hill. Looking down to the hollow, they could see no sign of where the space craft had once landed; the faint phosphorescence had faded away completely. The craft had not returned in their absence.

"They're never coming back," said Sonia, gloomily. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life done up in this sheath, with no sex, no babies nothing! Oh, Gerry!"

That was the moment when she turned to her companion, who took her in his arms and kissed her. And it was a few minutes later, as the two policemen began to walk away that there were two bright flashes among the bushes and two muffled explosions as the silenced bullets left the muzzle of the gun. As the lightning played all around the horizon, two uniformed policemen lay dead on the grass.

Sonia and Gerry sat down on the grass side by side, watching the firework display of lighting down toward the Thames estuary.

"This will be the end of summer," said Gerry, sadly. When this storm has passed, you'll see. It will suddenly be autumn and the leaves will start to fall.

He froze as something cold and hard and round pressed against the side of his throat.

"Don't move!" hissed a voice in his ear. "And don't cry out. If you do, you're dead. And so is she!"

CHAPTER FOUR

The space craft hovered silently, effortlessly one-hundred thousand feet above London, held in space without waste of energy by the control of forces which offset gravity against centrifugal force. Indeed, all the power needed for the craft was derived at such times from the excess of gravitational pull. The Andromedans had learned, thousands of years ago, that wherever there is a force differential, it can be put to use.

Gulda sat back in her chair, seeming to be asleep. But after a few minutes her eyes opened and her hand went to a glowing metal plate. As her hand passed over it the light was extinguished. The Lady's voice spoke.

"What is it?"

"We've got them safe." The relief in Gulda's exhausted voice was evident, so that the Lady smiled evenly to herself. Gulda had not been quite so sure of herself after all!

"All the rest under control?"

"Yes. I have just tinder fifty thousand responses in the British Isles. They have all had preliminary briefing and the remainder of the program is ready for immediate transmission. We shall be able to bring the country to the brink of self destruction inside twelve hours from our final signal."

"Good. How long will it take to establish communication with the government?"

"If I had the facilities of the Torture Room down there," said Gulda, her voice harsh, "about thirty seconds! As it is, possibly three days. They are working on it now. I am in touch all the time."

"Good. Get some rest when you can." The line went dead and the light came on again showing that the Lady had broken the circuit.

"You bitch!" said Gulda. "You bitch!" She moved uneasily in her chair, and then with an effort stood up, using the edge of the desk as a handhold. A careful medical check had pronounced that she had suffered no permanent injury from the torture and punishment, but every joint in her body still ached. At times the pain grew into a tidal wave of agony, then subsided. She ought to be resting, but this was not the time for rest. Resentment against the Lady, and the desire for revenge drove heron.

She staggered across the room and through a door into her private cabin, where she fell on to the narrow bed and closed her eyes. After a while she roused herself again to lift a curious instrument from a hook and fit it onto her head. It had a band which went around her forehead, and, attached to the band were a number of simple cylindrical objects. Carefully Gulda adjusted their position. Then with sensitive fingers she began to reach for, to tune in to the mind of the one person on Earth she was seeking, miles below; just one of the teeming millions of London. It was a curious sensation, because so much of what she would experience would be strange to her, something of which she had no firsthand knowledge. She would not hear anything, nor see it; but because of the micro-miniature circuit embedded deep in the man's spinal column, she would experience with him in her own mind, so that her own brain would interpret what he saw as vision, and what he heard as sound, and, above all, what he felt as sensation. If the subject she had chosen felt fear, she would feel afraid; when he knew cruelty, she would feel cruel; when he was lustful she too would be lustful, but in an odd way because the lust that impressed itself into her mind would be the lust of a man and not of a woman. After a brief period of dialing and checking the readings, Gulda lay down again to ease her aching limbs. At first the impressions she received were muddled and confused, because they had to compete with her own more direct sense-impressions. But as she calmed down it was as if an old-fashioned TV receiver had warmed up. The picture, which was not a "picture" but an "impression" became clear and at times vivid.

Gulda became aware of the white face of the young man she had known briefly as Gerry Glasner, but a face that seemed almost grotesque because of the feminine wig and make-up. The viewpoint changed and the face of the young blond girl came to her, also starkly white with fear and pain. She was standing awkwardly because there were hands on her wrists, twisting, twisting, so that her mouth opened in a scream. In front of Gulda's range of "vision" appeared two hands at the end of arms – not her arms, but the arms of the man whose brain she was tapping. The hands reached out to grasp the front of the blond's leather shirt and, with an effort that Gulda could feel, as though she had made it herself, the hands ripped the shirt open, tearing the buttons off the leather. Another quick, rough movement tore away the flimsy brassiere, leaving the girl's metal-sheathed breasts exposed. Gulda felt the sudden surge of sadistic sexuality in the mind she was tapping, and in a curious way this was transferred to herself, so that she shared the satisfaction of seeing the girl exposed to the gaze of the four men and two women who were in the room she was vaguely aware of.

Gulda should not have been experiencing any kind of sexual pleasure. That had been deliberately abolished among the Andromedans almost four thousand years ago, when they had discovered how to renew life-cells and eliminate the killing toxins so that life could be indefinitely prolonged. People who could live at the peak of their powers for five-hundred years or more could not afford the enticements of sex, with the risk of a population explosion that would, in three generations have eaten them out of house and home. So they excoriated it, bred it out. Today, sex had no meaning to the Andromedans – with the possible exception of Gulda who, undetected, still retained all the ancient, antisocial, atavistic desires.

Population losses, chiefly due to accident, were replaced by babies born in test-tubes, the semen provided by a few anonymous donors who were kept for the purpose until they were thirty years old, and then were sterilized and put back into circulation, sworn to secrecy. Gulda knew something of the process, and she smiled to herself as she thought about it.

"I'll have him, Gerry, put into a donor's camp when we control the Earth," she said. "He's a find specimen, and they can make thousands of babies from him. They can masturbate him until he is ready to die! To die!" At the sadistic thought she writhed, as she lay, and moaned aloud. "As for her! I'll make her the handmaid of the stud! She can spend the rest of her life exciting their genitals until she hates the very sight of them – and I'll never let her remove that sheath, so she'll never know what real pleasure can be!"

With an effort she withdrew from her own sadistic reveries and attended to the weaker but important impressions she was getting from the transmitter.

Gerry and Sonia had been hurried in the dark down the narrow footpath to the main road, past the bodies of the two police officers who had been killed so ruthlessly and needlessly. They were bundled into the back of a black utility and forced to lie on the floor. Someone knelt on Gerry, his knee pressing painfully into Gerry's back. His arms were roughly pulled behind his back and he felt the cold metallic sensation of handcuffs being clipped on and then the sharp pain as the ratchet was pressed tight. He cried out in the dark, and suddenly the man with his knee on the sergeant's spine went stiff.

"This is not a woman," he said. "It's a man in drag!"

"Turn him over and let's have a look!" They rolled him over on to his back. A light shone on his face and someone tugged at the wig. In the dim light his face looked foolish as he stared at the wig. Another hand, more practical and less delicate slid up Gerry's skirt and fumbled. The hand grasped his balls and twisted savagely. The skirt was pulled up.

"Look! There's his balls! His prick must be tucked up under the corset… What's gone wrong, Don?"

A voice in the background spoke, slowly and precisely, like someone repeating a lesson.

"Nothing has gone wrong. This is the man we were instructed to find, and that is the woman. I am instructed to bring them." As though the lesson were over, the voice rose a few notes and became sharp and businesslike. "Gag them both, and put that bloody light out!"

The utility bumped over the roads for what seemed an interminable period, but in fact it cannot have been more than half an hour before it stopped, with the engine still running. One of the men got out of the back of the utility and there was the sound of a metal gate opening. The vehicle rocked through the gate and stopped again. As the engine died, Gerry heard the gate clang shut and the sound of a lock being closed.

"Get up!" He did not need the kick that accompanied the instruction. He struggled to his feet and climbed carefully out of the utility, helped by a strong hand. He turned to see Sonia following him, and he tried to give her an encouraging look, but failed because she did not raise her head. Gerry was troubled and anxious, chiefly for her sake. This was action, and in some way, he felt sure, this was the reason why he had been waiting on top of Hampstead Heath dressed like a woman!

He could not at present see any direct connection between the Andromedan woman and these four men, but he was sure there was one. Maybe they too were Andromedans. There must be males among them as well as females – always assuming that the one he had met had been a female!

Urged by strong hands, Gerry stumbled up a flight of rickety wooden steps and into a dark corridor where he was told to wait. As soon as the others were inside and the door shut, someone switched on a light and opened a door.

"In here!" Gerry half fell into the bleak, sparsely furnished room, becoming aware of the presence of two women. The four men followed into the room, propelling Sonia in front of them. The two agents stood alone, side by side, while the six other people clustered opposite them. Gerry had a few moments to study their faces, and he did not waste any time. It was vital to get to know everything he could.

The first thing that struck him was their total normality. It was difficult to put a finger on it, but Gerry had had enough experience of habitual criminals to know that there was a kind of mark on them, for anyone observant. It was not easy to define, but almost always there was a certain shiftiness of gaze, or a carelessness about personal appearance – or by contrast an excessive flashiness of dress. But above all there was the shifting gaze, the unsteady eyes, as though trying to avoid recognition, evade a question or flinch from a blow. There was nothing of that here. The four men and two women did not have the least trace of habitual criminality – yet ordinary people did not kidnap strangers in the middle of the night. For a crazy moment Gerry wondered if he had been caught by accident in some political vendetta. The kidnappers did not look like foreigners. It would he hard to connect them with Black September, for instance… They might be Irish – but not one of the men had spoken with a trace of Irish accent.

It must be something to do with the Andromedans – but what? Obviously he and Sonia were not to be killed; not yet at any rate. That could have been done much more easily in the darkness on the heath. (He still did not know about the two policemen.)

Well, while there was life there was, hope – but at the memory of the way in which one of these men had twisted his balls, Gerry was glad for the first time that Sonia was protected, no matter how unwillingly, by that metallic sheath the Andromedan had put on her. At least rape was out of the question!

Three of the men and the two women sat down sedately in a semi-circle around the two prisoners, and suddenly Gerry wanted to laugh. They looked so deadly serious, like people gathered together for some cause vitally important to them, such as stamp collecting, or trying to communicate with the "spirit world" or something equally crazy. Any minute, he felt, someone would get up and make a pot of tea!

Hands fumbled at the back of his neck and the cloth around his mouth fell away. Gerry did not intend to speak first. He was there to gain information, not to give it. He saw the gag come away from Sonia and quickly asked her, "You OK?" She nodded, bravely, but he could see her trembling.

One of the men spoke. "You'd better ask the questions, Doctor Johnson."

Another one stirred in his seat. "No names please." He was obviously "Doctor Johnson", and Gerry wondered again. The youngish man, about thirty-five, so obviously looked the part of a family doctor – and being addressed as "doctor" in Britain could only mean he was a doctor of medicine. The use of the title is very rare in other disciplines than medicine. What in hell was a family doctor doing in this galley?

"What is your name?" The voice was oddly mechanical, almost sounding like a ventriloquial dummy being operated by someone else.

Gerry remained silent. He was certainly not going to talk to this bunch of criminals, nor be interrogated by them in this way. Doctor Johnson sighed.

"Oh dear! I suppose you are going to indulge in heroics! It's all right. We know who you are. You are Sergeant Gerald Glasner of Special Branch – and that is Sonia Evans, employed by CIA of America." It seemed for a moment that curiosity overcame his desire for serious information.

"What on Earth were you doing on Hampstead Heath dressed like a woman?"

This Gerry could answer! "I find it amusing," he said. "I'm a well-known psychopath. Member of a Cross-Dressers' Club. You should consider joining. It's more fun than kidnapping – and less dangerous!"

Gerry staggered back as the man standing beside him struck him a severe blow in the face.

"Don't be annoying," said Doctor Johnson, mildly. "You'll get hurt – and so will your friend. I want to know why you were on the heath; why you have been there for the past ten nights. What were you looking for?"

Gerry did not reply. He licked his upper lip with the tips of his tongue, tasting the drop of blood that had flowed from the small cut. That bastard must have had a ring on his finger!

The doctor turned to his companions. "We're not going to get anywhere like this," he said. "Our friends are getting impatient. My instructions are to use severe measures against the girl. That ought to do the trick."

He addressed the man who had hit Gerry. "Can you make one of them talk?"

"Nothing easier," growled the man. "It'll be a pleasure." And it was then that he turned to Sonia, reached out both hands and tore her shirt down the front.

Gulda, sharing his direct experience one-hundred thousand feet above London was not prepared for his immediate reaction.

The man stood back, surprised at what he saw. "Why," he cried, "she's one of us!"

Then Gerry knew who these people were. He was sure that all of them were sheathed in metallic chastity belts – and that each one would prove to have a fine wire inserted between his upper vertebrae, into his spinal cord. In some way these folk were under the direct control of the Andromedans!

"No," said Doctor Johnson, his eyes turned upward as though he were listening to something unheard by the others. "No. She is not one of us. The operation is not complete. I am told that she is a very dangerous agent, determined to infiltrate and report on our affairs. She is not to be killed, nor is the man. But you may take any measures you think fit to persuade her to cooperate."

"It'll have to be the whip then," said the man gruffly. "With that sheath on her there's not much else I can do, is there?" He spoke direct to the two women. "You want to tie her up for me?"

"Leave her alone," cried Gerry. "It'll be the worse for you if you harm her."

The man beside him glared at Gerry, raising his fist as if to hit him again. "Shut up!" he snarled. "You bother me! We want to know what you know – and we want your cooperation, and we're damn well going to have it. I've shot two policemen tonight on the heath, so don't think I'll give a damn what I do to you – or to her!"

"We do have a great deal of power on our side," said the doctor, reasonably. "It would be much better if you accepted that fact, Sergeant. You can't fight and win, you know."

"Don't talk to them, Gerry," pleaded Sonia.

"Well, at least you asked for it," said Doctor Johnson. "Tie her up!"

The whole scene seemed far more terrifying because of the "ordinariness" of the people concerned. Gerry felt that they should all have been wearing black rubber hoods and leather suits! But they weren't. The women, for instance were dressed in simple, attractive skirt-suits with floral patterned shirt-waisters. There was not a high-heel to be seen. They looked as though they should be at a PTA meeting rather than in this sordid room in back of a warehouse, engaged in illegal and subversive activities.

But when it came to tying Sonia up, there was no pretence about it. The two women stripped the girl naked, except for the metallic sheath. The handcuffs had to come off, but one of the women held both Sonia's wrists, twisted up her back so hard that in spite of her resolve, the girl cried out with the pain. The other woman dragged a small, heavy table of rough wood to the center of the floor, and they pulled Sonia forward over it.

Quickly, using lengths of white nylon cord cut from a reel, they tied her wrists and ankles to the four legs of the table. Then, needlessly, they made a noose in one end of a length of cord – not a running noose – and passed it over Sonia's head and around her neck just below her chin. Drawing the long end of the cord down the length of the table, they tied the end to the handle of a drawer set in the far end, pulling it tight.

[bb-133 illustration 08.png]

"Hold your head up high, dear," said one of the women, reasonably, sensibly, "otherwise you'll strangle!"

Gerry felt as though he was shut up in a mad-house! If only everyone did not look, act and speak so darned reasonably! He could do nothing to help Sonia because his wrists were handcuffed behind him; and while the women had been fixing Sonia up, the man whom Gerry thought of as "The Executioner" had forced him onto a hard wood chair and had tied him firmly to it. But Gerry could still speak, and he did so, his voice as level and steady as he could make it, although it trembled just a little with suppressed anger.

"Doctor Johnson," he said. "I must warn you that you cannot expect to get away with this crime. Kidnap and assault are bad enough; conspiring to murder two police officers will get each one of you a minimum of twenty years' jail. By morning, the whole police force of the metropolitan area will be searching for you. We don't like criminals who use guns – especially against unarmed police officers! I urge you all not to compound your crime. Let the girl free, and that will be taken into account when you are sentenced."

The doctor looked at him as though he had just crept out from under a damp rock. "You are out of touch with reality, Sergeant," he said. "Within the next few weeks, you and the forces you represent will no longer have any authority. Our friends are in a position to take over the Earth, and when they do, we shall be authority – not you!"

Gerry laughed, although it was not a very convincing performance. "Hah! So the Andromedans are going to take over the Earth, are they? And you are going to be their representatives! Good God! By the look of you all, between you you couldn't upset a chamber-pot, much less a government! In the past forty years quite a lot of people have tried to take over the Earth! The Germans; the Japanese…"

"Those cases are not comparable, Sergeant," said the doctor gently. "They were second class powers throwing out a challenge to first class powers. No matter what damage they did, they could never have hoped to win on any reasonable long-term basis. But if Britain and America in alliance had tried it, the result would have been quite different! Today the Earth would be quietly dominated by white Anglo-Saxon peoples – and much better off than it is! Our friends have all the power that is required Sergeant. We shall administer that power for them."

Glasner did his best to smile contemptuously. "You're crazy! I've met one of those people – and I'll tell you this. Once you have performed whatever function you are required to perform, they won't tolerate you for five minutes! You'll be enslaved – or dead – along with the rest of us."

"You are talking seditious nonsense, Sergeant… But I don't have time to sit here discussing such matters with you. I want certain information from you – and I want your help – and I am going to have it. When you think your little co-worker has suffered enough, you may let me know!"

He nodded to the executioner. "Get on with it," he said, "or we shall be here all night. And before morning I want to be a long way off!"

This was the moment Gulda had been waiting for. It was absolutely unnecessary to torture the American girl. Glasner had no information that she did not already share – none that mattered anyway. All she required was that he should report back to his department and arrange for contacts to be made with higher authority, with the Cabinet. Then a conference could be set up to discuss the migration of the Andromedans; a conference designed to lull the governments of the world into a sense of false security so that they would not use atomic weapons against the invaders. In the meantime, the cadre of controlled Earth people, set in strategic positions all over the world would foment revolution and anarchy, immobilize armies and render it impossible for the governments to agree to take positive action – until it was too late. All the Andromedans needed was that vital four days while their forces were deployed.

But all that was in the future. Right now, Gulda, possibly the only surviving Andromedan capable of feeling sexual sensation, lay on her narrow couch with her communication probes beaming impressions direct into her brain from that of the executioner. For a while her need for sexual pleasure over-rode everything else, including the security of her people. Gulda was, in fact, the one weak link in the chain that the Andromedans had been forging steadily and stealthily for the past four thousand years. She alone, subject to emotion and desire, was capable of allowing her feelings to over-ride her intellect.

She writhed on her couch in anticipation, forgetful of the dull pain gnawing at her bone-joints…

The executioner had found his whip, a heavy black leather instrument, with a thick polished handle about two inches in diameter and a foot long. The lash was made of black, plaited leather, tapering from the handle to the tip, between three and four feet long. It was a terrible thing; used to stock-breeders in South Africa, made of strips of skived rhinoceros hide; known as a sjambok. Seventy years before, it was in use to keep the black people of South Africa in order! Its use by the Dutch settlers had been one of the precipitating causes of the Boer War which Britain had fought to end the practice. But it was reported that, in the police state of South Africa, the sjambok was still in use, secretly…

"You can't use that thing on her!" shouted Gerry, his hard-won self-control suddenly broken.

"He can," said Doctor Johnson softly, "and he will!… Of course, you can stop him any time you like!" He nodded to the executioner who moved alongside Sonia's recumbent form. Even at that desperate moment, Gerry could not help noticing what a very attractive bottom Sonia had, so round and prominent.

"I am instructed," said the doctor, "to tell you to take it easy at first. No cutting; no blood. That will come later if necessary. For now, just the maximum of pain without damage!"

The executioner's teeth gleamed white in his face as he grinned in acknowledgement. The two women had sat down again in the semi-circle, with their legs modestly together and their skirts pulled down demurely. Nobody looked to be in any way sexually excited, with the exception of the executioner – and Gerry himself who was hating himself for it. In fact, with the one exception of the executioner, all the others had been sexually desensitized when they had been equipped with chastity belts. But his desire was raging under the unyielding material, and the only way in which he could get any satisfaction was through cruelty. (He had experienced a violent orgasm when he had shot the two policemen, and was anticipating another one during the next half-hour!)

And Gulda was anticipating sharing the pleasure with him…

The executioner hefted the hand of the whip comfortably in his right hand. Then he made it crack in the air several times, experimentally, getting the feel of it. Gerry could see Sonia's eyes, the whites showing as they widened, giving her a look of utter terror.

"I… I shan't be able to talk again, Gerry darling," she said. "But don't give in to them, please… not if they kill me… it does matter, you know… far more than any one person… I love you…"

[bb-133 illustration 09.png]

And then the whip cut across her round, firm buttocks and she screamed heart-rendingly, and to Gerry the whole world seemed to go mad. He sat stiff, unyielding, counting the strokes, watching the scarlet weals spreading over that soft white flesh; but by the count of six his sell-control left him and he too began to shout. For a few minutes he screamed insults and threats to the torturers until Doctor Johnson called, "Stop! Stop!" He half-rose from his chair because for a moment it seemed that the executioner did not hear him. But at last the whip fell limp at his side and he stood waiting, panting, his chest visibly rising and falling under the stress of violent emotion. At the tenth cut of the whip, he had felt a spasm pass through his body and had known a sexual experience surpassing anything he had previously enjoyed.

Gulda too had shared it, and was now lying limp and inert on her couch, panting for breath. It was she who had passed the instruction for the whipping to stop. It was almost time to initiate some serious action – but there was time for just one more delicious sexual sensation before she moved. She could almost feel the weight of the whip in the hand that held it, and as the executioner passed his hand over Sonia's body, touching the raised weals that marred her skin, she participated in his sadistic satisfaction.

Gerry sat tense, his face dead white, sweat pouring from his face. He was helpless. There was nothing he could do, short of betraying the whole human race, to stop this terrible martyrdom which, unless he capitulated to the Andromedans, could only end in death. Sonia held her head erect still, but was obviously having the greatest difficulty with her breathing. He could hear every breath she drew, sounding like a sob. But she turned her glance to him and even tried to smile bravely. Her lips formed the words, "Hold on!" And Gerry knew he must, even though his heart was breaking.

"Carry on!" said the doctor, and the executioner prepared himself again. This time he would be slower, more deliberate, taking great care not to hit too hard, so that the torture would be extended until it was past the stage of endurance. The whipping resumed. Blow after blow fell on the girl's recumbent body, from shoulders to buttocks. She was not screaming now, only making a sharp little cry as each individual blow fell. Her head was beginning to sag against the cord and obviously she was having difficulty in breathing. Seeing her distress, the executioner began to lose control, so that the blows fell heavier, until at last a thin line of blood appeared across her shoulders. The man twisted where he stood as he felt the hot semen jet from the end of the hard tube that covered his penis and the blows began to rain down faster and faster.

"Stop it!" screamed Gerry. "Stop it, you bastard!"

Then the doctor stood up. "Stop!" he cried, but the whipping did not abate. For a moment the doctor stood, looking helpless. Then, without any warning the executioner stopped whipping the girl. He stood, looking stupid and lost for a couple of seconds. His left hand went to the back of his neck almost as if he had been stung by an insect. Then he collapsed, fell heavily and giving one final, convulsive twitch, lay dead on the floor.

He had served Gulda's purpose, so she had pressed the destruct button!

The doctor rushed to the man's side and knelt down. Opening his shirt, he rested his hand on the man's heart, then lowered his head to press an ear against the chest. He knelt up slowly.

"He's dead," he said. And again, "He's dead."

"He's been killed," said Gerry, coldly. "Just as you will be when you have served your purpose."

"Killed?" the doctor sounded dazed.

"Yes. Killed. They explode the nerves in some way. We've seen a dozen cases of it."

"You are lying. This man died of heart-failure."

"As you please… And if you don't do something for Sonia, she'll die too… and that will make four murders in three hours!"

The doctor stood up. He still looked dazed. He turned to the women. "Do what you can for her," he said. They busied themselves untying Sonia, who had fainted, while Johnson spoke again to Gerry. This time he was evidently under control, because his voice was slow and slurred, as though he was listening first to every word before he uttered it.

"We shall turn you both loose. You are to arrange a meeting with the leader of the Andromedans. You will receive your instructions later."

He seemed to wake up, and suddenly became businesslike. "Untie him. Put some clothes on the girl and take them both out to the utility. Bill, and Tom, drive them to St. James' Park and put them out. Then get rid of the utility and go home. Phone me at the usual number tonight at 6 p.m. The rest of you, get out of here. We'll leave that! But Joe, you take the whip and get rid of it, carefully. Don't leave any traces. OK everyone, get moving!"

Swiftly they removed the traces of their occupancy of the shed. Two of the men carried Sonia to the utility and pushed Gerry in the back beside her. The girl was unconscious. About fifteen minutes later the back of the utility was opened and Gerry was pushed out into the grey dawn. The two men carried Sonia out of the truck and lay her on the grass beside the road. Finally, one of them unlocked the handcuffs from Gerry's wrists, while the other covered him with an automatic. Then they ran to the utility, which roared away toward Westminster.

Gerry walked over to where Sonia lay. She was still unconscious and breathing heavily. He took off the jacket of his suit, suddenly aware for the first time in hours that he was dressed as a woman, but without the wig.

"I must look a sight for sore eyes!" he said to himself. He lay the jacket over Sonia, then turned and began to walk wearily along the road, looking for a telephone.

He had not covered two-hundred yards when he heard the braying sound of a police siren as a patrol car drew up beside him. Two young men jumped out as the car stopped and came to stand warily, one each side of him.

"Where do you think you're going?" one of them asked.

"Looking for you!" replied Gerry.

"A likely story!"

"Don't give me a lot of argument, chum," said Gerry. "I'm a Special Branch Officer. There's a young American girl back there, in a bad way. You can argue with me later. Right now, send for an ambulance, quick!"

An ambulance was something anyone could cope with, even at 4:30 in the morning, after a long, weary night. One of the officers reached into the car and picked up a microphone. The other one stood close to Gerry, and loosed his night-stick in its holster. As they all began to talk again, they heard the braying of another siren and saw a white-painted vehicle coming toward them at high speed.

Minutes later, Sonia was on her way to St. Thomas' Hospital, and Gerry, in the patrol car was on his way to Saville Row Police Station. His arrival was greeted with some hilarity, until at last he was able to establish his identity by telephone, after which everyone became much more cooperative. An hour after his arrival, as he sat drinking coffee and eating a sandwich, Chief Inspector Dodds arrived, unshaven but properly dressed and very alert.

"All right Sergeant. This is one of our men. Now get out of here. I want to talk."

He tried not to smile as he inspected Gerry Glasner. "You've been in the wars," he said, looking at the cut lip.

"We both have. Sonia's in St. Thomas."

"What happened to her?"

"They whipped her," said Gerry. Dodds saw the young man's jaw muscles tense.

"You'd better start at the beginning…"

Gerry told Dodds the whole story quickly, succinctly. When he had finished the chief inspector sat still, deep in thought. At last he looked up.

"We'll have to arrange for you to see the home secretary right away," he said. "Probably the Prime Minister will want to see you too, and others. Tell you what. I'll drive you back to your apartment, and you can get a bath and some… decent clothes. I'll leave a couple of my men with you, just in case. They'll be armed. Then I want you to go to the nearest hospital – St. Thomas will do. You can enquire about your girl while you're there. I want you to get yourself X-rayed. I'll have my secretary make the arrangements."

"X-rayed? Why?"

Dodds grinned. "Before I let you loose on His Nibs, I want to be quite sure you haven't been wired for sound!" he said. "Can't be too careful!"

Gerry grinned. "I'm safe. But there's no harm in making sure. Nothing happened to Sonia either – in that way." He was suddenly sober. "Any chance of finding those people? It shouldn't be too hard to locate 'Doctor Johnson' at least."

"If the name's genuine, we'll pull him in within an hour."

"I'd like to have his guts for garters!" said Gerry.

"So you shall. He'll get life with a minimum of thirty years, or my name isn't Horace Dodds!"

Gerry smiled grimly, even though most of the faint satisfaction he felt came from knowing his chief's quaint given name. "Horace". Now that was something to conjure with!

Gerry was hurried out of Saville Row Police Station with a coat over his head to protect him from the prurient curiosity of passers-by, who would certainly have been intrigued by the sight of a tall, good-looking young woman with short hair of evident masculinity! He sat in the back with Dodds, who asked more questions as the driver threaded through the growing early morning traffic of the West End. After a time, they heard a quiet buzz and Dodds picked up the phone. He listened gravely, spoke two words and replaced the receiver. Opening the window between him and the driver, he shouted, "Switch on the siren, Smith! St. Thomas' Hospital as fast as you can get there. If you get stuck, use the sidewalk. This is life and death!"

He fell back on the seat beside Gerry, his face white.

"We've found Doctor Johnson," he said. "He's a consultant at St. Thomas' Hospital, and he's been attending to Sonia Evans!"

The powerful car lurched and screamed its way through the crowds hurrying to work. In Regent Street there was a blockage about one-hundred yards long. Without hesitation the driver pulled off the road on to the sidewalk, scattering pedestrians left and right. At the lights he rejoined the road traffic and managed to force a way through. In five minutes, considerably shaken, Gerry and Dodds jumped out in the forecourt of the hospital. Dodds, good administrator that he was, waited just long enough to say, "Well done," to his driver, then he started to run. "Wait here for me," he shouted over his shoulder. "Monitor the phone. Pass any important calls to the matron's office!"

[bb-133 illustration 10.png]

The hospital seemed to be full of policemen. As the chief inspector ran into the foyer, a tall man in a blue uniform, covered with silver braid came forward.

"Chief Inspector Dodds? I'm Inspector Riley, Uniformed Branch, Metropolitan Police, Sir. We've got your bird in an office… this way."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yes Sir. He's been searched and there's nothing on him he could commit suicide with. There's four men watching him."

"It's not suicide I'm afraid of," said Dodds grimly. Outside the door of the office where Johnson was waiting, Dodds stopped to regain his breath and his composure.

"Now, listen carefully. You go ahead, Glasner. If it's our man, yell out. Then stand back and leave him to me."

The uniformed inspector knocked on the door and spoke in a low tone to the man who answered it. The door opened further and Gerry walked in. Sitting in an armchair, his legs crossed and looking as cool as a cucumber was the Doctor Johnson.

"It's him!" shouted Gerry over his shoulder, and he stood back quickly as his boss pushed past him.

"Doctor Johnson?"

"Yes." The voice was still urbane, poised, controlled, although the man must have known he was lost.

"You do not have to say anything at this time; but it is my duty to warn you that anything you do say may be taken down in writing and used as evidence against you at your trial!" Dodds went through the routine, cursing, not for the first time, the judge's rules that gave first advantage to the criminal. "Do you understand?"

"I understand perfectly."

"Very well. I am taking you into custody on a charge of conspiracy to murder two police officers on Hampstead Heath last night, of conspiring to murder one of your associates unknown at a place unknown, in the early hours of the morning, and of conspiring to cause grievous bodily harm to one Sonia Evans, an American citizen, together with other persons as yet unknown… And now I want to talk to you. You four, get out and stay by the door and don't let anyone interrupt me until I am ready."

He sat down heavily opposite the doctor. For a couple of minutes he stared at him, noting his elegant clothes and manner, and the evident weakness of his face. Doctor Johnson sat perfectly still as though he were not in the least concerned at the terrible charges that had been leveled at him, but Dodds noticed that whenever the man relaxed for an instant, his fingers began to wander and fidget.

"Where did you live when you were alive?" asked Dodds.

Johnson raised an eyebrow? "I beg your pardon? I don't think I understand…"

"We can't hang you these days," said Dodds, "more's the pity! But if what I suspect is true, we shall have martial law and military government in this country inside a month – and if and when we do, I shall make it my personal business to have you shot! Do you understand that?"

For an instant, Johnson's face crumpled, as though he were going to cry. With an effort he pulled himself together.

"You are talking rubbish, and you know it. You will never bring me to trial!"

"I know," said Dodds, surprisingly. "That's what I am afraid of. I'm afraid you'll slip through our fingers first!"

This time Johnson did look troubled. "I don't understand," he said again.

"I'll spell it out in simple words. You are under the control of the Andromedans… Don't start to argue. We know that! And when you become an embarrassment to them, they'll kill you – just as they killed your accomplice last night!"

"Nobody killed him. He dropped dead! He suffered a coronary stroke."

"Balls! He was killed. When we find his body, we shall also find, between the vertebrae of his neck, inserted into his spinal column, a fine wire which gives the Andromedans control over their victims. You have one of those transmitter wires in your body, Doctor Johnson. Any moment now, your masters… or mistresses… I don't know which, will check up on you. And when they find you in custody, with the risk that you'll talk, they'll snuff your life out like a candle! And there's nothing we can do to save you… much as I'd like to see you rotting in a cell for the rest of your life, you treacherous bastard! We cannot get that transmitter out of you while you're still alive. So, you're a dead man, as far as makes no difference!"

Johnson stood up suddenly, his face white, eyes wide with terror, mouth working. "No! They wouldn't do that! They've promised me. I am to have control of the whole country. I am to be president under the new order!"

Dodds pushed him, hard, so that he fell back into the chair, almost overturning it.

"You poor, miserable fool! You stupid arrogant, weak idiot! To fall for that line! These space people won't want you, nor any of us! If they come, mankind is as good as dead. They're not going to share Earth with us! You are a tool, son. You've been used… And now you're dead!" He stood up. "We'll give you a decent funeral if we have time before the world ends. Do you prefer to be cremated?"

Doctor Johnson buried his face in his hands for a few moments. Then he looked up. "Are you telling me the truth?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes."

Johnson sighed. "I'd better tell you, I think. You couldn't convict me, Chief Inspector, because I have not been responsible for my actions. I can demonstrate clearly that I have been under outside control when I have done… these things. The law does not condemn a man who is not responsible for his actions, does it?"

"No," agreed Dodds, "but you'd have to prove it."

"Oh, I could prove it! But if I'm dead, I shan't have the chance, shall I? So, I'd better tell you what I know, right now, while I am my own man."

"Go on. And be as quick as you can. Time is running out."

"About six months ago, I had been to dinner with some friends living in Wimbledon. I was driving back across Wimbledon Common at about 1:30 a.m. when, on the right, on the grass I saw this thing. It was like… like an airship… like one of those First World War German Zeppelins in shape – cigar-shaped. It was all in darkness, but the moon was behind it. It was glowing with a faint phosphorescence, which outlined it."

Dodds exchanged a quick glance with Gerry. This sounded like the truth!

Johnson resumed talking, very fast as though he knew every second was precious.

"I stopped my car and parked in a lay-by to watch. I had never imagined there was anything on Earth like this… It was huge maybe a quarter mile long. For some reason, I felt a bit afraid, although I guessed it was some kind of exhibition or something like that. At last I got out of the car. I wanted to take a closer look. The thing was about four-hundred yards away, and as I came closer it towered up above me like a forty-story building."

"Then I saw a shaft of light. A square door opened and a ladder was let down. I dodged behind a tree, where I could watch without being seen. About twenty… people… they looked all like women, Inspector, very tall, dressed in black suits, with their heads hooded… they ran down the steps and disappeared into the darkness. I didn't know what to think. There's been a lot of talk in recent years about all kinds of perversions on Wimbledon Common, of men running around with rubber hoods on, of homosexual attacks and goodness knows what. But somehow this didn't look anything like that. These… people seemed so purposeful, somehow."

"I'm not a brave man. In fact I'm timid; I admit it. I wanted to get back to my car and drive off. Whatever it was, it could wait until daylight for all I cared. I started to dodge from one tree to another in the dark, and after a minute or so I ran straight into a group of these people. They grabbed me and practically carried me back to the thing, up the steps. I was shouting at them, but no one took any notice of me. A few moments later the steps retracted and the door shut. They stripped me naked and shoved me into a small room, not more than four feet square. Jets of water sprayed all over me, mixed with some other pungent fluid… I've guessed since they were fumigating me to prevent me carrying any infection aboard."

"Warm air blasts dried me, and at last everything stopped happening. The door opened, and some of these… creatures… maybe the same ones… I don't know… but they were dressed in black but with a different material. I noticed that. Maybe they had changed too… Anyway, they grabbed me again and led me, stark naked, along corridors and up in an elevator and finally took me into a room… about the size of this one. There was a couch in it, and they put me on it, face down and strapped my ankles and wrists so I couldn't move."

"Did you struggle?" asked Dodds.

"No. What was the use? Besides, I've told you. I'm timid… In fact, I'm a damned coward! I was petrified with fear if you want to know… A bit later, some more of these people came into the room, and one of them pressed a mask against my face. I went out like a light, and I know it was some kind of anesthetic. When I came to, I was lying on my back on the couch, and I was loose… not strapped down I mean and the back of my neck was sore, as though I had been stung by an insect!"

"That was when they fitted that micro-miniature transmitter to him," Dodds said to Gerry.

"It must have been, if you say so. It was several days before the place stopped itching, but I did not attend to it because I assumed something had stung me as I walked on the common in the dark…" Johnson subsided into silence, and for one dreadful moment Dodds was afraid that the Andromedans had brought him under control.

"What happened next?"

Johnson roused himself with an effort. He had been lost in thought. "Another one of these people… I've told you they all seem to be women, haven't I… came into the room. She was very tall and beautiful, with dark hair. And she spoke English. The others had jabbered among themselves in a language like nothing I had ever heard before… but she spoke English; very good English too."

"That was probably the one you found at the Westland," muttered Dodds to Gerry. "Go on…"

"She talked to me…"

"What about?"

"She told me… that I was perverted. She made me crawl around on the floor… and… and… kiss her boots… they had the highest spike heels I have ever seen… and she whipped me… not too hard… not like that American girl got whipped tonight… You know, I'm terribly sorry about that. I'd never have…"

"Keep to your story for now," said Dodds, gently.

"Well, the upshot of all this was that I… I ejaculated if you must know. It was an experience I had always dreamed of… but it had never happened before…"

"Me to the life," thought Gerry, grimly. He was beginning to perceive that the Andromedans knew a whole lot more about human nature than he had imagined.

And then she made me lie down on the couch again and she brought this sheath thing; like a chastity belt and fitted it on me…

"How did she do that?" asked Dodds, suddenly interested.

"It was wet… it stretched to fit over me then she dried it with a gun-shaped thing, like a hair-dryer… and after that I couldn't get it off. I've worn it ever since… It's very difficult I'm totally deprived of sexual satisfactions except when she lets me have it."

"How? How does she let you have it?"

"I can't explain. Fantastic visions seem to appear in my mind, and after a bit I have an orgasm. That's all I know. It's wonderful when it happens, but I have no control over it at all. I never know when it's going to happen…"

"And then?"

"Then some of the others came back and took me back to the entrance. They shoved me into the vestibule where I found my clothes. When I was dressed, the door opened and the ladder went down. I went down to the grass and I heard the door close… I ran like hell back to my car… and when I reached it the thing had – disappeared. Just like that. Without a sound. There was only that faint phosphorescence glowing over the grass… I drove back to my apartment very slowly. I felt that I must have had some kind of brain-storm… until I got home and found that the chastity-belt was genuine enough…"

"You did not report this to the police?"

Doctor Johnson stared at Dodds, pityingly. "Chief Inspector Dodds, from your rank I assume you to be an intelligent man. Can you imagine me going to the police with a tall tale like that? Imagine trying to explain that kind of story to a station sergeant in the early hours of the morning! Imagine my position as consultant at a leading hospital if some scruffy newspaper reporter had been there with his ears flapping! No, the police have their uses, but with all deference, innocent people are best out of their company!"

"What happened after that?"

"Nothing for a couple of days. Then I began to get instructions."

"Instructions?"

"Yes. Like the ideas in my mind. No words, but ideas… that's the best I can say to describe it. I feel, 'I must do so and so', and I have to do it."

"Why do you have to do it."

"If I don't, I shall be punished."

"How?"

"I'm not sure. Once, early on, it was not convenient to obey at once, and after fifteen minutes I had a terrible, blinding headache come on. I thought I'd go mad… but since I had to stop seeing patients until I recovered, I did what I'd been told to do, made a phone call… and at once the headache stopped, just like that… I imagine, now I know, that for extreme disobedience they would kill me!"

"You may be sure of that," said Dodds, grimly. "However, I want you alive for a time because as far as I know at present you are our only possible contact with the Andromedans. Glasner, give me a sheet of your notebook and the pen." He took the paper and printed on it, in large capitals, "DO NOT KILL THIS MAN HE WILL HAVE MESSAGES FOR YOU FROM BRITAIN."

"Hold that in your hand and keep concentrated on it. It's your only hope – and it may be ours too! If you let your mind wander, you'll be dead in seconds after they make contact with you." He stood up, staring down at the doctor, who sat with his eyes wide, staring at the sheet of paper, which trembled visibly in his grasp.

"Poor devil," he said, surprisingly. "It's funny but a coward always dies twice – once when he gets the warning, and again when it happens – Oh well… we'd better go, Gerry. There's things to be done. You can spend a few minutes with Sonia Evans if you want to."

Sonia did not speak. She was heavily sedated. But she recognized Gerry, and when he took hold of her hand, she returned the pressure. He bent over her and whispered something, and she smiled wanly. Then he turned to the door where Dodds was waiting.

"Now let's get you cleared before we go," said Dodds. "By the way, what did you say to make that poor girl smile, if it's not too personal?"

"I asked her to let me know the date of our wedding next time she saw me," smiled Gerry. Dodds felt he would never cease to wonder at the sheer optimism of human nature that would make plans for marriage even though the world was about to go up in flames!

Gerry waited at his apartment as he was told, guarded by armed men inside and out. It was embarrassing for him when he had to ask one of them to unlace the back of the corset, but his grim face dared the officer to make any comment. Clothed, with his own personality restored, bathed and fed, he felt a whole lot better and more able to cope with what might happen. Around 10:30 a.m., the phone rang and one of the guards answered it.

"For you," he said, giving Gerry the phone.

"Dodds," said the voice. "I want you to meet me outside Number Ten at 11 a.m. precisely."

"Number Ten Downing Street?" asked Gerry, incredulous. "What other Number Ten is there? Don't be late."

Replacing the phone thoughtfully, Gerry called his office and asked to speak to Chief Inspector Dodds.

"Was that you who called me a minute ago and asked me to meet you in Downing Street Sir?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Just checking. Didn't want to walk into a trap."

"Good man. See you!"

To Gerry's surprise they took him to his interview in an armored limousine, usually reserved for visiting heads of state. And instead of driving to the front door, they smuggled him into the house through a mews at the back. He was shown into an anteroom where Dodds was already waiting.

"Getting the VIP treatment, Glasner," he smiled. "We shan't have to wait long."

A few minutes later a grey-faced, soft voiced young man in a morning suit took them away and showed them into a room, more like a gracious living room in a private mansion, which in a way it was, than an office which, in another way it also was. The man behind the desk had a strong face, lined and anxious-looking. But he greeted them cheerfully and invited them to sit down.

"Tell me all about this," he asked, and for the next half hour, between them Dodds and Gerry put him in the picture.

"So you are inclined to think an invasion is imminent?" he asked at last.

"I'm not sure imminent is the right word, Prime Minister," said Dodds. "I am pretty sure it will happen in the near future, but it may not be for months yet. What I look for now is signs of civil commotion, riots, threats of revolution. Their aim seems to be to paralyze the major civil governments, in Britain, America and Russia at least, and then to strike."

"Do you think they have the resources?"

Dodds shrugged, helplessly. "How can I know that, Sir? But if they have say fifty thousand well-placed slaves in this country, and we are not prepared, I think they could do it. We already have the makings of trouble, with inflation gone mad, with violent class antagonisms and the formation of private armies."

"All right, let's assume for a moment you are correct – and I may say that the home secretary and the chiefs of staff agree with you – what are we going to do about it? I'll tell you that I've called a special meeting of the Cabinet for noon, ostensibly to discuss Common Market problems, but in fact to enable me to brief members on this subject. It's going to be difficult. Most of them won't believe the evidence, at least at first."

For the first time, Gerry Glasner spoke. "If I might make a question, Sir," he said.

"Please do. I'd like to hear it. You've accounted for yourself very well up to now."

"I think immediate steps should be taken, first to X-ray all persons at the head of affairs."

"Including me?"

"Yes Sir, including you." Gerry's frank smile took the sting out, but it had to be said. No one was to be trusted at present. "And then, as quickly as possible, all Civil Service, Army, Navy and Air Force personnel, followed by trades union officials and top management of industry."

"It would be a nuisance, but it could be done. We've got that fleet of mobile X-ray trucks we use for chest X-rays. We could get someone to invent some new health scare and make it compulsory without too much trouble. But it will take time…"

"In the meantime, we'll have to take extra precautions," said Dodds. "If revolution breaks out, the police won't be able to hold it down. It's going to take the Army. I think you ought to ask for special powers from the Queen, so you can call out the military without delay if needed."

"The opposition won't like that! In fact, I doubt if they'd stand for ft at all. Using the Ulster Irish vote, they can throw us out of office any day they choose."

"I'm sorry to persist, Sir," continued Dodds, "but I believe you'll have to take the leader of the opposition and the Shadow Cabinet into your confidence on this. After all, they will all have to be X-rayed as a matter of extreme urgency, won't they?"

The Prime Minister sat for a minute or two looking out of the window, seeming to admire the plants blooming in the window boxes outside. Then he turned back to his guests, and he looked ten years older than when they had arrived.

"You really think it's that serious Dodds?" he asked.

"I do, Sir."

"You believe I've got a major constitutional crisis on my hands?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Well, I shall have to think about it. After my meeting I'll know more. Then I'll have a talk with the President of the United States. By now he'll have had all the information you and Glasner have released. I know he and his colleagues think the thing is dangerous, but I don't know how far they're prepared to go yet. If civil insurrection breaks out in the USA, it'll be much more difficult to contain than it will here. It's such a big country – and there are so many guns! And they run it under a very much slacker rein than we do, you know I wish to God I could deal equally frankly with that man in the Kremlin. They're so suspicious. It's pathological, I'm sure… Never mind, we'll muddle through somehow I expect…"

Gerry's heart fell into his boots at those ominous words, "muddle through". That was the parrot cry that had brought Britain to victory two years late in the First World War – and to the loss of the peace in 1920 at Versailles. And it was that same stupid slogan that had brought about the debacle of the Dunkirk Evacuation which had been called a victory but was in fact an utter defeat. Could a man who expected to "muddle through" to preserve his political career, possibly lead concerted action against this new and obviously ruthlessly efficient enemy?

"Thank you, gentlemen. Keep yourselves in some place where my secretary can find you without delay please. And if you get any more vital information, see that I get it at once. Good morning."

As the two men walked again through the carpeted corridors, they passed other men, carrying briefcases, obviously Cabinet members hurrying to their meeting.

"Have you ever had a sense of impending doom?" asked Dodds gloomily, as they sat in the car.

"Often, when I was at school, waiting to go to the head for a caning!"

"That's how I feel now… The Prime Minister just doesn't understand the gravity of the situation. He's holding a Cabinet now, spilling the beans in detail. How does he know that one or more of the Cabinet haven't already been 'got at', wired for sound?"

"You think that's possible?"

"Why not? What's so special about politicians? And if it's true that the Andromedans – or even the important one you met – are attracted to people who are at least potentially perverse…" Dodds fixed an enquiring eye on Gerry… "well, we all know that politicians British politicians at least… are sitting ducks for that kind of thing! Hardly a year goes by that some leading public figure isn't found out consorting with a Whipping Girl! You've only got to read the newspapers."

"What's the implication then?"

"I'll tell you Gerry." In his deep concern, for a moment the great man relaxed his usual formality enough to use Gerry's given name, some indication perhaps of how greatly he was moved! "If there's enough men in high places, in government and the armed forces have been put under control by the Andromedans, we're defeated before we start!" After a moment's dead silence, Dodds said, "I'm going to put the checking of police personnel in hand, at once, this day. At least I'll try to have the civil arm of government clean!"

He meant well, but as those of us who are left know, it was, as always in Britain, a case of "too little, too late".

Half an hour after his return to headquarters, Dodds was handed a telex message. Dodds read it through twice, then handed it to Gerry, who was still with him. "It's the beginning of the end," he said.

Gerry read the message. CHANGE OF GOVERNMENT. PRIME MINISTER RESIGNED ONE A.M. TODAY. HOME SECRETARY AND SEVEN OTHER CABINET MINISTERS UNDER ARREST. GENERAL SIR JOHN MCKENZIE APPOINTED MINISTER FOR INTERNAL SECURITY. ALL POLICE FORCES COME UNDER HIS DIRECT CONTROL EFFECTIVE THREE P.M. TODAY. MESSAGE ENDS.

Dodds lit a cigarette with steady fingers. "You'd better get out of here as quick as you can, Gerry," he said.

"There's not much time to lose. Young men like you may be able to overcome these people one day… Go now! And don't return to your apartment. You know too much."

"What about you Sir?"

"Me? I'm going to finish this cigarette. Haven't had one for three years – but I'm not going to die from lung cancer now! Good luck!"

Gerry walked through the corridors and out into the street by a side entrance. Everything seemed so normal, nothing seemed to have changed. Yet he knew, from the message he had read, that already he was in the middle of a dying civilization, among people already dead…

CHAPTER FIVE

The rest is history, and I'm not going over that again. If you want to read about the history of the past thirty years, you will find plenty of material. Most of it deals with the reconstruction which followed the invasion of the Andromedans. Mankind put up a good resistance, but not for long. The whole world capitulated inside thirty days, and no one ever was able to agree to use the atomic weapons which were the only possible defense. The efficient undermining of the governments of both Britain and the USA made them helpless in a few days. The good men were destroyed; those who were under control took charge and did as they were told. Russia, so buried in suspicion and mistrust was unable to cooperate with the West, even in the face of such a threat – and it had its own problems of men who had been "wired for sound", to use Dodds' expressive phrase.

With these three powers, together with the rest of Europe out of action, the rest of the world was defeated before it realized what had happened. There was gallant, last ditch resistance, but it did not last long. After the total destruction of key centers such as London, Bonn, Paris and New York, the heart went out of people. Pockets of guerilla warfare endured until the end came, but they made no impact on global events.

We were up against, during all that bitter time, beings whose life attitude was entirely different from ours. They were not moved by any shade of compassion or "human feeling". They were emotionless, cold and, by our standards, brutal. Even during our most bloody wars, we had at least paid lip-service to the idea of humanity. The Red Cross, the Geneva Convention had meant something, even to the Japanese and Germans. But to the Andromedans such concepts were meaningless. To them, we were no more important than insects had been to us. Insects eat your crops? Spray them with poison! They invade your home? Trample on them! They breed too fast? Feed them drugs to make them sterile. The attitude of the Andromedans was as simple and straight forward as that.

Maybe things would have been different, but for one Andromedan. They might have tried to come to terms with us, to have found a way of living alongside us which would have been of tremendous long-term advantage to mankind. If we had been able to learn their technology, for instance, it would have saved us many weary centuries of struggle. But, in the fierce internal struggle that occurred in the advance space-craft, between the Lady and Gulda, Gulda won! Gulda, the only Andromedan left with an emotional life based on sexual desire, defeated the Lady by sheer passion and intensity.

In half an hour the deed was done. Gulda, revengeful and resentful, sent the Lady to the Torture Room, and there, not immediately, not quickly as would have been seemly; but slowly, over a period of several days, Gulda watched the Lady die, screaming in agony as she herself had done.

After that, things proceeded smoothly for the Andromedans. All through that year the advance party watched from their craft as mankind, led by the small cadre of men and women who had been put under control, deliberately destroyed their systems of government which had held their affairs in precarious balance. At the end of ten months, the whole world had fallen into chaos and anarchy. Countless millions had starved to death. Hunger and disease stalked the Earth like pale ghosts. No one was safe. No place was secure.

Then the main fleet arrived, and because she had a firm grip on affairs and more knowledge of the management of Earth than anyone else, Gulda became Supreme Leader of the Andromedans. With half a million of them landed and rapidly taking possession of the land, ultimate victory seemed certain. Mankind, with all its long traditions of love and hate, self-sacrifice and cruelty, nobility and meanness, goodness and evil, seemed doomed to complete destruction…

Months before the arrival of the main invasion, Gulda had to face and resolve a great problem. Although her groups could bring ruin to the Earth, as it had done, they were too few to take possession of it. And even half a million invaders would not be able to occupy the Earth in a satisfactory manner. Millions of new creatures would be required. The population of Andromedans must be multiplied over a decade – and then the multiplication must be stopped because creatures with a possible life-span of one thousand years or more could not be allowed to multiply indefinitely. This must be a "once for all time" breeding.

Over a thousand years ago the policy had been decided. By then enough was known about the genetics of the human race to prove that it had certain characteristics desirable in Andromedans living in this new environment. So, the new creatures would be a careful cross-breed, with human fathers and Andromedan mothers. Over the millennia, the male sex had been almost totally eliminated among the Andromedans, only enough males being maintained to ensure continuity of the race. No more than a thousand were kept at stud, as donors in artificial insemination. Sex, in its emotional aspects, did not enter into the matter. Such emotions as "love" and "passion" had been bred out of the race as being time-wasting and illogical.

By the time the main invasion arrived, Gulda wanted to have a semen-bank ready so that the breeding of cross-breeds could be put in hand immediately. Inside a century there would be a new race of Earth-born Andromedans, hundreds of millions of them. And from this nucleus of new creatures would arise other armies of invasion which could reach out into space to find and prepare other planets for occupation. Andromeda did not intend to be caught again with a planet that might die around them!

Gulda thought that she was dutifully carrying out established policy, but of course her decisions were clouded by the sexual passions that tore at her. That was why she had opposed the Lady. That was why, in the final issue, the Lady had had to be destroyed. Now Gulda was in supreme power, and she could and would have her own way. Her sexual obsession centered on just one man, out of all the teeming millions on Earth, for a very good reason that she could never understand. She was in love with Gerry Glasner! Gulda did not know love when she experienced it. To her, this obsession which haunted her every waking hour, and many of her sleeping ones, was something unaccountable. She had to have this man in her power. She bad to see him suffer, in order to soothe her own suffering. And she realized that there was now a special relationship between Gerry and the American girl, Sonia Evans. She did not recognize it as "love" because to her there was no such thing. She did not even have a word for it! But she did recognize Sonia Evans as some kind of impediment to her own desires, and as such she must be overcome.

To Gulda this obsessional emotion that over-powered her and clouded her judgment was not related to giving, but to taking; not to submission but to domination; not to yielding, but to aggression. She understood nothing of the mutuality of love, only the personality of desire.

Gerry Glasner did not get far. He was not even sure that he wanted to go far, and if it came down to bedrock, where was there to go? Something terrible was going to happen to his world, and he felt he wanted to be there to do what he could to help. His immediate inclination was to go to see Sonia. He took a cab to the hospital, listening with half his mind to the talk of the cab driver commenting on the news that had just broken, of the new military government. The man was understandably bewildered, but Gerry did not want to discuss the topic. He enquired at reception of Sonia and was sent up to the private room she was occupying. She was conscious now, obviously in pain, but clearheaded.

Gerry told her what he knew, and she listened gravely.

"What are you going to do, Gerry?" she asked.

"I don't know… I'm more worried about you."

"About me?"

"Yes. For one thing, you're such a long way from home. For another, you're marked. I think the Andromedans have very long memories."

"You believe they'll bother about me?" She smiled. "I'm not all that important, Gerry. They'll have a lot more to think about."

"I'm not sure, Sonia. That woman who impersonated you was someone to be reckoned with."

As they talked, neither of them took any special note of the two white-coated young men who came quietly into the room.

"Do you want me to leave?" asked Gerry.

"No, don't disturb yourself, Sergeant Glasner," said one of them.

As he struggled against the cloth pressed over his nose and mouth, and smelled the pungent odor of ether, Gerry knew he had been right to fear Gulda!

The ambulance bumped over the grass beside the road leading over Wimbledon Common. On the main road, the traffic of the evening rush-hour was crawling along, delayed as always by the bottle-neck of Wimbledon High Street. If anyone noticed the ambulance, certainly no one was interested. But suddenly, out of a clear sky, the great bulk of the Andromedan space craft materialized, hovering a couple of feet above the grass. A driver braked suddenly, shaken out of his day dream of home and food, and the evening air was rent by the crash of bumpers and the tinkle of broken glass as a hundred cars piled up slowly and inexorably.

A square door opened in the craft and steps were let down. Two white-coated figures leaped from the ambulance and opened the back doors. They drew out a stretcher and carried it quickly to the foot of the steps. Weird figures in black plastic suits, their faces covered by hoods, came hurrying down the steps to take the stretcher while the white-coated men ran back to the ambulance for a second one. It was all over inside three minutes. The last of the black-clad figures disappeared through the door. The steps retracted and the door closed silently. The two men in white coats stood by the ambulance. When it reached its target, there was a blinding flash and ambulance and men just disappeared – evaporated. One moment they were there; a second later, they were not! The grass in a circle of about forty feet in diameter was burned black. That was all.

[bb-133 illustration 11.png]

The drivers whose cars had been damaged did not stop to exchange the names of insurance companies, names and addresses or bad language. With one accord they put their cars in gear and drove off as fast as they could. When they looked back, the huge craft had… disappeared. There was nothing to be seen but a circle of blackened grass, smoking faintly in the cool evening air… When they arrived home, the momentous news on TV absorbed their attention. None of them connected the formation of a new military government with that strange episode on Wimbledon Common…

Gerry Glasner had lost all count of time, but he knew he had been imprisoned for a long period. It was not easy to remember, but he believed he had been fed about twenty-five times, and assuming three meals a day, that was over a week since he had been abducted from the hospital and delivered into the hands of the Andromedans. In all the time, he had seen only a solitary hooded guard, who had not spoken to him, nor even seemed to understand his questions. He was in a grey-walled room with a sliding door and a grill high up near the ceiling from which came a light draft of warm fresh air. The walls and floor were lightly padded, which made sense because a couple of times the craft he was in had lurched suddenly and he had banged into the wall as he paced up and down, up and down.

There was a narrow couch in the room and a comfortable arm-chair, and nothing more. Everything, walls, floor, and furniture, were covered with material which seemed identical with that used to make the chastity belts he had seen. If it were, an eighth of an inch of that would make a better prison than three feet of solid stone! In an alcove, fitted with a sliding door held by a spring but with no catch, were necessary toilet facilities, strange in their design but recognizable and efficient.

It was the everlasting silence that came close to driving Gerry crazy! Except when the guard brought his meals, be heard nothing, apart from a soft whine that never changed note, and was presumably due to machinery operating somewhere. He had whistled at first, even sung to try to raise his spirits; but the sound bad been taint and dead in the padded room, so that at last he bad given that up too. He worried about Sonia.

During the first day, he had found interest in his clothes. He was wearing a close-fitting suit made of some black plastic which stretched so that the suit fitted like a second skin. It fitted simply, with no fastenings of any kind. Open down the front, it had an overlap seam. He pressed this seam with his fingers, and it closed – and stayed closed. To open it, he pulled the overlapped seam apart, and it opened. He could open and reseal it indefinitely, because the plastic, which certainly did not feel sticky, had this capacity to adhere to itself.

Under the suit he was wearing a garment that he thought of as a chastity belt. It was not like those others which had provided the first clue to the Andromedans. In fact, while it would certainly prevent him from having intercourse, assuming there had been a woman present and willing… the belt did not make any attempt to prevent masturbation. And several times, perhaps because of boredom, maybe too on account of the fear that gnawed at his mind, and anxiety about Sonia, he had brought himself to orgasm. There was a narrow belt around his waist, pulled tight. It had no fastening, but was made of the same stuff as all the other belts he had seen. Presumably it had been put on wet and then dried. Nothing he did could shift it. In front, the belt widened and came down to cover his belly. It passed between his legs and, narrowing, up between his buttocks to attach to the back of the waist belt, all in one piece.

In his anus was a long tube, about an inch in diameter. Over his penis and scrotum was a sheath of the plastic, metallic substance, which fitted perfectly. He could feel that, from the end of the penis-sheath, a rigid tube entered his penis at the tip, but he could not tell how long the tube was. In consequence, his penis was always rigid, even when it was not actually erect. The suit he could remove; the belt he could not. Every day the guard brought him a clean suit and waited while he removed the soiled one, to take it away. That was the only excitement in twenty-four hours. He would take a shower before putting on the clean suit, which felt clammy to his skin until it warmed up. After that it was not uncomfortable.

Sometimes Gerry wondered vaguely what was happening in the world he used to know, but it was becoming increasingly remote and unreal to him.

The monotony was broken when two guards came into the room. He made no resistance when they put a collar tight around his neck and strapped his wrists to it, one at each side of his neck. And when one of them took him by the arm, he moved toward the door without a word. There was no point in talking. He would not get an answer!

They took him through endless grey corridors and up in an elevator, and at last one of the guards pressed a button outside a door. A green light went out and the door opened. They pushed him, not roughly, into a large room. He stood, dazed, trying to recognize his surroundings. In front of him, sitting in a large armchair, almost like a throne, was the tall, dark-haired woman who had impersonated Sonia. It was Gulda. Behind her, dressed as he was, and with her hands similarly immobilized, stood Sonia herself!

Gerry started forward, to be immediately restrained by the guards.

"Sonia!" he cried. "Are you all right?"

The girl looked pale, but seemed to have recovered from the whipping she had endured. But there was something wrong with her. She did not smile, nor give any sign of pleasure at seeing Gerry. She stared at him coldly, as though he were a stranger.

"Sonia! What have they done to you?" She did not show any response.

He glared at Gulda. "What have you done to her? Why is she like that?"

Gulda smiled. It was not a nice smile. "The woman has been put under control," she said. "She no longer has a personality. She is an automaton."

Gerry struggled against the guards, in vain.

"You bitch!" he shouted. "I'll kill you!"

Gulda spoke rapidly to the guards. One of them took something from her belt, knelt down and strapped Gerry's ankles tightly together. Then the guards withdrew, leaving the trio together.

"You are highly honored," said Gulda.

"Honored? What the hell do you mean, honored?"

"You are to become the father of a new race of beings," she said, seriously. "From you we are going to breed a new race of Andromedans who will be better suited to survive on this planet."

Gerry stood stupidly, not understanding.

"You're going to breed… from me?"

"Yes. You are going to be our first human donor. From you, over the next ten solar years or so, we shall breed hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of half-human, half-Andromedan people. You will be the donor – and the woman will draw the semen from you!"

Gerry stood silent for a minute or so, trying to gather his wits. To be faced with this, after about ten days in solitary confinement was hard to handle.

"You can't do this to us!" he shouted at last.

"I can. I shall. It is my will," said Gulda, grandly. And suddenly Gerry knew that she could, and would. But he made one more effort. If he had to grovel, for Sonia's sake more than his own, then he would grovel. If he had to humiliate himself, he would do it, for the woman he loved.

"Please," he begged, his voice shaking and broken. "Please don't do this to us… We love one another."

"Love? I've heard of it from Earth people. It means nothing to me." Contemptuously Gulda turned to Sonia. "What are your feelings in the matter?" she asked.

When Sonia spoke, it was like listening to the third-hand reproduction of a very bad tap recording. Every word was deliberate and slow.

"I have no feelings," she said. "I do what I am told to do." Her eyes were dull, lack-luster.

"Do you love this man?"

"He means nothing to me."

"You see? There is no love between you – whatever that may mean!"

"You lie! You have taken away her senses, controlled her mind. That's not the real Sonia speaking!"

"She looks real enough to me!" Gulda's lips were twisted with sarcasm. "Enough of this nonsense. I have had you both brought here so that I may see whether she is competent and whether you are as capable as I seem to remember from another occasion!" Deliberately Gulda crossed one knee over the other, and Gerry saw, with a kind of horror, the high spike heels of her shiny black boots, swinging up and down hypnotically before his eyes.

"I see you remember," said Gulda softly.

"Do you love them, Gerry?"

"No!" he cried. "No!" There was a note of despair in his voice as he looked at Sonia.

"Don't bother with that one," said Gulda. "She thinks no thoughts that are not fed to her. You can forget her – until it is time for her to do her job. Come, kneel down here. You know you want to."

Despite himself, hating himself for it, ashamed to act in that way in front of the woman he loved, Gerry had to obey. Something stronger than his own will forced him to fall heavily on his knees on the padded floor, and to lean slightly forward to plant a kiss on the toe of the glistening boot.

Gulda sat back, a triumphant smile on her face. It was easy to manipulate these creatures, who were so much at the disposal of their senses. She did not think further to consider how much she too was enmeshed. Lack of self-criticism apparently is not a monopoly of human beings!

She moved her foot slightly, and Gerry's lips followed until at last he could move no more because he was in danger of falling forward. Gulda sat forward and unstrapped his hands.

[bb-133 illustration 12.png]

"Hold my foot," she said, "stroke it." For one mad moment Gerry thought that with a swift movement he could upset Gulda on to the floor, cast her down, capture her – but he realized as quickly that this would be fruitless. He could not hope to keep her subjugated, with maybe a thousand other Andromedans to help her. And in the struggle it was almost certain that Sonia would be killed – and what was the use of that? For the moment, he could abandon himself to this crazy obsession – and he wanted to, with an intensity the greater because for so many years he had kept it repressed, pressed harshly down in his unconscious. It had taken Gulda with her superior ability to understand him, to uncover his desire and to enslave him by it.

Groaning in an access of abasement and self-hatred, Gerry took the glossy boot in both hands and began to smother it with kisses. Inside the plastic sheath, his penis was hard and throbbing. Sonia, the poor, lost girl, the charming companion, the dear companion, was forgotten in her misery.

Tentatively he put out his tongue and began to lick the surface of the shoe, and as he did so, Gulda turned it contemptuously so that the sole was presented to him. He licked that too, and kissed it; and as he did so, slowly, inexorably the heel moved up toward his mouth. At last, he took the sharp spike into his mouth and began to suck it. Unable to stand the pressure any longer, he moved one hand to the sheath covering his penis, but as he touched it, Gulda moved her heel sharply so that it grazed the inside of his mouth, and he could taste blood on his tongue.

"You shall not do that!" she hissed. "Hold my boot!" Dumbly, like an ox led to the slaughter, Gerry obeyed his mistress, although the desire that mounted in him was almost insupportable.

At last Gulda withdrew her foot, taking the heel from his mouth.

"Lie down on your back," she said, "with your head toward me!" He obeyed, and once more as the point of the heel hovered over his lips, he opened his mouth and took it in. Once more it was withdrawn and again pressed in, each time a little more than before.

Gulda spoke sharply to Sonia. "Fasten his hands!" And, like a machine, Sonia came forward and knelt to her task. Gerry hardly noticed her as she took each hand and strapped it tight to the collar, until at last he was helpless again. AU he was conscious of was that sharp, long heel pressing ever deeper into his mouth, sliding up and down against his tongue.

"Carry out your instructions!" ordered Gulda.

Sonia got up from her knees and walked stiffly across the room. She came back and knelt beside Gerry again. Taking his sheathed penis in her hand, she plugged a narrow-bore plastic tube into the end of the sheath, fitting it into the tube that ran along inside the penis. To the end of the tube was attached a small plastic bottle.

Then she put one hand between his thighs and grasped his balls. With the other hand she held his penis, and began to masturbate him, gently and delicately at first, adding to the sensation he was already experiencing. Gerry was hardly aware of her; only of the sensation she was bringing him.

At that moment she was not the girl he loved; nothing more than an instrument of pleasure, an extension of Gulda's personality. He began to writhe as he lay, and opened his mouth wider to breathe more easily. Gulda slowly got to her feet, balancing on the left foot with the right poised over Gerry's mouth, and the heel deep inside. She pressed down hard, so that he gagged, but, could not move. She stood like that, pinning him to the floor with the spike of her heel, and with the sole pressing down on his nose, restricting his breathing.

Another sharp command, and Sonia obediently speeded up the movements of her hands and then, as she brought Gerry to orgasm and he ejaculated, the silence of the room was broken by a weird, high-pitched scream from Gulda. She withdrew her heel from Gerry's mouth and stood firm on the floor, leaning forward over him to hold on to the arms of her chair, her body stiff. Then, slowly she relaxed and began to breathe normally as she regained control of her senses.

"So much thought and effort!" she thought. "And all for that one instant of time. It's not worth it! Why was I born like this? Why can't I be like the others, free of this terrible need?"

She sat down again, her breast heaving, but slowly bringing her mind into line with reality. Gerry lay supine, panting, unwilling to move. In him, too there was a strong feeling of self-hatred and disgust. Once more he had let this creature triumph over him. Worse still, as she did so he had totally forgotten Sonia.

The only one not apparently involved was the American girl. Gravely she unplugged the tube from the end of the penis-sheath, waited for the white fluid to run down into the plastic bottle, removed the tube from the neck of the bottle and sealed it. She gathered up everything and got rid of the tube into a slot, presumably intended for garbage. She stood, holding the bottle.

"That will go into deep-freeze," said Gulda. "From that we shall breed maybe five-hundred Andromedan half-breeds. You will become the father of a new race!"

Gerry did not speak. He just lay there, looking up at Sonia who stood beside Gulda motionless, uninvolved, aloof.

The guards came soon after and took him back to his prison. They removed the strap from his ankles, replacing it by a hobble that enabled him to shuffle along with short steps. But they left his hands strapped to the collar. In future two of them always came together with his food and his daily clean suit. They loosed his hands for as long as it took him to eat, or to bathe and change, and then they strapped his hands tight to his neck again.

And three times in twenty-four hours, Sonia came to him. She entered the room alone, although Gerry knew there was a guard outside the door, within call. Always she carried a small box, from which she removed a length of plastic tube attached to the neck of a small bottle. Without a word or a sign of recognition she would attach the tube to his penis-sheath and then proceed to masturbate him, coldly, emotionlessly but very efficiently. Then, having collected the semen she would depart, leaving him alone again for another eight hours.

At first, inevitably, Gerry had enjoyed her ministrations; had looked forward to it eagerly. But as he began to see how automatically she did her work, how her mind was controlled so that she was a mere instrument of Gulda's policy, the pleasure diminished, until at last he came to hate the very idea of her coming to him. Yet he was at the same time obsessed by the knowledge that her arrival was inevitable; that there was nothing he could do to resist her; that he, too was being used by Gulda as an instrument. And sometimes Gulda would come too, and occasionally she would bring her whip! She was careful not to overdo the whipping. Obviously she had gained some experience from Sonia's condition when she was delivered from the craft, showing the undesirability of whipping these Earth people too severely. Gerry never knew when to expect her, nor even when Sonia was likely to arrive because, confined to that cell of a room he had no idea how time was passing.

Sometimes he would panic, imagining that he had been forgotten, that no one would ever come again. Another time, it seemed that the door had no sooner shut on Sonia than it opened again.

One day Gulda said, "We already have enough semen from you to breed fifty thousand new creatures." She was taunting him, but after she had gone he did a quick sum. Assuming her first estimate of five-hundred lives from the first batch of semen, it meant that Sonia must have visited him three times a day for about a month! And still it continued.

At last, close to nervous collapse, and very daring, Gerry asked if it would be possible for him to have a radio. When he explained that he wanted to know what was happening in the world, Gulda, much to his surprise raised no objection. A small, powerful receiver was brought and plugged in with a timer, so that four or five times a day he was able to listen to news bulletins. And such news it was; news of revolution, of starving, hunger-crazed people behaving like animals, fighting for scraps, tearing one another to pieces for food. News of great nations fragmented, with every town and village a separate entity, ruled locally, hanging or shooting strangers who tried to pass that way. News of central governments striving to bring some sense back into affairs, to control anarchy, to prevent the whole fabric of civilization falling into destruction. News of executions, of armored troops forcing their way along roads through and over the bodies of panic-stricken civilians; of those same troops weeping unashamedly by the road side, deserting to wander back to where they had come from in the hope of finding a wife, a child, a parent still living.

And news of disease, rampant, uncontrollable. The saboteurs appointed by the Andromedans had been only too well chosen. It had been wrongly assumed that they would have concentrated on heads of governments, on the armies and air forces; but they had gone much further than that. We Earth people did not appreciate the thoroughness with which their preparations had been made; the patient work their explorers had done over several thousands of years before the invasion was mounted. They knew enough to put under control relatively unimportant people. Those, who had charge of water-works and sewage installations; generating plants and railroad systems. All the vital operations of civilized life that everyone overlooked as having "always been there". Suddenly, almost overnight, they were there no longer.

In the days following Gerry's disappearance from the world, vast quantities of powerful explosives had been issued to the secret agents of the Andromedans. Mankind did not know what had hit it until it turned on a faucet to find it dry, until sewage backed up the pipes into the houses, until food rotted in refrigerators and children died of hypothermia in freezing homes. As oilfields and port installations went up in smoke and dust, transport ground to a halt, so that famine began to stalk Earth, not at first because there was no food, but because there was no way of distributing it.

By the time the Andromedans fleet was discernible to the few space-radar stations that still managed to keep some kind of watch, there was not a country, not a city, not a village in the world whose life was not on a day-to-day emergency basis, with the living hardly able to cope with the daily task of burying the dead…

And then, as you know, they landed. The largest fleet, of about one-hundred-and-fifty ships landed in the Texas Panhandle, where the population was so sparse that it was easily wiped out in a few hours. They were joined by some three-hundred freighters, and within hours of landing the Andromedans were busy at work, establishing themselves on a temporary basis, equipped with everything they required, independent if necessary for months or even years of Earth. Another fleet, rather smaller, landed in the Central Plains of France, and cleared an area of two-hundred square miles of some of the most densely populated and highly industrialized land in the world of every living thing. A small fleet landed in England, in the south east corner, in the county of Kent. Others, even smaller landed in India, China, European Russia, Australia and elsewhere.

The Earth people, distraught, panic-stricken, starving and hopeless learned slowly of these invasions. Often they knew nothing about them until they saw the vast machines lumbering toward their town, destroying everything in their path. They could not believe their eyes. They died incredulous.

And all through this time, exactly on the eighth hour of every day, Sonia Evans was admitted to Gerry's cell to draw from his loins the vital fluid that should establish a new race of Andromedans on Earth.

It was almost exactly a year from the first time when Sonia came into the room in a hurry, her eyes bright and alert.

Gerry did not open his eyes. He was resigned, apathetic. He could not bear even to look at this girl any more. She came, did what she had to do and left, with never a word or a sign of recognition. Outside, everything he valued had gone up in smoke. It did not matter. Nothing mattered any more. Life was a game played by fools for the amusement of some Gods or others with time on their hands and nothing more interesting to do. If it amused them to kick the ant-hill to bits – what of it!

But Gerry awoke at the sound of Sonia's voice, bright, alert, excited.

"Gerry! Gerry! Wake up! Something's happened?"

He sat up with an effort. Lack of exercise had left him stiff and weak.

"What do you mean? What's happened?"

"I don't know. But about an hour ago I suddenly had this feeling. Oh, Gerry, I'm me again!" She fell over Gerry, almost smothering him, and began to cry.

"Unstrap my hands, Sonia, for Pete's sake!" She roused herself to release him. He bent forward and took the hobble off his legs. Then he put his arms around Sonia and held her. "Where's the guard?" he asked.

"There isn't one! Gerry, there isn't anyone! I can't find them. And they've stopped whatever they were doing to me! Look at me!"

Gerry did. Once more Sonia was the sweet companion with whom he had entered into danger for a cause greater than either of them. Her eyes were soft and tender; her cheeks stained with tears. He held her tight, trying to come to grips with the situation.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. About an hour ago I was sitting – I have spent most of my time just sitting, Gerry. I was waiting for the signal to… to come… when suddenly, just like that, something seemed to clear in my mind. I got up, opened the door and crept out. Gerry, I've been almost all over the ship – and they've all gone! There's no one about that I can find. The only place I know where I haven't been is Gulda's office, and the door's locked."

"We'll have to get out of here, fast!" said Gerry, but he did not move. It was so long since he had been called upon to make any decision for himself that he was inhibited. "They may come back."

At last they got up and stumbled along corridor and down stairways until at last, by accident they came to the door of Gulda's office.

Gerry stood silent for a moment, listening. He thought he could hear moaning. He tapped on the door, tried the buzzer, but got no response.

Sonia said, "I was here once when the power was cut off for a few minutes. One of the guards opened a little door up there and took out some kind of key."

Gerry found the tiny closet, took out the metal rod and inserted it into a hole in the door, which slid wide open. The light seemed dimmer than usual, but a the two crept into the room, they could see a recumbent form lying on the couch and hear a kind of sobbing moan. They went nearer and saw that it was Gulda. She turned at a sound and stared at them, her eyes wild. She made no effort to sit up.

"I am ill," she said, her voice cracked. "I am ill. My skin burns; my head is bursting… Help me…"

Gerry looked at her coldly. "I guess she's dying," he said.

Sonia clung to him. "What is it?" she whispered, although there was no one to over-hear.

Gerry laughed, a short, harsh laugh shorn of humor. "Bacteria!" he said.

"Bacteria?"

"Yes, mankind, that proud creature of creation has been saved at the eleventh hour by the smallest and most despised things on Earth. She's got influenza, or something very like it! And I'll bet that's what has happened to the others." He began to move away toward the door.

"We can't leave her alone to die," said Sonia, softly.

"Why not? We don't owe her anything!"

"She looks so, lost, so bewildered… poor thing…"

So the two of them sat in Gulda's room for almost two hours, while she died. Sonia found water and did what she could to ease the proud and powerful Andromedans last minutes. But she did not understand, nor show any appreciation until, toward the end she stopped moaning for a moment and, with a great effort, said, "I wish I knew what this love was…" A few minutes later Gulda sighed deeply and stopped breathing.

The recovery is something we all know about from personal experience. It was several years before any really concerted effort was possible, but then we began to rebuild our world. It isn't a "brave new world", as old-time humanists like Wells envisaged. In many ways it is no better than the old one; in some ways it is not nearly as good. But there is hope in one direction, because we are no longer tensed, waiting to leap at one another's throats. There's the over-riding fear now of another invasion from Outer Space. We are not by any means sure that the Andromedan invasion was the whole force, or merely a skirmish in strength. We watch, and we wait… and we don't dare start fighting one another. So, some good came out of it all in the end.

As for our two young friends, well they got out of the deserted space ship which lay, an empty hulk near the edge of Ashdown Forest, not far from the village of Sevenoaks in Kent. And they made their way by slow stages to London, traveling two-hundred miles on foot to make a thirty mile journey, trying to avoid the worst centers of turmoil. And, at last, in an underground shelter deep under Highgate Hill they came face to face once more with Chief Inspector Dodds. He looked twenty years older than when Gerry had seen him last, tired and white-faced, but every inch alive, vibrant, full of energy. He welcomed them both and put them to work.

About two years later, a chemist working on all that the Andromedans had abandoned, trying, with the physicists, mathematicians and others to rescue what could be rescued from the highly advanced technology of the Andromedans, discovered, quite by accident, a way of removing those metallic chastity belts. He was using a very weak acid, and spilt some on a table-top covered with the material. As he watched, the metallic plastic split and curled up. Gerry was not the only one to be glad of the discovery. Sonia also was among the thousands of people who were restored to the possibility of a normal sex-life.

Sonia and Gerry were much together during those days. In fact, purely for convenience, in view of the universal shortages of food, fuel and other essentials, they lived together in two small rooms. But they bad no sexual relationship. Their mutual affection was strong, but love seemed to have died somewhere in the belly of that great space ship. They both had a hard fight against shame and self-disgust, even though both were innocent parties.

But one evening after work, with a simple and not very adequate meal inside them, they huddled in front of a tiny wood-fired stove which they allowed themselves for a couple of hours each night in the depth of winter, in the darkness except for the glow of the front of the stove, Sonia put her hand in Gerry's and whispered, "We didn't get far with founding a new race of Andromedans, Gerry. Do you think we could do better with a new race of men?"

Gerry gripped that tiny hand hard in his own. For a fleeting moment he felt a spasm of regret for all that might have been; for the joy of youth and irresponsibility; for careless rapture and the days of wine and roses; for innocence and virginity gone forever. Then he drew himself together. Life had to be lived. It was hard and real; there was so much to do, so few people to do it. The penis that began to throb at his loins was no longer that of a youth, overeager, callow, inexperienced. This was the organ of a man that began to demand its just dues!

He sighed. "The fire's beginning to go out," he said at last, rising to his feet. "Come to bed, darling. Someone's got to keep the flames burning…"

Content

Clive Bedford
Mistress of torment
(Bondage book – 133)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE