The Puppet Masters

Chapter 10

For two or three more days I was kept wrapped in swaddling clothing and treated like a child. I did not care; it was the first real rest I had had in years. Probably they were slipping me sedatives; I noticed that I was always ready to sleep each time after they fed me. The sores got much better and presently I was encouraged-"required" I should say-by Doris to take light exercise around the room.

The Old Man called on me. "Well," he said, "still malingering, I see."

I flushed. "Damn your black, flabby heart," I told him. "Get me a pair of pants and I'll show you who is malingering."

"Slow down, slow down." He took my chart from the foot of my bed and looked it over. "Nurse," he said, "get this man a pair of shorts. I'm restoring him to duty."

Doris faced up to him like a banty hen. "Now see here," she said, "you may be the big boss, but you can't give orders here. The doctor will-"

"Stow it!" he said, "and get those drawers. When the doctor comes in, send him to me."

"But-"

He picked her up, swung her around, paddled her behind, and said, "Git!"

She went out, squawking and sputtering, and came back shortly, not with clothes for me, but with the doctor. The Old Man looked around and said mildly, "Doc, I sent for pants, not for you."

The medico said stiffly, "I'll thank you not to interfere with my patients."

"He's not your patient. I need him, so I am restoring him to duty."

"Yes? Sir, if you do not like the way I run my department, you may have my resignation at once."

The Old Man is stubborn but not bull-headed. He answered, "I beg your pardon, sir. Sometimes I become too preoccupied with other problems to remember to follow correct procedure. Will you do me the favor of examining this patient? I need him; if he can possibly be restored to duty, it would help me to have his services at once."

The doctor's jaw muscles were jumping, but all he said was, "Certainly, sir!" He went through a show of studying my chart, then had me sit on the bed while he tested my reflexes. Personally, I thought they were mushy. He peeled back my eyelids, flashed a light in my eye, and said, "He needs more recuperation time-but you may have him. Nurse-fetch clothing for this man."

Clothing consisted of shorts and shoes; I had been better dressed in a hospital gown. But everybody else was dressed the same way, and it was downright comforting to see all those bare shoulders with no masters clinging to them. I told the Old Man so. "Best defense we've got," he growled, "even if it does make the joint look like a ruddy summer colony. If we don't win this set-to before winter weather, we're licked."

The Old Man stopped at a door with a freshly lettered sign: BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY-STAY OUT! He dilated the door.

I hung back. "Where are we going?"

"Going to take a look at your twin brother, the ape with your parasite."

"That's what I thought. Not for me-no point in it. No, thanks!" I could feel myself begin to tremble.

The Old Man paused. "Now, look, son," he said patiently, "you've got to get over your panic. The best way is to face up to it. I know it's hard-I've spent a good many hours in here myself, just staring at the thing, getting used to it."

"You don't know-you can't know!" I had the shakes so badly now that I had to steady myself by the doorframe.

He looked at me. "I suppose it's different," he said slowly, "when you've actually had it. Jarvis-" He broke off.

"You're darn right it's different! You're not going to get me in there]"

"No, I guess not. Well, the doctor was right. Go on back, son, and turn yourself in at the infirmary." His tones were regretful rather than angry. He turned and started into the laboratory.

He had gotten three or four steps away before I called out, "Boss!"

He stopped and turned, his face expressionless. "Wait," I added, "I'm coming."

"You don't have to."

"I know. I'll do it. It-It just takes . . . a while-to get your nerve back."

He did not answer but, as I came alongside him, he grasped my upper arm, warmly and affectionately, and continued to hold it as we walked, as if I were a girl. We went on in, through another locked door and into a room that was conditioned warm and moist. The ape was there, caged.

He sat facing us, his torso supported and restrained by a strap-metal framework. His arms and legs hung limply, as if he had no control over them-which he did not have, as I learned.

As we came in he looked up and at us. For an instant his eyes were malevolent and intelligent; then the fire died out and they were merely the eyes of a dumb brute, a brute in pain.

"Around to the side," the Old Man said softly. I would have hung back but he still had me by the arm. We moved around; the ape followed us with his eyes, but his body was held by the frame. From the new position I could see-it.

My master. The thing that had ridden my back for an endless time, spoken with my mouth-thought with my brain. My master.

"Steady," the Old Man said softly. "Steady. You'll get used to it." He shook my arm. "Look away for a bit. It helps."

I did so and it did help. Not much, but some. I took a couple of deep breaths, then held it and managed to slow my heart down a little. I made myself stare at it.

It is not the appearance of a parasite which arouses horror. True, they are disgustingly ugly, but not more so than slime in a pond-not as much so as maggots in garbage.

Nor was the horror entirely from knowing what they could do-for I felt the horror the first time I saw one, before I really knew what one was. I tried to tell the Old Man about it, letting the talk steady me. He nodded, his eyes still on the parasite. "It's the same with everybody," he said. "Unreasoned fear, like a bird with a snake. Probably its prime weapon." He let his own eyes drift away, as if too long a sight of it were too much even for his rawhide nerves.

I stuck with him, trying to get used to it and gulping at my breakfast but not losing it. I kept telling myself that I was safe from it, that it couldn't harm me.

I looked away again and found the Old Man's eyes on me. "How about it?" he said. "Getting hardened to it?"

I looked back at it. "A little." I went on savagely, "All I want to do is to kill it! I want to kill all of them-I could spend my whole life killing them and killing them." I began to shake again.

The Old Man continued to study me. "Here," he said, and handed me his gun.

It startled me. I was unarmed myself, having come straight from bed. I took it but looked back at him questioningly. "Huh? What for?"

"You want to kill it, don't you? If you feel that you have to, go ahead. Kill it. Right now."

"Huh? But-Look here, boss, you told me you needed this one for study."

"I do. But if you need to kill it, if you feel that you have to kill it, do so. I figure this particular one is your baby; you're entitled to it. If you need to kill it, to make you a whole man again, go ahead."

" 'To make me a whole man again-' " The thought rang through my head. The Old Man knew, better than I knew, what was wrong with me, what medicine it would take to cure me. I was no longer trembling; I stood there, the gun cradled in my hand, ready to spit and kill. My master . . .

If I killed this one I would be a free man again-but I would never be free as long as it lived. Surely, I wanted to kill them, every one of them, search them out, burn them, kill them-but this one above all.

My master . . . still my master unless I killed it. I had a dark and certain thought that if I were alone with it, I would be able to do nothing, that I would freeze and wait while it crawled up me and settled again between my shoulder blades, searched out my spinal column, took possession of my brain and my very inner self.

But now I could kill it!

No longer frightened but fiercely exultant I raised the gun, ready to squeeze the trigger.

The Old Man watched me.

I lowered the gun a little and said uncertainly, "Boss, suppose I do kill it. You've got others?"

"No."

"But you need it."

"Yes."

"Well, but-For the love o' God, why did you give me the gun?"

"You know why. This one is yours; you've got first claim. If you have to kill it, go ahead. If you can pass it up, then the Section will use it."

I had to kill it. Even if we killed all the others, while this one was still alive I would still crouch and tremble in the dark. As for the others, for study-why, we could capture a dozen any time at the Constitution Club. With this one dead I'd lead the raid myself. Breathing rapidly, I raised the gun again.

Then I turned and chucked the gun to the Old Man; he plucked it out of the air and put it away. "What happened?" he asked. "You were all set."

"Uh? I don't know. When it got right down to it, it was enough to know that I could."

"I figured that it would be."

I felt warm and relaxed, as if I had just killed a man or had a woman-as if I had just killed it. I was able to turn my back on it and face the Old Man. I was not even angry with him for what he had done; instead I felt warm toward him, even affectionate. "I know you did, damn you. How does it feel to be a puppet master?"

He did not take the jibe as a joke. Instead he answered soberly, "Not me. The most I ever do is to lead a man on the path he wants to follow. There is the puppet master." He hooked a thumb at the parasite.

I looked around at it. "Yes," I agreed softly, " 'the puppet master'. You think you know what you mean by that-but you don't. And boss . . . I hope you never do."

"I hope so, too," he answered seriously.

I could look now without trembling. I even started to put my hands in my pockets, but the shorts had no pockets. Still staring at it, I went on, "Boss, when you are through with it, if there is anything left, then I'll kill it."

"That's a promise."

We were interrupted by a man bustling into the cage room. He was dressed in shorts and a lab coat; it made him look silly. I did not recognize him-it was not Graves; I never saw Graves again; I imagine the Old Man ate him for lunch.

"Chief," he said, trotting up, "I did not know you were in here. I-"

"Well, I am," the Old Man cut in. "What are you doing wearing a coat?" The Old Man's gun was out and pointed at the man's chest.

The man stared at the gun as if it were a bad joke. "Why, I was working, of course. There is always a chance of splattering one's self. Some of our solutions are rather-"

"Take it off!"

"Eh?"

The Old Man waggled his gun at him. To me he said, "Get ready to take him."

The man took his coat off. He stood there holding it and biting his lip. His back and shoulders were bare, nor was there the telltale rash. "Take that damned coat and burn it," the Old Man told him. "Then get back to your work."

The man hurried away, his face red, then hesitated, glanced at me, and said to the Old Man, "Chief, are you ready for that, uh, procedure?"

"Shortly. I'll let you know."

The man opened his mouth, closed it, and left. The Old Man wearily put his gun away. "Post an order," he muttered. "Read it aloud. Make everybody sign for it-tattoo it on their narrow little chests-and some smart Aleck thinks it doesn't apply to him. Scientists!" He said the last word in the way in which Doris had said, "Patients!"

I turned back to looking at my former master. It still revolted me, but there was a gusty feeling of danger, too, that was not totally unpleasant-like standing on a very high place. "Boss," I asked, "what are you going to do with this thing?"

He looked at me, rather than at the slug. "I plan to interview it."

"To what? But how can you-What I want to say is: the ape, I mean-"

"No, the ape can't talk. That's the hitch. We'll have to have a volunteer-a human volunteer."

When his words sank in and I began to visualize what he meant by them the horror struck me again almost full force. "You can't mean that. You wouldn't do that-not to anybody."

"I could and I'm going to. What needs to be done will be done."

"You won't get any volunteers!"

"I've already got one."

"You have? Who?"

"But I don't want to use the volunteer I've got. I'm still looking for the right man."

I was disgusted and showed it. "You ought not to be looking for anyone, volunteer or not. And if you've got one, I'll bet you won't find another; there can't be two people that far out of their minds."

"Possibly," he agreed. "But I still don't want the one I've got. The interview is a necessity, son; we are fighting a war with a total lack of military intelligence. We don't know anything, really, about our enemy. We can't negotiate with him, we don't know where he comes from, nor what makes him tick. We've got to find out; our racial existence depends on it. The only, the only way to talk to these critters is through a human volunteer. So it will be done. But I'm still looking for a volunteer."

"Well, don't look at me!"

"I am looking at you."

My answer had been half wisecrack; his answer turned it dead serious and startled me speechless. I finally managed to splutter, "You're crazy! I should have killed it when I had your gun-and I would have if I had known what you wanted it for. But as for me volunteering to let you put that thing-No! I've had it."

He ploughed on through as if he had not heard me. "It can't be just any volunteer; it has to be a man who can take it. Jarvis wasn't stable enough, nor tough enough in some fashion to stand up under it. We know you are."

"Me? You don't know anything of the sort. All you know is that I lived through it once. I . . . I couldn't stand it again."

"Well, maybe it will kill you," he answered calmly, "but it is less likely to kill you than someone else. You are proved and salted; you ought to be able to do it standing on your head. With anyone else I run more risk of losing an agent."

"Since when did you worry about risking an agent?" I said bitterly.

"Since always, believe me. I am giving you one more chance, son: are you going to do this, knowing that it has to be done and that you stand the best chance of anybody-and can be of most use to us, because you are used to it-or are you going to let some other agent risk his reason and probably his life in your place?"

I started to try to explain how I felt, that I was not afraid to die, no more than is normal, but that I could not stand the thought of dying while possessed by a parasite. Somehow I felt that to die so would be to die already consigned to an endless and unbearable hell. Even worse was the prospect of not dying once the slug touched me. But I could not say it; there were still no words to describe what the race had not experienced.

I shrugged. "You can have my appointment back. There is a limit to what one man can be expected to go through and I've reached it. I won't do it."

He turned to the intercom phone on the wall. "Laboratory," he called out, "we'll start the experiment right now. Hurry it up!"

The answering voice I recognized as that of the man who had walked in on us. "Which subject?" he asked. "It affects the measurements."

"The original volunteer."

"That's the smaller rig?" the voice asked doubtfully.

"Right. Get it in here."

I started for the door. The Old Man snapped, "Where do you think you are going?"

"Out," I snapped back. "I'm having no part of this."

He grabbed me and spun me around as if he had been the bigger and younger. "No, you don't. You know more about these things than the rest of us; your advice could be of help."

"Let go of me."

"You'll stay and watch!" he said savagely, "strapped down or free to move, as you choose. I've made allowance for your illness but I've had enough of your nonsense."

I was too weary to buck him; I felt nervously exhausted, tired in my bones. "You're the boss."

The lab people wheeled in a metal framework, a sort of chair, more like a Sing Sing special than anything else. There were metal clamps for ankles and knees, more of the same on the chair arms for the wrists and elbows. There was a corselet effect to restrain the waist and the lower part of the chest, but the back was cut away so that the shoulders of the person unfortunate enough to sit in it would be free.

They brought it over and placed it beside the ape's cage, then removed the back panel of the cage and the panel on the side nearest the "chair" rig.

The ape watched the procedure with intent, aware eyes, but his limbs still dangled helplessly. Nevertheless, I became still more disturbed at the cage being thus opened. Only the Old Man's threat of placing me under restraint kept me from leaving.

The technicians stood back and waited, apparently ready for the job. The outer door opened and several people came in; among them was Mary.

I was caught off balance by her sudden appearance; I had been wanting to see her and had tried several times to get word to her through the nurses-but they either honestly could not identify her or had received instructions. Now I saw her first under these circumstances. I cursed the Old Man to myself, knowing it was useless to object. It was no sort of a show to bring a woman to, even if the woman was an agent. There ought to be some sort of decent limits somewhere.

Mary saw me, looked surprised, and nodded. I let it go with a nod myself; it was no time for small talk. She was looking good, as always, though very sober. She was dressed in the same sort of costume as the nurses had worn, shorts and a skimpy halter, but she did not have on the ludicrous metal helmet and back plate.

The others in the party were men. They wore shorts, like the Old Man and myself. They were loaded with recording and stereo equipment as well as other apparatus.

"Ready?" inquired the lab chief.

"Get going," answered the Old Man.

Mary walked straight to the metal chair and sat down in it. Two of the technicians knelt at her feet and started busying themselves with the clamps. Mary reached behind her, unfastened her halter and let it fall, leaving her back bare.

I looked at this in a frozen daze, as if caught in a nightmare. Then I had grabbed the Old Man by the shoulders and had literally thrown him aside and I was standing by the chair, kicking the technicians out of the way. "Mary!" I screamed, "get up out of there!"

Now the Old Man had his gun on me and was motioning me back with it. "Away from her," he ordered. "You three-grab him and tie him up."

I looked at the gun, then I looked down at Mary. She said nothing and did not move; in fact her feet were already bound. She simply looked at me with compassionate eyes. "Get up from there, Mary," I said dully, "I want to sit down."

They removed the chair Mary had sat in and brought in another, larger one. I could not have used hers; both of them were tailored to size. When they finished clamping me in place I might as well have been cast into concrete. Once secured, my back began to itch unbearably, although nothing, as yet, had touched it.

Mary was no longer in the room; whether she had left or had been ordered out by the Old Man I do not know and it did not seem to matter. The Old Man stepped up to me after I had been prepared, laid a hand on my arm, and said quietly, "Thanks, son."

I did not bother to answer.

I did not see them handle the parasite as it took place behind my back. There was a rig which I had seen them bring in which appeared to be modified from the remote-handling gear used on radioactives; no doubt they used that. I was not interested enough to look, even if I had been able to turn my head far enough, which I couldn't.

Once the ape barked and screamed and someone shouted, "Watch it!"

There was a dead silence as if everyone was holding his breath-then something moist touched the back of my neck and I fainted.

I came out of it with the same tingling energy I had experienced once before. I knew I was in a tight spot, but I was warily determined to think my way out of it. I was not afraid; I was contemptuous of those around me and sure that in the long run I could outwit them.

The Old Man said sharply, "Can you hear me?"

I answered, "Of course I can. Quit shouting."

"Do you remember what we are here for?"

I said, "Naturally I remember. You want to ask some questions. What are you waiting for?"

"What are you?"

"Now that's a silly question. Take a look at me. I'm six feet one, more muscle than brain, and I weigh-"

"Not you. You know to whom I am talking-you."

"Guessing games?"

The Old Man waited a bit before replying, "It will do you no good to pretend that I don't know what you are-"

"Ah, but you don't."

"Or, rather, that I don't know that you are a parasite talking through the body of a man. You know that I have been studying you all the time you have been living on the body of that ape. I know things about you which give me an advantage over you. One-" He started ticking them off.

"You can be killed.

"Two, you can be hurt. You don't like electric shock and you can't stand the amount of heat even a man can stand.

"Three, you are helpless without your host. I could have you removed from this man and you would die.

"Four, you have no powers except those you borrow from your host-and your host is helpless. Try your bonds; then be sensible. You must cooperate-or die."

I listened with half an ear; I had already been trying my bonds, neither hoping nor fearing, but finding them, as I expected, impossible to escape. This did not worry me; I had neither worries nor fears. I was oddly contented to be back with my master, to be free of troubles and tensions. My business was to serve and the future would take care of itself.

In the meantime I must be alert, ready to serve him.

One ankle strap seemed less tight than the other; possibly I might drag my foot through it. I checked on the arm clamps; perhaps if I relaxed my muscles completely-

But I made no effort to escape. An instruction came at once-or, I made a decision, for the words mean the same; I tell you there was no conflict between my master and me; we were one-instruction or decision, I knew it was not time to risk an escape. I ran my eyes around the room, trying to figure who was armed and who was not. It was my guess that only the Old Man was armed; that bettered the chances.

Somewhere, deep down, was that dull ache of guilt and despair never experienced by any but the servants of the masters-but I was much too busy with the problem at hand to be troubled by it.

"Well?" the Old Man went on. "Do you answer my questions, or do I punish you?"

"What questions?" I asked. "Up to now, you've been talking nonsense."

The Old Man turned to one of the technicians. "Give me the tickler."

I felt no apprehension although I did not understand what it was he had asked for. I was still busy checking my bonds. If I could tempt him into placing his gun within my reach-assuming that I could get one arm free-then I might be able to-

He reached past my shoulders with a rod. I felt a shocking, unbearable pain. The room blacked out as if a switch had been thrown and for an undying instant I was jolted and twisted by hurt. I was split apart by it; for the moment I was masterless.

The pain left, leaving only its searing memory behind. Before I could speak, or even think coherently for myself, the splitting away had ended and I was again safe in the arms of my master. But for the first and only time in my service to him I was not myself free of worry; some of his own wild fear and pain was passed on to me, the servant.

I looked down and saw a line of red welling out of my left wrist; in my struggles I had cut myself on the clamp. It did not matter; I would tear off hands and feet and escape from there on bloody stumps, if escape for my master were possible that way.

"Well," asked the Old Man, "how did you like the taste of that?"

The panic that possessed me washed away; I was again filled with an unworried sense of well being, albeit wary and watchful. My wrists and ankles, which had begun to pain me, stopped hurting. "Why did you do that?" I asked. "Certainly, you can hurt me-but why?"

"Answer my questions."

"Ask them."

"What are you?"

The answer did not come at once. The Old Man reached for the rod; I heard myself saying, "We are the people."

"The people? What people?"

"The only people. We have studied you and we know your ways. We-" I stopped suddenly.

"Keep talking," the Old Man said grimly, and gestured with the rod.

"We come," I went on, "to bring you-"

"To bring us what?"

I wanted to talk; the rod was terrifyingly close. But there was some difficulty with words. "To bring you peace," I blurted out.

The Old Man snorted.

" 'Peace'," I went on, "and contentment-and the joy of-of surrender." I hesitated again; "surrender" was not the right word. I struggled with it the way one struggles with a poorly grasped foreign language. "The joy," I repeated, "-the joy of . . .nirvana." That was it; the word fitted. I felt like a dog being patted for fetching a stick; I wriggled with pleasure.

"Let me get this," the Old Man said thoughtfully. "You are promising the human race that, if we will just surrender to your kind, you will take care of us and make us happy. Right?"

"Exactly!"

The Old Man studied me for a long moment, looking, not at my face, but past my shoulders. He spat upon the floor. "You know," he said slowly, "me and my kind, we have often been offered that bargain, though maybe not on such a grand scale. It never worked out worth a damn."

I leaned forward as much as the rig would allow. "Try it yourself," I suggested. "It can be done quickly-and then you will know."

He stared at me, this time in my face. "Maybe I should," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe I owe it to-somebody, to try it. And maybe I will, someday. But right now," he went on briskly, "you have more questions to answer. Answer them quick and proper and stay healthy. Be slow about it and I'll step up the current." He brandished the rod.

I shrank back, feeling dismay and defeat. For a moment I had thought he was going to accept the offer and I had been planning the possibilities of escape that could develop. "Now," he went on, "where do you come from?"

No answer . . . I felt no urge to answer.

The rod came closer. "Far away!" I burst out.

"That's no news. Tell me where? Where's your home base, your own planet?"

I had no answer. The Old Man waited a moment, then said, "I see I'll have to touch up your memory." I watched dully, thinking nothing at all. He was interrupted by one of the bystanders. "Eh?" said the Old Man.

"There may be a semantic difficulty," the other repeated. "Different astronomical concepts."

"Why should there be?" asked the Old Man. "That slug is using borrowed language throughout. He knows what his host knows; we've proved that." Nevertheless he turned back and started a different tack. "See here-you savvy the solar system; is your planet inside it or outside it?"

I hesitated, then answered, "All planets are ours."

The Old Man pulled at his lip. "I wonder," he mused, "just what you mean by that?" He went on, "Never mind; you can claim the whole damned universe; I want to know where your nest is? Where is your home base? Where do your ships come from?"

I could not have told him and did not; I sat silent.

Before I could anticipate it he reached behind me with the rod; I felt one smashing blow of pain, then it was gone. "Now, talk, damn you! What planet? Mars? Venus? Jupiter? Saturn? Uranus? Neptune? Pluto? Kalki?" As he ticked them off, I saw them-and I have never been as far off Earth as the space stations. When he came to the right one, I knew-and the thought was instantly snatched from me.

"Speak up," he went on, "or feel the whip."

I heard myself saying, "None of them. Our home is much farther away. You could never find it."

He looked past my shoulders and then into my eyes. "I think you are lying. I think you need some juice to keep you honest."

"No, no!"

"No harm to try." Slowly he thrust the rod past me, behind me. I knew the answer again and was about to give it, when something grabbed my throat. Then the pain started.

It did not stop. I was being torn apart; I tried to talk, to tell, anything to stop the pain-but the hand still clutched my throat and I could not.

Through a clearing blur of pain I saw the Old Man's face, shimmering and floating. "Had enough?" he asked. "Ready to talk?" I started to answer, but I choked and gagged. I saw him reach out again with the rod.

I burst into pieces and died.

They were leaning over me. Someone said, "He's coming around. Watch him; he might be violent."

The Old Man's face was over mine, his expression worried. "Are you all right, son?" he asked anxiously. I turned my face away.

"One side, please," another voice said. "Let me give him the injection."

"Will his heart stand it?"

"Certainly-or I wouldn't give it to him." The speaker knelt by me, took my arm, and gave me a shot. He stood up, looked at his hands, then wiped them on his shorts; they left bloody streaks.

I felt strength flowing back into me. "Gyro", I thought absently, or something like it. Whatever it was, it was pulling me back together. Shortly I sat up, unassisted.

I was still in the cage room, directly in front of that damnable chair. The cage, I noticed without interest, was closed again. I started to get to my feet; the Old Man stepped forward and gave me a hand. I shook him off. "Don't touch me!"

"Sorry," he answered, then snapped, "Jones! You and Ito-get the litter. Take him back to the infirmary. Doc, you go along."

"Certainly." The man who had given me the shot stepped forward and started to take my arm. I drew away from him.

"Keep your hands off me!"

He stopped. "Get away from me-all of you. Just leave me alone." The doctor looked at the Old Man, who shrugged, then motioned them all back. Alone, I went to the door, through it, and on out through the outer door into the passageway.

I paused there, looked at my wrists and ankles and decided that I might as well go back to the infirmary. Doris would take care of me, I was sure, and then maybe I could sleep. I felt as if I had gone fifteen rounds and lost every one of them.

"Sam, Sam!"

I looked up; I knew that voice. Mary hurried up and was standing before me, looking at me with great sorrowful eyes. "I've been waiting," she said. "Oh, Sam! What have they done to you?" Her voice was so choked that I could hardly understand her.

"You should know," I answered, and found I had strength enough left to slap her.

"Bitch," I added.

The room I had had was still empty, but I did not find Doris. I was aware that I had been followed, probably by the doctor, but I wanted no part of him nor any of them just then; I closed the door. Then I lay face down on the bed and tried to stop thinking or feeling anything.

Presently I heard a gasp, and opened one eye; there was Doris. "What in the world?" she exclaimed and came over to me. I felt her gentle hands on me. "Why, you poor, poor baby!" Then she added, "Just stay there, don't try to move. I'll get the doctor."

"No!"

"But you've got to have the doctor."

"No. I won't see him. You help me."

She did not answer. Presently I heard her go out. She came back shortly-I think it was shortly-and started to bathe my wounds. The doctor was not with her.

She was not more than half my size but she lifted me and turned me when she needed to as if I had been the baby she had called me. I was not surprised by it; I knew she could take care of me.

I wanted to scream when she touched my back. But she dressed it quickly and said, "Over easy, now."

"I'll stay face down."

"No," she denied, "I want you to drink something, that's a good boy."

I turned over, with her doing most of the work, and drank what she gave me. After a bit I went to sleep.

I seem to remember being awakened later, seeing the Old Man and cursing him out. The doctor was there too-or it could just as well have been a dream.

Miss Briggs woke me up and Doris brought me breakfast; it was as if I had never been off the sick list. Doris wanted to feed me but I was well able to do it myself. Actually I was not in too bad shape. I was stiff and sore and felt as if I had gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel; there were dressings on both arms and both legs where I had cut myself on the clamps, but no bones were broken. Where I was sick was in my soul.

Don't misunderstand me. The Old Man could send me into a dangerous spot-and had done so, more than once-and I would not hold it against him. That I had signed up for. But I had not signed up for what he had done to me. He knew what made me tick and he had deliberately used it to force me into something I would never have agreed to, had I not been jockeyed into it. Then after he had gotten me where he wanted me, he had used me unmercifully.

Oh, I've slapped men around to make them talk. Sometimes you have to. But this was different. Believe me.

It was the Old Man that really hurt. Mary? After all, what was she? Just another babe. True, I was disgusted with her to the bottom of my soul for letting the Old Man talk her into being used as bait. It was all right for her to use her femaleness as an agent; the Section had to have female operatives; they could do things men could not do. There have always been female spies and the young and pretty ones had always used the same tools.

But she should not have agreed to use them against another agent, inside her own Section-at least, she should not have used them against me.

Not very logical, is it? It was logical to me. Mary shouldn't have done it.

I was through, I was finished. They could go ahead with Operation Parasite without me; I'd had it. I owned a cabin up in the Adirondacks; I had enough stuff there in deep freeze to carry me for years-well, a year, anyhow. I had plenty of tempus pills and could get more; I would go up there and use them-and the world could save itself, or go to hell, without me.

If anyone came within a hundred yards of me, he would either show a bare back or be burned down.