"Ruth . . . Mrs. Hudson?"
"No, Mr. Hudson. I saw her come in a while ago, but there's no sign of her around. We've got to call the police."
"Yes, yes, of course." He started toward the house.
"She's not in there, I tell you. I ran all through the house."
"Maybe . . . maybe you missed . . ."
"Mister, there's been a terrible accident, maybe she's already gone for help."
"Accident?" He turned, stared back at her.
"He fell into one of them glass doors, cut an artery, looks like. She probably ran for help."
"But . . . I was out here and . . ."
A police cruiser came around the corner to his left, its red light flashing. It pulled to a stop behind his car. Two officers got out. Thurlow recognized one of them -- Maybeck, Carl Maybeck, a slim angular man with bony wrists, narrow face. He came loping across the lawn to Thurlow while his companion went to the woman.
"Oh . . . Dr. Thurlow," Maybeck said. "Didn't recognize you." He stopped, facing Thurlow. "What's the trouble? We got a call, something about an accident. Ambulance's on the way."
"The woman there . . ." Thurlow nodded toward her, ". . . says Nev Hudson's dead, something about falling into some glass. She may be mistaken. Shouldn't we get inside and . . ."
"Right away, Doc."
Maybeck led the way running up to the front door. It was locked.
"Around the side," the woman called from behind them. "Patio doors're open."
They ran back down the steps, around the side, wet leaves of shrubbery soaking them. Thurlow felt himself moving in a daze. Ruth! My God, where are you? He skidded on the wet bricks of the patio, almost fell, righted himself and was staring down at the red mess that had been Nev Hudson.
Maybeck straightened from a brief examination of the man. "Dead all right." He looked at Thurlow. "How long you been here, Doc?"
"He brought Mrs. Hudson about half an hour ago." It was the neighbor woman. She came to a stop beside Thurlow. "He's dead isn't he?" How delighted she sounded!
"I . . . I've been waiting in the car," Thurlow said. "That's right," the woman said. "We saw them come up. Expected another fight between Hudson there and his Missus. I heard the crash, him falling, but I was in the bathroom. I came right out to the kitchen."
"Did you see Mrs. Hudson?" Maybeck asked.
"She wasn't anywhere around. There was a lot of smoke coming out these doors here, though. He may've burnt something. He drank a lot, Mr. Hudson. May've been trying to open the doors for the smoke and . . ." She pointed to the body.
Thurlow wet his lips with his tongue. He was afraid to go in that house, he realized. He said: "Hadn't we better look inside. Perhaps . . ."
Maybeck met his stare. "Yes. Perhaps we had better."
They could hear an ambulance siren now. It wailed to silence out front. The other officer came around the house, said: "Ambulance is here, Carl. Where . . ." He saw the body.
"Tell 'em not to disturb any more than they have to," Maybeck said. "We're going to look around inside."
The other officer peered suspiciously at Thurlow.
"This is Dr. Thurlow," Maybeck said.
"Oh." The officer turned to direct men in white coming around the house.
Maybeck led the way inside.
Thurlow was caught immediately by the sight of Ruth's clothing thrown on the bed. His chest felt tight, painful. The neighbor woman had said Ruth wasn't here, but . . .
Maybeck stooped, peered under the bed. He straightened, sniffed. "You smell something, Doc?"
Thurlow grew aware that there was an odd odor in the room -- almost like burnt insulation.
"Almost smells like fire and brimstone," Maybeck said. "Probably was something burned in here." He glanced around. There was an empty ashtray on a nightstand. It was clean. He looked in the closet, went into an adjoining bath, returned shaking his head.
Thurlow went out to the hall, looked down it toward the living room. Maybeck brushed past him, led the way into the room. He moved cautiously but with a practiced sureness, peered into the hall closet, behind a davenport. He touched only what he had to touch for his investigation.
They progressed through the house this way, Thurlow a hesitant onlooker, fearful of what they might find around the next corner.
Shortly, they were back in the bedroom.
The ambulance doctor stood in the door, smoking. He glanced at Maybeck. "Not much we can do here, Carl. Coroner's on his way."
"What's it look like?" Maybeck asked. "Was he pushed?"
"Looks like he stumbled," the doctor said. "Carpets pushed up there by his feet. Can't say much about his condition at the time, but there's a smell of whiskey on him."
Maybeck nodded, taking in the evidence. They could hear the other officer talking outside to the neighbor woman. "I don't know what it was," she said, her voice rising. "It just looked like a big cloud of smoke . . . steam, maybe. Or it could've been an insect bomb -- something white and smoky."
Thurlow turned his back on the door. He found he couldn't stand the sight of the sprawled body. Ruth wasn't in the house; no doubt of that.
Insect bomb, he thought. White and smoky.
He recalled the grove then, the hovering something which Ruth had seen as a cloud. Abruptly, he knew what had happened to her. She wouldn't have disappeared like this without some word to him. Something had intruded here and taken her away. It would explain the strange smell, the presence of the thing at the grove, the interest of those weird creatures with their glowing eyes.
But why? he asked himself. What do they want?
Then: This is crazy! She was here when Nev injured himself and she ran for help. She's at a neighbor's and she'll be back any moment.
And his mind said: She's been gone a long time. She saw the crowd and now she's frightened, he told himself.
There was a bustle of activity at the door behind him -- the coroner and the police homicide squad. Maybeck came up beside Thurlow, said: "Doc, they want you to come down to the station and make a statement."
"Yes," he said. "Of course." Then: "That's the homicide detail. Surely they don't think . . ."
"Just routine, Doc," Maybeck said. "You know that. It looks like he was drinking and stumbled, but Mrs. Hudson's not around. We have to make sure . . . you know."
"I see." He allowed himself to be led out the door past the still figure that had been Ruth's husband, past the men with tape measures and cameras and dusting brushes and coldly measuring eyes.
Ruth's husband . . . Ruth's husband . . . The label boiled in his mind. Where is she? Did she break down and run away? But she isn't the type for that. She was under strain, yes, but . . . What was that cloud the neighbor saw? What was that smell in the room?
They were outside then. The rain had stopped, but the shrubbery beside the house still drenched them. Porch lights were on across the street. People stood there staring. A white lab truck had been pulled into the driveway beside the house on the other side.
"You know, Doc," Maybeck said. "You really shouldn't drive at night with those dark glasses."
"They're . . . adjustable," Thurlow said. "Not as dark as they look."
Ruth! Where are you?
He wondered then: Did she push Nev . . . a fight? Did she think people would say, "Like father, like daughter"? Did she run, not wanting to drag me into it?
"You can ride with us," Maybeck said. "Well bring you back to your car later."
"Yes." He allowed himself to be eased into the back seat. Then: "Ruth . . . Mrs. Hudson -- shouldn't someone be looking for . . ."
"We're looking for her, Doc," Maybeck said. "We'll find her, never you worry."
Will you find her? Thurlow wondered. What was that thing at the grove -- looking at us, trying to manipulate our emotions? It was real. I know it was real. If it wasn't real, then I'm insane. And I know I'm not insane.
He looked down at his feet in the dim shadows behind the seat. They were soaking from the w
alk across the wet lawn.
Joe Murphey, he thought. Joe knows he isn't insane.
11
Ruth awoke on something soft -- soothing blue-gray light. She felt around her: a bed, silky warm covers. She realized she was nude on the bed . . . but warm . . . warm. Above her there was an oval shape full of glittering crystal facets. They changed colors as she watched -- green, silver, yellow, blue . . . They were soothing.
Somewhere she knew there was something urgently demanding her attention, but it was a paradox. Her whole being told her the urgent thing could wait.
She turned her head to the right. There was light from somewhere, but she couldn't determine its source -- a light suddenly full of yellows like remembered sunlight. It illuminated an odd room -- a wall lined with what appeared to be books, a low oval table cluttered with strange golden shapes: cubes, rectangular containers, a domed half-egg. There was a window with night's blue blackness pushing against it. As she watched, the window became metallic white and a face appeared there to look in at her. It was a big face, odd silvery skin with harsh angles and planes, the eyes sunken, penetrating.
Ruth felt she should be frightened by that face, but she couldn't find the emotional response.
The face disappeared and the window became a view looking down onto a seashore, surf-battered cliffs, dripping rocks, sunlight. Again, there was night's darkness in the scene and she realized that the framed shape could not be a window.
In front of it stood a wheeled stand holding an unevenly stacked, multibanked shape like a surrealistic typewriter.
A draft touched the left side of her body. It was the first cold thing she had experienced since awakening. She turned toward it, saw an oval door. It stood open, but iris leaves were sinking inward to seal it. Just inside the door stood a squat figure in green leotards -- the face that had peered in at her. Somewhere within her there was a reaction which said: "This is a loathsome, bowlegged little man." The reaction refused to surface.
The creature's wide, thick-lipped mouth opened. He said: "I am Kelexel." The voice was smooth. It went through her with a tingling sensation.
His eyes traversed her body and she recognized the intense maleness of the look, was surprised to find herself not repelled by it. This room was so warmly soothing, the crystal facets above her moved with such gentle beauty.
"I find you very attractive," Kelexel said. "I do not remember ever being attracted thus, with such magnetism."
He walked around the place where she lay.
Ruth followed him with her eyes, watched him manipulate keys on the machine atop the wheeled stand. A delicious tremor ran through her and she began to wonder what it would be like to have this strange creature, this Kelexel, as a lover.
Distantly within her, she sensed a voice screaming: "No! No! No!" Slowly, the voice dimmed, grew silent.
Kelexel came to stand over her.
"I am of the Chem," he said. "Does this mean anything to you?"
She shook her head. "No." Her voice was faint.
"You have not seen a person such as myself before?" Kelexel asked.
"The . . ." She remembered her last few minutes with Nev, the creatures in the doorway. And Andy. She knew there was something she should feel about Andy Thurlow, a deep and abiding emotion, but there was only a sisterly affection. Dear Andy . . . such a sweet, dear person.
"You must answer me," Kelexel said. There was a deep feeling of power in his voice.
"I saw . . . three . . . at my house . . . three who . . ."
"Ah, the three who brought you here," Kelexel said. "But before that, had you seen any of us before that?"
She thought then of the grove, Andy's description (kind, pleasant Andy) but she hadn't really seen such creatures there.
"No," she said.
Kelexel hesitated, glanced at the telltales of the manipulator which controlled the native female's emotions. She was telling the truth. Still, it paid to be cautious.
"Then it means nothing to you that I am of the Chem?" he asked.
"What . . . are the Chem?" she asked. A part of her was aroused now to intense curiosity. The curiosity struggled up through muddy waves of distraction to sit in her awareness and stare at Kelexel. What a gnome of a creature! What a sweet little gnome.
"It shall mean something," Kelexel said. "You are very attractive to me. We Chem are kind to those who please us. You cannot go back to your friends, of course, not ever. There are compensations, however. It's considered an honor to serve the Chem."
Where is Andy? Ruth wondered. Dear, sweet Andy.
"Very attractive," Kelexel murmured.
Wondering at the force which moved him, Kelexel extended a knob-knuckled finger, touched her right breast. How resilient and lovely her skin. The finger moved gently up to the nipple, to her neck, her chin, her lips, her hair.
"Your eyes are green," Kelexel said. "We Chem are very fond of green."
Ruth swallowed. The caressing movement of Kelexel's finger filled her with excitement. His face dominated her vision. She reached up, touched his hand. How hard and virile the hand felt. She met the penetrating stare of his brown eyes.
The manipulator's instruments told Kelexel that the female was now completely subjugated to his will. The realization stirred him. He smiled, exposing square silvery teeth. "I will have many questions for you," he said. "Later."
Ruth felt herself sinking into a golden daze. Her attention was locked onto the crystal facets glittering above the bed. Kelexel's head momentarily obscured the kaleidoscopic movement, then she felt his face pressed between her breasts. The golden daze overwhelmed her with ripples and waves of terrifying ecstasy.
"Oh, God," she whispered. "Oh, God. Oh, God." How pleasant to be worshiped at such a moment, Kelexel thought. It was the most pleasure he had ever experienced from a female.
12
Ruth was to look back at the first few Chem days with a profound astonishment at herself. She grew aware (slowly) that Kelexel was twisting her responses with his outlandish devices, but by that time she was addicted to the manipulation. It was only important that Kelexel return to touch her and speak to her and twist her to his desires.
He grew handsome in her sight. It gave her pleasure just to look at his ridged, tubular body. His square face was easy to read in his devotion to her.
He really loves me, she thought. He had Nev killed to get me.
There was even pleasure in the realization of how utterly helpless she was, how completely subject to Kelexel's slightest whim. She had come to understand by then that the most powerful force on earth was as an anthill when compared to the Chem. By this time she'd been through an educational imprinter, spoke Chem and shiptongue.
The major irritant in her existence at this moment was remembrance of Andy Thurlow. Kelexel had begun to ease back on the strength of the manipulator (her reactions were now sufficiently conditioned) and she could remember Andy with growing clarity. But the fact of her helplessness eased her guilt feelings, and Andy came less and less into her thoughts until Kelexel brought her a pantovive.
Kelexel had learned his lesson with the Subi creature. Activity slows the aging process of a mortal, he reminded himself, and he had Ynvic fit Ruth to a pantovive with access to the storyship's Archive Storage system.
The machine was introduced into a corner of her prison-room, a room that already had taken on touches of her personality as Kelexel fitted it to her wishes. A complete bathroom-dressing room had been installed adjoining it. Clothing? She had but to ask, Kelexel filled a closet to overflowing. Jewelry, perfumes, choice foods: all came at her bidding.
Kelexel bent to every request, knowing himself to be besotted with her and enjoying every moment of it. When he caught the crewmen exchanging sly looks he smiled to himself. They must all have their pleasure creatures from this planet. He presumed that the native males must be just as exciting to Chem females; it was one of the attractions of the place, one of the reasons Fraffin had been so successful here.
>
Thoughts of his purpose here, his duty, slipped temporarily into the background. He knew the Primacy would understand when he explained and displayed his pleasure creature. After all, what was Time to a Chem? The Investigation would continue, merely a bit slowed . . . temporarily.
At first, the pantovive frightened Ruth. She shook her head as Kelexel tried to explain its purpose and workings. How it worked; that was easy enough to understand. Why it worked was completely beyond her comprehension.
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