Clive Bedford - Mistress of torment

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!"