And more dangerous than a cobra, Garvey reminded himself reluctantly.
"Well there," Garvey said, gazing up at her, "as you can see, a mistake
has been made."
The surrogate stared at him with eyes of deepest gray.
"Yes ma'am," Garvey said, with a nervous little laugh, "it's really a
ridiculous error. You, my dear, are an Algolian. I am an Earthman. We
have nothing in common. Understand?"
Her red mouth began to quiver.
"Let me explain," Garvey went on. "You and I are from different
races. That's not to say I consider you ugly. Quite the contrary! But
unfortunately, there can never be anything between us, miss."
She looked at him uncomprehendingly.
"Never," Garvey repeated. He looked at the shattered packing case. "You
don't know your own strength. You'd probably kill me inadvertently. And
we wouldn't want that, would we?"
The surrogate murmured something deep in her beautiful throat.
"So that's the way it is," Garvey said briskly. "You stay right here,
old girl. I'm going to the control room. We'll land on Earth in a few
hours. Then I'll arrange to have you shipped to Algol. The boys'll
really go for you on Algol! Sounds good, huh?"
The surrogate gave no sign of understanding. Garvey moved away. The
surrogate pushed back her long hair and began to move toward him. Her
intentions were unmistakable.
Garvey backed away, step by step. He noticed that the surrogate was
beginning to breathe heavily. Panic overtook him then, and he sprinted
through the cabin door, slamming it behind him. The surrogate smashed
against the door, calling to him in a clear, wordless voice. Garvey
went to the instrument panel and began to evacuate the air from the
after cabin.
Dial hands began to swing. Garvey heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed
into a chair. It had been a close thing. He didn't like to think what
would have happened if the Algolian sexual substitute had managed to
seize him. Probably he would not have lived through the experience. He
felt sorry at the necessity of killing so magnificent a creature, but
it was the only safe thing to do.
He lighted a cigarette. As soon as she was dead, he would jettison
her, crate and all, into space. Then he would get good and drunk. And
at last, he would return to Earth a sadder and wiser man. No more
substitutes for him! Plain, old-fashioned girls were good enough.
Yessir, Garvey told himself, if women were all right for my father,
they're all right for me. And when I have a son, I'm going to say to
him, son, stick with women. They're all right. Accept no substitutes.
Insist upon the genuine article....
He was getting giddy, Garvey noticed. And his cigarette had gone out.
He resisted a tremendous desire to giggle, and looked at his gauges.
The air was leaving the after cabin, all right. But it was also leaving
the control room.
Garvey sprang to his feet and inspected the cabin door. He swore
angrily. That damned surrogate had managed to spring the hinges. The
door was no longer airtight.
He turned quickly to the control board and stopped the evacuation of
air. Why, he asked himself, did everything have to happen to him?
The surrogate renewed her battering tactics. She had picked up a metal
chair and was hammering at the hinges.
But she couldn't break through a tempered-steel door, Garvey told
himself. Oh, no. Not a chance. Never.
The door began to bulge ominously.
Garvey stood in the center of the control room, sweat rolling down his
face, trying desperately to think. He could put on a spacesuit, then
evacuate all the air from the ship....
But the spacesuits, together with the rest of his equipment, were in
the after cabin.
What else? This is serious, Garvey told himself. This is very serious.
His mind seemed paralyzed. What could he do? Raise the temperature?
Lower it?
He didn't know what the surrogate could stand. But he had a suspicion
it was more than he could take.
One hinge shattered. The door bent, revealing the surrogate behind it,
pounding relentlessly, her satiny skin glistening with perspiration.
Then Garvey remembered his revolver. He snatched it out of its holster
and flipped off the safeties, just as the last hinge cracked and the
door flew open.
"Stay in there," Garvey said, pointing the revolver.
The Algolian substitute moaned, and held out her arms to him. She
smiled dazzlingly, seductively, and advanced upon him.
"Not another step!" Garvey shrieked, torn between fear and desire. He
took aim, wondering if a bullet would stop her....
And what would happen if it didn't.
The surrogate, her eyes blazing with passion, leaped for him. Garvey
gripped the revolver in both shaking hands and began shooting. The
noise was deafening. He fired three times, and the surrogate kept on
coming.
"Stop!" Garvey screamed. "Please stop!"
Slower now, the surrogate advanced.
Garvey fired his fourth shot. Limping now, the surrogate came on, her
desire unchecked.
Garvey backed to the wall. All he wanted now was to live long enough
to get his hands on the factory operator. The surrogate gathered
herself and pounced.
At point-blank range, Garvey fired his last shot.
* * * * *
Three days later, Garvey's ship received clearance and came down at
Boston Spaceport. The landing was not made with Garvey's usual skill.
On the final approach he scored a ten-foot hole in the reinforced
concrete landing pit, but finally came to rest.
Eddie Starbuck hurried out to the ship and banged on the port. "Ralph!
Ralph!"
Slowly the port swung open.
"Ralph! What in hell happened to you?" Starbuck cried.
Garvey looked as though he had been wrestling with a meat grinder and
come out second-best. His face was bruised, and his hair had been badly
scorched. He walked out of the ship with a pronounced limp.
"A power line overloaded," Garvey said. "Had quite a tussle before I
could put everything out."
"Wow!" Starbuck said. "Look, Ralph, I'm sorry to put you through this
now, but--well--"
"What's up?"
"Well, that damned surrogate still hasn't been found. The FBI has
ordered inspection of all ships, private and commercial. I'm sorry to
ask it now, after all you've been through--"
"Go right ahead," Garvey said.
The inspection was brief but thorough. Starbuck came out and checked
his list.
"Thanks, Ralph. Sorry to bother you. That power line sure kicked up a
mess, huh?"
"It did," Garvey said. "But I was able to jettison the furniture before
it smoked me out. Now you'll have to excuse me, Eddie. I've got some
unfinished business."
He started to walk away, Starbuck followed him.
"Look, boy, you'd better see a doctor. You aren't looking so good."
"I'm fine," Garvey said, his face set in an expression of implacable
resolve.
Starbuck scratched his head and walked slowly to the control tower.
* * * * *
Garvey caught a heli outside the spaceport. His head was beginning to
ache again, and his legs were shaky.
The surrogate's strength and tenacity had been unbelievable. If she
had been operating at her full capacity, he would never have survived.
But that last shot at point-blank range had done it. No organism was
constructed to take punishment like that. Not for very long.
He reached his destination in the center of Boston and paid off the
heli. He was still very weak, but resolutely he marched across the
street and entered a plain gray-stone building. His legs wobbled under
him, and he thought again how fortunate he was to have gotten the
surrogate.
Of course, the surrogate, with her amazing vitality, had also gotten
him.