caught in his throat.
His eyes never moving from the alien object, although by now the yellow glow was almost too strong to look at, the leader began backing slowly away from the barn. The yellow cable had not vanished. It continued to twist and turn like wire, though he could see through it easily.
The tenuous tentacle started to move along the ground in front of the barn, occasionally touching the ground like a dog hunting for a scent. When it touched earth, little puffs of dirt would jump explosively though silently into the air, as if a bullet had struck ground.
Backing away faster, the leader called to his men, not caring now if those in the house heard him. The thread abruptly swung over his head and touched one of the men guarding the house. He dropped his gun, and his hands went to his neck where the yellow light had touched him as he fell forward.
Now the leader had turned and was running, running, his heart pounding with fear of the unknown. He wanted to scream but couldn't spare the wind. The light continued moving over his head.
At last he reached the truck. Someone leaned out of the cab, waving wildly at him. As he did so, the yellow light passed through the glass windshield and touched him. He slumped, his upper body, head, and arms dangling over the door.
Like a live thing, the thread moved to the back of the truck and touched the man who stood paralyzed there. Then it curled around and began probing inside the open trailer.
Changing his course, the leader found himself sprinting through the dark brush. Prickly pear and Spanish sword tore at his neat black coveralls, and he felt blood running down his legs. Something heavy yet not oppressive tickled the middle of his back. It felt uncannily like a smooth finger rubbing his spine. He smelled marzipan and felt himself falling before he started to fall.
Nothing stirred outside the Shattuck house.
Mmmmmmm-ticka, tick! tick! Hmm-hmm-hmm . buzz-hmm-buzz . . . tick!
Chester ignored the noise in the seat behind him as he piloted the station wagon recklessly along the familiar road out of Breckenridge. They should arrive at the same time as the copters from Fort Hood. He underestimated the commotion his early-morning call to the general had caused.
Considerable confusion reigned when they drove up to the ranch. The traits had already arrived. More people than the land there had ever felt at one time were roaming around the ranch buildings and surrounding ground.
Two big transport helicopters were settled like monster beetles on the road ahead. Armed men with many- patched uniforms and funny hats milled about in confusion.
Chester was the last out of the station wagon as he cut the engine before the ranch house. All three scientists were already heading at their respective top speeds for the barn. Their worries, and Chester's, turned out to be groundless.
Even from here he could see the alien device resting in its former position high up in the hayloft; despite the noise, he could hear it humming its atonal hymn. Gem lights winked on and off within a globe of moon.
His first thought satisfied, he turned his attention to the house, headed toward it.
A smartly clad ranger blocked his path with a slim M-18. 'Sorry, sir, no one permitted past this point without authorization.'
Chester fumbled for identification, trying to locate the proper cards and peer past the bulk of the soldier as well.
'I'm Major Josiah Chester,' he explained, 'Air Force Intelligence. I'm the one who placed the emergency call that brought you all out here.'
The soldier listened impassively, noncommittally. It was the printed identification that pleased him. After that careful study; he stepped aside. 'Go on in, Major.'
The first thing he saw in the big living room was a very alive Beth hattuck and a long row of bodies. They were of indeterminate nationality and size, alike only their clothing. Some lay frozen in odd positions. They looked like a family of ravens worked on by a not-too-steady-handed taxidermist.
'Mornin', Major,' Beth Shattuck greeted him brightly. 'Seems we've been invaded twice tonight.' She indicated the row of near corpses. 'First by these. Then by your friends. They are your friends, aren't they?' He nodded ruefully. 'Then they come swooping down with the most god-awful yelling and hollering you can imagine. Like to scared the chickens plumb to death.
'Cotton and Gin woke up woozy right when it happened. They're both in David's room hiding under his bed, and nothing can get them out. I got tired of shoutin' at those two bitches, so I came out here. What's goin' on? Who are these ugly catatonics-' She gestured again at the row of bodies. '-and why the invasion? You folks tryin' to make a comedy picture or somethin'?'
'There's no comedy to it, Mrs. Shattuck,' Chester told her softly as he moved from one softly breathing, motionless form to the next. He stopped at the one he was hunting for, turned it over. Frightened, angry eyes glared back at him helplessly.
'Excuse me, sir?'
Chester looked up from the limp form into the face of an earnest captain of special forces. He repeated his identification, verbal and written, for the officer's benefit.
The captain stood back while Chester went through the sergeant's pockets, acutely aware of those eyes following him. Other than that, the big man didn't twitch a muscle, though Chester could feel as well as hear the man breathing.
There was nothing in the man's pockets that proved particularly instructive, unless it was the exceedingly large amount of cash. He fondled a bent, smudged card on which numbers were listed for girlfriends, bowling alleys, and restaurants. Odd, but all the numbers were out of state.
It might have been his imagination, but it seemed to Chester that when he handled that particular item the sergeant's eyes widened slightly. He handed the card to the captain, along with the cashwnd the rest of the items.
'While Intelligence is running checks on these people and their identities, have them research the numbers on that card, delicately. They might turn up some interesting people at the other end of each of them.'
'Yes, sir,' acknowledged the captain, saluting respectfully.
'Now, what happened here?' Chester asked him.
'Nothing, sir. We flew out as fast as we could, putting on our boots on board ship. Someone got somebody big awfully excited.'
'That was me,' Chester told him.
'We'd been standing by for weeks,' the captain went on, 'told to be ready for an unspecified emergency. When we got the call, we were ordered to prepare to land shooting. But when we came in, no one challenged us.
'We found these-' He indicated the bodies, a couple of which were beginning to twitch. '-scattered between that barn, all along the road up to a big semi-I don't know if you can see it in the darkness, sir.'
'We passed it coming in,' Chester said.
'There's a fancy sling and winch arrangement inside the rear trailer of it, sir, along with a pile of legitimate cargo-cover, we presume. We were informed on the way about the satellite.'
Chester did not enlighten the captain further. 'It seems pretty obvious they came here to steal it, sir. We've spent most of our time waiting for someone to give us new orders.' He looked hopefully at Chester.
'Load up your men, go home, and forget about this morning,' the major instructed him. 'You've done your job.' He gestured with a thumb at the now stirring, and moaning bodies nearby. 'Make sure these are turned over to base intelligence for 'debriefing.' ' His stress on the last word was peculiar.
'If they can be debriefed. What happened to them?'
'Just a minute, sir.' The captain turned, shouted to a man bent over one of the forms. He rose, walked over, to join them. Chester noted the captain's bars and medical insignia on his field uniform.
'Never saw anything quite like it,' was his response to Chester's questions. 'Full paralysis of every voluntary muscle. Those necessary to maintain the life functions are operating normally.'
'Any idea what caused it?'
'None.' The doctor shook his head slowly. 'I can't imagine what happened.'
