"No. Why?"
"Don't. Don't go back there for any purpose. I recall thinking, while I was with them, that I would have to booby-trap it."
"Well, you didn't, did you? Or did you?"
"No, I did not. But it may have been booby-trapped since then. There may be the equivalent of Old John waiting, spider fashion, for you-or me-to return there." I explained to her Mcllvaine's theory about the slugs, the "group memory" idea. "I thought at the time he was spinning the dream stuff scientists are so fond of. But now I don't know; it's the only hypothesis I can think of that covers everything . . . unless we assume that the titans are so stupid that they would as soon try to catch fish in a bathtub as in a brook. Which they aren't."
"Just a moment, dear-by Dr. Mcllvaine's theory each slug is really every other slug; is that it? In other words that thing that caught me last night was just as much the one that rode you when you were with them as was the one that actually did ride you-Oh, dear, I'm getting confused. I mean-"
"That's the general idea. Apart, they are individuals; in direct conference they merge their memories and Tweedledum becomes exactly like Tweedledee. Then, if that is true, this one last night remembers everything it learned from me provided it had direct conference with the slug that rode me, or any other slug that had had, or a slug that had been linked through any number of slugs by direct conference to the slug that had ridden me, after the time it did-which you can bet it did, from what I know of their habits. It would have-the first one, I mean . . . wait a minute; this is getting involved. Take three slugs; Joe, Moe, and uh, Herbert. Herbert is the one last night; Moe is the one which-"
"Why give them names if they are not individuals?" Mary wanted to know.
"Just to keep them-No reason; let it lie that if McIlvaine is right there are hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of slugs who know exactly who you and I are, by name and by sight and everything, know where your apartment is, where my apartment is, and where our cabin is. They've got us on a list."
"But-" She frowned. "That's a horrid thought, Sam. How would they know when to find us at the cabin? You didn't tell anybody we were going and I did not even know. Would they simply stake it out and wait? Yes, I suppose they would."
"They must have. We don't know that waiting matters to a slug; time may mean something entirely different to them."
"Like Venerians," she suggested. I nodded; a Venerian is likely as not to "marry" his own great-great-granddaughter-and be younger than his descendants. It depends on how they estivate, of course.
"In any case," I went on, "I've got to report this, including our guesses as to what is behind it, for the boys in the analytical group to play with."
I was about to go on to say that, if we were right, the Old Man would have to be especially careful, as it was he and not Mary and myself that they were after. But my phone sounded for the first time since my leave had started. I answered and the Old Man's voice cut in ahead of the talker's: "Report in person."
"We're on our way," I acknowledged. "About thirty minutes."
"Make it sooner. You use Kay Five; tell Mary to come in by Ell One. Move." He switched off before I could ask him how he had known that Mary was with me.
"Did you get it?" I asked Mary.
"Yes, I was in the circuit."
"Sounds as if the party was about to start."
It was not until we had landed that I began to realize how drastically the situation had changed. We were complying with Schedule Bare Back; we had not heard of Schedule Sun Tan. Two cops stopped us as we got out. "Stay where you are!" one of them ordered. "Don't make any sudden moves."
You would not have known they were cops, except for the manner and the drawn guns. They were dressed in gun belts, shoes, and skimpy breech clouts-little more than straps. A second glance showed their shields clipped to their belts. "Now," the same one went on, "Off with those pants, buddy."
I did not move quickly enough to suit him. He barked, "Make it snappy! There have been two shot trying to escape already today; you may be the third." "Do it, Sam," Mary said quietly. I did it. My shorts were a one-piece garment, with the underwear part built in; without them, I stood dressed in my shoes and a pair of gloves, feeling like a fool-but I had managed to keep both my phone and my gun covered up as I took off my shorts.
The cop made me turn around. His mate said, "He's clean. Now the other one." I started to put my shorts back on and the first cop stopped me.
"Hey! You looking for trouble? Leave 'em off."
I said reasonably, "You've searched me. I don't want to get picked up for indecent exposure."
He looked surprised, then guffawed and turned to his mate. "You hear that. Ski? He's afraid he'll be arrested for indecent exposure."
The second one said patiently, "Listen, yokel, you got to cooperate, see? You know the rules. You can wear a fur coat for all of me-but you won't get picked up for indecent exposure; you'll get picked up DOA. The Vigilantes are a lot quicker to shoot than we are." He turned to Mary. "Now, lady, if you please."
Without argument Mary started to remove her shorts. The second cop said kindly, "That isn't necessary lady, not the way those things are built. Just turn around slowly."
"Thank you," Mary said and complied. The policeman's point was well taken; Mary's briefies appeared to have been sprayed on, and her halter also quite evidently contained nothing but Mary.
"How about those bandages?" the first one commented. "Her clothes sure can't cover anything." I thought, brother, how wrong you are; I'll bet she's packing at least two guns this minute, besides the one in her purse-and I'll bet one of them is ready to heat up quicker than yours! But what I said was,
"She's been badly burned. Can't you see that?" He looked doubtfully at the sloppy job I had done on the dressings; I had worked on the principle that, if a little is good, more is better, and the dressing across her shoulders where she had been burned the worst undoubtedly could have concealed a slug, if that had been the purpose. "Mmmm . . ." he said, "If she was burned."
"Of course she was burned!" I felt my judgment slipping away; I was the perfect heavy husband, unreasonable where my wife was concerned. I knew it-and I liked it that way. "Damn it, look at her hair! Would she ruin a head of hair like that just to fool you?"
The first cop said darkly, "One of them would."
The more patient one said, "Carl is right. I'm sorry, lady; we'll have to disturb those bandages."
I said excitedly, "You can't do that! We're on our way to a doctor. You'll just-"
Mary said, "Help me, Sam. I can't take them off myself."
I shut up and started to peel up one corner of the big dressing, my hands trembling with rage. Presently the older, more kindly one whistled and said, "I'm satisfied. How about you, Carl?"
"Me, too. Ski. Gripes, girlie, it looks like somebody tried to barbecue you. What happened?"
"Tell them, Sam."
So I did. The older cop finally commented, "I'd say you got off easy-no offense, madam. So it's cats, now, eh? Dogs I knew about. Horses, yes. But cats-you wouldn't think the ordinary cats could carry one." His face clouded. "We got a cat and now we'll have to get rid of it. My kids won't like that."
"I'm sorry," Mary told him and sounded as if she meant it.
"It's a bad time for everybody. Okay, folks, you can go-"