"Thousands of, for God's sake, what?"
"Why, of Cuckoo's dear Lambs, of course," she explained. "We hatch them here, because it's so unpleasant for them out in the open, this far north. Then we release them. Or the Maid spreads the seeds in the water—along the Charles, down by the Bay, in the park ponds, anywhere where there's water and sunlight and minerals to make their beautiful bodies. But there's not a lot of sunlight in Boston," she said regretfully. "So some of the poor darlings that try to grow in the river just don't make it. But the ones we grow here—ah, they're perfect!"
She patted Babylon's cheek gently, and then ran to answer a knock at the door. "Oh, you're here!" she cried joyfully. It was one of the skinny, bearded, filthy Kooks, and he was incongruously carrying a box and packages from Filene's department store. Sheryl set them on a table and began opening them eagerly. For a moment she looked like the old Sheryl, thrilled with new clothes, excited by cosmetics. But it turned out the finery was not for her. Some of the clothes were a man's, in giant sizes, for Te'ehala Tupaia. The rest were for the Crystal Maid, and so were all the cosmetics.
Sheryl caught sight of Babylon's gaze and shook her head ruefully. "Isn't it a pity to cover up that beautiful person?" she asked. "But she's so conspicuous, you see, and this way she'll be able to move around the city on Cuckoo's work without attracting so much attention. —Now excuse me, hon, but I'd better get to it!"
Pancake makeup, covered by blusher and powder; eye shadow and mascara; when Sheryl was finished the Crystal Maid was crystal no longer. She looked, if anything, like a bartop dancer in a Combat Zone honky-tonk—but at least she did not look like the alien creature she was. And she and Tupaia—now resplendent in conservative flamingo-pink tunic and slacks, with dark glasses and a jaunty beret—took up the sacks of demon seed and went out.
As soon as the door was closed, the tempo in the apartments slowed down appreciably. Sheryl slumped down on the shabby living-room armchair, exhausted. "Wow," she said, fanning herself, "it's so good to work so hard for Cuckoo!"
She paused in fanning herself and looked critically at Babylon. "What's the matter, hon?" she asked.
Babylon shifted position morosely. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Sheryl?"
"Of course I do! Hon, I wish I could make you understand. They are the true inheritors of Cuckoo. Everything we do is for them and him!"
"You mean the crabs?"
"The Lambs of Cuckoo, hon," she corrected gently.
"Queer-looking lambs! And what about that criminal—is he a lamb, too?"
She shrugged patiently. "Mr. Tupaia is merely an instrument the Maid uses. He doesn't matter. Even the Maid doesn't matter, really—I mean, not in herself. She's merely an edited version of the Lambs herself, you know. Designed to be able to move around more freely in human society than they could—although if it hadn't been for my idea about the makeup," she added proudly, "it wouldn't work so well! Apart from that, there's nothing for her here on dismal old Earth—not with the human race as rotten with disbelief as it is! Even ourselves, really," she added thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wish we were more worthy—"
The skinny old Kook with the beard standing near, came nearer still and scowled at her. "Fine talk!" he barked. "Are you weakening in your faith, Sheryl?"
"Of course not!" she flared. And then, repentantly, "But we all need to reinforce ourselves all the time, don't we? Come! Let's reconsecrate ourselves and worship!"
And she dragged Babylon down on his knees next to her, as she fell to the floor.
All around them the other Kooks were falling to an attitude of prayer, their faces enraptured. "Oh, glorious Cuckoo!" Sheryl cried strongly. "Sacred redeemer! Heavenly visitor! Our Savior and Destroyer, we give you our worship and our love! Let your coming be soon—if it please you— and let us go content into the darkness eternal, fulfilled in the knowledge that we have made way for your coming—"
She didn't stop. She was interrupted. There was a sudden peremptory banging at the door, and a man's voice from outside bawled hoarsely, "Militia! Open up! In the name of the law!"
But the police did not wait for their orders to be obeyed. There was a rending crash, and the door was battered down. In flooded a mass of armed men and women, thick clubs in their hands, flailing at the crabs that failed to get out of their way.
***
Babylon was the first one out, helped by a husky militia- woman, stumbling down the fire stairs and into the street. "You all right?" she demanded, and turned to race back into the building without waiting for an answer. Babylon turned, blinking in the afternoon sunlight. The street was filled. Half a dozen militia hovervans purred in the roadway, on the sidewalks, wherever they had come to rest, while curious onlookers laughed and pointed as, one by one, the Kooks were dragged through the doorway.
And Ben Pertin, grinning broadly, squeezed through the police lines and came up to him. "I thought it was about time we got you out of there," he said. "Don't thank me, Jen. I'm just paying back what I owe you."
Babylon said from the heart, "Well, I do thank you. I was going crazy in there."
"I figured," Pertin said modestly, and they paused as the militia led Sheryl, sobbing, into one of the vans. She caught Babylon's eye and turned away. For some reason she made him feel guilty.
"Too bad about your girlfriend," Pertin observed philosophically, "but I guess you'd have to say she brought it on herself."
"What will they do with her?"
"Oh, nothing too serious, I' guess—probably. Unless you want to press kidnaping charges?"
"No, no!"
"I didn't think so. But I could tell from the way you looked you didn't want to be there, and when I saw those damn animals all around you— Well. You probably want to know how I found you."
"I sure do."
Pertin's expression was filled with self-satisfaction. "I went to the university to talk to you about . . . something." He hesitated. "Well, to tell you that things weren't working out for me. I found they're pretty worried about you. Especially that little girl, Althea. The cute graduate student? Anyway, she told me you'd been talking about Sheryl, so I came to take a look, and I listened at the door, and then I thought I'd better reconnoiter a little before I knocked and maybe got grabbed myself!" He stepped aside, wrinkling his nose as the dirty old man with the beard came out, swearing furiously at the militiaman holding him- "I had a little trouble at first getting the militia to act," he complained, "but of course they don't like Kooks. Or those crabs, either. They wouldn't accept my theory you'd been kidnaped, but after a while they figured out a crime that had been committed." He grinned. "'Keeping dangerous animals in a populated area,' it's called. That was all they needed." He paused, and added, "She's real pretty, isn't she?"
"Who, Althea? I thought Zara Doy Gentry was the only woman who interested you in the whole Galaxy!"
Ben looked shamefaced. "Aw—I went to see her, but she just laughed me off. Hell with her. Now, that Althea—"