“Don’t give us a lot of time to do anything.” Ashwood was watching Tree, who stood swaying next to an open window. “Well? Do our resident veggies have any brilliant suggestions? Have you been listening to any of this?”

“We hear everything, madam,” said Tree.

“Quite.” Crease was examining the remnants of the human’s breakfast. “Somehow we must gain control of the broadcast facilities. Our aim should be not to cancel the proposed transmission but to reprogram it to suit our own ends. We must counteract the Contisuyuns’ litany of bellicosity with counterveiling subliminal reassurances. This should not take long; a few minutes of broadcast time accompanied by an appropriately reinforcing delivery would be sufficient.”

“Might as well ask for a couple of hours,” Ashwood grumbled. “They ain’t gonna let us or anybody else rewrite their script.”

“First we have to get inside.” Carter looked thoughtful. “We ought to be able to manage that as long as we can avoid Da Rimini, Fewick, and the others. The local technicians won’t know us from Adam.”

“What about the rhubarbs-who-came-before?” She jerked a finger in the Boojums’ direction.

“We can arrive at the last minute concealed in the delivery vehicle you have rented,” Shorty replied, “and remain motionless and out of sight until it is time to reprogram the instrumentation. We will deal with those humans who are in control of the transmission in the same manner as we dealt with the Contisuyuns at Nazca. No one will be injured.” The Boojum pivoted toward Carter. “It is imperative that while the altered suggestiveness is being broadcast it be supported by appropriate verbal accompaniment.”

“In other words, the story line that’s going out has to be altered to match your subliminals?”

“Quite. Otherwise the contrast between what the human audience feels and what it sees and hears will negate our efforts. It would be as if the visual portion of one of your commercials were broadcast in tandem with the sound track from an advertisement for an entirely different product. No harm will result, but neither will we have succeeded in repairing the emotional damage or counteracting the prejudice the Contisuyuns have engendered. Should we attempt this and fail we may temporarily frustrate their quest for revenge, but we will have sacrificed the element of surprise. They could resume their assault elsewhere, possibly with a different approach.

“No, we must succeed the first time.”

Carter straightened proudly. “Improvisation’s always been one of my strong points. You take care of the electronics and I’ll handle the story line.”

“Jolly good,” said Crease.

“You’re out of the mind they’ll blow away,” Ashwood insisted.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Marjorie, I can do this. Remember, they broadcast live. By the time anyone important enough gives the order to cut the satellite link the Boojums will have done their job. And I’ll have done mine.”

“What about the rest of the cast, the other actors? Won’t they just stop dead in their tracks when another performer shows up unannounced and starts spouting lines that aren’t in the script?”

“Not if I can come up with viable dialogue. If they’re competent actors they’ll adapt. They won’t have any choice because they’re live. Until somebody says cut or wrap they’ll keep going, just like the technicians and the people up in the booth.

“Everyone will be looking at everyone else. The director will think my appearance is a producer’s gimmick, the actors will think it’s a ploy of the director, and rather than blow the show they’ll all wing it rather than go to black. I’m figuring they’ll hang with it at least until the next commercial. I only have to stay on for a few minutes.”

“You’re goin’ to get your fool self shot.”

“I don’t think so, Marjorie. They may have guards posted at the entrance, but there shouldn’t be any on the set.”

She was still reluctant. “You’re all crazy. Suppose when you drive up to the gate somebody wants to take a look in the van?”

Carter had already considered that. “Igor can tell them that the Boojums are props for the show. The guards will believe him. What else could they be?”

They spent the next morning reconnoitering the studio. From the outside the old film complex looked little different from the other commercial buildings that filled half the industrial park south of Edinburgh. Vacant fields alternated with sprawling, usually windowless single-story distribution facilities and assembly plants.

A large satellite dish peered heavenward from atop the main structure. Chain link fencing topped with concertina wire enclosed the grounds. While Carter had been correct in his assumption that the Contisuyuns would not have armed men conspicuously on patrol, it was also clear they had no intention of allowing casual visitors to roam freely about the studio.

The Boojums were possessed of several acute senses, but vision was not one of them. So it was left to Carter and Igor to sit in the front of the van and swap a pair of hastily purchased binoculars back and forth as they studied the grounds.

“I see one guard station,” Igor murmured as he stared through the glasses. “One man inside.”

“That rambling structure would be administration,” Carter decided, peering past the shorter man. “The broadcast facilities are probably located behind it. Technical should be next door, under the big dish. That’s where you need to take our friends.”

Igor lowered the binoculars. “What about you? How will you get onto the set?”

Carter chewed his lower lip. “I don’t know. It’ll be a lot tougher to slip in there unchallenged than into Technical. The longer I can delay my ‘entrance,’ the greater the surprise and the better chance I’ll have of pulling this off. Ideally I need to keep out of sight until right before I step in front of the cameras.”

“Then we need to find a way in, where you won’t be noticed,” Ashwood opined from her seat next to the door.

Carter turned. “There is no other way in.”

She smiled and gave him a playful jab in the ribs. “How do you know if you don’t have a look? Let’s take a drive around back.”

After circumnavigating the studio they parked in the lot of the plastics factory next door, whose busy workers ignored the unmarked delivery vehicle in their midst.

Ashwood squinted through the binoculars. “There’s an old dirt road crossin’ the empty field between the studio and here. It ends at a gate.” She gripped the field glasses tighter. “I see a big chain and a heavy padlock. No problem.”

“I thought you told me that you had nothing to do personally with those robberies your boyfriend was involved in years ago?”

She lowered the binoculars. “What I said was that I never killed nobody. I didn’t say nothin’ about a little recreational breakin’ and enterin’.”

He made a face. “So when do we go in?”

“Early in the morning, before the crew arrives to start settin’ up. Guards’ll be changin’ shifts and less alert. We’ll take some sandwiches or somethin’ and find a place where we can hide until evening.”

Carter frowned at her. “Who said you were coming with me?”

“Why not?” she shot back. “I’d look out of place in the van with Igor and I’m damned if I’m gonna squat back at the cottage and wait for the menfolk to come ridin’ in to tell me how their evening went. Besides, if somebody stumbles into us maybe I can distract ’em. Tell ’em I need their help in wardrobe. I can make that believable enough.” Twisting in her seat, she glanced back at the Boojums. “They start sending at seven P.M. How soon after they’re on the air should he make his ‘entrance’?”

“It does not matter once we are in control of the technical facilities,” Shorty told her. “We will of course be able to see him on your boxy little visual monitors once he enters the field of view. At that time we will begin to broadcast our altered suggestiveness in conjunction with his improvised dialogue.”

“Let’s wait ‘til at least the second half of the show,” Carter suggested. “That way they won’t have time to put a countervailing message on the air if they somehow manage to retake the transmission room.”

“Ripping good notion, old boy.”

Ashwood peered around Carter’s bulk at Igor. “Head for the gate just before airtime. That way you won’t be parked where you might attract the attention of some bored road cop. Also, you can say that you got caught in rush-hour traffic … I guess they got rush-hour traffic hereabouts … and that the ‘props’ you’re deliverin’ are needed right away for the show. Rent-a-cops don’t like bein’ yelled at, and it’ll be so close to airtime there won’t be time for him to call somebody else to run a check, so he ought to wave you on through. You couldn’t bring it off at a studio in L.A., but I’ll bet they’re more laid-back hereabouts.”

“The timing is very close.” Igor sounded concerned.

“We will have ample time.” A rush of reassurance emanated from the Boojums. Suddenly Carter felt completely confident. “Once we have taken the broadcast facilities we will retain control of them until our work is concluded. The Contisuyuns will not have time to realize what has happened to them. By the time they do it will all be over and their nefarious intentions come to naught.”

“I just thought of something.” Ashwood regarded her companions solemnly. “Assuming we bring this off, what’s to keep them from starting all over again with another show someplace else?”

“We will see to it that the dangerous equipment is obliterated beyond repair,” Crease told her. “Learning machinery is very delicate and requires components and manufacturing facilities not present on your world. The Contisuyuns who are marooned here are not capable of reconstructing such facilities, even with paid human assistance. These are technicians, not engineers. Your best auto mechanic could not assemble a car from piles of metal and plastic.”

“Then let’s go back to the cottage.” Ashwood yawned noisily. “If I’ve got to get up early to save the world, or at least this part of it, I want to get a good night’s sleep in before it’s time to go to work.”

XVIII

Igor and the Boojums wished Carter and Ashwood well as they left for the studio at sunup in the small rented car. The aliens and their anxious Peruvian driver wouldn’t abandon the cottage for another ten hours or so. Carter gave Macha a goodbye caress, whereupon Tree assured him they would watch over her as carefully as they did Grinsaw.