"Run!" screamed the alien. "Why don't you—!" Its commands ceased as it realized the difference within the mind that had invaded its body. "You again!" it cried, trying wildly to reassume the placid plump image of that unseen baby once more.
"You're too late," said Jerry, fighting its will with his own as the crewmen broke from the underbrush into the clearing, and the tech, pointing straight at him, yelled a caution to the man with the flame thrower. The man bringing up the terrible gaping mouth of that weapon halted, waiting, as the tech stared at the stopwatch in his hand.
"Five seconds!" cried the tech. "Four ... three ... two ... one.... Get it, quick!"
Jerry, still within the mind and watching with the same horrified fascination as his host, saw the puff of flame within the flame-tube of the weapon, then saw the insane red flower blossoming with its smoking yellow tendrils toward his face—
And the silent white lightning flared—
And he sat up on the couch, back in the solarium.
Jana hurried over to him.
"Did it work? Did it work, sir?" she cried. "Is Bob—"
Jerry patted her hand. "Bob's all right. He was on time. Just on time."