Aboriginal Science Fiction, Issues 57–58 — page 65: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“<3 Automatically, Flannery reached for a cap and a pair of lightweight gloves. “Right, then, Fullgor, old son, are we ready to look for these Help-plants?” Flannery slung a backpack containing the equipment he’d need over his shoulder and heaved himself onto the cruiser’s side before dropping down onto the pliant hilltop below. Only months of experience had overcome his aversion to the sentient plant life endemic to Queldon, enabling him to all but ignore the soft touch of the mass- ff es of coiled stalks that caressed his legs as he strode downhill towards the & river. Behind him, Fullgor hopped from _ the cruiser with an agility impossible in a human even remotely his size, before ambling down with his bow-legged, wob- bling gait, quickly leading the way to the river. Flannery followed in his wake, aware that Fullgor’s native knowledge of the flora and fauna would prevent them from getting too close to any dangerous life forms. Though most of Queldon’s_ | plants were safe enough for humans, {7% there were one or two that could cost an unwary tourist a limb — or even his life. Cursing beneath his breath, Flannery swatted a deep red Queldonian equivalent of a dragonfly. The buzzing, finger-long “insect” spiralled towards a nest of sticky tendrils. Instantly they lashed out at it, gumming it to their crimson tips and pulling it down into the glutinous core of the plant’s stalk. Within seconds it was swallowed, digestive acids at work as the tendrils, lithe and speckless, stretched out again. Flannery grimaced, glad that the plant was too small to menace him. “Are there any bigger buggers like that round here?” he asked Fullgor. This time he was sure the Queldonian’s mouth had formed a grin, as the creature swung his head in an affirmative gesture, saying, “Near them — I not — you take. Worry — no need.” Worry — no need, indeed! Flannery thought as he followed him on through ever deeper squirming masses of plant life. It was all right if you were as big as Fullgor, whose waist was barely reached by any of them yet, Flannery grumbled to himself. His chest and neck were repeatedly wrapped in broad leaves that touched him briefly like wafer-thin hands before sensuously sliding across his clothes as he shuddered in revulsion. For more than an hour they picked their way along the riverbank, heading towards the jungle that loomed before them like a vast cathedral of purple-tinted, intertwining columns. “How far is it we'll need to go, Fullgor, old son, Help-Plants a : before we come across any of those plants?” Although the alien’s body language was often difficult for him to follow, he recog- nized the nodding of Fullgor’s head as the Queldonian equivalent of a noncom- mittal shrug. Flannery glanced at his watch. By local time there were only two hours to go before dusk. Not long if they were to go much farther and still get back to the cruiser before dark. The small man glanced at the back of Fullgor’s head as the alien turned and pushed his way through the clinging vegetation. “Hey, Fullgor, we can’t go much far- ther. I’m not spending the night out here. No way.” Fullgor stopped. Looking back, his broad mouth enunciated his words with as much precision as his alien vocal cords could manage. “Safe — you be — with me,” he said. “That’s as may be. But me, I prefer to lie on something that won’t try to curl around me.” He kicked at the grass. “Not unless it’s human,” he added. “And female. You follow?” i. “Help-plant — you want — we | search — go now — onwards. No find Oe oe — easy.” Flannery tried to search the creature’s eyes for any hidden meaning, but their deep red orbs were impossibly blank. Might as well search for meaning in a light bulb, he thought, disgruntled. “Okay. But let’s not drag this out — all right?” “Drag out?” “Nothing. Forget it,” Flannery told him testily. An hour later, Fullgor slowed to a halt. Up close, the jungle looked impossibly tall before them, much higher than Flannery had originally thought when they set out from the hill. “Help-plants?” Flannery asked, stepping up to Fullgor’s side. His mouth dropped _ open. Surrounded by tall, mauve leaves, almost shield- like and sharp, a small, circular clearing opened up ahead of them, covered by a layer of grass-vines. In the middle of the clearing stood a man-like succu- lent. Like most of Queldon’s plantlife, it was pre- dominantly purple, with veins of a deep, reddish hue that pulsed about its fleshy limbs. Although he had heard the rumours and leg- ends, the sight of a Help-plant now was a far more awe-inspiring experience than Flannery could have ever imagined. It was much like a large terrestrial cactus, though in place of prickles only finger-like tendrils, thick and sturdy, wavered from ridges towards the end of its limbs. Sensory appendages rose from the dome at the top of its pod-like body, fringed antennae that were capable of identifying light and sound to a degree beyond that of humans. Most peculiar of all was the dense mass of tendrils Aboriginal Science Fiction — Summer 1998 COMIiCcoooM4s. com