Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

32 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE-FICTION Molders had a try at getting up the trunk, found it impossible. He edged out to have a look upward, came in when he noticed an- other leaf in a strategic position. The safest place was beneath the unfortunate Jepson. A little over twenty feet up, the goo was slowly spreading over its victim and I reckoned that in half an hour he’d be com- pletely covered—in much less if he wriggled around. All this time the dull pulsations continued as if ticking off the last moments of the doomed. They made me think of jungle drums heard through thick walls. Gesturing to the golden cylinder which was the Marathon lying five hundred yards away in the glade, Wilson said, “Let’s beat it back and get ropes and steel dogs. We'll soon bring him down.” “No,” I answered. “We'll get him down a darned sight faster than that.” Whereupon I aimed my needle ray at the point where Jepson’s leaf joined the branch. The beam lanced forth at full strength. , The leaf dropped off and the tree went mad. Jepson fell into soft, springy under- growth, the leaf still firmly fastened to his back. He landed with a wild yelp and a flood of curses. While we all lay flat, frantically trying to bury ourselves deeper, the tree thrashed around, its gum-laden spatulates hungry for vengeance. One persistent branch kept beating within a yard of my head as IJ tried to shove said toppiece below ground. I hated the stink of pineapple and cinnamon that permeated the air. And it made me sweat to think how my lungs would strain, my eyes pop and my heart burst if I got a dollop of that junk slap in the face. I’d sooner’ve been neatly needled. The tree ended its wild larruping, stood like a dreaming giant liable to wake into frenzy at any moment. Crawling to Jepson, we dragged him out of reach. He couldn’t walk, his jackboots and the legs of his pants being firmly stuck together. His left arm was just as securely gummed to his side. He was in an awful pickle, cursed steadily and without pause for breath or thought. We'd never suspected him of such fluency. But we got him into the safety of the glade, and it was there | thought up a few words he’d overlooked. Ii. MoLpeERS stolidly said nothing, contenting himself with listening to Jepson and me. Molders had helped me to the dragging and now neither of us could let go. We were fixed to the original victim, bonded like brothers but not talking like brothers. There was nothing to do but carry Jepson bodily with our hands remaining on the most in- convenient parts of his anatomy. He had to go horizontally and face downward, as if he was a drunk getting frogmarched to barracks. He was still adorned with the leaf. He was still reciting. The task wasn’t lightened by that young fool Wilson who thought there was some- thing funny in other people’s misfortunes. He followed us, snapping his accursed camera which I could have stuffed down his gullet with the greatest of pleasure. He was too happy about the fact that there wasn’t any goo on him. Jay Score, Brennand, Armstrong, Peterson and Drake met us as we lumbered awk- wardly, across the sward. They looked curi- ously at Jepson, listened to him with much respect. We warned them not to touch. The pair of us weren’t feeling too sprightly by the time we reached the Marathon. :‘Jepson’s weight was only two thirds normal, but after five hundred yards he seemed like the last remains of a glutinous mammoth. We dumped him on the grass below the open lock, perforce sitting with him. The faint booming sound was still coming out of the forest. Jay went inside the ship, brought out Sam and Wally to see what they could do about the super-adhesive. The stuff was stiffening, growing gradually harder. My hands and fingers felt as if they’d been set into glassite gloves. Sam and Wally tried cold water, luke- warm water and hot water, but none of it did any good. Chief Engineer Douglas obliged them with a bottle of rocket fuel. That didn’t work either. They had a go with some special gasoline which Steve Gre- gory kept for the crew’s cigarette lighters. They wasted their time. That gasoline could play hell with rubber, but it couldn't dis- solve this stuff. “Stick it, fellers!” advised Wilson, cack- ling loudly. Jepson made sulphuric mention of this idiot’s parents. I enlarged upon his grandparents. Jepson turned to the subject of his nonexistent progeny. Molders looked stolid, said nothing. ““You sure are in a fix,” went on Wilson. “By gum!”’ Then Sam came out with some iodine. It didn’t work, but it did make a terrible stink. Molders permitted his face to look slightly pained. Some nitric acid caused bubbles on Ccomiclbooks.c©