Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

SYMBIOTICA 41 other natives were wearing similar objects all of which were orange and black except- ing one which was yellow and black. Jepson bugged his eyes, opened his mouth, but emitted no sound. He teetered. The guy wearing the yellow and black lump of wickedness was standing right at my side watching Jepson with academic interest. I broke his neck. The way it snapped re- minded me of a rotten broomstick. That thing on his leg left him the moment he was mutton, but fast as it moved it was too late. Jepson fell onto his face just as my eco: scrunched the thing into the turf. There was a hullabaloo all around me. I could hear McNulty’s anxious voice yelping, ‘““Men! Men!” Even at a time like this the crackpot could dwell on the vision of him- self being demoted for tolerating maltreat- ment of natives. Armstrong kept bawling, “Another bugger!” and each time there fol- lowed a loud splash in the river. Things were going phut-phut and spheres were crashing again. Jepson lay like one dead while combatants stumbled over his body. Brennand barged up against me. He was breathing in quick puffs and trying to gouge a black eye out of a green face. By this time I’d got myself another aborigine and proceeded to take him apart. I tried to imagine that he was a fried chicken of which I never seem to get any more than the piece that goes last over the fence. He was hard to hold, this greenie, and bounced around like a rubber ball. Over his swaying shoulder I could see Sug Farn juggling with five at once and envied him the anacondas he used for limbs. My op- ponent stabbed his fingers into the chry- santhemum I didn’t possess, looked surprised at his own forgetfulness, was still trying to think of something else as he went into the river. Then half a dozen spheres cracked open at my feet and the last I remember hearing was Armstrong bellowing just before a splash. The last I remember seeing was Sug Farn suddenly shooting out a spare tentacle he’d temporarily overlooked and using it to arrange that of the six greenies who jumped me only five landed. The other one was still going up as I went down. For some reason I didn’t pass out as I'd done before. Maybe I only got a half-dose of whatever the spheres gave forth, or per- haps they contained a different mixture. All I know is that I went down with five aborigines aboard my ribs, the skies spun crazily, my brains turned to porridge. Then, astonishingly, I was'awake, my upper limbs again tightly bound. — Over to the left a group of natives made a heaving pile atop some forms that I couldn’t see but could easily hear. Arm- strong was doing some championship hog- calling underneath that bunch which, after a couple of hectic minutes, broke apart to reveal his tied body along with those of Blaine and Sug Farn. On my right lay Jep- son, his limbs quite free, but the lower ones apparently helpless. There was now no sign of the pinnace. Without further ado the greenies whisked us across the sward and five miles deep into the forest, or city, or whatever it ought to be called. Two of them bore Jepson in a sort of wicker hamper. There were still as many trees as houses. Here and there a few impassive citizens came to the doors of their abodes and watched us dragging on our way. You'd have thought we were the sole surviving specimens of the. dodo. Minshul and McNulty were right behind me in this death parade, and I heard the latter say, pontifically, “I shall speak to their leader about this. I shall point out to him that all these unfortunate struggles are the inevitable result of his own people’s belli- cosity.” “Undoubtedly,” afforded Minshull, with a touch of sardonic heartiness. “Making all allowances for mutual diffi- culties of understanding,” McNulty went on, “T still think that we are entitled to be re- ceived with a modicum of courtesy.” “Quite,” said Minshull. His voice was now solemn, like that of the president of a mortician’s convention. “And we consider that our reception left much to be desired.” “Precisely my point,” said the skipper. “And any further hostilities would be most deplorable,” continued Minshull. “Of course!”? McNulty enthused. “In which event we'll tear the guts out of every greenie on this stinking planet.” “Eh?” McNulty paused in his pace. His voice went up in pitch. “Nothing,” lied Minshull, didn’t even open my mouth.” What the outraged shipmaster intended to say remained a mystery, for at this point a greenie caught him lagging and prodded him on. With an angry snort, he speeded up, moving in introspective silence from then on. Presently, we emerged from a_ long, orderly line of tree-shrouded homes and entered a glade fully twice as large as that comiclbooks amiably. “I (©