Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

SYMBIOTICA — 43 ¢ ing in its harness just before he was swal- lowed in the deeps of that elevated foliage. The distance made it quite impossible to recognize this invader from above. The nine who were bearing McNulty dropped him unceremoniously on the sward, gazed expectantly at the tree. Strangely enough, aerial manifestations filled these Natives more with curiosity than fear. The tree stood unmoving. Suddenly, amid its top branches, the thin beam of a needle ray lanced forth, touched a large branch at its junction with the trunk, and severed it. The amputated limb went whirling to _ the ground. At once a thousand budlike protuberance which lay concealed between the leaves of the tree swelled up as if they were blown baloons, reached the size of giant pumpkins, and burst with a fusillade of dull pops. They gave out a light yellow mist, exuding the stuff at such a rate that the entire tree was clouded with it in less than one minute. All the natives within sight hooted like a gang of owls, turned and ran. McNulty’s nine guardians also called off the ceremony they’d had in mind and started after their fellows. The needle caught two of them before they’d gone ten steps: the remaining seven doubled their pace. McNulty was lett struggling with the bonds around his wrists while slowly the mist crawled toward him. Again the beam speared high up in the tree which had grown dim within the: en- velope of its own fog, and again a branch went to ground. The last native had faded from sight. The creeping mist was now within thirty yards of the skipper who was standing™and watching it like a man fasci- nated. His wrists were still tied to his sides. Deep inside the mist the. popping sounds continued, though not as rapidly. Yelling at the witless McNulty to make use of his nether limbs, we struggled furi- ously with our own and each other’s bonds. McNulty responded no more than to shuffle backward a few yards. By a superhuman effort Armstrong burst free, snatched a jack- knife from his pants pocket, started cutting our arms loose. Minshull and Blaine, the first two thus relieved, immediately raced to McNulty who was posing within ten yards of the mist like a portly Ajax defying the power of alien gods. They dragged him back. Just as we'd all got rid of our bonds the pinnace came round in another wide sweep, vanished behind the column of yellow cloud and thundered away into the distance. We gave it a hoarse cheer. Then from the mist strode a great figure dragging a limp body with each hand. It was Jay Score. He had a tiny two-way radio on his back. He came toward us, big, powertul, his eyes aflame with their everlasting fires, re- leased his grip on the pair of cadavers, said, ‘“‘Look—this is what that vapor will do to you unless you move out plenty fast!” We looked. These things were the remains of the two natives he'd needled, but the needlers had not caused that awful rotting of the flesh. Both leprous objects were too far gone to be corpses, not far enough to be skeletons. They were mere rags of flesh and half-eaten organs on frames of fester- ing bone. It was easy to see what would have happened to Jay had he been com- posed of flesh and blood, or had he been a breather. “Back to the river,’ advised Jay, “even if we have to fight our way through. The Marathon’s going to land on the front. We must reach her at all costs.” ““And remember, men,” put in McNulty, “I want no unnecessary slaughter.” That was a hell of a laugh. Our sole weapons now consisted of Jay’s needler, Armstrong’s jackknife, and our fists. Be- hind us, already very near and creeping steadily nearer, was the mist of death. Be- tween us and the river lay the greenie met- ropolis with its unknown number of in- habitants armed with unknown devices. Veritably we were between a yellow devil and a green sea. We started off, Jay in the lead, McNulty and the burly Armstrong following. Behind them, two men carried Jepson who could use his tongue even if not his legs. Two more bore the body which our attackers had borne all the way from the ship. Without Opposition or mishap we got a couple of hundred yards deep into the trees and there we buried the corpse of the man who was first to set foot on this soil. He went from sight with the limp silence of the dead while all around us the forest throbbed. In the next hundred yards we were com- pelled to bury another. The surviving duck- on-the-rock player, sobered by the end of his buddy, took the lead as a form of pen- ance. We were marching slowly and cautiously, our eyes alert for hidden natives, our wits ready for any untoward move by a dart-throwing bush or a goo-smearing branch. The man in front swerved away from one tree which topped an empty and silent Ccomicbooks.€c©