Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

SYMBIOTICA we had to spend an impatient and sweaty half-hour roasting each other’s suits with needlers turned to wide jet and low power. I was cooked by the time the last micro- scopic louse dropped off. Young Wilson seized the opportunity to dig out a movie camera and record our com- munal decontamination. This, I knew, eventually would be shown to an amused world sitting in armchair comfort far, far from the troubles surrounding Rigel. Secretly, I wished that a few surviving bugs would somehow manage to get around with the film. With a more official air, he also got shots of the forest, the river, and a couple of upturned boats with all their bivalve paddles exposed. Then, thankfully, we all piled into ‘the spaceship. The pinnace was lugged aboard and the Marathon blew off pronto. I don’t think there’s ever been a time when I felt more like a million dollars than I did when nor- mal, glorious light came through the ports and the bilious green coloring faded from our faces. With Brennand, I watched this strange, eerie world sink below us, and I can’t say I was sorry to see it drop. Jay came along, said, “Sergeant, we’re not making any further landings. The skipper’s decided to return to Terra at once and make a full report.” “Why?” asked Brennand. He gestured below. “We’ve come away with practically nothing worth having!” “McNulty thinks we’ve learned quite enough.” The rhythmic thum of the stern tubes sounded through his momentary silence. “He says he’s conducting an explora- tory expedition and not ,managing a slaughterhouse. He’s had enough and is thinking of offering his resignation.” “The dunderhead!” said Brennand, with total lack of reverence. “What have we learned, if anything?” I asked. “Well, we know that life on that planet is mostly symbiotic,” Jay replied. “There, different forms of life share their existence and their faculties. Men share with trees, each according to his kind. The communal point is that queer chest organ.” “Drugs for blood,” said Brennand. “Bah!” “But,” Jay went on, “there were some higher than the Ka and their kind, some so high and godlike that they could depart from their trees and travel the globe, by day 47 or by night. They could milk their trees, transport their nourishment and absorb it from bowls. Of the partnership imposed upon them, they had gained the mastery, and, in the estimation of this planet, they alone were free!” “How fallen are the mighty,” I com- mented. | ; “Not so,” Jay contradicted. “We have killed, but not conquered. The world is still theirs. We are retiring, with our losses—and we still have Jepson to cure!” He turned away. A thought struck me, and I said to him, ‘ “Hey, what happened during that assault on the ship? And how did you keep track of us?” “It was a losing fight, so we blew free,” he replied. “After that, we followed you very easily.” His eyes were always inscrutably aflame, but I will swear that there was a touch of humor in them as he went on. “You had Sug Farn with you. We had Kili Yang and the rest.” He tapped his head sug- gestively. “The Martians have much gamish.” “Hell, telepathy!’ yelped Brennand. “I forgot all about that. Sug Farn never said a word. That cross-eyed spider just slept every chance he got!” “Nevertheless,” said Jay, “he was con- stantly in touch with his fellows!” He went along the passage, rounded the corner. Then the warning alarm sounded, and Brennand and I clung like brothers while the ship switched to Flettner drive. The green world faded to a dot with swift- ness that never failed to astound me. We took fresh hold on ourselves, rubbed our distorted innards into shape. Then Brennand went to the valve of the storrad air lock, turned the control, watched the pressure gauge crawl from three pounds to fifteen. “The Martians are inside there,” I pointed out. “And they won’t like that. 3 “I don’t want ’em to like it. I'll teach those rubber caricatures to hold out on me!” “McNulty won’t like it either.” “Who cares what McNulty likes!” he yelled. Then McNulty himself came around the corner, walking with portly dignity, and Brennand promptly added, in a still louder voice, “You ought to be. a darned sight more respectful and refer to him as the skipper.” When you travel the void, never mind the ship—pick the guys who’re going to accom- pany you in it! comiclooks CO