without
tearing out a chunk of their hydraulic system.
The howling in his earphones was beginning to break into fragments of words
and sentences.
". . . My suit's torn. I'm losing air . . . Get it off me! Get it off . . .
Shut up, all of you, and . . . Stop it wriggling or it will stab . . .
My leg, dammit, where's the doctor? Off your radio and open your visors
. . . Quiet, and open your helmets . . . !"
McCullough kept quiet as ordered, realizing suddenly that he himself
had been contributing as much as everyone else to the uproar. But he
did not open his visors because his hands were full of alien tentacles.
For the few minutes it took to pull the twisting, heaving body off
Berryman's back, McCullough had a really close look at the alien. There
was a shallow recess between the roots of its tentacles, set so low as
to be almost on the edge of its underbelly, and in it there was the
soft, wet gleam of something which could only be an eye. The opening
and closing mechanism seemed to be a double-lid arrangement operating
vertically rather than horizontally and the eye was quite definitely
looking at him. The ends of its tentacles quivered as they tried to
pull away, and for some odd reason McCullough was reminded of the big,
stupid, friendly dog he had had once and of the time he had tried to
teach it to shake hands.
But this creature certainly was not friendly -- at least, not as human
beings understood the word -- and neither was it stupid. Unless . . .
He was unable to finish the thought because Berryman had wriggled from
beneath the alien and the creature was bouncing up and down between them
as it tried furiously to curl and then uncurl its tentacles. Berryman
snatched a weapon which was floating nearby and slid it under the
being. He pushed it away as Hollis and McCullough let go and the alien
went spinning helplessly into the center of the chamber.
"But I wanted to put it with its friends in the corridor," said Hollis
when he had his visor open. "In here, outnumbered five to one, it might
panic and injure itself . . ."
"Are you sure this air is breathable?" Berryman broke in, speaking
through his smashed visor. There was a long incised wound across his nose
and one cheek.
"Doctor," said the colonel. "Have a look at Drew's leg. And my shoulder
. . ."
" Hollis! Behind you!"
The alien had made contact with the wall net, steadied itself, and then
launched itself furiously toward the physicist. Berryman got his ski stick
up in time and the alien struck it squarely but did not stop. The butt
of the weapon was driven back against the wall, but still the being did
not stop. The metal collar piece holding the plate which kept the tip
of the weapon from penetrating more than half an inch slipped backward
along the shaft. The point, with the alien's considerable velocity and
inertia thrown against it, drove into its body until stopped by the
interior of its carapace.
It began to slap the shaft of the weapon with its tentacles, violently at
first, then more slowly. Suddenly its tentacles tried to tie themselves
in knots and it became completely still.
McCullough launched himself toward the alien, knowing that he was in no
danger from it now. He gripped one tentacle where it joined the body and
gently withdrew the ski stick.
This was much worse than a little property damage or trespass.
Much, much worse.
For a long time nobody spoke. McCullough looked slowly around at the other
four men, trying desperately not to think. The spacesuits of Morrison,
Drew and Berryman were torn or otherwise rendered useless. The colonel
and Drew were injured, perhaps seriously, and, as an added complication,
their wounds might well become infected with alien microorganisms --
an infection against which their bodies could have no defense. In any
case they should be moved out of this place,
tearing out a chunk of their hydraulic system.
The howling in his earphones was beginning to break into fragments of words
and sentences.
". . . My suit's torn. I'm losing air . . . Get it off me! Get it off . . .
Shut up, all of you, and . . . Stop it wriggling or it will stab . . .
My leg, dammit, where's the doctor? Off your radio and open your visors
. . . Quiet, and open your helmets . . . !"
McCullough kept quiet as ordered, realizing suddenly that he himself
had been contributing as much as everyone else to the uproar. But he
did not open his visors because his hands were full of alien tentacles.
For the few minutes it took to pull the twisting, heaving body off
Berryman's back, McCullough had a really close look at the alien. There
was a shallow recess between the roots of its tentacles, set so low as
to be almost on the edge of its underbelly, and in it there was the
soft, wet gleam of something which could only be an eye. The opening
and closing mechanism seemed to be a double-lid arrangement operating
vertically rather than horizontally and the eye was quite definitely
looking at him. The ends of its tentacles quivered as they tried to
pull away, and for some odd reason McCullough was reminded of the big,
stupid, friendly dog he had had once and of the time he had tried to
teach it to shake hands.
But this creature certainly was not friendly -- at least, not as human
beings understood the word -- and neither was it stupid. Unless . . .
He was unable to finish the thought because Berryman had wriggled from
beneath the alien and the creature was bouncing up and down between them
as it tried furiously to curl and then uncurl its tentacles. Berryman
snatched a weapon which was floating nearby and slid it under the
being. He pushed it away as Hollis and McCullough let go and the alien
went spinning helplessly into the center of the chamber.
"But I wanted to put it with its friends in the corridor," said Hollis
when he had his visor open. "In here, outnumbered five to one, it might
panic and injure itself . . ."
"Are you sure this air is breathable?" Berryman broke in, speaking
through his smashed visor. There was a long incised wound across his nose
and one cheek.
"Doctor," said the colonel. "Have a look at Drew's leg. And my shoulder
. . ."
" Hollis! Behind you!"
The alien had made contact with the wall net, steadied itself, and then
launched itself furiously toward the physicist. Berryman got his ski stick
up in time and the alien struck it squarely but did not stop. The butt
of the weapon was driven back against the wall, but still the being did
not stop. The metal collar piece holding the plate which kept the tip
of the weapon from penetrating more than half an inch slipped backward
along the shaft. The point, with the alien's considerable velocity and
inertia thrown against it, drove into its body until stopped by the
interior of its carapace.
It began to slap the shaft of the weapon with its tentacles, violently at
first, then more slowly. Suddenly its tentacles tried to tie themselves
in knots and it became completely still.
McCullough launched himself toward the alien, knowing that he was in no
danger from it now. He gripped one tentacle where it joined the body and
gently withdrew the ski stick.
This was much worse than a little property damage or trespass.
Much, much worse.
For a long time nobody spoke. McCullough looked slowly around at the other
four men, trying desperately not to think. The spacesuits of Morrison,
Drew and Berryman were torn or otherwise rendered useless. The colonel
and Drew were injured, perhaps seriously, and, as an added complication,
their wounds might well become infected with alien microorganisms --
an infection against which their bodies could have no defense. In any
case they should be moved out of this place,
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