ship moved toward him, did an involuntary thing. Quite
without intention, they pulled the trigger of the rifle. The deeply crosscut
bullet seared Salazar’s flank, removing a quarter-inch patch of plastic and
metal, hit a foreleg. Although that leg was largely plastic, what metal it
contained being mostly magnesium for lightness, there were steel wires imbedded
for magnetic purposes. The bullet smashed through plastic and magnesium, struck
a spark upon the steel.
There was a flaring, sun-bright
flash of flame, a dense cloud of smoke. The mountain-lion shape leaped
furiously and the jerk dislodged the slightly singed Salazar and sent him
rolling. The mountain-lion vehicle landed and rolled over and over, one leg
useless and spouting monstrous, white, actinic fire. The being inside knew an
instant’s panic; then it felt yielding sheep-bodies below it, thrashed about
violently and crazily, and at last the Qul-En jammed the flame-spurting limb
deep into soft earth. The fire went out; but that leg of its vehicle was almost
useless.
For an instant deadly rage filled
the tiny occupant of the cabin where a mountain-lion’s lungs should have been.
Almost, it turned and opened the mouth of its steed and poured out the
killing-beam. Almost. The flock would have died instantly, and the man and the
dog, and all the things in the wild for miles. But that would not have been
scientific; after all, this mission should be secret. And the biped . . .
~ * ~
The
Qul-En ceased the thrashings of its vehicle. It thought coldly. Salazar raced
up to it, barking with a shrillness that told of terror valorously combatted;
he danced about, barking.
The Qul-En found a solution. Its
vehicle rose on its hind legs and raced up the hillside. It was an emergency
method of locomotion for which this particular vehicle was not designed, and it
required almost inspired handling of the controls to achieve it. But the Qul-En
inside was wholly competent; it guided the vehicle safely over the hilltop
while Salazar made only feigned dashes after it. Safely away, the Qul-En
stopped and deliberately experimented until the process of running on three
legs developed. Then the mountain lion, which was not a mountain lion, went
bounding through the night toward its hidden ship.
Within an hour, it clawed away
the brush from the exit-port, crawled inside, and closed the port after it. As
a matter of pure precaution, it touched the “take-off” control before it even
came out of its vehicle.
The ventilation-opening
closed—very nearly. The ship rose quietly and swiftly toward the skies. Its
arrival had not been noted; its departure was quite unsuspected.
It wasn’t until the Qul-En
touched the switch for the ship’s system of internal illumination to go on that
anything appeared to be wrong. There was a momentary arc, and darkness. There
was no interior illumination; ants had stripped insulation from essential
wires. The lights were shorted. The Qul-En was bewildered; it climbed back into
the mountain-lion shape to use the infra-red-sensitive scanning-cells.
The interior of the ship was a
crawling mass of insect life. There were ants and earwigs, silverfish and
mites, spiders and centipedes, mantises and beetles. There were moths, larvae,
grubs, midges, gnats and flies. The recording-instrument was shrouded in cobweb
and hooded in dust which was fragments of the bodies of the spiders’ tiny
victims. The air-refresher chemicals were riddled with the tunnels of beetles.
Crickets devoured plastic parts of the ship and chirped loudly. And the
controls—ah! the controls! Insulation stripped off here; brackets riddled or
weakened or turned to powder there. The ship could rise, and it did. But there
were no controls at all.
The Qul-En went into a rage
deadly enough to destroy the insects of itself. The whole future of its race
depended on the discovery of an adequate source of a certain hormone. That
source had been found.
without intention, they pulled the trigger of the rifle. The deeply crosscut
bullet seared Salazar’s flank, removing a quarter-inch patch of plastic and
metal, hit a foreleg. Although that leg was largely plastic, what metal it
contained being mostly magnesium for lightness, there were steel wires imbedded
for magnetic purposes. The bullet smashed through plastic and magnesium, struck
a spark upon the steel.
There was a flaring, sun-bright
flash of flame, a dense cloud of smoke. The mountain-lion shape leaped
furiously and the jerk dislodged the slightly singed Salazar and sent him
rolling. The mountain-lion vehicle landed and rolled over and over, one leg
useless and spouting monstrous, white, actinic fire. The being inside knew an
instant’s panic; then it felt yielding sheep-bodies below it, thrashed about
violently and crazily, and at last the Qul-En jammed the flame-spurting limb
deep into soft earth. The fire went out; but that leg of its vehicle was almost
useless.
For an instant deadly rage filled
the tiny occupant of the cabin where a mountain-lion’s lungs should have been.
Almost, it turned and opened the mouth of its steed and poured out the
killing-beam. Almost. The flock would have died instantly, and the man and the
dog, and all the things in the wild for miles. But that would not have been
scientific; after all, this mission should be secret. And the biped . . .
~ * ~
The
Qul-En ceased the thrashings of its vehicle. It thought coldly. Salazar raced
up to it, barking with a shrillness that told of terror valorously combatted;
he danced about, barking.
The Qul-En found a solution. Its
vehicle rose on its hind legs and raced up the hillside. It was an emergency
method of locomotion for which this particular vehicle was not designed, and it
required almost inspired handling of the controls to achieve it. But the Qul-En
inside was wholly competent; it guided the vehicle safely over the hilltop
while Salazar made only feigned dashes after it. Safely away, the Qul-En
stopped and deliberately experimented until the process of running on three
legs developed. Then the mountain lion, which was not a mountain lion, went
bounding through the night toward its hidden ship.
Within an hour, it clawed away
the brush from the exit-port, crawled inside, and closed the port after it. As
a matter of pure precaution, it touched the “take-off” control before it even
came out of its vehicle.
The ventilation-opening
closed—very nearly. The ship rose quietly and swiftly toward the skies. Its
arrival had not been noted; its departure was quite unsuspected.
It wasn’t until the Qul-En
touched the switch for the ship’s system of internal illumination to go on that
anything appeared to be wrong. There was a momentary arc, and darkness. There
was no interior illumination; ants had stripped insulation from essential
wires. The lights were shorted. The Qul-En was bewildered; it climbed back into
the mountain-lion shape to use the infra-red-sensitive scanning-cells.
The interior of the ship was a
crawling mass of insect life. There were ants and earwigs, silverfish and
mites, spiders and centipedes, mantises and beetles. There were moths, larvae,
grubs, midges, gnats and flies. The recording-instrument was shrouded in cobweb
and hooded in dust which was fragments of the bodies of the spiders’ tiny
victims. The air-refresher chemicals were riddled with the tunnels of beetles.
Crickets devoured plastic parts of the ship and chirped loudly. And the
controls—ah! the controls! Insulation stripped off here; brackets riddled or
weakened or turned to powder there. The ship could rise, and it did. But there
were no controls at all.
The Qul-En went into a rage
deadly enough to destroy the insects of itself. The whole future of its race
depended on the discovery of an adequate source of a certain hormone. That
source had been found.
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