ezwal to cringe in his hiding place.
"Damn shame!" came an explosive thought. "Fool thing to do, of course, but . . . Say! From the looks of that beast, it wasn't just the crash that did her in. The hide's half scorched off her. And look at the bars of that cage." There followed a fairly accurate conjecture as to what had happened, then: "Of course, if the young one was trapped under her," Commander McLennan finished, "it would have been crushed to a pulp. On the other hand... Parker!"
"Yes, sir!" Curiously, that answering thought did not come direct but was perceptible to the ezwal only as it registered in the Commander's mind. Its sender, therefore, must be at some distance and communicating mechanically. The ezwal was aware that such things were possible.
"Bring your lifeboat right over the main crack in this hull. Drop a loop of cable over the middle leg of that beast and roll her over. Carling, did you see any tracks around the ship?"
"No, sir."
"Then there's a good chance it's still under its mother, dead or alive. Place your men to cover every opening on that side. Turn your floodlight over there where ours makes a shadow. Everybody on the alert now! If it comes out, shoot fast and shoot to kill"
The ezwal let himself sink slowly in his cave of flesh. His nose caught a draft of air and twitched at the scent of cooked flesh from his mother's body. The memory it brought of fire and agony sent a sick thrill along his nerves.
He forced the fear aside and considered his chances. In their minds there had been pictures of brush and trees. That meant hiding places. But there was also a sense of white brightness, and somehow it connected with a cold, clinging wetness that obstructed the feet and would slow him down if by some miracle he got that far. But it was almost dark out there; that would help.
Then as he cautiously pressed aside a fold of flesh just far enough to reveal some of the scene beyond, his hopes faded, and the terrain outside the ship seemed very remote indeed. Glaring white light bathed the interior of the hold and tensely waiting men stood at the openings with drawn guns. The place was a deadly trap, as inescapable as fifty armed and determined men could make it. The young ezwal shrank back slowly lest his three-in-line eyes betray him by their reflected glitter. His mother had taught him that precaution as a part of stalking prey in the vast forests of his home world, now unthinkably far away.
Suddenly the walls of flesh encasing him moved and began to lift away! There was an electrifying moment as he imagined that his mother was stirring back to life; then panic gripped him as he realized the truth. They were turning her over! He froze, nearly blinded by the mounting flood of light. But the next instant it diminished, and simultaneously the wind was forced out of him by the descending mass. Something had slipped, apparently, and as the ezwal lay gasping for breath, the impatient directions of McLennan reached his mind.
"Parker! Move your lifeboat farther forward and bring the loop up closer to the body. . . . That's better. All right, try it again."
Once more the haven of his mother's body began to lift from him—and kept on lifting. The young ezwal cowered, drawing air painfully into his labored lungs. At any moment now the men would distinguish his body from the larger one. Then would come hideous pain—the same fire that had burned away his mother's life but multiplied many times over.
He stiffened at the thought of his mother's death, and he recalled what she had told him about fighting fear. She, too, had known certain doom, but she had burst through steel bars to get at her executioner and kill him with her last strength. These men were many—hopelessly many—but there were no bars in the way. If he moved fast enough...
All fear was now gone, dispersed by the intensity of his terrible purpose. In another instant, the lifting mass above him would leave the way clear. He drew a deep
"Damn shame!" came an explosive thought. "Fool thing to do, of course, but . . . Say! From the looks of that beast, it wasn't just the crash that did her in. The hide's half scorched off her. And look at the bars of that cage." There followed a fairly accurate conjecture as to what had happened, then: "Of course, if the young one was trapped under her," Commander McLennan finished, "it would have been crushed to a pulp. On the other hand... Parker!"
"Yes, sir!" Curiously, that answering thought did not come direct but was perceptible to the ezwal only as it registered in the Commander's mind. Its sender, therefore, must be at some distance and communicating mechanically. The ezwal was aware that such things were possible.
"Bring your lifeboat right over the main crack in this hull. Drop a loop of cable over the middle leg of that beast and roll her over. Carling, did you see any tracks around the ship?"
"No, sir."
"Then there's a good chance it's still under its mother, dead or alive. Place your men to cover every opening on that side. Turn your floodlight over there where ours makes a shadow. Everybody on the alert now! If it comes out, shoot fast and shoot to kill"
The ezwal let himself sink slowly in his cave of flesh. His nose caught a draft of air and twitched at the scent of cooked flesh from his mother's body. The memory it brought of fire and agony sent a sick thrill along his nerves.
He forced the fear aside and considered his chances. In their minds there had been pictures of brush and trees. That meant hiding places. But there was also a sense of white brightness, and somehow it connected with a cold, clinging wetness that obstructed the feet and would slow him down if by some miracle he got that far. But it was almost dark out there; that would help.
Then as he cautiously pressed aside a fold of flesh just far enough to reveal some of the scene beyond, his hopes faded, and the terrain outside the ship seemed very remote indeed. Glaring white light bathed the interior of the hold and tensely waiting men stood at the openings with drawn guns. The place was a deadly trap, as inescapable as fifty armed and determined men could make it. The young ezwal shrank back slowly lest his three-in-line eyes betray him by their reflected glitter. His mother had taught him that precaution as a part of stalking prey in the vast forests of his home world, now unthinkably far away.
Suddenly the walls of flesh encasing him moved and began to lift away! There was an electrifying moment as he imagined that his mother was stirring back to life; then panic gripped him as he realized the truth. They were turning her over! He froze, nearly blinded by the mounting flood of light. But the next instant it diminished, and simultaneously the wind was forced out of him by the descending mass. Something had slipped, apparently, and as the ezwal lay gasping for breath, the impatient directions of McLennan reached his mind.
"Parker! Move your lifeboat farther forward and bring the loop up closer to the body. . . . That's better. All right, try it again."
Once more the haven of his mother's body began to lift from him—and kept on lifting. The young ezwal cowered, drawing air painfully into his labored lungs. At any moment now the men would distinguish his body from the larger one. Then would come hideous pain—the same fire that had burned away his mother's life but multiplied many times over.
He stiffened at the thought of his mother's death, and he recalled what she had told him about fighting fear. She, too, had known certain doom, but she had burst through steel bars to get at her executioner and kill him with her last strength. These men were many—hopelessly many—but there were no bars in the way. If he moved fast enough...
All fear was now gone, dispersed by the intensity of his terrible purpose. In another instant, the lifting mass above him would leave the way clear. He drew a deep
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