LITMIR.BIZ

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have to use manual controls.

      It would have been wiser to install a more high-powered model, but that would have meant a trip to some outpost of civilization; lost time; perhaps a lost secret. The Merchant demanded an immediate landing.

      The Merchant felt it necessary to defend his position now. He said angrily to the Explorer, “Don’t you think the Pilot knows his job? He landed you safely twice before.”

      Yes, thought the Explorer, in a scout-ship, not in this unmaneuverable freighter. Aloud, he said nothing.

      He kept his eye on the visi-plate. They were descending too quickly. There was no room for doubt. Much too quickly.

      The Merchant said, peevishly, “Why do you keep silence?”

      “Well, then, if you wish me to speak, I would suggest that you strap on your Floater and help me prepare the Ejector.”

      The Pilot fought a noble fight. He was no beginner. The atmosphere, abnormally high and thick in the gravitational potential of this world whipped and burned about the ship, but to the very last it looked as though he might bring it under control despite that.

      He even maintained course, following the extrapolated line to the point on the northern continent toward which they were headed. Under other circumstances, with a shade more luck, the story would eventually have been told and retold as a heroic and masterly reversal of a lost situation. But within sight of victory, tired body and tired nerves clamped a control bar with a shade too much pressure. The ship, which had almost levelled off, dipped down again.

      There was no room to retrieve the final error. There was only a mile left to fall. The Pilot remained at his post to the actual landing, his only thought that of breaking the force of the crash, of maintaining the spaceworthiness of the vessel. He did not survive. With the ship bucking madly in a soupy atmosphere, few Ejectors could be mobilized and only one of them in time.

      When afterwards, the Explorer lifted out of unconsciousness and rose to his feet, he had the definite feeling that but for himself and the Merchant, there were no survivors. And perhaps that was an over-calculation. His Floater had burnt out while still sufficiently distant from surface to have the fall stun him. The Merchant might have had less luck, even, than that.

      He was surrounded by a world of thick, ropy stalks of grass, and in the distance were trees that reminded him vaguely of similar structures on his native Arcturian world except that their lowest branches were high above what he would consider normal tree-tops.

      He called, his voice sounding basso in the thick air and the Merchant answered. The Explorer made his way toward him, thrusting violently at the coarse stalks that barred his path.

      “Are you hurt?” he asked.

      The Merchant grimaced. “I’ve sprained something. It hurts to walk.”

      The Explorer probed gently. “I don’t think anything is broken. You’ll have to walk despite the pain.”

      “Can’t we rest first?”

      “It’s important to try to find the ship. If it is spaceworthy or if it can be repaired, we may live. Otherwise, we won’t.”

      “Just a few minutes. Let me catch my breath.”

      The Explorer was glad enough for those few minutes. The Merchant’s eyes were already closed. He allowed his to do the same.

      He heard the trampling and his eyes snapped open. Never sleep on a strange planet, he told himself futilely.

      The Merchant was awake too and his steady screaming was a rumble of terror.

      The Explorer called, “It’s only a native of this planet. It won’t harm you.”

      But even as he spoke, the giant had swooped down and in a moment they were in its grasp being lifted closer to its monstrous ugliness.

      The Merchant struggled violently and, of course, quite futilely. “Can’t you talk to it?” he yelled.

      The Explorer could only shake his head. “I can’t reach it with the Projector. It won’t be listening.”

      “Then blast it. Blast it down.”

      “We can’t do that.” The phrase “you fool” had almost been added. The Explorer struggled to keep his self-control. They were swallowing space as the monster moved purposefully away.

      “Why not?” cried the Merchant. “You can reach your blaster. I see it in plain sight. Don’t be afraid of falling.”

      “It’s simpler than that. If this monster is killed, you’ll never trade with this planet. You’ll never even leave it. You probably won’t live the day out.”

      “Why? Why?”

      “Because this is one of the young of the species. You should know what happens when a trader kills a native young, even accidentally. What’s more, if this is the target-point, then we are on the estate of a powerful native. This might be one of his brood.”

      That was how they entered their present prison. They had carefully burnt away a portion of the thick, stiff covering and it was obvious that the height from which they were suspended was a killing one.

      Now, once again, the prison-cage shuddered and lifted in an upward arc. The Merchant rolled to the lower rim and startled awake. The cover lifted and light flooded in. As was the case the time before, there were two specimens of the young. They were not very different in appearance from adults of the species, reflected the Explorer, though, of course, they were considerably smaller.

      A handful of reedy green stalks was stuffed between the bars. Its odor was not unpleasant but it carried clods of soil at its ends.

      The Merchant drew away and said, huskily, “What are they doing?”

      The Explorer said, “Trying to feed us, I should judge. At least this seems to be the native equivalent of grass.”

      The cover was replaced and they were set swinging again, alone with their fodder.

      IV

      Slim started at the sound of footsteps and brightened when it turned out to be only Red.

      He said, “No one’s around. I had my eye peeled, you bet.”

      Red said, “Ssh. Look. You take this stuff and stick it in the cage. I’ve got to scoot back to the house.”

      “What is it?” Slim reached reluctantly.

      “Ground meat. Holy Smokes, haven’t you ever seen ground meat? That’s what you should’ve got when I sent you to the house instead of coming back with that stupid grass.”

      Slim was hurt. “How’d I know they don’t eat grass. Besides, ground meat doesn’t come loose like that. It comes in cellophane and it isn’t that color.”

      “Sure—in the city. Out here we grind our own and it’s always this color till it’s cooked.”

      “You mean it isn’t cooked?” Slim drew away quickly.

      Red looked disgusted. “Do you think animals eat cooked food. Come on, take it. It won’t hurt you. I tell you there isn’t much time.”

      “Why? What’s doing back at the house?”

      “I don’t know. Dad and your father are walking around. I think maybe they’re looking for me. Maybe the cook told them I took the meat. Anyway, we don’t want them coming here after me.”

      “Didn’t you ask the cook before you took this stuff?”

      “Who? That crab? Shouldn’t wonder if she only let me have a drink of water because Dad makes her. Come on. Take it.”

      Slim took the large glob of meat though his skin crawled at the touch. He turned toward the barn and Red sped away in the direction from which he had come.

      He

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