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Table of contents
- The Interplanetary Huntress Returns
- Unknown Publication Record
- Shop with confidence
- Unknown Publication Record
The Interplanetary Huntress Returns
It was some moments before she could force herself to open the net and examine the quiet little body. Burst a blood vessel. Murris are the most pronounced agoraphobes in the System. They spend their whole lives on and around the particular tree in which they're born. Take 'em a few yards away and they have a nervous breakdown ending in convulsion and death.
You'd have come to find out for yourself anyhow. You mean there's something else queer about these—" Strike nodded gloomily. I know what you're going to do. Capture another. Cut off his tail so he can't sting himself. Tie him up like a Christmas package so he can't move hand or foot. Anything to keep him from killing himself by struggling. But don't let me stop—" "You won't stop me, Mr.
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Don't ever think it. Meanwhile, the other hunters spread the big net again and shot down another branch full of the curious Murris. The healthiest pair were quickly strapped up tightly and the party left to the accompaniment of a terrific yapping and hissing and yammering from the survivors of the colony. Strike and Ransom spent the remainder of the lingering Venusian day resting from their exertions. Activity in that vicious climate quickly sapped the most rugged strength and Strike particularly felt that he had been drained of all energy.
As the light imperceptibly faded Ransom suggested, "I guess The Ark will be leaving soon. Now's the best time for 'em to take off. That tough little Carlyle is over there in her ship learning a mighty bitter lesson. She won't leave now. She won't leave for some time," he predicted. As the absolute darkness of Venusian night dragged its black cloak over the trading post light footsteps ran up the stairs outside. Knuckles beat on the metal door which Ransom opened. Gerry Carlyle pushed in. Strike," she said and there was a worried crease between her eyes, "neither of the Murris will eat.
We can't force anything down their throats. And if we free them they immediately have one of those terrible fits! They'll starve themselves to death.
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And dead Murris have no market value. I've sworn I wouldn't return without at least one healthy Murri, so you've got to help me! You'll never take them back alive. I told you that before. Presently you'll believe it. If there's any mercy in you you'll return those two to their home while they're well. If humanly possible I'm taking those Murris home alive. Now — if you'll only help — we're going to try feeding through a stomach tube. If that fails, with injections.
I thought you'd be able to help us in the food selection. Rogers tried that too. When you take a Murri away from its home he undergoes such a nervous shock that his metabolism goes haywire. He just can't assimilate anything. She was beginning to show the strain. You can see them waste away. If you've been holding something back just to-to discipline me I'll say, 'Uncle.
Gerry was lost within herself, absorbed in her battle to bend two insignificant caricatures to her will. But I'll make them live. I'll make them live! The Murri silent martyrdom had broken her completely. She was a nervous wreck.
They just sit there, so helpless, so frail, without a sound, and stare at me. Those pathetic brown eyes follow me wherever I go.
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I see them in darkness — I see them in my dreams when I manage to get to sleep. It's pitiful — and horrible. Even the crew goes around now with silent accusation in their faces. I can't stand it. Why I said you wouldn't believe me even if I told you? I understand. Rogers was ashamed to admit what he thought was a weakness. Embarrassed to have anyone think a funny little Venusian monkey could soften him up by just staring at him with those hypnotic brown eyes.
I thought that might solve the difficulty. But I see now it wouldn't. The fools! Not content with stealing the natives' local gods, now they intended to desecrate the whole shrine! It's suicide!
Gerry looked surprised. Are they in danger? The temperatures! They evolved from an aqueous lifeform and like it cold.
Unknown Publication Record
Fewer natural dangers for them at night too. Get the beam working! Gerry's mouth thinned out as she slipped her fur cape over her head and determinedly followed Strike down the stairway. There was a brief argument ending with the trader's angry capitulation. At least make yourself useful. Carry this. A new world was revealed in the gleaming swath of the light, everything covered with a thick frost, utterly lifeless and still.
Each breath was a chill knife in their lungs. In the intense quiet they heard the faint sounds of the work party hard at the task of removing the Murri tree. A quick run brought them to the clearing. Stationary lights made a ring about the workers, who had already fastened antigravity plates to the tree and were loosening the frozen soil. Strike's voice rang out. Grab your tools and beat it back—" He paused. The needle on the detectors dial was jerking spasmodically. Run for it! Strike ran at them, shouting furiously, but his words were lost as he witnessed an incredible sight.
One by one the members of the digging party were falling, wriggling and twisting amazingly. One of them thrust his feet straight into the air and made grotesque walking motions. Another dug his face into the dirt trying to walk right down through the earth. The only one remaining upright turned round and round in tight little circles like a pirouetting ice-skater. Don't breathe! The natives get it from one of these devilish Venusian plants. Gets into the nervous system. Localizes in the semi-circular-canals. Destroys the sense of balance! But with the third step Strike's world reeled sickeningly about him.