War Against the Rull Read Free Page A

as chief scientist for the Interstellar Military Commission, I received a report on Eristan II not too long ago. In the opinion of our survey expedition, its value as a military base is very doubtful, and there were two main reasons: one of the damnedest flesh-eating plants you ever heard of and this pretty baby. There are millions of both of them. Each snake breeds hundreds in its lifetime—their numbers are limited only by the food supply, which is potentially every other species on the planet, so they can't be stamped out. They attain a length of about a hundred and fifty feet and a weight of eight tons. Unlike most of the other killers on this planet, they hunt by day."
    The ezwal, now some fifty feet away from the snake arid still backing slowly, sent Jamieson a swift series of thoughts: "Its appearance did surprise me, but only because its mind held merely a vague curiosity about some sounds—no clear intention to kill. But that's unimportant; it's here; it's dangerous. It doesn't think it can get me, but it's considering the chances, in a rudimentary way. In spite of its desire for me, the problem remains essentially yours; the danger is all yours."
    Jamieson was grim. "Don't be too sure that you're not in danger. That fellow looks muscle-bound, but when he starts moving, he's like a steel spring for the first three or four hundred feet."
    An impression of arrogant self-assurance accompanied the ezwal's retort. "I can run four hundred feet before you can count your fingers."
    "Into that jungle? Twenty feet from the edge, it's like a mat— or, rather, like one mat after another. In spite of that, I've no doubt you could drive that big body of yours through it. But nowhere near as fast as the snake, which is built for the purpose. It might possibly lose a prey as small as me, in that tangle, but in your case—"
    "And why," interposed the ezwal, "should I be so foolish as to head into the jungle when I can skirt the edge of it without hindrance?"
    "Because," Jamieson returned, with chilling emphasis, "you'd be running into a trap. If I recall the lay of the land as I saw it from the air, the jungle tapers out into a narrow point not many hundreds of feet behind you. I wouldn't gamble that the snake isn't smart enough to take advantage of that fact."
    There was startled silence; finally: "Why don't you turn your atomic gun on it—burn it?"
    "And have it come out here while I'm burning through that tough head to that small brain? These snakes live half their lives in this mud and move around on it as well as anywhere. Sorry, I cannot take him on by myself."
    The brief seconds that passed then were heavy with tension— and reluctance. But there could be no delay, as the ezwal must have known. Sure enough, the grudging request came through: "I am open to suggestions— and hurry!"

2
     
    The depressing realization came to Jamieson that the ezwal was once more asking for his assistance knowing that it would be given yet was offering no promise in return. And there was no time for bargaining. Curtly he projected: "We must act as a team. Before the snake attacks, its head will start swaying. That's almost a universal reptilian method of hypnotizing victims into paralysis. Actually, the motion is partially self-hypnotizing, since it concentrates the snake's attention on its intended victim. A few seconds after it begins to sway, I'll burn it in the region of the eyes, which will damage or destroy its vision. Then you get on its back—fast! Its brain is located just behind that great horn. Claw your way there, and bite in if you can, while I try to weaken it by an attack on its body. It's starting now.'"
    The tremendous head had begun to move. Jamieson raised his gun slowly, fighting to steady his trembling hand. When he was sure of his aim, he squeezed the control button.
    It was not so much, then, that the snake put up an awesome fight as that it wouldn't die. Its smoking remains were still twisting half an hour later