While their crew worked feverishly to repair
the damaged rocket ship, the passengers set out to
explore the planet. Thus they met the Hairy One....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
January 1952
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The girl, Marla, trembled, yet she was not afraid. Ronal had told herat the outset of the cruise that although Krist's friend Logan wasyoung for a space pilot, he was a good one, and had trained in the oldfuel-propelled ships that men had first flown Space in before the newwarp-drive had been perfected. But Logan was sweating visibly.
The blue planet loomed up, and Krist, who owned the trim Space-yachtand had suggested the cruise, jumped noticeably when the first shrillwhistle of atmospheric resistance pierced the tense quiet of thewell-appointed control-room.
They were half-falling, half-gliding downward, and despite Logan'sattempts to check their descent with the clogged free-drive maneuveringjets, their downward speed seemed to increase each second.
"My fault," Ronal muttered so only Marla could hear. "Had we stayed onthe warp we charted and not followed my suggestion to go adventuring onfree-drive in some system none of us have ever heard of, we wouldn't bein this mess."
"Not your fault, dear," Marla said to her husband. "Even Logan couldn'thave known the free-drive would fail and leave us too far from ourwarp-point to make it back, and—"
The stricken craft lurched again, and the polished nose began an almostimperceptible up-swing. The shrill scream of the rarefied atmospherebegan descending the scale like a gigantic siren running down.
"Flat on the deck!" Krist yelled.
Lush, green forests stretched but scant miles below. The sound of aheavy, rich atmosphere now racing past their gleaming hull dropped to alow, moaning note and then the sound of it was gone.
The nose came up.
There was a wrenching jar and the nerve-shattering cry of tearing,scorched metal. The control-room rocked crazily, then was suddenlystill, cocked at a nightmare angle, as a shuddering impact brought thewildly slewing craft to a punishing halt.
And for the four of them, there was sudden oblivion....
"Marla was as lucky as the rest of us," Ronal said. "Just the windknocked out of her. She's coming around." The girl's silver-fleckedeyes were already open and for a moment there was forgetfulness inthem. "We splattered a little," Ronal told her. "You move all right?"
She was shaken, but unhurt. He helped her to a standing position on thecanted deck, and saw that Krist and Logan were already taking a rapidinventory of the yacht's available tools.
"Got to look around outside," Logan was saying, shaking his bruisedhead a little, "before I can tell you how bad we are. But I thinkKrist and I can get her back into one piece."
"Can if we can go out," the tall, athletic-looking owner of thepleasure craft said. "We'll need the suits."
"Maybe not," Ronal said. "There was plenty of atmosphere wailing away—"
"Five credits gets you 20 it's all pure poison," Logan retorted. Hewas standing at one of the metalo-glass ports, surveying the colorfulterrain speculatively. They joined him.
The ship had hit in an oblong clearing, perhaps five miles in lengthand half that in width. Surrounding the open, grassy spot were thedepths of an untamed, riotously colored jungle.
"I'll give it a try in a suit," Logan said. "The sooner we patch up andget out of here the better. No telling what's in that." He gesturedtoward