they’re plenty tough.

“They’re filled with gas, continually renewed and manufactured by letting in air and water to mix with the chemicals of their bloodstream. When a Zonal wants to move fast he lets off a blast that has the same effect a rocket-jet has on a spaceship.”

“They don’t have gravity screens, though,” Wolfe said.

Quade smiled.

“Well, no. Here’s this fellow back again.”

The Zonal came flying, bulletlike. Just before he reached the two men a blast of hissing, suddenly-released gas braked it and the creature plumped down easily not a yard away.

“Wonder if Udell taught ’em English?” Quade murmured. He put out his hand gently. “Hello, there. We’re friends—understand? We’re friends.”

The Zonal touched Quade’s flexible-metal glove with a tentative, limber finger. Then, gently gripping it in his webbed hand, he eyed it carefully, lifted it to his mouth, and took a hearty bite.’

Quade yelped, jerked his hand back and nursed a bruised knuckle. The Zonal, seemingly puzzled, lifted its shoulders in something suspiciously like a shrug and rocketed back to the lava mound, where it squatted down to think things over. Meanwhile a dozen new heads had popped up from the lake near the shore.

“I thought you said they weren’t dangerous,” Wolfe observed.

“They’re not,” Quade gulped, moving his fingers experimentally. “Ouch! That was just—ah—curiosity.”

“Well, what now?”

“We’ll unload the equipment. Get the cameras set up. The Zonals can wait a bit. I want to think things over.”

Quade was hoping he didn’t sound as baffled as he felt. He had hoped that Udell might have educated the amphibians somewhat, but apparently the creatures were dumber than apes—a lot dumber. Somehow that didn’t jibe with the sizable brain-cases of the Zonals. Their cranial indices seemed to hint that there was intelligence in those sleek furry heads—and Udell had managed to use that savvy. But how?

How, indeed?

CHAPTER IVCrackup

Quade had arranged the compact 

 Prev. P 13/30 next