forever, a jumbled montage of locked doors, alien goods,more doors, more goods. Hellman fell over a crate, got to his feet andfell again. He had reached the limit of his strength, and passed it.But Casker was his friend.
Besides, without a pilot, he'd never get off the place.
Hellman struggled through two more rooms on trembling legs and thencollapsed in front of a third.
"Is that you, Hellman?" he heard Casker ask, from the other side ofthe door.
"You all right?" Hellman managed to gasp.
"Haven't much room in here," Casker said, "but the Plugger's stoppedgrowing. Hellman, get me out of here!"
* * * * *
Hellman lay on the floor panting. "Moment," he said.
"Moment, hell!" Casker shouted. "Get me out. I've found water!"
"What? How?"
"Get me out of here!"
Hellman tried to stand up, but his legs weren't cooperating. "Whathappened?" he asked.
"When I saw that glob filling the room, I figured I'd try to start upthe Super Custom Transport. Thought maybe it could knock down the doorand get me out. So I pumped it full of high-gain Integor fuel."
"Yes?" Hellman said, still trying to get his legs under control.
"That Super Custom Transport is an animal, Hellman! And the Integorfuel is water! Now get me out!"
Hellman lay back with a contented sigh. If he had had a little moretime, he would have worked out the whole thing himself, by pure logic.But it was all very apparent now. The most efficient machine to goover those vertical, razor-sharp mountains would be an animal,probably with retractable suckers. It was kept in hibernation betweentrips; and if it drank water, the other products designed for it wouldbe palatable, too. Of course they still didn't know much about thelate inhabitants, but undoubtedly....
"Burn down that door!" Casker shrieked, his voice breaking.
Hellman was pondering the irony of it all. If one man's meat--_and_his poison--are your poison, then try eating something else. Sosimple, really.
But there was one thing that still bothered him.
"How did you know it was an Earth-type animal?" he asked.
"Its breath, stupid! It inhales and exhales and smells as if it'seaten onions!" There was a sound of cans falling and bottlesshattering. "Now hurry!"
"What's wrong?" Hellman asked, finally getting to his feet and poisingthe burner.
"The Custom Super Transport. It's got me cornered behind a pile ofcases. Hellman, it seems to think that I'm _its_ meat!"
Broiled with the burner--well done for Hellman, medium rare forCasker--it was their meat, with enough left over for the trip back toCalao.
--ROBERT SHECKLEY
* * * * *
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