The Unprotected Species

  III

  Gallifa found MacFarland by the main-gate shack. He helped him secure amanual excavating kit to the side of the truck, and then headed for ahogback MacFarland had spotted from the early air photos.

  Gallifa jolted the truck up a rutted mound and braked close to a groveof trees. They had covered roughly ten miles. Gallifa was still uneasyabout Bradshaw, but he had maintained an exceptionally sharp lookout andhad seen nothing which might be termed dangerous to a wary colonist. Ifanything had harmed Bradshaw, the ground must have swallowed it.

  MacFarland shouldered his pack and stalked toward an outcropping rockformation. Gallifa planned to work close to the truck in order to keepin touch with the other crews who were on less personalized missions ofmass survey with highly sensitive instruments. That was the way, ofcourse, that most of the work would have to be done.

  A short time later MacFarland reappeared, red-faced and panting, andwith a bulging pack. Gallifa had activated the scanning scope and wascasually inspecting the terrain.

  "Finding anything of interest?" MacFarland grunted, after he had caughthis breath.

  "Nothing except a couple of those little creatures like the ones we sawback in camp," Gallifa answered. At MacFarland's frown he remembered,and filled in the details.

  "Want to take a look?" he asked.

  MacFarland shrugged out of the pack and clambered into the truck. Heexpertly advanced the power of the scope and swung it in slow arcs.

  "I'll help with the pack," Gallifa volunteered.

  "Wait a minute!" MacFarland called excitedly. "Take a look at this."

  Gallifa frowned and glanced into the view screen. His jaw fell. Heleaned forward and swallowed hard. "That's an ugly looking beast," heaffirmed, with a grimace.

  "I thought the spotting cruiser said there weren't any dangerous animalsin the zone where we were supposed to land," MacFarland saidcaustically. "I think we had better revise the theory--unless you wantme to believe the teeth on that thing are used for shredding lettuce."

  "No," Gallifa said. "It's a meat eater, all right. Either the cruisermade a mistake, or--and this is more likely--the beast has wandered infrom a more natural habitat. You know, I believe it's after one of thegnomes."

  MacFarland left the screen and swung the automatic rifle to bear on thebeast. He carefully adjusted the telescopic sights, centering the hairlines on the target. There was a quiet whir and a slight shifting of therifle as the computer device allowed for correct elevation and windage.

  "I have the critter dead center," MacFarland said eagerly.

  "Don't shoot," Gallifa suddenly warned. "There is something awfullypeculiar about this. I'm positive our friend sees that fellow, but hedoesn't seem the least bit worried. Keep the rifle trained, but let'swatch a little longer. I'm interested in this."

  The gnome did seem aware that he was being stalked. Every so often hestopped to peer over his shoulder where his adversary was in plain view.Then he calmly went on feeding. He made no effort to flee or findconcealment.

  Gallifa watched in puzzlement. Was the creature really so stupid? Itwasn't logical. It just didn't make sense. How had the race survived?

  The pursuer tentatively crawled a few feet and stopped, its eyesgleaming. It crawled a few more. It seemed to be appraising the distanceto be traversed. All at once it gathered its powerful legs snugly underit. A quick rush and a spring ...

  The gnome suddenly stopped feeding and curled into a tight ball. Thecharging beast seemed to be trying to change its course in mid-leap. Itlanded almost on top of its prey, but it didn't strike. Instead, itwhirled, biting its shoulder and clawing spasmodically. Then it chargedheadlong across the slope and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  Back at the truck, Gallifa turned to MacFarland. "Did you shoot it?" heasked with wide eyes.

  MacFarland shook his head.

  "The gnome just curled up like a porcupine," Gallifa said, frowning."And that's certainly no protection ... I wouldn't think. It doesn'thave spines or anything."

  "You're right," MacFarland answered. "I think the meat eater had a fit,and it's a damn good thing for your friend Mr. Gnome, too!"

  "You may be right," Gallifa speculated slowly. "Only--You know, it's afar-fetched thought, but maybe the gnomes throw out some scent thatstops their enemies cold."

  "It would have to be considerably potent," MacFarland snorted. "To causea fuss like that!"

  "Well," Gallifa affirmed with finality, "Samuels will have severalspecimens for us back at the base. We will find out after we get back."

  "I just thought of something," MacFarland exclaimed suddenly. "Do youthink maybe that--that cat--or one like it, attacked Bradshaw? It mayhave been the reason he ran through the brambles, figuring the beastcouldn't follow."

  "Hmm, I see what you mean," Gallifa replied thoughtfully. "The beast_was_ sort of catlike, and it _could_ have roughed Bradshaw up some.Only it doesn't seem logical that the experience could have driven himto the type of mental breakdown he suffered. Still, it's as good a guessas any, I suppose. Maybe Bradshaw will snap out of it and be able totell us himself."

  MacFarland glanced at the sky. "We'd better be getting back," hesuggested. "The other crews will be in, and we have a lot of data tocorrelate tonight."

  Gallifa agreed and secured the rifle and scope. Before he could turn thetruck around, they heard the sound of a helijet approaching at maximumspeed. Gallifa shaded his eyes and looked at the now hovering craft.

  "I think it is Hawkins," he reported. "And I'd say offhand that he wantsto talk to us."

  The 'copter landed expertly a few feet away, and the blades slowed toidling speed. It was Hawkins. He waved excitedly as he ran toward thetruck.

  "Mac! Gallifa!" he called. "There's a space ship down a few miles fromhere!"

  Gallifa gasped. A wrecked ship? It seemed inconceivable. A space craftwasn't dainty. Damage from a wreck should have been plainly visible evenfrom the spotting cruiser--ignoring completely their own air maps.

  He faced Hawkins. "Are you sure?" he asked incredulously. "How did weever miss the wreckage?"

  "The ship isn't wrecked," Hawkins said levelly. "It's in the samecondition that it was in when it landed."

  "It's not wrecked?" MacFarland repeated blankly. "Now who in hell--" Heturned to Gallifa. "I thought we were the first crew on the planet," hesaid, almost accusingly. "It's very strange no one told us of any otherexpedition."

  Gallifa frowned in annoyance. "We _are_ the first. I'm sure of that. Theother ship must be a free-lance." He turned to Hawkins. "How about thecrew? Are they still with the ship?"

  "They're still with the ship," Hawkins said quietly. "But they're alldead. It's quite a mess," he added simply.

  "A mess?" Gallifa echoed. "Could you tell how they died? Was it adisease? Were they killed by some animals? Speak up, man!"

  "You aren't going to believe this," Hawkins said grimly. "But it surelooks like they killed each other."

  "Why would they want to do that?" MacFarland protested. "Are you sure,Hawkins? How could you tell, anyway?"

  "I could tell," Hawkins insisted. "You better come and have a look foryourselves. I'll take you in the 'copter, then bring you back for thetruck."

  Gallifa shrugged, and the men joined Hawkins in the helijet. The mappingman handled the controls, and the ship soared into the air.

  "There is something else kind of funny, too," Hawkins volunteered. "Theship landed almost on top of a colony of the screwiest bunch of thingsyou ever saw. They look something like little gnomes, only with apinkish fur. They are all around the ship, but they haven't botheredanything."

  "More gnomes," Gallifa told MacFarland. "I wonder if they'reecologically basic?" He addressed Hawkins. "Gnomes are exactly what Icalled them, but I'm quite sure there were never such gnomes on Earth.What do you mean by colony? Like a village?"

  "No," Hawkins said slowly. "Not that. Maybe I don't mean colony. Theyjust sort of hang around and eat together. They don't have anydwellings, or anything lik
e that. At least, none that I could see," heamended.

  Gallifa wasn't sure why he sighed with relief. At least his hypothesiswasn't spoiled. They were clannish. But hell, rabbits were clannish.Herd development wasn't anything more than instinct.