guess the world -
sixth series
entries 501 -

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... Anyway, as I was saying, this creature is much like an ianthina, or snail, of earth. It breathes through a siphon, or tubular proboscis. It uses this siphon to suck in air with which it builds these rafts for itself, to keep its heavy body and shell afloat. It's an adventurer like you, Moljar. It spends its life floating or sailing about like a ship."
    Moljar grunted. He moved one corded arm behind her. She shifted a little.
    "Very interesting thing," she said. "Biology. When this ianthina decides to build its raft, it exudes a sticky mucous over the surface of the sea, layer after layer of it. Then it draws air into its siphon and permits the bubbles to escape beneath the mucous to which they cling. These air sacks imprison the air as the mucous hardens. And we have this very strong raft, a life boat with air tanks. Aren't we lucky?"
    The raft jolted violently. "Are we?" said Moljar. "Maybe it does not want to share its raft."
    A number of tentacles slithered up and over the edge of the raft. Two antenna with slimy knobs stood up and quivered at Moljar.
    The girl tried to ignore the sight. "But this raft is better than any man has ever been able to build." Her voice tightened as more of the ianthina surged into view. "This snail can make more bubbles at will, and it can enlarge its raft whenever it wants to."
    There was a sudden upsurging height of gigantic pink-fleshed bulk. It rose up until it towered over its raft. A little above the level of the water they could see its brilliantly colored spiral shell-house gleaming olive-green with streaks and spots of purple, violet and black.
    The body of the ianthina continued to exude outward from its shell. From it a thick tendon of flesh spread out to either side to form the frame work of its raft, an integral part of its giant body.
    "We've got to get this craft moving someway toward Anghore," said Moljar...

entry 513      [contributed by Lone Wolf]

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Tall and graceful stood the buildings, the essential delicacy of their design possible only on a low-gravity planet.  Glass and stone and glittering metal filigree, the materials blended in a harmony that, although alien, was undeniably beautiful…  The sweeping catenaries of gleaming cables strong between the towers, some of which supported bridges, but most of which were ornamental only or filling some unguessable function…  Green parks with explosions of blue and yellow and scarlet, and all the intermediate shades, that were flowering trees and shrubs…  The emerald green of the parks, and the diamond spray of the fountains, arcing high and gracefully in shimmering rainbows…  Surely, thought Grimes, an extravagance on this world of all worlds!  The people, walking slowly along their streets and through their gardens, even from this foreshortened viewpoint undeniably humanoid, but with something about them that was not quite human…  

entry 512      [contributed by Zendexor]

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…For the first time, he viewed the colony of the ovoids, the green canopy of luminous organisms [..........], the welter of infernal activity, the protoplasmic battery sparking on its isolated knoll, the moving shadows of robot beings, and the alert fighters that patrolled the outskirts of the city, where light and darkness met, like enemies holding each other in deadlock.
   And the greatest of these miracles was this devil who called himself The Student, and who had now backed off in revulsion at Cliff’s approach.
   But there were matters still to be investigated more closely.  Dimly visible against the outer walls of the dome was a great shapeless mass that expanded and contracted as if it were breathing.  Above the thing, and projecting from the dome like a canopy, was a curious curved shell of pearly, vitreous material…

entry 511      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is

As he spoke, we had come into proximity to our new game, a large and very powerful animal, about four feet high at the shoulders, and about six feet from the head to the root of the tail. The latter carries, as that of the lion was fabled to do, a final claw, not to lash the creature into rage, but for the more practical purpose of striking down an enemy endeavouring to approach it in flank or rear. Its hide, covered with a long beautifully soft fur, is striped alternately with brown and yellow, the ground being a sort of silver-grey. The head resembles that of the lion, but without the mane, and is prolonged into a face and snout more like those of the wild boar. Its limbs are less unlike those of the feline genus than any other Earthly type, but have three claws and a hard pad in lieu of the soft cushion. The upper jaw is armed with two formidable tusks about twelve inches in length, and projecting directly forwards. A blow from the claw-furnished tail would plough up the thigh or rip open the abdomen of a man. A stroke from one of the paws would fracture his skull, while a wound from the tusk in almost any part of the body must prove certainly fatal. Fortunately, the kargynda has not the swiftness of movement belonging to nearly all our feline races, otherwise its skins, the most valuable prize of the [..........] hunter, would yearly be taken at a terrible cost of life. Two of these creatures were said to be reposing in a thick jungle of reeds bordering a narrow stream immediately in our front. The hunters, with Ergimo, now dismounted and advanced some two hundred yards in front of their birds, directing the latter to turn their heads in the opposite direction. I found some difficulty in making my wish to descend intelligible to the docile creature which carried me, and was still in the air when one of the enormous creatures we were hunting rushed out of its hiding-place. The nearest hunter, raising a shining metal staff about three and a half feet in length (having a crystal cylinder at the hinder end, about six inches in circumference, and occupying about one-third the entire length of the weapon), levelled it at the beast. A flash as of lightning darted through the air, and the creature rolled over. Another flash from a similar weapon in the hands of another hunter followed. By this time, however, my bird was entirely unmanageable, and what happened I learned afterwards from Ergimo. Neither of the two shots had wounded the creature, though the near passage of the first had for a moment stunned and overthrown him. His rush among the party dispersed them all, but each being able to send forth from his piece a second flash of lightning, the monster was mortally wounded before they fairly started in pursuit of their scared birds, which—their attention being called by the roar of the animal, by the crash accompanying each flash, and probably above all by the restlessness of my own caldecta in their midst—had flown off to some distance. My bird, floundering forwards, flung me to the ground about two hundred yards from the jungle, fortunately at a greater distance from the dying but not yet utterly disabled prey. Its companion now came forth and stood over the tortured creature, licking its sores till it expired. By this time I had recovered the consciousness I had lost with the shock of my fall, and had ascertained that my gun was safe. I had but time to prepare and level it when, leaving its dead companion, the brute turned and charged me almost as rapidly as an infuriated elephant. I fired several times and assured, if only from my skill as a marksman, that some of the shots had hit it, was surprised to see that at each it was only checked for a moment and then resumed its charge. It was so near now that I could aim with some confidence at the eye; and if, as I suspected, the previous shots had failed to pierce the hide, no other aim was likely to avail. I levelled, therefore, as steadily as I could at its blazing eyeballs and fired three or four shots, still without doing more than arrest or rather slacken its charge, each shot provoking a fearful roar of rage and pain. I fired my last within about twenty yards, and then, before I could draw my sword, was dashed to the ground with a violence that utterly stunned me. When I recovered my senses Ergimo was kneeling beside me pouring down my throat the contents of a small phial; and as I lifted my head and looked around, I saw the enormous carcass from under which I had been dragged lying dead almost within reach of my hand. One eye was pierced through the very centre, the other seriously injured. But such is the creature's tenacity of life, that, though three balls were actually in its brain, it had driven home its charge, though far too unconscious to make more than convulsive and feeble use of any of its formidable weapons. When I fell it stood for perhaps a second, and then dropped senseless upon my lower limbs, which were not a little bruised by its weight. That no bone was broken or dislocated by the shock, deadened though it must have been by the repeated pauses in the kargynda's charge and by its final exhaustion, was more than I expected or could understand. Before I rose to my feet, Ergimo had peremptorily insisted on the abandonment of the further excursion we had intended, declaring that he could not answer to his Sovereign, after so severe a lesson, for my exposure to any future peril. The Camptâ had sent him to bring me into his presence for purposes which would not be fulfilled by producing a lifeless carcass, or a maimed and helpless invalid; and the discipline of the Court and central Administration allowed no excuse for disobedience to orders or failure in duty. My protest was very quickly silenced. On attempting to stand, I found myself so shaken, torn, and shattered that I could not again mount a caldecta or wield a weapon; and was carried back to Askinta on a sort of inclined litter placed upon the carriage which had conveyed our booty.

entry 510      [contributed by Lone Wolf]

>>  here's where this is

…The two had been returning Mars-ward from [..........], after a successful season among the aborigines of that [..........].  They had traded bangles and other cheap trinkets for the gorgeous and precious flame-sapphires found in the soft marls of [..........].  The simple natives, having no conception of money values, were well satisfied with such traffic…

entry 509      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is

 ...The weird perspectives of Aryl were constantly changing, magnifying and minimizing everything seen; making distant objects seem near and near objects seem distant. They conjured up non-existing lakes in the valley bottom or standing at sharp angles in the sky; they created rock barriers across their path that melted as they walked through them. Or the illusion of clear, flat plains that resolved themselves eventually into tumbled seas of volcanic rocks, glass-sharp and cruel, precluded any possibility of their forming an accurate idea of the distance they had traversed.
    The endless cliffs themselves sometimes disappeared, to be replaced by a shimmering, outrageous parody of the sky. Then they could only wait until the kaleidoscopic meteorological changes should bring them back into view again.
    Henley’s belt chronometer showed that ten terrestrial hours had passed.  In the brief day of Aryl it was now midnight, but the light, refracted from the day side, was stronger than ever, and the heat was oppressive.
    They were chronically short of water, and longed for another of the tempestuous showers of rain which, though unpalatable, could quench thirst. Henley was weak from hunger, and so, when they encountered one of the Arylian sludges, an animal resembling a very dull and heavy antelope with great, flat, shovel-edged horns. Chuck stalked it patiently for half an hour. Just as he was about to leap out of the shelter of a rock to deliver the fatal stroke, it vanished into thin air. But the officer walked ahead to where he had last seen it, lunged with Henley’s spear. There was a strangled cough and the dying sludge fell at his feet.
    Guided by his calls, for Chuck himself had vanished, Henley clambered over the rocks. They made a fire of the drooping, thick-leaved vegetation, in the seed-cycle, which they found nearby, and attacked the rather tough meat, supplemented with hardtack and vitamin tablets. They abandoned the remains of the sludge to the insistent, 12-inch needle flies that lurk everywhere on Aryl...

entry 508      [contributed by Lone Wolf]

>>  here's where this is

In a basin of porphyry, at the summit of a pillar of serpentine, the thing has existed from primeval time, in the garden of the kings that rule an equatorial realm of the planet [..........]. With black foliage, fine and intricate as the web of some enormous spider; with petals of livid rose, and purple like the purple of putrefying flesh; and a stem rising like a swart and hairy wrist from a bulb so old, so encrusted with the growth of centuries that it resembles an urn of stone, the monstrous flower holds dominion over all the garden. In this flower, from the years of oldest legend, an evil demon has dwelt- a demon whose name and whose nativity are known to the superior magicians and mysteriarchs of the kingdom, but to none other. Over the half-animate flowers, the ophidian orchids that coil and sting, the bat-like lilies that open their ribbèd petals by night, and fasten with tiny yellow teeth on the bodies of sleeping dragonflies; the carnivorous cacti that yawn with green lips beneath their beards of poisonous yellow prickles; the plants that palpitate like hearts, the blossoms that pant with a breath of poisonous perfume - over all these, the Flower-Devil is supreme, in its malign immortality, and evil, perverse intelligence- inciting them to strange maleficence, fantastic mischief, even to acts of rebellion against the gardeners, who proceed about their duties with wariness and trepidation, since more than one of them has been bitten, even unto death, by some vicious and venefic flower. In places, the garden has run wild from lack of care on the part of the fearful gardeners, and has become a monstrous tangle of serpentine creepers, and hydra-headed plants, convolved and inter-writhing in lethal hate or venomous love, and horrible as a rout of wrangling vipers and pythons.
And, like his innumerable ancestors before him, the king dares not destroy the Flower, for fear that the devil, driven from its habitation, might seek a new home, and enter into the brain or body of one of the king's subjects- or even the heart of his fairest and gentlest, and most beloved queen!

entry 507      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is

The pilot sighted the landing platform, checked with Control Tower, and eased up for the final descent. He was a skillful pilot, with many landings on [..........] to his credit. He brought the ship up on its tail and sat it down on the landing platform for a perfect three-pointer as the jets rumbled to silence.
    Then, abruptly, they sank—landing craft, platform and all.
    The pilot buzzed Control Tower frantically as Kielland fought down panic. Sorry, said Control Tower. Something must have gone wrong. They'd have them out in a jiffy. Good lord, no, don't blast out again, there were a thousand natives in the vicinity. Just be patient, everything would be all right.
    They waited. Presently there were thumps and bangs as grapplers clanged on the surface of the craft. Mud gurgled around them as they were hauled up and out with the sound of a giant sipping soup. A mud-encrusted hatchway flew open, and Kielland stepped down on a flimsy-looking platform below. Four small rodent-like creatures were attached to it by ropes; they heaved with a will and began paddling through the soupy mud dragging the platform and Kielland toward a row of low wooden buildings near some stunted trees.
As the creatures paused to puff and pant, the back half of the platform kept sinking into the mud. When they finally reached comparatively solid ground, Kielland was mud up to the hips, and mad enough to blast off without benefit of landing craft...

entry 506      [contributed by Lone Wolf]

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    ...The Shadow deepened imperceptibly into night.  The rolling rusty clouds of the dayside had become the greyer clouds of storm and fog.  The men toiled through dimming mist and falling snow that turned at last to utter darkness.
    Lannar turned a lined and haggard face to Fenn.  “Madmen!” he muttered.  And that was all.
    They passed through the belt of storm.  There came a time when the lower air was clear and a shifting wind began to tear away the clouds from the sky.
    The pace of the men slowed, then halted altogether.  They watched, caught in a stasis of awe and fear too deep for utterance.  Fenn saw that there was a pallid eerie radiance somewhere behind the driving clouds.  Arika’s hand crept into his and clung there.  But Malech stood apart, his head lifted, his shining eyes fixed upon the sky.
    A rift, a great ragged valley sown with stars.  It widened, and the clouds were swept away, and the sky crashed down upon the waiting men, children of eternal day who had never seen the night…

entry 505      [contributed by Zendexor]

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    Olear's little ship passed through the ringstorms, and he did not take over the controls until he recognized the familiar mark of the trading company, a blue comet on the aluminum roof of one of the larger buildings. Visibility was good that day, but despite the unusual clarity of the atmosphere there was a suggestion of the sinister about the lifeless scene—the vast, irresistible river, the riotously colored jungle roof. The vastness of nature dwarfed man's puny work. One horizon flashed incessantly with livid lightning, the other was one blinding blaze of the nearby sun. And almost lost below in the savage landscape was man's symbol of possession, a few metal sheds in a clear, fenced space of a few acres.
    Olear cautiously checked speed, skimmed over the turbid surface of the great river, and set her down on the ground within the compound. With his pencil-like ray-tube in his hand he stepped out of the hatchway.
    A [..........] native came out of the residence, presently, his hands together in the peace sign. For the benefit of Earthlubbers whose only knowledge of [..........] is derived from the teleview screen, it should be explained that [..........] are not human, even if they do slightly resemble us. They hatch from eggs, pass one life-phase as frog-like creatures in their rivers, and in the adult stage turn more human in appearance. But their skin remains green and fish-belly white. There is no hair on their warty heads. Their eyes have no lids, and have a peculiar dead, staring look when they sleep. And they carry a peculiar, fishy odor with them at all times.

entry 504      [contributed by Lone Wolf]

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    …He kept hearing the weird screams of the Loathi echoing inside him; he kept seeing their long, keen beaks, and their batlike bodies swooping crazily out of the [..........] night…
    …Pictures appeared in the screen – bleak, rolling desert and tortured gorges.  Then an oasis where there was water, and where the radioactive ores underground provided enough heat to permit the growth of vegetation.  At its center was a little rough city under a crystal dome.  Joraanin, the [..........] colony!
    Around it men and loyal Loathi were entrenched, fighting off hordes of rebel Loathi that circled on batlike wings above, their long beaks gleaming.  The revolt was still in progress…

entry 503      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is

The [..........] sea was dotted with many shallow puddles and lakes of salty water.  But low ridges still provided ample camping ground for the Earthians.  A few had erected tents, but most of them still preferred the comfort of the cabins of their ships.  Some were now busy fabricating machinery – steam engines several of those devices seemed to be, their boilers flanked by huge mirrors, which, when the unsettled weather, incident upon the influx of air and moisture from Earth, came to an end, and the Sun shone once more, would collect and concentrate the solar rays.
    Still other colonists were attempting to plant gardens in the ashy soil – efforts which were almost certain to be abortive under the new conditions.  But by now countless pale-green shoots were peeping through the snow everywhere, promising soon to develop into a lush growth that would provide nourishment for such livestock as had been brought to [..........], and at the same time offering a source of cellulose from which by synthesis, a nourishing diet for human beings could be made.  The green shoots were the sprouts of the ancient [..........] vegetation, whose seeds or spores had remained quiescent in the waterless soil for countless ages…

entry 502      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is

    “I’m fed up with squirting my beer out of a bulb,” he explained.  “I want to pour it properly into a glass now we’ve got the chance again.  Let’s see how long it takes.” 
    “It’ll be flat before it gets there,” warned Mackay.  “Let’s see – g’s about half a centimetre a second squared, you’re pouring from a height of…”  He retired into a brown study.
    But the experiment was already in progress.  Scott was holding the punctured beer-tin about a foot above his glass – and, for the first time in three months, the word “above” had some meaning, even if very little.  For, with incredible slowness, the amber liquid oozed out of the tin – so slowly that one might have taken it for syrup.  A thin column extended downwards, moving almost imperceptibly at first, but then slowly accelerating.  It seemed an age before the glass was reached: then a great cheer went up as contact was made and the level of the liquid began to creep upwards…

entry 501      [contributed by Zendexor]

>>  here's where this is