Menace of the Mists
By RICHARD STOREY
A nameless horror poured from the sea-bottoms of
Venus, driven by a soulless intelligence that
could not be beaten. Four Earthmen stood in the
way of the voracious horde, knowing they could not
escape—but swearing they would not admit defeat.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories May 1943.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
MacAloon rose in the stirrups of his saddle-lizard. His guide, a Venusian fishman, trembled nervously at the mount's side and pointed straight ahead. MacAloon followed the direction of the quivering four-jointed, scaly arm.
"See, bossmac?" the reptilian native hissed in fright. "Bosslimpy speak truth. Cen'pedes ready to march. Soon they attack us. Then is all over."
On the other lizard, little Al Birchall tried to peer through the bright white fog of Venus. It was like attempting to gaze through a bedsheet.
MacAloon lifted a pair of infra-red binoculars to his eyes. Instantly, the glasses dispelled the blinding mist.