Even though I knew exactly what to expect, it was impossible not to jerk back involuntarily with the others.
We were in the star ship, clustered around a bell jar. The jar contained a small specimen of the killer that I'd dug up gingerly and brought back for evidence.
I'd introduced water into the jar, and the first reaction had just taken place.
"Watch closely," I cautioned.
Again it happened—innocently at first and then too swiftly for the eye to follow. One of the little protuberances seemed to swell slightly—Ping. Something struck the wall of the bell jar hard enough to evoke a clear, sharp, resonant note.
"I don't know the exact range of a mature specimen," I said, grimly, "but I saw leaves shake a good twenty yards away."
"A seed," one of the crewmen breathed. "Nothing but a tiny, insignificant seed."
Moya shook his head.
"A deadly missile, son, wearing or containing a virulent poison. And people used to blather about curare."