"How about narcotics, something to dope it?"
He shook his head. "To begin with, some of these Martian plants produce narcotic effects that make the products of our poppy look like food for babes; but the zloor takes them in its stride. It's really got a cast iron stomach. We've never been able to locate anything it won't eat and enjoy eating."
I didn't say anything for a long time. Then, "A Bazook-rifle would kill one."
"Sure," he said, "and splatter it all around the scenery at the same time. The laboratories need a good specimen."
There was another long silence. Finally I said, "Why in the name of Wodo don't they sink into the ground if they weigh as much as all that?"
"They would, only they make a point of walking on rock. That must be one of the things that limits their spreading even more widely. They have to be able to forage on ground that supports very little vegetation."
"You could lift one with a derrick."
He said, "This is the fifth time I've been through this. Every guy that Westley Marks sends up here asks the same questions. Sure you could lift it with a derrick if the derrick was big enough. Do you have any idea of what it'd cost to bring a derrick of that size to Mars?
"And that's not the only thing, either. These zloors are gentle as lambs, but they hate to be confined against their will. That derrick'd have to have some awfully strong equipment to keep the zloor from breaking loose and ambling off. There's other angles there, too. Suppose your derrick did lift him into the shuttle. When you got the shuttle up to the space station, how'd you move the zloor from the shuttle to the station and then from the station to the rocket for Terra?"
He go up from the bed and went over to a little table to return with a bottle and a couple of glasses. He poured two drinks and handed me one. "Here," he said, "you look like you could use a quick one. Have a hair of a dog that's going to bite kert out of you before you ever leave Mars."