Screaming, they went down, half-charred bodies and burning hair. One little creature, luckier or bolder than the rest, struck a blow that numbed Harris's left arm. Cantrell blazed away at him. He fell, an unrecognizable mass of ashes.
The men from Terra pressed against the cliff wall, panting, their eyes raking the pale jungle for the next wave of attackers.
"How d'you like these babies?" Cantrell snarled. "Planning to jump us all the time—And we were feeling sorry for them!"
They waited, tensed for the next attack. In the distance they could hear the siren on the spaceship, calling a general alert. Calling in the Geiger crews, and the diggers, and the ethnologists. Natives hostile, natives hostile! the signal was screaming—
Cantrell turned his head briefly—and stiffened as he saw the small S'zetnur decked in flowers. He was still alive, crouched just inside the cave, clutching the mud doll and whimpering softly. The captain glared at him, hard-eyed.
"Ambassador, huh?" He smiled without mirth. "To keep us from being suspicious of this juju-attack, until it was too late!" He jerked his head at Harris. "Blast him! He's a spy, isn't he? Been all over the camp. Knows just where everything's located—"
The astrogator peered at the huddled creature nursing the doll. He raised his gun, then swallowed hard. "Rob—I can't do it! Cold like this, I mean ... can't we take him prisoner? A hostage?"
Cantrell glanced at him, then at the pitiful figure in the cave.