“Family party,” suggested Dard, not daring to hold the glasses away from Kimber’s impatient reach any longer.
“But harmless,” the pilot suggested for the second time.
“Do you suppose they’d let us near them? The water’s gone down a lot.”
“Nothing like trying. Just let Jorge be ready with that ray gun, then if they do turn out to be first-class menaces, we’ll be prepared.” The communications techneer lowered himself cautiously into the flood, which was at knee level.
He detoured to avoid the floating weed and paused when be reached the fish still beating the air with a frenzied tail. Dard caught up with him at that point.
Save for a curiously flattened head and a huge, paunchy middle, the stranded fish was the first living thing they had seen here which did resemble a Terran product. It was a good five feet long and displayed murderous teeth. The powerful tail beat the receding water into froth but it was beyond hope of escape. Dard spoke impulsively:
“Can’t- can’t you shoot it? It won’t be able to get away and I think it knows that.”
“Unhuh.” That was Cully and as usual he wasted no words. He snapped the ray at that writhing head. With a last convulsion the fish flopped completely out of the water, to float with its huge belly up when it fell back.
“Maybe breakfast?” Rogan asked. “Looks a little bit like a tuna-might even taste like one. We’ll let Kordov get it and see if it’s fit for us to bury the teeth in. I could do with a steak-maybe two of them! Hello-the fireworks didn’t send our duck-dogs running. I’d say they were enjoying the show.”
Rogan was right. The duck-dog family party sat in a line along the crest of the fast drying sand ridge, appreciably closer to the ship, their attention all for the men and the now limp fish.