And now the creeper contracted with a deadly purpose and inevitability. Kerry Blane fought with braced feet to pull away, felt himself dragged toward the avid blossom.
He screamed then, called with every bit of power in his body, hoped that Splinter would hear him within the dungeon of the ship. He strained, tried to whirl, fought again and again against the uncanny strength of the creeper.
A dis-gun sang briefly; the creeper tightened as though in pain, then dropped to the sand where it writhed like the severed body of a boa-constrictor. Splinter, white faced, leaned out of the cruiser's port, blasted the parent flower out of existence with a hissing discharge of dis-rays.
"What the devil happened?" he asked. "What was that thing?"
Kerry Blane came shakily to his feet, retrieved his gun, kicked moodily at the now-silent length of creeper.
"Some aggravated form of the Earth's Venus-fly-trap plant," he explained. "I was plenty lucky it didn't get me by the throat, for then I couldn't have made a sound."
"Yeah, sure!" Splinter's freckles were dark against the sickly white of his skin.
Kerry Blane grinned reassuringly. "Better get back on the job," he said. "I'll make damned certain that nothing sneaks up on me this time!"
Splinter shook his head. "We might as well eat something," he said, some of the color stealing back into his features. "I've got some wire-plastic cooking; it'll be another ten minutes before it's ready."
"Bring the stuff out here, where we can eat and watch at the same time."