suggest we land in the jungle,” the Amazon said. “It’s easier to approach a strange race when we haven’t the Ultra with us. Its size seems to overawe them.”
“Besides,” Viona added, “we want to see what sort of vegetation this planet’s got.”
The issue decided, Abna concentrated his attention on bringing the vessel to rest—a none-too-easy task with no sign of a clearing. Also, he was fast losing height. Finally he had to take a chance, and the result was that the multi-ton mass crashed through the topmost branches of the trees, tore down vegetation and creepers in its path, and finally alighted with considerable force in the carpeting undergrowth.
Lying somewhat upended, with a trail of destruction pointing back to the sky, the Ultra became still, and the throb of its power plant abruptly ceased. Abna turned from the control board and grinned.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “Only thing I could do. Luckily for us, the Ultra is a darned sight tougher than the trees.”
The Amazon opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead she looked through the rear observation window in amazement. Forgetful of everything else, she hurried to it and gazed outside.
“By all that’s extraordinary!” she exclaimed finally, and somewhat puzzled, the others came to her side.
“What is?” Abna asked curiously.
“Look!” She pointed in the direction they had come. “We smashed trees and branches down as we tore through them: I distinctly remember that. Yet now there isn’t anything to show where we came!”
They stood in silence for a moment or two, trying to weigh up the unusual situation; then Abna, who had been gazing absently outside at some of the lower growths, suddenly gave a start. He went closer to the window and peered intently.
“Either I’m crazy,” he said finally, “or these bushes outside here—the low-down ones—are growing backwards!”
The leaves were visibly curling up slowly into sticky projections, and then decreasing into obvious buds. The actual stems of the bushes, too, were gradually shrinking in length and seemingly withdrawing into the main stem.
“Now do you believe me?” Abna asked the Amazon dryly. “I know it’s against all scientific or any other law, but it’s happening. Backwards life!”
“I believe it because I see it,” the Amazon answered. “But I certainly want to know more about it. Let’s see what the external conditions are like.”
She examined instruments giving readings on the exterior conditions, and made a quick analysis of the air sample, which she extracted in an ampule. The results were satisfactory.
“Oxygen, hydrogen, krypton, and nitrogen,” she announced. “In quantities quite suitable for our type of life. Temperature around seventy degrees Fahrenheit, so that’s no hardship.”
“Before long,” Abna said, operating the control that opened the airlock, “I fancy that somebody will come looking for us. We must have been seen as we crossed that town—and since the Ultra is not the kind of object seen every day, I imagine we’ll have a visitation. We’d better be well armed and ready.”
The Amazon inspected the instrument and weapon belt about her waist and then relaxed again, satisfied. Abna, Viona and Mexone checked their own weapons, and then they were ready.… Once outside in the mild, soft atmosphere Abna switched over the concealed locking switch that closed the airlock and made the ship impregnable from the outside. Then he led the way to the nearest bushes.
They exhibited the same peculiarity as that seen from the window. They were definitely growing backwards. Another unusual thing was that there was nothing dead anywhere. No broken and decayed branches, no sear and yellow grass—not even a smashed blade of it at the edges of the Ultra’s enormous weight. Everywhere a newness, a fresh greenness—and a fantastic vision of branches everywhere shrinking with the slowness of a thread of mercury exposed to gradual cold.
There was something else, too, decidedly less positive, which the four could all feel. It was a sensation of growing irritation—even anger—out of all proportion to the circumstances. None of them had anything to be angry about, even less to be angry with each other, and yet they were. Each and every one of them.
Suddenly Abna halted. With a raised hand he made the others halt, too. They looked at him, unreasonable resentment smoldering in their eyes.
“Well, what now?” the Amazon demanded. “What have we stopped for?”
“To get ourselves straight,” Abna said, plainly having something of a struggle to master himself. “If the plants can grow backwards, then it is logical to assume that love—or at any rate, affection—can take the inverse form of hatred and irritation.”
The others were silent, grasping at the truth of the statement.
“You’re right,” the Amazon said, keeping a hold on herself. “Even so, it is going to be almost impossible to keep a constant grip on the emotions. We’lI have to think of another way of exploring.”
“The trouble didn’t affect us inside the ship,” Viona commented. “If that’s any guide to what is happening.”
“I believe it is,” Abna said, thinking. “The Ultra is always shielded by a repulsive shell, electrical in basis, which stops any dangerous radiations from penetrating. So this emotional disturbance is produced by electrical means. Something must be affecting our brains.”
“In that case we want insulated helmets,” the Amazon said. “Hadn’t we better return to the Ultra and manufacture some?”
Abna answered by striding back along the path they had come. Fortunately, they had traveled no great distance, otherwise the emotional repercussions might have been considerable. And once within the giant vessel they could sense the unbearable irritation relaxing as the mysterious influence, whatever it was, was cut off.
The manufacture of the protective helmets, which fitted in the fashion of skullcaps, was a simple job with the workshop’s infinite resources—then, thus protected, they set off again through the jungle, and no hint of emotional disturbance touched them.
Then suddenly the people of this fantastic world became visible—six of them, dressed in one-piece, lilac-colored tunics. They were human enough in appearance, though rather below average size. The curious thing about them was that they kept their distance from each other. Each one was separated from his neighbor by about six feet. Apparently they were not particularly hostile, for they carried no weapons.
Emerging completely from the forest, they stood staring with round, big-pupiled eyes, an expression of infinite puzzlement on their faces.
“Look harmless enough,” the Amazon murmured, taking her hand away from her proton gun. “See what you can do with them, Abna.”
Abna raised a powerful hand. “Friends,” he said deliberately. “We come as friends.”
The reply from one of them sounded a mere gabble of words, but in a questioning tone. Abna shook his head and sighed.
“Language trouble,” he said, glancing at the Amazon. “We will only get over it by taking them to the Ultra and giving them a session with the Language Instructor.”
“If
