John Racham by Dark Planet

spider things had all been taken care of.
They were pinned all the way around the massive trunk, and even as he watched,
Query saw one man put his tube neady
    62 under his arm and move in, clapping into
the rhythm for a moment, then seizing and tugging at the spike, freeing it and
the spider body in the one motion, moving on to another, tossing the
many-legged bodies clear, stuffing the spikes into his weapon butt. This done,
the man moved back out and clear, keeping the clapping going while another man
moved in and collected spikes. And Query realized of course these people could
work together. If he could share something of their common feeling, then it was
obvious that they all shared with each other a common awareness. No need for
words of command or drilling. They knew what to do and what everyone else was
doing. The ultimate in teamwork.
    Christine
shivered, and he put his arm about her. "All right now," he said,
feeling the inadequacy of the words and wishing he could touch her mind the way
he could reach and touch these "savages." The play was almost over,
the long whips hissing and slashing close to that obscene body up in the tree.
One of the women drew back, coiled her whip, and stooped to give old Evans a
strong arm, helping him up and assisting him away. And only just in time. Down
came the bloated thing, a bladder of scarlet and black, to hit the ground soggily and quiver. And the murderous lashes flicked and
tore at it until there was positively no life left.
    Query sensed jubilation, almost exultation,
and not just the victory over a threat. It was more than that. Rejoicing? He
stared at the way the women gathered up the cutoff chunks of tentacles, and at
the men who collected the spider bodies as if they were precious. And when the
warm saliva flooded his mouth he knew—revolted and unbelieving —but he knew.
The head man came across to where he sat hugging Christine. He carried a
dripping chunk of tentacle as thick as an arm and almost a foot long. He
offered it, and Christine took a good look and moaned, turning her head away.
Query had difficulty mastering his stomach as he stretched out his hand and
touched the delicacy to acknowledge it Then he pushed
it away and shook his head, hoping to be understood. It may be a tasty morsel to you, my friend,
but we don't fancy it. You have it! The head man's expression showed puzzlement, and then a shrug and
finally a big grin. He went away quickly, to

come back with the original fruit-body Query had put aside when Christine tried her
experiment. You're
smart Query thought, that's much more our speed! and he accepted the fruit gratefully. But there
was more in the mental crosscurrent than that.
    "Better
eat something, Christine, you need the strength. We're going to move, soon, and
you have to come along now. You're something of a heroine, far as I can
gather."
    "A heroine?" She opened her mouth to ask it, and he plugged it with a nut and
chuckled. The sense of it was quite clear in his mind.
    "Right. You knew where the good food was; you went right to it and called it
out. And you didn't even have a whip!"
    "Food? They are actually eating . . . those
things?"
    "Right
again. Just some, though. The rest they are going to carry back to the . . .
village, I guess it must be. Home, anyway. And you're the guest of honor. We
all are. They've never seen anything like us before, but we have proved
ourselves, it seems. Look, your father has made a hit, too. See?" Query
aimed his arm to where Evans sat nearby being fed and obviously admired by two
women. "This place has its attractions as well as its dangers. I doubt if
it would ever get boring . . ."
    "I've
been thinking about that," she said, in a curious, little girl voice,
"and I remember something from biology class—it seems a lifetime
ago—something about intestinal bacteria. We all have them, of course, and
without them we would ' starve, because they work to produce all the enzyme
breakdowns we need. That's why