been one of the other officers who had discovered
the Flimbotzik? Why must it be Harkaway--the most inept of his scouts,
whose only talent seemed to be the egregious error, who always rushed
into a thing half-cocked, who mistook superficialities for profundities,
Harkaway, the blundering fool, the blithering idiot--who had stumbled
into this greatest discovery of Iversen's career? And, of course,
Harkaway's, too. Well, life was like that and always had been.

"Have you tested those air and soil samples yet?" Iversen snarled into
his communicator, for his spacesuit was beginning to itch again as the
gentle warmth of Flimbot activated certain small and opportunistic
life-forms which had emigrated from a previous system along with the
Terrans.

"We're running them through as fast as we can, sir," said a harried
voice. "We can offer you no more than our poor best."

"But why bother with all that?" Harkaway wanted to know. "This planet is
absolutely safe for human life. I can guarantee it personally."

"On what basis?" Iversen asked.

"Well, I've been here two weeks and I've survived, haven't I?"

"That," Iversen told him, "does not prove that the planet can sustain
human life."

Harkaway laughed richly. "Wonderful how you can still keep that
marvelous sense of humor, Skipper, after all the things that have been
going wrong on the voyage. Ah, here comes the _flim'tuu_--the welcoming
committee," he said quickly. "They were a little shy before. Because of
the rockets, you know."

"Don't their ships have any?"

"They don't seem to. They're really very primitive affairs, barely able
to go from planet to planet."

"If they _go_," Iversen said, "stands to reason _something_ must power
them."

"I really don't know what it is," Harkaway retorted defensively. "After
all, even though I've been busy as a beaver, three weeks would hardly
give me time to investigate every aspect of their culture.... Don't you
think the natives are remarkably humanoid?" he changed the subject.

They were, indeed. Except for a somewhat greenish cast of countenance
and distinctly purple hair, as they approached, in their brief, gay
garments and flower garlands, the natives resembled nothing so much as a
group of idealized South Sea Islanders of the nineteenth century.

Gigantic butterflies whizzed about their heads. Countless small animals
frisked about their feet--more of the pink caterpillars; bright blue
creatures that were a winsome comb