the north, and they struck us before we could take
shelter in the ship or our plastic-screened huts. They were a little
smaller than flying ants, and even their long wings were jet-black.
Their bites were infinitesimal, but each one smarted like a prick with a
hot needle.

In the midst of the confusion of rescuing babies and herding everyone in
doors, I noticed that all the natives had disappeared into the forest.
Everyone had suffered a hundred bites or more, and we were sorry,
swollen sights. Sue insisted that I cover myself and make a run for the
clinic to see if Dr. Bailey had any remedies for the bites. Richard
Joseph was crying loudly from the irritation, so I agreed.

It was only 75 yards to the clinic, and I made it without collecting
many more stings. But the doctors had nothing to offer. They were
dabbing various salves, astringents and pastes on test patches of their
own skin, but nothing seemed to have any effect at all.

"All we hope," said Sorenson, "is that the flies aren't
microbe-carriers."

I started out the door to return then stepped back and peered through
the screen. The forest was erupting with natives. They staggered into
the clearing, headed for the center of it and sank down as if with great
weariness. On and on they came until the ground among our buildings was
literally paved with their prone bodies.

"Poor devils." Bailey murmured as the clouds of flies continued to sweep
through our village. "Nothing we can do, though. I wonder why they come
out in the open? You'd think they had better protection in the trees."

I had no answers, so I covered my head again and made a dash for my own
hut. Inside I brushed off the clinging flies and stamped on them. "The
medics don't have any help for us," I said. Then I saw him.

Sue was struggling to hold Joe on his feet. His arms were draped loosely
over her shoulders, and for a second I couldn't decided whether he was
ill or making a pass at Sue.

I pulled him off her by one shoulder. He swung around and toppled into
my arms. Remarkably few insect bites showed under the transparent haze
of golden hair, but he reeked of tala.

"You're drunk," I yelled at him. "A lot of help you are at a time like
this!"

"Tala," he said from loose lips. "Much tala."

"You've had much tala, all right!" I said disgusted.

Sue said, "We've got to let him stay in here, Sam. The flies will eat
him alive out there." She went to the window and knocked the flies from