Fear that man

responded, whining insanely, gnawing their horny gums into the pulpy body of the elder sacrifice slugs, gnawing and tearing at the flesh, swallowing it in great shreds, foaming over the smell of blood. And still the sacrifice slugs came joyfully, to be fulfilled in purpose.
        In the Ship’s Core, the Central Being turned to the other matters bothering It:
        The slugs in the navigation and tracking quarters had come upon the form of another ship moving out and away from the vessel they had shot down shortly before. If this smaller thing should escape, Raceship might be in danger of discovery by the minions of mankind that swarmed in the galaxy ahead. There was great fury among the navigators and radar crews as they worked over the instruments, their pseudopodia grasping at the controls. The smaller ship, the chief tracker discovered, was a ball of some sort. Hollow. Yes, definitely hollow. At first, they feared it might be a bomb. But it moved away from Raceship, not toward it. Still, they must get it. It had greater speed, at this low altitude, than Raceship had, but the slug-form crew lifted the mountainous ship and set out in pursuit, coasting over the surface of Chaplin I, seeking to kill…
        

    V
        
        “Are you all right?” a small, china-tone voice whisper-spoke to him as he swam upward through the inkiness that seemed endless, thick, and sticky. But, after all, there was light, and he homed in on the words as if they were a small beacon that would lead him out of his fuzziness into clarity-a very pleasant, gentle beacon.
        “He just passed out is all,” another, gruffer, voice said.
        “You have no sympathy,” china-tone snapped.
        Sam opened his eyes completely and found he was looking at a tiny, elfin face. Elfin! Pointed ears… small and delicate features… tiny but well-formed body… Wings! A pair of velvet-like wings fluffed gently behind her like sheets on a line, then drew shut. Their color matched the toga that fell to an end above her round and lovely knees. He remembered Hurkos and calmed himself. This was a mutant of some sort-whether a product of Nature or of the Artificial Wombs. A delightful mutation, to be sure. She was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.
        “Are you okay?” she asked again, tiny lips parting slightly to let the little words out.
        Sam groaned, tried to sit up.
        “Don’t strain yourself,” she said, grasping his shoulders in her fine, shell hands in an effort to restrain him, her sculptured fingers pressing him back.
        “I’m… okay,” he said, fighting off a headache that he knew could not successfully be fought off.
        “I told you,” the gruff voice said.
        Sam turned to the right, looked into the wide, handsome face of the man with the gruff voice. There was a wild mane of hair framing his head, partially covering his two large ears. Memories of being dragged into the floater by a man-horse came back to him. “I guess I should thank you for saving-”
        “Wasn’t anything to it,” the man-horse said, flushing slightly and grinning.
        “It was my life, though…”
        “Don’t praise Crazy too much,” a third voice said. It was Andrew Coro, the man he had met briefly on Horner’s Earth ranch when a Beast hunt had been initiated some months ago. Coro stepped between the girl and the man-horse. “Things like that go to his head, and he gets impossible to live with.”
        “Hmmph!” Crazy snorted.
        “I haven’t met your… your colleagues, Mr. Coro.”
        “Of course not,” Coro said. “I’m sorry. This is Lotus, our nursemaid, comforter, and spoiled friend. She’s also a famous botanist, but she’ll have you seeing plants in your sleep if you get her talking about it. Fair warning. This is Crazy Horse,” he continued, pointing to the other mutant before the elfin girl-woman could respond. “Crazy is our muscle, as you might have guessed-and a bit, I imagine, of our brains also. And me you know, Mr. Penuel.”
        “Sam. And I’m pleased to meet you two. You did a fine job for Congressman Horner. Do you have anything for a headache?”
        
        “It’s as makeshift as anything could be,” Andy said.
        “It’ll do,” Crazy grunted, crossing his arms over his massive chest and shuffling his hooves on the metal deck.
        “Sam? After all, you’ll be sitting there.”
        Sam dropped into the homemade chair,