"_Rain._ The kid's diary said '_rain_ potential.' The captain's log mentioned a _surface weather front_. And it _rained_ just before I was hit." "I fail to see the connection. But think about this: It rained on the survey team I ferried here, too--not often, but more than once or twice--and nothing happened to them." That was the trouble with firing off at half thrust. But there was still this nagging conviction: rain plus vegetation equals death. I could picture Moya and the crew speculating that I'd taken complete leave of my senses. But sometimes you have to play the game blindly--"by the seat of your pressure suit," as the pioneers stated it. I went to the shuttler's locker, located a canteen in a survival kit, filled it and left the ship. I started where I'd found the largest collection of remains. Moya's memory had failed to particularize the plant, but I had enough evidence to negate indiscriminate baptism. I felt supremely foolish--for a while. My thoughts began to focus, and I recalled the little plant that had grown up through the hole in the pelvis. Casting about, I located adult specimens. They seemed to fit the requirements. Again it struck me that they bore a familial kinship to a variety that occurred on the plain. I couldn't place the difference. Finally I selected one about two feet tall. It was bulbous, thick skinned, terminating in broad members that were clustered to form a rough funnel. Their inner surfaces were coated with a glutinous substance. The main body of the plant was studded with warty projections about the size of walnut halves. And just below the terminal funnel was a corona of tapering members like leaves beneath a bizarre blossom. They ended in sharp points, bore flimsy surface bristles, and seemed to serve as protection for the trap. I prodded the green-and-yellow mottled skin of the thing. It was tough, resistant, almost pneumatic-- I had this sudden, strong feeling. About ten feet away was a tree with dull-reddish, overlapping bark segments on its trunk. There was a branch close enough to the ground to be reached if my leg would support the necessary spring. I tested the leg for leap and the branch for support. They held. I uncapped the canteen and sprinkled the remaining water over the plant, making sure that some reached both the funnel and the corona. I ran. Seconds later, perched monkey-see, monkey-do on the branch, I lost any lingering feeling of foolishness. I sat there for quite a while, sickened. I thought about the crew of 231, and the other pieces of the puzzle. One of them had to be arrogance--the natural arrogance of picked people that leads to a belief in corporeal immortality: _Nothing can happen to me; you, maybe, but not me._ * * * * * Even though I knew exactly what to expect, it was impossible not to jerk back involuntarily with the others.