The Madcap Metalloids By W. V. ATHANAS Plucked from the space-lanes by its ravening magnetism, the two intrepid Terrans defied the death of this deadly radio-active worldlet by playing games with the roly-poly natives! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1949. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Jonathan Drake swam back to consciousness as a bubble rises through molasses--slowly, and with great effort. His arms lay heavily on the padded rests of the shock-chair, and his lids drooped persistently despite the shouted commands of his brain. A bubble of air rose reluctantly up his throat to operate his paralyzed vocal cords. "Doc," he croaked. "Doc?" The words bounced off the polished metal walls of the room. There was no sound after that but the soft purr of the control board. Jonathan walked his hand along the arm rest like a spider, each finger a leg drawing the weighted hand a step further like a tremendous body. Finally a finger found the cup of the release button, and the pneumatic pads fell free of thigh, belly and chest. He slid the button forward and the shock-seat tilted him forward and decanted him gently onto the floor. He could hear Doc breathing now, the sound of it harsh above the quiet humming of the dynamics, and he rolled on over and heaved his body off the floor with both arms. "Puny," he muttered to himself. "Weak as a baby. Must have been a rough landing." He fought his way to his hands and knees, but his body rebelled at the task of rising to his feet. _This is getting to where it ain't funny_, he thought, and scrambled with great effort to the control board. He had a look at the G-gauge and whistled softly. 3.4! _Leaping Luna, no wonder!_ He forced his hand to the knurled knob of the control lever and clicked it down four notches. He held it there a moment, then eased it back a fraction by twisting the knob. The dynamics' hum rose a note and the weight began to fall from him. He stepped swiftly to the other shock-chair and released the restrainers with one impatient stabbing finger. Doc had a bluish tinge about his mouth and his breathing was a bit ragged. "Doc," said Jon sharply. He thumbed one of Doc's eyes open and studied the pupil. "Too much deceleration," he muttered, and wheeled to the black kit on the wall. His eye caught the visi-plate over the control panel in passing, and he gave the bleak plain it showed a casual glance. Something round and black traveled across the field of vision, but was gone almost as soon as it caught his attention. He flicked a quick look to see that the automatic cameras were recording, and returned to Doc.