My eyes jerked to the things instinctively--and as I did so, Pearce leaped toward me. In pure reaction, I squeezed the trigger. The stream of tungsten-steel pellets stopped him like a wall. Even if I'd had the time to deliberate consciously over whether or not to shoot, it wouldn't have ended any other way. For if Pearce had reached me, a struggle would have followed which would have enabled the butterfly-creatures to attack us. Just an instant ahead of the butterfly-creatures, I jumped into the ship and sealed the port. After resting for a while, I set out on the return to Earth. [Illustration: _I jumped into the ship and sealed the port._] I told the authorities my story in full, holding nothing back. They asked me to make this statement for their official records. There are, of course, no charges against me. I should not have admitted to killing Pearce had I been guilty of a crime. But I fear that the shadow of suspicion will lay over me until another expedition returns from Venus and verifies my words. And in late Spring, when the cocoons open and the butterflies emerge, I will always think of a similar season on Venus, when a similar event occurs. When the crimson gems break open with a thin, tinkling sound, and the exquisite, deadly butterfly-creatures flutter forth....