Captain Future 27 - Birthplace of Creation (May 1951) by Edmond Hamilton Page B

apprehension that ordinary human people looked down on him because of his difference from them.
    Grag craved to be looked up to, by somebody or something. That was why the robot so eagerly wanted this moon-pup as a pet. Curt understood this, and so against his better judgment he gave a conditional permission.
    “All right, Grag, you can keep it, though I don’t believe you’ll ever tame it,” he answered. “But if it starts making any trouble for us, it’ll have to go.”
     
    STRANGE METABOLISM
    When they returned to the moon-laboratory, Grag secured the moon-pup to the wall by means of a light steelite collar and chain.
    The little gray animal was only two feet long. Its squat body was supported by four short legs whose paws ended in powerful, chisel-like digging-talons. Below its sharp little snout, were jaws set with equally powerful grinder-teeth. Its small black eyes were bright with hostility as it faced the Futuremen.
    Curt Newton inspected it with considerable interest. He had never been able to make so close an examination of an individual of the moon-hound species, one of the strangest forms of life in the System.
    Once, long ago, the Moon had had an atmosphere and many forms of life had flourished on it. Then as the satellite slowly lost its air by molecular dispersion, most of its life had perished. But a few species had managed to adapt themselves even to the airless conditions.
    The moon-hounds were such a species. They needed no air because they did not breathe. Their bodies were of strange inorganic flesh, in which silicon replaced carbon as the basic element. They ingested the elements they required to replenish their tissues, directly from the raw rock and ore they dug out and pulverized in their grinding teeth. This weird metabolism of their bodies was aided by photosynthetic processes.
     
    A METAL JAG
    “I’m going to call it Eek,” Grag announced. He extended his hand coaxingly to the moon-pup. “Here, Eek!”
    Eek, the moon-pup, responded by showing his teeth menacingly at the outstretched hand.
    “It can’t hear you, Grag,” Captain Future said. “Moon-hounds have no auditory or vocal organs, since sound is impossible on the Moon.”
    “I’ll tame it, anyway,” Grag insisted. “First, I’ll give it something to eat.”
    He brought some bits of metal-bearing rock and proffered them to Eek. The moon-pup, watching them suspiciously with its beady little eyes, champed the rock to dust between its teeth and swallowed it.
    Grag tried it with a scrap of pure copper. Eek devoured that with amazing speed. He brought it more copper, which was greedily bolted.
    “Copper and other pure metals, to them, must be like candy to a human being,” Curt commented.
    “You’ve given it too much — it’s sick,” Simon Wright told Grag.
    Eek had begun to wobble on his legs. His head swayed to and fro and a glazed look came into his eyes.
    “Sick, nothing — the little pest is drunk,” Otho said disgustedly.
    Captain Future broke into a shout of laughter. “Otho’s right. So much pure copper stimulated its metabolism too fast.”
    Eek was staggering. The little moon-pup tried to take a step and fell down on his face. He stumbled up again and stood, his head wagging foolishly.
    “Boy, has he got a bender on!” exclaimed Otho.
     
    EEK UNDERSTANDS
    Grag was dismayed. “It’s not his fault,” he defended. “I just gave him too much at one time. I’ll cut down on his food.”
    Two days later, the Futuremen returned to the moon-laboratory to find that Grag’s cut in the moon-pup’s rations had had its sequel.
    Eek had, in their absence, eaten up his own steelite chain, had then devoured all the copper parts of one of Otho’s best atom-pistols, and was now staggering around the room in a high state of intoxication.
    Otho stormed that the moon-pup had to go at once. But Grag insisted that he would soon be able to tame and train the creature.
    The next day, Grag’s bellowing shout brought Curt