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I was awakened by an uncomfortable warmth, and when I glanced at my watch the explanation was obvious. We had penetrated the outer gaseous envelope of the world that had so recently given birth to a continent, and Correy was driving the Ertak through at reckless speed.

When I entered the navigating room, Correy glanced up guiltily at the surface-temperature gauge and then hastily saluted.

“We’re reducing speed, sir,” he said. “Atmosphere is rather denser than I had expected. Hendricks reports the air breathable, with a humidity of one hundred. And–tell me, sir, what do you make of the appearance of the Kabit now?”

I bent over the hooded television disk anxiously. The Kabit was in the center of the field, and the image was perhaps a third of the disk’s diameter in length.

Instead of a tiny bright speck, I could see now the fat bulk of the ship, its bright metal gleaming–but across or around the ship, were broad spiral bands of black or dark green, as sharp as though they had been painted there.

“What are the bands, Mr. Correy?” I asked sharply. “Have you formed any opinion?”

“I have, sir, but I’d rather not offer it at this time,” said my first officer gravely. “Look about the ship, in the immediate vicinity, and see if you find anything of interest. My eyes may be playing me tricks.”

I glanced curiously at Correy, and then bent my attention on the image in the disk.

* * * * *

It was impossible to make out any details of the background, save that the country round seemed to be fairly level, with great pools of gray water standing here and there, and a litter, as of gigantic, wilted vegetation, spread over everything.

And then, as I looked, it seemed to me that the Kabit shifted position slightly. At the same time, the spiral bands seemed to move, and upon the ground around the ship, there was movement also.

I looked up from the disk, feeling Correy’s eyes upon me. We stared at each other, neither wishing to speak–hardly daring to speak. There are some things too monstrous to put into words.

“You–you saw it, sir?” asked Correy at last, his voice scarcely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know. I think I saw something like a–a snake. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes. Something like a snake. A snake that has wrapped itself around the Kabit, holding it helpless … a serpent….” He gestured helplessly, a sort of horror in his eyes. I think he had convinced himself he had only imagined the serpent, until I had seen the same thing.

“Have you stopped to think, Mr. Correy,” I asked slowly, “how long the creature would have to be to wrap itself like that around a liner the size of the Kabit? It–it can’t be!”

“I know it, sir,” nodded Correy. “I know it. And still, I saw it, and you saw it.”

“Yes,” I muttered. “I saw it. I–I saw it move!”

* * * * *

We maintained a speed that kept the surface-temperature gauge dangerously close to maximum permissible reading, and despite the forced ventilation of the ship, we were dripping with perspiration.

Atmospheric speeds are maddeningly low after the reckless, hurtling speed of space travel, but our vaunted scientists haven’t yet found a way of eliminating friction, and we had to make the best of it.

With maddening slowness the image in the television disk grew larger and clearer, relentlessly confirming our original conclusion.

The Kabit was wrapped in the coils of a mighty serpent; a monster that must have been the height of a man in diameter, and whose length I could not even guess.

Four coils were looped tightly about the Kabit, and we could now see the terrible tail of the thing, and its head.