 What makes the protagonists become less concerned about being trapped by the beasts?
For Click and Irish were marooned on the pirate's asteroid—their only weapons a single gun and a news-reel camera. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1944. The picture of Marnagan hunched huge over the control-console, wrenching levers, jamming studs with freckled fists. It made a spiked fist and knocked the rear-jets flat, and the ship spun like a cosmic merry-go-round. Hathaway only knew he was picked up and hurled against a lever-bank, and that Marnagan wasn't long in following, swearing loud words. A sweeter one still of Marnagan beating hell out of the controls and keeping his words to himself until just now. You came hunting for a space-raider and you ended up cradled in a slab-sized Irishman's arms, diving at a hunk of metal death. "Is this what ?" yelled Marnagan inside his helmet. They both waited, thrust against the shipside and held by a hand of gravity; listening to each other's breathing hard in the earphones. Hathaway felt himself grabbed; he and Marnagan rattled around—human dice in a croupier's cup. The best scenes in life never reach film, or an audience. "Low angle shot; Interplanetary Patrolman emerges unscathed from asteroid crackup. They stood in the middle of a pocked, time-eroded meteor plain that stretched off, dipping down into silent indigo and a rash of stars. Upon the sharp meteoric rocks Hathaway saw the tangled insides of the radio, the food supply mashed and scattered. Or was suffocation a better death...? Space-meteors are never hot and glowing. "It's not proof we need now, Click. Oh, God, this would make great news-release stuff if we ever get back to Earth. There wasn't much to see, but it was better than standing still, waiting. After that—right or wrong—you'll be Cosmic Films prettiest unmoving, unbreathin' genius. It's times like this when we all need words, any words, on our tongues. "Gravity should not act this way, Click." Immense crimson beasts with numerous legs and gnashing mandibles, brown-black creatures, some tubular and fat, others like thin white poisonous whips slashing along in the air. The immense things rolled, slithered and squirmed after him. Hathaway made it first, Marnagan bellowing just behind him. Click's voice gasped it out, as Marnagan squeezed his two-hundred-fifty pounds beside him. Instinctively, Hathaway added, "Asteroid monsters!
 They realized the beasts were not actual beasts, but were meant to seem real.
 They realized that the beasts were not actually interested in hurting them, so they were able to calmly leave their hiding spot.  They realized that the beasts were too big to fit into the space they were in, so they could camp out in that spot indefinitely.  They realized the beasts were not actual beasts, but were meant to seem real.  They realized that the beasts die when their photo is taken, and they had captured many of the beasts on camera.