It took all of the men, working steadily from dawn to dusk every day,
two full weeks to construct the signal. When it was done, Greg looking
down upon it from their hilltop eyrie, gazed upon it with approval and
found it good.
Across the mile-wide flatness of the plain they had heaped huge piles
of branches, faggots, brush, forming the letters "S O S." Green, they
stood out boldly; withered and faded, their brownness would be equally
clear.
Hannigan was pleased with his share of the work, too.
"--wire," he finished, "from the bottom of the 'S' to the cave. We just
about had enough, too. Anyhow, if the ship should happen to come at
night instead of in the daytime, all we got to do is push the switch,
and a spark'll jump in the tinder. Send the whole signal up in flame in
less time than you can say 'integral calculus.'" He frowned. "If," he
added, "a ship comes at all. Which of course I couldn't say yes or no."
"It will come," said Greg absently. He said it because it was the thing
to say; as a matter of habit. He was not even thinking of his words.
He was thinking, now that this project had been accomplished, of other
things. Of a silo that must be built. They had nine head of livestock
now, due to Tommy O'Doul's persistence. The beasts would have to be
provided with winter quarters. One goat in the cave had not been so
bad, last month. But nine goats--Perhaps, he thought, that small cave
next to ours. If we could dig into it through the west wall ... make a
small opening....
His lack of concentration brought a false conclusion from the third man
in the group. Ralph Breadon stirred restively.
"You should say," he insinuated, "if Malcolm _wants_ a ship to come!"
The words penetrated Greg's thoughts of the future slowly. He turned a
blank, questioning look on the other.
"Eh?"
"I merely said," repeated Breadon, "that one could not condemn a man in
your position for showing lack of enthusiasm in a rescue party."
Greg stared at him thoughtfully.
"Just what do you mean by that, Breadon?"
Breadon shrugged.
"Isn't it fairly obvious? Two short months ago you were a nobody. A
secretary without background, position or authority. Today you're the
demigod of Titan. Sir Boss. I don't complain; I merely comment. You
have everything a man could ask for. Authority ... security ... a
woman...."
The last jolted Malcolm out of his apathy. He took a swift step
forward, gripped Breadon's lapels with a fist grown heavier, rougher,
with labor.
"If you mean Crystal, Breadon--"
Breadon stood his ground. "Let go of me, Malcolm. I'm not going to
fight you again. Of course I mean Crystal. It's perfectly obvious
that you and she--Oh, hell, man! Don't be a hypocrite! After all, when
people live as intimately as we do, in one little cave...."
* * * * *
Greg felt dark anger welling up within him like a gall-tinctured
flood. Rage not that Breadon should say this thing, but that there
should be cause for his thinking it. He choked, thickly, "Damn you,
Breadon--there's not a thing wrong between Crystal and me. I love her,
yes. And Crystal loves me. We've only been waiting till this big job
was finished--"
"Then if I were you," retorted Breadon wearily, "I wouldn't wait any
longer. Or is it another case of the king being incapable of doing
wrong? Anyhow, I think you understand what I mean now. Two months ago
a marriage between you and Crystal Andrews would have been ridiculous.
Today--"
He shrugged again. Greg glared at him wrathfully, impotently, for a
long moment. Then he spun on his heel, led the way down the hill to
the cave. Sparks scurried along behind him anxiously. "Now, look,
Greg--don't do nothing you might regret--"
"Shut up! I'll handle this!"
At the cave he called all the settlers before him. They came from their
tasks, surprised, wondering. He wasted no time. He broached the subject
boldly.
"Because we ten are marooned here on a desert satellite," he said
savagely, "without a clergyman, there is no reason we must abandon all
the rights and privileges of civilized society. Human emotions have a
habit of enduring. I think it is no secret that Crystal Andrews and I
have fallen in love. I intend, therefore, to marry her as soon as it
can be arranged.
"Crystal--" He turned to the girl. "Do I speak for you as well as for
myself?"
The girl nodded and stepped forward into the circle of his arm. "You
know you do, Greg."
J. Foster Andrews looked pleased. He said, "That's fine, son. But who's
going to do the marrying?"
"You are. As owner of the _Carefree_, you were also its commander. I
think the space code would permit your acting in capacity of justice."
Greg's anger melted. "I'm not being very formal about this, sir.
Perhaps I should ask for your permission."
"You have it, my boy! And now--" Archly. "When will
the--hrrumph!--happy event take place?"
Greg looked at Crystal questioningly. "Next week?" she said, "I'll have
to have a little time, Greg."
"That's it, then," said Greg. "Next week. When the dark period comes."
* * * * *
The little group broke up, then. One by one they murmured words of
congratulation and approval to their leader and his bride-to-be and
drifted away. Finally Crystal went back into the cave, and Greg was
left alone with 'Tina, who alone of all the group, had so far said
nothing. He went to her.
"You haven't told me you're happy, 'Tina."
She turned slowly.
"Shall I say so, Greg?"
"I want you to. Why do you act so strangely toward me, 'Tina? Do you
dislike me? You used to--"
"I'm happy," she cried suddenly. "Now I've said it. You want me to.
Are you satisfied? Why don't you let me alone, Greg? Must I like or
dislike you? You have one woman? Must you--" She broke from his side,
raced forward to the edge of the hill, stared blindly down into the
plain. Greg moved after her, worried. "What is it, 'Tina? You're _not_
happy! Are you lonely? Why don't you get married, too? Sparks ... or
Breadon...."
He stopped, his gaze over her shoulder settling on something in the
valley beneath. A thing incredible to behold, but that was ... yes,
_was_....
"'Tina!" he gasped.
At the tone of his voice she spun swiftly, anxiously. "What is it,
Greg?"
"Look! Down there! A--a human!"
X
"More gruel, Marberry?" asked Aunt Maud solicitously. "Can you eat
another spoonful?" She glared at those who ringed the reclining
spaceman belligerently. "Why don't you let him alone?" she demanded.
"Greg Malcolm, I thought you had better sense! The man's weak and
sick!"
Marberry's eyes were like charred pockets, but he summoned a weak smile.
"I'm all right," he said. "There isn't much more to tell. We managed
to cut free from the _Carefree_ just before she crashed. Four of us.
Lipstead, Hawkins, Craeburn and myself. Our skiff cracked up in a
mountain gorge. Craeburn was killed, and Lipstead broke his leg. But we
fixed it up in splints, and he got by.
"When the snow came--" He shut his eyes momentarily, as though to rid
them of a persistently evil vision. "When the snow came we almost died.
We ran short on fuel, and the skiff leaked. Then the electro-stove ran
down, and we had to eat cold, canned food.
"Even so, we pulled through. But when it got warm again, Hawkins said
we mustn't spend another winter in the skiff. We had to find a cave in
the mountains, he said. So we abandoned the ship and started moving. It
was then that they caught us."