The below-zero cold of the Martian night challenged the thermo-unit of
Leeda's desert suit until she lay shivering. But, worn out from the
walk and the emotional events of the day, she finally dropped off to
sleep.
It was still dark when she awoke. Deliberately making a noise, she
listened for someone to challenge her. When no one moved, she slipped
off into the desert.
It took her several hours at a rapid pace to get back to the
bubble-house. Terry's Protecto-suit lay scattered over a wide
area. His bones gleamed faintly in the barely discernible Martian
moonlight--picked clean by the Sand Vulture and Razor-back Lizards.
Flinging herself on the sand, she poured out her grief with dry,
racking sobs. The power to cry had long since been sucked out of her by
dehydration.
Rising at last, she gathered together the things she had come for.
When, at last, she returned to the night's camp, the three men were
still fast asleep.
Next morning, while they sat munching the tasteless emergency food
tablets that were carried in the desert, Rick went after the water.
Suddenly his cussing rolled across the desert toward them. Leeda smiled
quietly.
He came back at a half-run. Disgustedly, he flung the flasks at their
feet. The sides had gaps ripped in them. "What nitwits," he cursed.
"Naturally, the cold froze the water. When it expanded, it tore the
flasks apart. You knew this would happen," he accused Leeda.
"Of course," she admitted.
Fatso struck her across the shoulders, knocking her onto the sand.
"None of that, Fatso," Rick commanded. "We need her worse now than
ever. Is there any water near?" he asked Leeda.
"About two days away. And then it's a gamble whether it will be good to
drink. Sometimes the water following the strata from the pole hits a
pocket of mineral that's poison. When that happens, The Explorers Guild
puts up a Death's Head Sign to warn anyone from drinking it. As you
know, they check every water source regularly."
"Is it far from your strike?" Jocco asked.
"About a day's walk."
"Any water at your cave?" Rick questioned.
"None. We didn't use much. And when we did need a supply, we got it
from the outcropping I've mentioned and took it back and distilled it."
"Well, we've got to head for the spring," Rick decided. "And it better
be good water," he warned Leeda. "If it isn't and we've got to die out
here, I'll see that you never bring in those Sunbursts either."
* * * * *
They plodded voicelessly after Leeda. She set as fast a pace as she
dared. Even then Fatso began to drift back.
"Keep up, damn you," Rick warned. "If you don't, we'll leave you here
alone."
Midway through the morning, Jocco burst out. "Look at her. Fresh as a
Venusian pool lily. She must have some water on her."
Grimly they searched Leeda. She stiffened against their invading
fingers and smiled at them derisively. "I told you that a veteran
doesn't need water like you do."
Rick took her arm and twisted it until she crumpled with a cry onto
the sand. His voice was full of suspicion. "What a fool I've been. Why
didn't you abandon us last night when you had the chance?"
Shrugging out of his grasp, she rose and turned to him, "I wouldn't
miss the pleasure of seeing you all die for all the Sunbursts on Mars."
She strode away at a faster pace than before.
It was about six hours after they had been on the way that Fatso
stopped and began to yell. "Damn dust. Grinding right into my guts.
Gotta scratch." He ripped and tore at his clothes until his stomach was
bare. With a look of unutterable satisfaction, he began to itch and dig.
The SWOOOOSH could hardly be picked up. There was a long shadow; then a
scream from Fatso. The Sand Vulture's tail came out of his belly red.
Then the Vulture was away; circling high and out of range.
Blindly Rick pulled his gun and fired. Fast as his trigger finger was,
the poison was faster. By the third shot Fatso began to scream. His
voice rose up the scale of torture; bursting occasionally in a paean of
agony. And as he screamed, he lay on the ground writhing. Before their
eyes, his stomach began to bulge and turn purple from the poison. His
eyes rolled up into his head. And the moans began to dribble from his
lips like the litany of an insane chorus.
"I can't stand it," Jocco shouted. "How long will it last?"
"Not long enough," Leeda answered, her voice brittle with
satisfaction. "Only about ten hours. And in that time he will become
mindless, an animal begging for death; then finally, he'll just grovel
there moaning, and moaning, and moaning."
"You wanted this to happen to him," Jocco accused.