the earthman
BY IRVING COX, JR.
The four survivors were sitting ducks
surrounded by barbaric savages. And
they were doubly handicapped, because
they knew that one of them was a traitor!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, December 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The robot supply ship came every Thursday at seven minutes after noon.It was an unfortunate hour for the personnel of the Nevada station,who happened to be in the commissary at lunch. Out of fourteen hundredassigned to the post, only four escaped—two guards on noon duty in thewatch tower; the Commander's wife, who had skipped lunch and stayed inher cottage; and Captain Tchassen.
The Captain was on a hill south of the station making a Tri-D shotof the range of mountains west of the camp. He took his amateurphotography seriously and, like any tourist, he was fascinated by therugged scenery; there was nothing comparable to this on any world inthe civilized galaxy. To get the back lighting that he wanted, Tchassenwould cheerfully have given up any number of meals. As a matter offact, he wasn't aware that it was noon until he heard the jet blast ofthe supply ship as it came in on the transit beam.
Tchassen saw the ship spin out of control as the beam went haywire.The robot plunged into the heart of the station and the earth shookin the catastrophic explosion of the nuclear reactor. The commissary,the communication center, the supply sheds and the row of patrol shipsvanished in the rising, mushroom cloud. Concussion threw Tchassenviolently to the ground. His camera was smashed against a boulder.
The Captain picked himself up unsteadily. He took a capsule from hisbelt pouch and swallowed it—a specific against shock and radiationsickness. In a remarkably short time, Tchassen's mind cleared. He sawthe prisoners pouring through the gap torn in the compound fence andrunning for the hills. But that did not alarm him particularly. Theywere unarmed and for the moment they represented no real danger.
Tchassen began to run toward the ruined administrative center. Hehad to find out if there were any other survivors and he had to makeemergency contact with the occupation base on the coast. He ran withconsiderable difficulty. After less than a hundred yards, he wasgasping for breath. He slowed to a walk. He could feel the hammering ofhis heart; his throat was dry and ice cold.
To the escaped prisoners, watching from beyond the camp, theCaptain's weakness was unbelievable—for Tchassen, in his twenties,had a magnificent build. Typical of the occupation army, he worethe regulation military uniform, knee-high boots and tight-fitting,silver colored trousers. Above the waist he was naked, except forthe neck-chain which carried the emblem of his rank. His body wasdeeply tanned. His hair was a bristling, yellow crown. Yet, despitehis appearance, his sudden exhaustion was very real; Captain Tchassenhad been on Earth only five days and he was still not adjusted to theatmospheric differences.
As he passed the row of officers' cottages, he fell against a wall,panting for breath. The flat-roofed buildings were nearly a mile fromthe crater of the explosion, yet even here windows had been broken byconcussion. A cold, arid wind whipped past the dwellings; somewhere adoor, torn loose from its frame, was banging back and forth.
Then Tchassen heard a muffled cry. In one of the officer's cottageshe f