THE
HUNTED
HEROES
By ROBERT SILVERBERG
The planet itself was tough enough—barren, desolate,forbidding; enough to stop the most adventurous anddedicated. But they had to run head-on against a madgenius who had a motto:
Death to all Terrans!
"Let's keep moving," I toldVal. "The surest way todie out here on Mars is togive up." I reached over andturned up the pressure on heroxymask to make things alittle easier for her. Throughthe glassite of the mask, Icould see her face contortedin an agony of fatigue.
And she probably thoughtthe failure of the sandcat wasall my fault, too. Val's usuallyabout the best wife a guycould ask for, but when shewants to be she can be a realflying bother.
It was beyond her to seethat some grease monkey backat the Dome was at fault—whoeverit was who had failedto fasten down the enginehood. Nothing but what hadstopped us could stop a sandcat:sand in the delicatemechanism of the atomic engine.
But no; she blamed it all onme somehow: So we were outwalking on the spongy sandof the Martian desert. We'dbeen walking a good eighthours.
"Can't we turn back now,Ron?" Val pleaded. "Maybethere isn't any uranium inthis sector at all. I thinkwe're crazy to keep on searchingout here!"
I started to tell her that theUranCo chief had assured mewe'd hit something out thisway, but changed my mind.When Val's tired and overwroughtthere's no sense inarguing with her.
I stared ahead at the bleak,desolate wastes of the Martianlandscape. Behind ussomewhere was the comfortof the Dome, ahead nothingbut the mazes and gullies ofthis dead world.
He was a cripple in a wheelchair—helpless as a rattlesnake."Try to keep going, Val."My gloved hand reached outand clumsily enfolded hers."Come on, kid. Remember—we'redoing this for Earth.We're heroes."
She glared at me. "Heroes,hell!" she muttered. "That'sthe way it looked back home,but, out there it doesn't seemso glorious. And UranCo'spay is stinking."
"We didn't come out herefor the pay, Val."
"I know, I know, but justthe same—"
It must have been hell forher. We had wandered fruitlesslyover the red sands allday, both of us listening forthe clicks of the counter. Andthe geigers had been obstinatelyhushed all day, exceptfor their constant undercurrentof meaningless noises.
Even though the Martiangravity was only a fraction ofEarth's, I was starting totire, and I knew it must havebeen really rough on Val withher lovely but unrugged legs.
"Heroes," she said bitterly."We're not heroes—we'resuckers! Why did I ever letyou volunteer for the GeigCorps and drag me along?"
Which wasn't anywhereclose to the truth. Now Iknew she was at the breakingpoint, because Val didn't lieunless she was so exhaustedshe didn't know what she wasdoing. She had been just asmuch inflamed by the idea ofcoming to Mars to help in thesearch for uranium as I was.We knew the pay was poor,but we had felt it a sort ofobligation, something wecould do as individuals tokeep the industries of radioactives-starvedEarth going.And we'd always had a rovingfoot, both of us.
No, we had decided togetherto come to Mars—theway we decided together oneverything. Now she wasturning against me.
I tried to jolly her. "Buckup, kid," I said. I didn't dareturn up her oxy pressure anyhigher, but it w