December 20, 2025 • 31 mins
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Speaker 1 (00:02):
The Man who Hated Mars by Gordon Randal Garrett. To
escape from Mars, all Clayton had to do was the
impossible break out of a crackproof exiled camp, get on
to a ship that couldn't be boarded, smashed through an
impenetrable wall of steel. Perhaps he could do all these things,
but he discovered that Mars did evil things to men,
(00:23):
that he wasn't even Clayton any more. He was only
the man who hated Mars. I want you to put
me in prison, the big hairy man said, in a
trembling voice. He was addressing his request to a thin
woman sitting behind a desk that seemed much too big
for her. The plaque on the desk, said Lieutenant Phoebe Harris,
(00:45):
Terrain Rehabilitation Service. Lieutenant Harris glanced at the man before
her for only a moment before she returned her eyes
to the dossier on the desk, but long enough to
verify the impression his voice had given. Ron Clayton was
a big, ugly, cowardly, dangerous man. He said, well, damn it,
say something. The lieutenant raised her eyes again. Just be
(01:06):
patient until I've read this. Her voice and eyes were expressionless,
but her hand moved beneath the desk. Clayton froze. She's yellow.
He thought she's turned on the trackers. He could see
the pale greenish glow of their little eyes watching him
all round the room. If he made any fast move,
they would cut him down with a stun beam before
(01:27):
he could get two feet. She thought he was going
to jump her, little rat. He thought somebody ought to
slap her down. He watched her check through the heavy
dossier in front of her. Finally, she looked up at
him again. Clayton, your last conviction was for strong armed robbery.
You were given a choice between prison on Earth and
freedom here on Mars. You picked Mars. He nodded slowly.
(01:50):
He'd been broke and hungry at the time. A sneaky
little rat named Johnson had built Clayton out of his
fair share of the Cory payroll job, and Clayton had
been forced to get the money.
Speaker 2 (02:00):
Somehow.
Speaker 1 (02:01):
He hadn't must the guy up too much. Besides, it
was a sucker's own fault if he hadn't tried to yell.
Lieutenant Harris went on, I'm afraid you can't back down now,
but it isn't fair. The most that I've got on
that frame up would have been ten years. I've been
here fifteen already. I'm sorry, Clayton, it can't be done.
(02:21):
You're here period. Forget about trying to get back. Earth
doesn't want you. Her voice sounded choppy, as though she
was trying to keep it calm. Clayton broke into a
whining rage.
Speaker 2 (02:32):
You can't do that. It isn't fair. I never did
anything to you. I'll go and talk to the governor.
He'll listen to reason. You'll see.
Speaker 1 (02:40):
Shut up, the woman snapped harshly. I'm getting sick of it.
I personally think you should have been locked up permanently.
I think this whole idea of force colonization is going
to breed trouble for Earth someday. But it's about the
only way you can get anybody to colonize this frozen
hunk of mud. Just keep it in mind that I
don't like it any better than you. I didn't strong
(03:01):
arm anybody to deserve this assignment. Now get out of here.
She moved her hand threateningly towards the manual controls of
the stunnbeam. Clayton retreated fast. The trackers ignored anyone walking
away from the desk. They were set only to spot
threatening movements towards it. Outside the Rehabilitation Service building, Clayton
could feel the tears running down the inside of his
(03:23):
face mask. He'd asked again and again, God only knew
how many times in the past fifteen years, always the
same answer no. When he'd heard that this new administrator
was a woman, he'd hoped she might be easier to convince.
Speaker 2 (03:36):
She wasn't.
Speaker 1 (03:38):
If anything, she was harder than the others. The heat,
sucking frigidity of the thin Martian air whispered around him
in the feeble breeze. He shivered a little and began
walking toward the recreation center. There was a high, thin
piping in the sky above him, which quickly became a
scream in the thin air. Turned for a moment to
(03:59):
watch the ship land, squinting his eyes to see the
number on the hull, fifty two. Space Transport Ship fifty
two probably bring in another load of poor suckers to
freeze to death on Mars. That was the thing he
hated about Mars. The cold, the everlasting damned cold, and
the oxidation bills take one every three hours or smother
(04:23):
in the poor, thin air. The government could have put
up domes, It could have put in building to building tunnels.
Speaker 2 (04:29):
At least, it.
Speaker 1 (04:31):
Could have done a hell of a lot of things
to make Mars a decent place for human beings.
Speaker 2 (04:35):
But no, the government had other ideas.
Speaker 1 (04:38):
A bunch of big shot scientific characters had come up
with the idea nearly twenty three years before Clayton could
remember the words on the sheet he had been given
when he was sentenced. And kind is inherently an adaptable animal.
If we are to colonize the planets of the Solar System,
we must meet the conditions on those planets as best
we can. Financial it is impracticable to change an entire
(05:02):
planet from its original condition to one which will support
human life as it exists on terror. But man, since
he is adaptable, can change himself, modify his structure slightly,
so that he can live on these planets with only
a minimum of change in the environment. So they made
you live outside and like it. So you froze and
(05:26):
you choked, and you suffered. Clayton hated Mars. He hated
the thin air and the cold. More than anything, He
hated the cold Ron Clayton wanted.
Speaker 2 (05:38):
To go home.
Speaker 1 (05:40):
The recreation building was just ahead. At least it would
be warm inside. He pushed in through the outer and
inner doors, and he heard the burst of music from
the jukebox, his stomach tightening up into a hard cramp.
They were playing hind Lanes, Green Hills of Earth. There
was almost no other sound in the room, although it's
(06:01):
full of people. There were plenty of colonists who claimed
to light Mars, but even they were silent when that
song was played. Clayton wanted to go over and smash
the machine, make it stop reminding him. He clenched his
teeth and his fists, then his eyes, and cursed mentally, God,
I hate Mars. When the hauntingly nostalgic last chorus faded away,
(06:27):
he walked over to the machine and fed it full
of enough coins to keep it going on something else
until he left. At the bar, he ordered a beer
and used it to wash down another oxidation tablet. It
wasn't good beer. It didn't even deserve the name. The
atmospheric pressure was so low as to boil all the
carbon dioxide out of it. The brewers never put it
(06:47):
back in after fermentation. He was sorry for what he'd done,
freely and truly sorry. If they'd only give him one
more chance, he'd make good. Just one more chance, he'd
work things out. He'd promised himself that both times they'd
put him up before, but things had been different then.
He hadn't really been given another chance. Pot with parole
(07:09):
boards and all, Clayton closed his eyes and finished the beer.
He ordered another. He'd worked in the minds for fifteen years.
It wasn't that he mind had worked, really, but the
foreman had it in for him, always giving him a
bad time, always picking out the lousy jobs for him,
like the time he'd crawled into a sideboarding in Tunnel
(07:30):
twelve for a nap during lunch. The foreman had caught him.
When he promised never to do it again. If the
foreman wouldn't put it on a report, the guy said, yeah, sure,
the hate to heard a good guy's record. Then he'd
put Clayton on report anyway, strictly rat not that Clayton
ran any chance of being fired. They never fired anybody,
(07:52):
but they'd find him a day's pay, a whole day's pay.
He tapped his glass on the bar and the barman
came over with another beer. Clayton looked at it, then
up at the barman put a head on it. The
bartender looked at him sourly. Got some soap sods here, Clayton.
One of these days I'm going to put him in
your beer if you keep pulling that gag. That was
(08:15):
the trouble with some guys no sense of humor. Somebody
came in the door, and then somebody else came in
behind him, so both in and out of doors roten
For an instant. A blast of icy breeze struck Clayton's back,
and he shivered. He started to say something, then changed
his mind. The doors were already closed again, and besides,
(08:37):
one of the guys was bigger than he was. The
iceners didn't seem to go away immediately. It was like
the mine. The little old Mars was cold clear down
to her core, or at least as far down as
they'd drilled. The walls were frozen, seemed to radiate a
chill that pulled the heat right out of your blood.
(08:58):
Somebody was playing Green Hills again them. Evidently all of
his own selections had run out earlier than he thought
he would. Hell, there was nothing to do here, he
might as well go home. Give me another beer, Mac,
He'd go home as soon as he finished this one.
He stood there with his eyes closed, listening to the
music and hating Mars. A voice next to him said, I'll.
Speaker 2 (09:21):
Have a whiskey.
Speaker 1 (09:23):
The voice sounded as the man had a bad cold,
and Clayton turned slowly to look at him. After all
the sterilization they went through before they left Earth, nobody
on Mars ever had a cold, so there was only
one thing that would make a man's voice sound like that.
Clayton was right. The fellow had an oxygen tube clamped
firmly over his nose. He was wearing the uniform of
(09:44):
the Space Transport Service. Just get in on the ship,
Clayton asked conversationally. The man nodded and grinned yeah. Four
hours before we take off again. He poured down the whiskey.
Sure a cold out, Clayton agreed, It's always cold. He
watched enviously as the spaceman ordered another whiskey. Clayton couldn't
(10:07):
afford whiskey. He probably could have by this time if
the mindes had made him a foreman like they should have,
maybe he could talk the spaceman out of a couple
of drinks. My name's Clayton, Ron Clayton. The spaceman took
the offered hand. Mine's Parkinson. But everybody calls me Parks. Sure, Parks,
(10:29):
can I buy you a beer? Parks shook his head,
No thanks, I started on whiskey here. Let me buy
you one. Well, thanks, don't mind if I do. They
drank them in silence, and Parks ordered two more. Been
here a long, Parks asked, fifteen years, fifteen long, long years?
Speaker 2 (10:51):
Did you I mean?
Speaker 1 (10:54):
Parks looked suddenly confused. Clayton glanced quickly to make sure
the bartender was out of earshot. Then he grinned, you mean,
am I a convict? No? I came here because I
wanted to. But he lowered his voice. We don't talk
about it around here, you know. He gestured with one hand,
(11:14):
A gestured that took in every one else.
Speaker 2 (11:16):
In the room.
Speaker 1 (11:17):
Parks glanced around, quickly, moving only his eyes.
Speaker 2 (11:21):
Yeah, I see, he said softly.
Speaker 1 (11:25):
This's your first trip, asked Clayton, first time to Mars,
beIN on the lunar in a long time. Low pressure,
bother you much now much? We only keep it as
six pounds in the ships half helium half oxygen. Only
thing that bothers me is the xy here, or rather
the oxy that isn't here. He took a deep breath
(11:47):
through his nose tube. To emphasize his point, Clayton clamped
his teeth together, making the muscles at the side of
his jaw stand out. Parks didn't notice. You guys have
to take those pills, don't you. Yeah, I had it
take them once got stranded on Luna. The cat I
was in broke down eighty some miles from Aris Darket's base,
(12:09):
and I had to walk back with my arksy low well,
I figured. Clayton listened to Park's story with a great
show of attention, but he had heard it before. This
lost on moon stuff and its variations had been going
the rounds for fifty years. Every once in a while
it actually did happen to someone, just often enough to
(12:31):
keep the story going. This guy did have a couple
of new twists, but not enough to make the story worthwhile. Boy,
Clayton said, when Parks had finished, you were lucky to
come out of that alive. Parks nodded well, pleased with himself,
and bought another round of drinks. Something like that happened
(12:52):
to me a couple of years ago, and Clayton began.
I'm supervisor on the third shift in the mines at Zante,
but at the time I was only a foreman. One day,
a couple of guys went to the branch tunnel too.
It was a very good story. Clayton had made it
up himself, so he knew that Parks had never heard
it before. It was gory in just the right places,
(13:15):
with a nice effect at the end. So I had
to hold up the rocks with my back while the
rescue crew pulled the others out of the tunnel by
crawling between my legs. Finally they got some steel beams
down there to take the load off, and I could
let go. I was in hospital for a week, he finished.
Parks was nodding vaguely. Clayton looked up at the clock
(13:36):
above the bar and realized that they'd been talking for
better than an hour. Parks was buying another round. Parks
was a hell of a nice fellow there was. Clayton
found only one trouble with Parks. He got to talking
so loud that the bartender refused to serve either one
of them.
Speaker 2 (13:53):
Anymore.
Speaker 1 (13:55):
The bartender said Clayton was getting loud too, but it
was just because he had to talk to make Parks hearing.
Clayton helped Parks put his mask and Parker on, and
they walked out into the cold night. Parks began to
sing green Hills. About halfway through, he stopped and turned
to Clayton. I'm from Indiana. Clayton had already spotted him
(14:18):
as an American by his accent. Indiana. That's nice, real nice. Yeah,
you talk about green hills. We got green hills in Indiana.
What time is it? Clayton told him, geez, whole spaceship
takes half in an hour. Or to have one more drink. First,
Clayton realized he didn't like Parks, but maybe he'd buy
(14:40):
a bottle. Sharky Johnson worked in fuel section, and he
made a nice little sideline of stealing alcohol, cutting it,
selling it. He thought it was really funny to call
it Martian gin. Clayton said, let's go over to Sharky's.
Sharky'll sell us a bottle. Okay, said Parks, We'll get
a bottle. That's why we need a bottle. It was
(15:04):
quite a walk to Shark's place, and it was so
cold that even Parks was beginning to sober up a little.
He was laughing like hell when Clayton started to sing,
We're going over to the Sharks to buy a jug
of gin for Parks.
Speaker 2 (15:17):
High oh, high hole, high hole. One.
Speaker 1 (15:21):
Thing about a few drinks. You didn't get so cold,
you didn't feel it too much anyway. The Sharks still
had his light on. When they arrived. Clayton whispered to Parks,
I'll go in.
Speaker 2 (15:32):
He knows me.
Speaker 1 (15:33):
He wouldn't sell it if you were around. You got
eight credits? Sure, I hate credits. Just a minute and
I'll give you eight credits. He fished around for a
minute inside his parker and pulled out his note case.
His gloved fingers were a little clumsy, but he managed
to get out of five and three ones and hand
them to Clayton. You wait here, Clayton said. He went
(15:57):
in through the outer door and knocked on the inner one.
He should have asked her ten credits, Shark. He only
charged five, and that would leave him three for himself.
But he could have got ten, maybe more. When he
came out with the bottle, Parks was sitting on a
rock shivering.
Speaker 2 (16:12):
Geez.
Speaker 1 (16:13):
He said, let's call out here. Let's get to some
place where it's warm. Sure, I got the bottle, want
a drink? Parks took the bottle, opened it, and took
a good belt out of it. Who He breathed pretty
smooth as Clayton drank. Park said, Hey, I better get
(16:33):
back to the fields. I know we can go to
the men's room and finish the bottle before the ship
takes off.
Speaker 2 (16:40):
Isn't that I got out here? It's warming there.
Speaker 1 (16:44):
They started back down the street toward the spacefield. Yeah,
I'm from Indiana, Southern Park down in here, Bloomington, Parks said,
give me the jug. Not Bloomington, Illinois, Bloomington, Indiana. He
really got green.
Speaker 2 (17:01):
Hills down there.
Speaker 1 (17:03):
He drank and handed the bottle back to Clayton. Personally,
I don't see why anybody stays on Mars.
Speaker 2 (17:10):
Here. You're practically on.
Speaker 1 (17:12):
An equator in the middle of the summer, and it's
colder than a hell. Now, if you were smart, you
go home. Were as warm. Mars wasn't built for people
living on anyhow. I don't see how you stand it.
That was when Clayton decided he really hated Parks, and
when Park said, why be dumb friend, why'd you go home?
(17:36):
Clayton kicked him in the stomach. Card and that and that,
Clayton said, as Parks doubled over, he said it again
as he kicked him in the head and in the ribs.
Parks was gasping as he writhed on the ground, but
he soon lay still. Then Clayton saw why Park's no
stube had come off when Clayton's foot struck his head.
(17:58):
Parks was breathing heavily, but he wasn't getting any oxygen.
That was when the big idea hit wrong. Clayton with
a nose piece on like that, you couldn't tell who
a man was. He took another drink from the jug,
and then he began to take Park's clothes off. The
uniform fit Clayton fine, and so did the nose mask.
(18:18):
He dumped his own clothing on top of Park's nearly
nude body, adjusted the little oxygen tank so that the
gas would flow properly through the mask, took the first
deep breath of good air he'd had in fifteen years,
and walked towards the spacefield. He went into the men's
room at the port building, took a drink and felt
in the pocket of the uniform for Park's identification. He
(18:39):
found it and opened the booklet. It read Parkinson, Herbert J. Steward,
second class sts. Above it was a photo and a
set of fingerprints. Clayton grinned they'd never know. It wasn't
parts getting on the ship. Parks was a steward too,
a cook's helper. That was good. If he'd been a
(19:01):
jetman or something like that, the crew might wonder why
he wasn't on duty at take off, But a steward
was different. Clayton sat for several minutes, looking through the
booklet and drinking from the bottle. He emptied it just
before the warning sirens keened through the thin air. Clayton
got up and went outside toward the ship. Wake up, Hey,
(19:21):
you wake up. Somebody was slapping his cheeks. Clayton opened
his eyes and looked at the blurred face over his
own from a distance. Another voice said, who is it?
The blurred face said, I don't know. He was asleep
behind these cases. I think he's drunk. Clayton wasn't drunk.
He was sick. His head felt like hell. Why the
(19:42):
devil was he Get up, bud, come on, get up.
Clayton pulled himself up by a holding to the man's arm.
The effort made him dizzy nauseated. The other man said,
take him down a sick bay, casey, get some thea
men into him. Clayton didn't struggle as they led down
to the sick bay. He was trying to clear his head.
(20:03):
Where was he? He must have been pretty drunk last night.
He remembered meeting Parks and getting thrown out by the bartender.
Then what oh, yeah, he'd gone to the sharks for
a bottle. From there on it was mostly gone. He
remembered a fight or something, but that was all registered.
(20:24):
The medic in the sick bay fired two shots from
a hypot going into his arms, but Clayton ignored the
slight sting. Where am I real original?
Speaker 2 (20:33):
Here? Take these?
Speaker 1 (20:35):
He handed Clayton a couple of capsules and gave him
a glass of water to wash them down with. When
the water hit his stomach, there was an immediate reaction.
Speaker 2 (20:43):
Oh Christ, The.
Speaker 1 (20:45):
Medic said, get him up, somebody here, buddy.
Speaker 2 (20:48):
Heave into this.
Speaker 1 (20:49):
It took them the better part of an hour to
get Clayton awake enough to realize what was going on
and where he was. Even then, he was plenty groggy.
He was the first officer of the SDS fifty two
finally got the story straight. As soon as Clayton was
in condition, the medic and the quartermaster officer who had
found him took him up to the first officer's compartment.
(21:11):
I was checking through the stores this morning when I
found this man. He was asleep, dead, drunk behind the crates.
He was drunk, all right, supplied the medic. I found
this in his pocket. He flipped a booklet to the
first officer. The first was a young man not older
than twenty eight, with tough looking gray eyes. He looked
over the booklet. Where did you get Parkinson's ID? Booklet
(21:34):
and his uniform? Clayton looked down at his clothes in wonder.
I don't know, you don't know. That's a hell of
an answer. Well, I was drunk, Clayton said, defensively. A
man doesn't know what he's doing when he's drunk. He
frowned in concentration. He knew he'd have to think up
(21:56):
some story. I kind of remember we made a bet.
I bet him I couldn't could get on the ship. Sure, yeah,
I remember, now that's what happened. I bet him I
could get on the ship, and we traded clothes. Where
is he now my place?
Speaker 2 (22:12):
Sleeping it off?
Speaker 1 (22:12):
I guess without his oxy mask. I gave him oxidation
pills for the mask. The First shook his head. It
sounds like the count of trick Parkinson woodpull right. I'll
have to ride it up and turn you both into
the authorities when we hit Earth. Hey, eyed, Clayton, what's
(22:33):
your name? Cartwright? Sam cart Right, Clayton said, without batting
an eye. Volunteer or convicted colonist? Volunteer. The First looked
at him for a long moment, disbelief in his eyes.
It didn't matter, volunteer or convict. There was no place
Clayton could go. From the officer's viewpoint, he was as
(22:54):
safely imprisoned in the spaceship as he would be on
Mars or a prison on Earth. The First wrote in
the log book, and then said, well, we're one man
short in the kitchen. You wanted to take Parkinson's place, brother,
You got it without pay. He paused for a moment.
You know, of course, he said, judiciously that you'll be
(23:16):
shipped back to Mars immediately and you'll have to work
out your passage both ways. It will be deducted from
your pay. Clayton nodded, I know. I don't know what
else will happen. If there's a conviction, you may lose
your volunteer status on Mars, and that may be fine.
Staking out of you pay too. Well, that's all cart right.
(23:38):
You can report to kissman in the kitchen. The first
pressed a button on his desk and spoke into the Intercome,
who was on duty at the airlock when the crew
came aboard last night. Set him up. I want to
talk to him. Then the quartermaster officer led Clayton out
of the door and took him to the kitchen. The
ship's driver tubes were pushing it along at a steady
(23:59):
five hundred sent me to per second squared, pushing us
steadily closer to Earth with a little more than half
a gravity of drive. There wasn't much for Clayton to do, really.
He helped to select the foods that went into the automatics,
and he cleared them out after each meal was cooked.
Once every day, he had to partially dismantle them for
a really thorough going over, and all.
Speaker 2 (24:21):
The time he was thinking Parkinson must be dead.
Speaker 1 (24:25):
He knew that that meant the chamber, and even if
he wasn't, they'd send Clayton back to Mars. Luckily, there
was no way for either planet to communicate with the ship.
It was hard enough to keep a beam trained on
a planet without trying to hit such a comparatively small
thing as a ship. But they would know about it
on Earth by now. They would pick him up the
(24:47):
instant the ship landed, and the best he could hope
for was a return to Mars. Oh, by god, he
wouldn't go back to that frozen mudball. He'd stay on Earth,
where it was warm and comfortable and a man could
live where he was meant to live, where there was
plenty of air to breathe and plenty of water to
drink with a beer tasted like beer and not like
(25:07):
slot Earth, good green hills, the like of which exists
nowhere else. Slowly, over the days he evolved a plan.
He watched and waited and checked each little detail to
make sure nothing could go wrong. It couldn't go wrong.
He didn't want to die, and he didn't want to
go back to Mars. Nobody on the ship liked him.
(25:31):
They couldn't appreciate his position. He hadn't done anything to them,
but they just didn't like him. He didn't know why
he tried to get along with them. Well, if they
didn't like him, the hell with them. Things worked out
the way he figured they'd be damn sorry.
Speaker 2 (25:48):
He was very clever about the whole plan.
Speaker 1 (25:51):
When turnover came, he pretended to get violently spaceiic. That
gave him an opportunity to steal a bottle of chloral
hydrates from the medic's locker, and while he worked in
the kitchen, he spent a great deal of time sharpening
a big carving knife. Once during his off time, he
managed to disable one of the ship's two lifeboats. He
was saving the other for himself. The ship was eight
(26:12):
hours away from Earth and still decelerating when Clayton pulled
his getaway. It was surprisingly easy. He was supposed to
be asleep when he sneaked down to the drive compartment
with the knife. He pushed open the door, looked in
and grinned like an ape. The engineer and the two
jetmen were out cold from the chloral hydrate in the
coffee from the kitchen. Moving rapidly, he went to the
(26:34):
spares locker and began methodically to smash every replacement part
for the drivers. Then he took three of the signal
bombs from the emergency kit set them for five minutes,
and placed them around the driver's circuits. He looked at
the three sleeping men. What if they woke up before
the bombs went off. He didn't want to kill them, though,
(26:54):
he wanted them to know what had happened and who
had done it. He grinned there was a way. He
simply had to drag them outside and jam the door lock.
He took the key from the engineer, inserted it, turned it,
and snapped off the head, leaving the body of the
key still in the lock. Nobody would unjam it in
the next four minutes. Then he began to run up
(27:15):
the stairwell toward the good lifeboat. He was panting and
out for breath when he arrived, but no one had
stopped him. No one had deemed seen him. He clambered
into the lifeboat, made everything ready and waited. The signal
bombs were not heavy charges. Their main purpose was to
make a flare bright enough to be seen for thousands
(27:36):
of miles in space. Fluorine and magnesium made plenty of
light and heat. Quite suddenly there was no gravity. He
had felt nothing, but he knew that the bombs had exploded.
He punched the launch switch on the control board of
the lifeboat, and the little ship leaped out from the
side of the greater one. Then he turned on the drive,
(27:57):
set it at half a G, and watched the STS
five two dropped behind him. It was no longer discelerating,
so it would miss Earth and drift on into space.
On the other hand, the live ship would come down
very neatly, within a few hundred miles of the spaceboat
in Utah. The destination of the SDS fifty two Landing
(28:17):
the liveship would be the only difficult part of the maneuver,
but they were designed to be handled by beginners. Full
instructions were printed on the simplified control board. Clayton stood
at them for a while, then set the alarm to
wake him in seven hours, and dozed off to sleep.
He dreamed of Indiana. It was full of nice green
hills and leafy woods, and Parkinson was inviting him over
(28:40):
to his mother's house for chicken and whiskey and all
for free. Beneath the dream was the calm assurance that
they would never catch him and send him back. When
the SDS fifty two failed to show up, they would
think he had been lost with it. They would never
look for him. When the alarm, Earth was a mottled
(29:01):
globe looming hugely beneath the ship. Clayton watched the dials
on the board began to follow the instructions on the
landing sheet. He wasn't too good as it. The accelerometer
climbed higher and higher, and he felt as though he
could hardly move his hands to the proper switches. He
was less than fifteen feet off the ground when his
hands slipped. The ship out of control, shifted, spun, and
(29:25):
toppled over on its side, smashing a great hole in
the cabin. Clayton shook his head and tried to stand
up in the wreckage. He got to his hands and knees,
dizzy but unhurt, and took a deep breath of the
fresh air that was blowing in through the hole in
the cabin. It felt just like home. Bureau of Criminal Investigation,
(29:48):
Regional Headquarters, Cheyenne, Wyoming, twentieth of January twenty one two
two Space Transport Service subject Liveship too STS fifty two.
Attention mister P. D. Latimer. Dear Paul, I have on
hand the copies of your reports on the rescue of
the men on the disabled STS fifty two. It is
(30:11):
fortunate that the lunar radar stations could compute their orbit.
The detailed official report will follow, but briefly, this is
what happened. The live ship landed, or rather crashed, several
miles west of Cheyenne, as you know, but it was
impossible to find the man who was piloting it until
yesterday because of the weather. He has been identified as
(30:34):
Ronald Watkins Clayton, exiled Mars fifteen years ago. Evidently he
didn't realize that fifteen years of Martian gravity had so
weakened his muscles that he could hardly walk under the
pull of a full Earth g As it was, he
could only crawl about one hundred yards from the wrecked
liveship before he collapsed. Well, I hope this clears up everything.
(30:58):
I hope you are not getting the snowstorms up there
like we've been getting them.
Speaker 2 (31:02):
John B.
Speaker 1 (31:03):
Remley, Captain c B I The end of the man
who hated Mars.
The Man who Hated Mars by Gordon Randal Garrett. To
escape from Mars, all Clayton had to do was the
impossible break out of a crackproof exiled camp, get on
to a ship that couldn't be boarded, smashed through an
impenetrable wall of steel. Perhaps he could do all these things,
but he discovered that Mars did evil things to men,
(00:23):
that he wasn't even Clayton any more. He was only
the man who hated Mars. I want you to put
me in prison, the big hairy man said, in a
trembling voice. He was addressing his request to a thin
woman sitting behind a desk that seemed much too big
for her. The plaque on the desk, said Lieutenant Phoebe Harris,
(00:45):
Terrain Rehabilitation Service. Lieutenant Harris glanced at the man before
her for only a moment before she returned her eyes
to the dossier on the desk, but long enough to
verify the impression his voice had given. Ron Clayton was
a big, ugly, cowardly, dangerous man. He said, well, damn it,
say something. The lieutenant raised her eyes again. Just be
(01:06):
patient until I've read this. Her voice and eyes were expressionless,
but her hand moved beneath the desk. Clayton froze. She's yellow.
He thought she's turned on the trackers. He could see
the pale greenish glow of their little eyes watching him
all round the room. If he made any fast move,
they would cut him down with a stun beam before
(01:27):
he could get two feet. She thought he was going
to jump her, little rat. He thought somebody ought to
slap her down. He watched her check through the heavy
dossier in front of her. Finally, she looked up at
him again. Clayton, your last conviction was for strong armed robbery.
You were given a choice between prison on Earth and
freedom here on Mars. You picked Mars. He nodded slowly.
(01:50):
He'd been broke and hungry at the time. A sneaky
little rat named Johnson had built Clayton out of his
fair share of the Cory payroll job, and Clayton had
been forced to get the money.
Speaker 2 (02:00):
Somehow.
Speaker 1 (02:01):
He hadn't must the guy up too much. Besides, it
was a sucker's own fault if he hadn't tried to yell.
Lieutenant Harris went on, I'm afraid you can't back down now,
but it isn't fair. The most that I've got on
that frame up would have been ten years. I've been
here fifteen already. I'm sorry, Clayton, it can't be done.
(02:21):
You're here period. Forget about trying to get back. Earth
doesn't want you. Her voice sounded choppy, as though she
was trying to keep it calm. Clayton broke into a
whining rage.
Speaker 2 (02:32):
You can't do that. It isn't fair. I never did
anything to you. I'll go and talk to the governor.
He'll listen to reason. You'll see.
Speaker 1 (02:40):
Shut up, the woman snapped harshly. I'm getting sick of it.
I personally think you should have been locked up permanently.
I think this whole idea of force colonization is going
to breed trouble for Earth someday. But it's about the
only way you can get anybody to colonize this frozen
hunk of mud. Just keep it in mind that I
don't like it any better than you. I didn't strong
(03:01):
arm anybody to deserve this assignment. Now get out of here.
She moved her hand threateningly towards the manual controls of
the stunnbeam. Clayton retreated fast. The trackers ignored anyone walking
away from the desk. They were set only to spot
threatening movements towards it. Outside the Rehabilitation Service building, Clayton
could feel the tears running down the inside of his
(03:23):
face mask. He'd asked again and again, God only knew
how many times in the past fifteen years, always the
same answer no. When he'd heard that this new administrator
was a woman, he'd hoped she might be easier to convince.
Speaker 2 (03:36):
She wasn't.
Speaker 1 (03:38):
If anything, she was harder than the others. The heat,
sucking frigidity of the thin Martian air whispered around him
in the feeble breeze. He shivered a little and began
walking toward the recreation center. There was a high, thin
piping in the sky above him, which quickly became a
scream in the thin air. Turned for a moment to
(03:59):
watch the ship land, squinting his eyes to see the
number on the hull, fifty two. Space Transport Ship fifty
two probably bring in another load of poor suckers to
freeze to death on Mars. That was the thing he
hated about Mars. The cold, the everlasting damned cold, and
the oxidation bills take one every three hours or smother
(04:23):
in the poor, thin air. The government could have put
up domes, It could have put in building to building tunnels.
Speaker 2 (04:29):
At least, it.
Speaker 1 (04:31):
Could have done a hell of a lot of things
to make Mars a decent place for human beings.
Speaker 2 (04:35):
But no, the government had other ideas.
Speaker 1 (04:38):
A bunch of big shot scientific characters had come up
with the idea nearly twenty three years before Clayton could
remember the words on the sheet he had been given
when he was sentenced. And kind is inherently an adaptable animal.
If we are to colonize the planets of the Solar System,
we must meet the conditions on those planets as best
we can. Financial it is impracticable to change an entire
(05:02):
planet from its original condition to one which will support
human life as it exists on terror. But man, since
he is adaptable, can change himself, modify his structure slightly,
so that he can live on these planets with only
a minimum of change in the environment. So they made
you live outside and like it. So you froze and
(05:26):
you choked, and you suffered. Clayton hated Mars. He hated
the thin air and the cold. More than anything, He
hated the cold Ron Clayton wanted.
Speaker 2 (05:38):
To go home.
Speaker 1 (05:40):
The recreation building was just ahead. At least it would
be warm inside. He pushed in through the outer and
inner doors, and he heard the burst of music from
the jukebox, his stomach tightening up into a hard cramp.
They were playing hind Lanes, Green Hills of Earth. There
was almost no other sound in the room, although it's
(06:01):
full of people. There were plenty of colonists who claimed
to light Mars, but even they were silent when that
song was played. Clayton wanted to go over and smash
the machine, make it stop reminding him. He clenched his
teeth and his fists, then his eyes, and cursed mentally, God,
I hate Mars. When the hauntingly nostalgic last chorus faded away,
(06:27):
he walked over to the machine and fed it full
of enough coins to keep it going on something else
until he left. At the bar, he ordered a beer
and used it to wash down another oxidation tablet. It
wasn't good beer. It didn't even deserve the name. The
atmospheric pressure was so low as to boil all the
carbon dioxide out of it. The brewers never put it
(06:47):
back in after fermentation. He was sorry for what he'd done,
freely and truly sorry. If they'd only give him one
more chance, he'd make good. Just one more chance, he'd
work things out. He'd promised himself that both times they'd
put him up before, but things had been different then.
He hadn't really been given another chance. Pot with parole
(07:09):
boards and all, Clayton closed his eyes and finished the beer.
He ordered another. He'd worked in the minds for fifteen years.
It wasn't that he mind had worked, really, but the
foreman had it in for him, always giving him a
bad time, always picking out the lousy jobs for him,
like the time he'd crawled into a sideboarding in Tunnel
(07:30):
twelve for a nap during lunch. The foreman had caught him.
When he promised never to do it again. If the
foreman wouldn't put it on a report, the guy said, yeah, sure,
the hate to heard a good guy's record. Then he'd
put Clayton on report anyway, strictly rat not that Clayton
ran any chance of being fired. They never fired anybody,
(07:52):
but they'd find him a day's pay, a whole day's pay.
He tapped his glass on the bar and the barman
came over with another beer. Clayton looked at it, then
up at the barman put a head on it. The
bartender looked at him sourly. Got some soap sods here, Clayton.
One of these days I'm going to put him in
your beer if you keep pulling that gag. That was
(08:15):
the trouble with some guys no sense of humor. Somebody
came in the door, and then somebody else came in
behind him, so both in and out of doors roten
For an instant. A blast of icy breeze struck Clayton's back,
and he shivered. He started to say something, then changed
his mind. The doors were already closed again, and besides,
(08:37):
one of the guys was bigger than he was. The
iceners didn't seem to go away immediately. It was like
the mine. The little old Mars was cold clear down
to her core, or at least as far down as
they'd drilled. The walls were frozen, seemed to radiate a
chill that pulled the heat right out of your blood.
(08:58):
Somebody was playing Green Hills again them. Evidently all of
his own selections had run out earlier than he thought
he would. Hell, there was nothing to do here, he
might as well go home. Give me another beer, Mac,
He'd go home as soon as he finished this one.
He stood there with his eyes closed, listening to the
music and hating Mars. A voice next to him said, I'll.
Speaker 2 (09:21):
Have a whiskey.
Speaker 1 (09:23):
The voice sounded as the man had a bad cold,
and Clayton turned slowly to look at him. After all
the sterilization they went through before they left Earth, nobody
on Mars ever had a cold, so there was only
one thing that would make a man's voice sound like that.
Clayton was right. The fellow had an oxygen tube clamped
firmly over his nose. He was wearing the uniform of
(09:44):
the Space Transport Service. Just get in on the ship,
Clayton asked conversationally. The man nodded and grinned yeah. Four
hours before we take off again. He poured down the whiskey.
Sure a cold out, Clayton agreed, It's always cold. He
watched enviously as the spaceman ordered another whiskey. Clayton couldn't
(10:07):
afford whiskey. He probably could have by this time if
the mindes had made him a foreman like they should have,
maybe he could talk the spaceman out of a couple
of drinks. My name's Clayton, Ron Clayton. The spaceman took
the offered hand. Mine's Parkinson. But everybody calls me Parks. Sure, Parks,
(10:29):
can I buy you a beer? Parks shook his head,
No thanks, I started on whiskey here. Let me buy
you one. Well, thanks, don't mind if I do. They
drank them in silence, and Parks ordered two more. Been
here a long, Parks asked, fifteen years, fifteen long, long years?
Speaker 2 (10:51):
Did you I mean?
Speaker 1 (10:54):
Parks looked suddenly confused. Clayton glanced quickly to make sure
the bartender was out of earshot. Then he grinned, you mean,
am I a convict? No? I came here because I
wanted to. But he lowered his voice. We don't talk
about it around here, you know. He gestured with one hand,
(11:14):
A gestured that took in every one else.
Speaker 2 (11:16):
In the room.
Speaker 1 (11:17):
Parks glanced around, quickly, moving only his eyes.
Speaker 2 (11:21):
Yeah, I see, he said softly.
Speaker 1 (11:25):
This's your first trip, asked Clayton, first time to Mars,
beIN on the lunar in a long time. Low pressure,
bother you much now much? We only keep it as
six pounds in the ships half helium half oxygen. Only
thing that bothers me is the xy here, or rather
the oxy that isn't here. He took a deep breath
(11:47):
through his nose tube. To emphasize his point, Clayton clamped
his teeth together, making the muscles at the side of
his jaw stand out. Parks didn't notice. You guys have
to take those pills, don't you. Yeah, I had it
take them once got stranded on Luna. The cat I
was in broke down eighty some miles from Aris Darket's base,
(12:09):
and I had to walk back with my arksy low well,
I figured. Clayton listened to Park's story with a great
show of attention, but he had heard it before. This
lost on moon stuff and its variations had been going
the rounds for fifty years. Every once in a while
it actually did happen to someone, just often enough to
(12:31):
keep the story going. This guy did have a couple
of new twists, but not enough to make the story worthwhile. Boy,
Clayton said, when Parks had finished, you were lucky to
come out of that alive. Parks nodded well, pleased with himself,
and bought another round of drinks. Something like that happened
(12:52):
to me a couple of years ago, and Clayton began.
I'm supervisor on the third shift in the mines at Zante,
but at the time I was only a foreman. One day,
a couple of guys went to the branch tunnel too.
It was a very good story. Clayton had made it
up himself, so he knew that Parks had never heard
it before. It was gory in just the right places,
(13:15):
with a nice effect at the end. So I had
to hold up the rocks with my back while the
rescue crew pulled the others out of the tunnel by
crawling between my legs. Finally they got some steel beams
down there to take the load off, and I could
let go. I was in hospital for a week, he finished.
Parks was nodding vaguely. Clayton looked up at the clock
(13:36):
above the bar and realized that they'd been talking for
better than an hour. Parks was buying another round. Parks
was a hell of a nice fellow there was. Clayton
found only one trouble with Parks. He got to talking
so loud that the bartender refused to serve either one
of them.
Speaker 2 (13:53):
Anymore.
Speaker 1 (13:55):
The bartender said Clayton was getting loud too, but it
was just because he had to talk to make Parks hearing.
Clayton helped Parks put his mask and Parker on, and
they walked out into the cold night. Parks began to
sing green Hills. About halfway through, he stopped and turned
to Clayton. I'm from Indiana. Clayton had already spotted him
(14:18):
as an American by his accent. Indiana. That's nice, real nice. Yeah,
you talk about green hills. We got green hills in Indiana.
What time is it? Clayton told him, geez, whole spaceship
takes half in an hour. Or to have one more drink. First,
Clayton realized he didn't like Parks, but maybe he'd buy
(14:40):
a bottle. Sharky Johnson worked in fuel section, and he
made a nice little sideline of stealing alcohol, cutting it,
selling it. He thought it was really funny to call
it Martian gin. Clayton said, let's go over to Sharky's.
Sharky'll sell us a bottle. Okay, said Parks, We'll get
a bottle. That's why we need a bottle. It was
(15:04):
quite a walk to Shark's place, and it was so
cold that even Parks was beginning to sober up a little.
He was laughing like hell when Clayton started to sing,
We're going over to the Sharks to buy a jug
of gin for Parks.
Speaker 2 (15:17):
High oh, high hole, high hole. One.
Speaker 1 (15:21):
Thing about a few drinks. You didn't get so cold,
you didn't feel it too much anyway. The Sharks still
had his light on. When they arrived. Clayton whispered to Parks,
I'll go in.
Speaker 2 (15:32):
He knows me.
Speaker 1 (15:33):
He wouldn't sell it if you were around. You got
eight credits? Sure, I hate credits. Just a minute and
I'll give you eight credits. He fished around for a
minute inside his parker and pulled out his note case.
His gloved fingers were a little clumsy, but he managed
to get out of five and three ones and hand
them to Clayton. You wait here, Clayton said. He went
(15:57):
in through the outer door and knocked on the inner one.
He should have asked her ten credits, Shark. He only
charged five, and that would leave him three for himself.
But he could have got ten, maybe more. When he
came out with the bottle, Parks was sitting on a
rock shivering.
Speaker 2 (16:12):
Geez.
Speaker 1 (16:13):
He said, let's call out here. Let's get to some
place where it's warm. Sure, I got the bottle, want
a drink? Parks took the bottle, opened it, and took
a good belt out of it. Who He breathed pretty
smooth as Clayton drank. Park said, Hey, I better get
(16:33):
back to the fields. I know we can go to
the men's room and finish the bottle before the ship
takes off.
Speaker 2 (16:40):
Isn't that I got out here? It's warming there.
Speaker 1 (16:44):
They started back down the street toward the spacefield. Yeah,
I'm from Indiana, Southern Park down in here, Bloomington, Parks said,
give me the jug. Not Bloomington, Illinois, Bloomington, Indiana. He
really got green.
Speaker 2 (17:01):
Hills down there.
Speaker 1 (17:03):
He drank and handed the bottle back to Clayton. Personally,
I don't see why anybody stays on Mars.
Speaker 2 (17:10):
Here. You're practically on.
Speaker 1 (17:12):
An equator in the middle of the summer, and it's
colder than a hell. Now, if you were smart, you
go home. Were as warm. Mars wasn't built for people
living on anyhow. I don't see how you stand it.
That was when Clayton decided he really hated Parks, and
when Park said, why be dumb friend, why'd you go home?
(17:36):
Clayton kicked him in the stomach. Card and that and that,
Clayton said, as Parks doubled over, he said it again
as he kicked him in the head and in the ribs.
Parks was gasping as he writhed on the ground, but
he soon lay still. Then Clayton saw why Park's no
stube had come off when Clayton's foot struck his head.
(17:58):
Parks was breathing heavily, but he wasn't getting any oxygen.
That was when the big idea hit wrong. Clayton with
a nose piece on like that, you couldn't tell who
a man was. He took another drink from the jug,
and then he began to take Park's clothes off. The
uniform fit Clayton fine, and so did the nose mask.
(18:18):
He dumped his own clothing on top of Park's nearly
nude body, adjusted the little oxygen tank so that the
gas would flow properly through the mask, took the first
deep breath of good air he'd had in fifteen years,
and walked towards the spacefield. He went into the men's
room at the port building, took a drink and felt
in the pocket of the uniform for Park's identification. He
(18:39):
found it and opened the booklet. It read Parkinson, Herbert J. Steward,
second class sts. Above it was a photo and a
set of fingerprints. Clayton grinned they'd never know. It wasn't
parts getting on the ship. Parks was a steward too,
a cook's helper. That was good. If he'd been a
(19:01):
jetman or something like that, the crew might wonder why
he wasn't on duty at take off, But a steward
was different. Clayton sat for several minutes, looking through the
booklet and drinking from the bottle. He emptied it just
before the warning sirens keened through the thin air. Clayton
got up and went outside toward the ship. Wake up, Hey,
(19:21):
you wake up. Somebody was slapping his cheeks. Clayton opened
his eyes and looked at the blurred face over his
own from a distance. Another voice said, who is it?
The blurred face said, I don't know. He was asleep
behind these cases. I think he's drunk. Clayton wasn't drunk.
He was sick. His head felt like hell. Why the
(19:42):
devil was he Get up, bud, come on, get up.
Clayton pulled himself up by a holding to the man's arm.
The effort made him dizzy nauseated. The other man said,
take him down a sick bay, casey, get some thea
men into him. Clayton didn't struggle as they led down
to the sick bay. He was trying to clear his head.
(20:03):
Where was he? He must have been pretty drunk last night.
He remembered meeting Parks and getting thrown out by the bartender.
Then what oh, yeah, he'd gone to the sharks for
a bottle. From there on it was mostly gone. He
remembered a fight or something, but that was all registered.
(20:24):
The medic in the sick bay fired two shots from
a hypot going into his arms, but Clayton ignored the
slight sting. Where am I real original?
Speaker 2 (20:33):
Here? Take these?
Speaker 1 (20:35):
He handed Clayton a couple of capsules and gave him
a glass of water to wash them down with. When
the water hit his stomach, there was an immediate reaction.
Speaker 2 (20:43):
Oh Christ, The.
Speaker 1 (20:45):
Medic said, get him up, somebody here, buddy.
Speaker 2 (20:48):
Heave into this.
Speaker 1 (20:49):
It took them the better part of an hour to
get Clayton awake enough to realize what was going on
and where he was. Even then, he was plenty groggy.
He was the first officer of the SDS fifty two
finally got the story straight. As soon as Clayton was
in condition, the medic and the quartermaster officer who had
found him took him up to the first officer's compartment.
(21:11):
I was checking through the stores this morning when I
found this man. He was asleep, dead, drunk behind the crates.
He was drunk, all right, supplied the medic. I found
this in his pocket. He flipped a booklet to the
first officer. The first was a young man not older
than twenty eight, with tough looking gray eyes. He looked
over the booklet. Where did you get Parkinson's ID? Booklet
(21:34):
and his uniform? Clayton looked down at his clothes in wonder.
I don't know, you don't know. That's a hell of
an answer. Well, I was drunk, Clayton said, defensively. A
man doesn't know what he's doing when he's drunk. He
frowned in concentration. He knew he'd have to think up
(21:56):
some story. I kind of remember we made a bet.
I bet him I couldn't could get on the ship. Sure, yeah,
I remember, now that's what happened. I bet him I
could get on the ship, and we traded clothes. Where
is he now my place?
Speaker 2 (22:12):
Sleeping it off?
Speaker 1 (22:12):
I guess without his oxy mask. I gave him oxidation
pills for the mask. The First shook his head. It
sounds like the count of trick Parkinson woodpull right. I'll
have to ride it up and turn you both into
the authorities when we hit Earth. Hey, eyed, Clayton, what's
(22:33):
your name? Cartwright? Sam cart Right, Clayton said, without batting
an eye. Volunteer or convicted colonist? Volunteer. The First looked
at him for a long moment, disbelief in his eyes.
It didn't matter, volunteer or convict. There was no place
Clayton could go. From the officer's viewpoint, he was as
(22:54):
safely imprisoned in the spaceship as he would be on
Mars or a prison on Earth. The First wrote in
the log book, and then said, well, we're one man
short in the kitchen. You wanted to take Parkinson's place, brother,
You got it without pay. He paused for a moment.
You know, of course, he said, judiciously that you'll be
(23:16):
shipped back to Mars immediately and you'll have to work
out your passage both ways. It will be deducted from
your pay. Clayton nodded, I know. I don't know what
else will happen. If there's a conviction, you may lose
your volunteer status on Mars, and that may be fine.
Staking out of you pay too. Well, that's all cart right.
(23:38):
You can report to kissman in the kitchen. The first
pressed a button on his desk and spoke into the Intercome,
who was on duty at the airlock when the crew
came aboard last night. Set him up. I want to
talk to him. Then the quartermaster officer led Clayton out
of the door and took him to the kitchen. The
ship's driver tubes were pushing it along at a steady
(23:59):
five hundred sent me to per second squared, pushing us
steadily closer to Earth with a little more than half
a gravity of drive. There wasn't much for Clayton to do, really.
He helped to select the foods that went into the automatics,
and he cleared them out after each meal was cooked.
Once every day, he had to partially dismantle them for
a really thorough going over, and all.
Speaker 2 (24:21):
The time he was thinking Parkinson must be dead.
Speaker 1 (24:25):
He knew that that meant the chamber, and even if
he wasn't, they'd send Clayton back to Mars. Luckily, there
was no way for either planet to communicate with the ship.
It was hard enough to keep a beam trained on
a planet without trying to hit such a comparatively small
thing as a ship. But they would know about it
on Earth by now. They would pick him up the
(24:47):
instant the ship landed, and the best he could hope
for was a return to Mars. Oh, by god, he
wouldn't go back to that frozen mudball. He'd stay on Earth,
where it was warm and comfortable and a man could
live where he was meant to live, where there was
plenty of air to breathe and plenty of water to
drink with a beer tasted like beer and not like
(25:07):
slot Earth, good green hills, the like of which exists
nowhere else. Slowly, over the days he evolved a plan.
He watched and waited and checked each little detail to
make sure nothing could go wrong. It couldn't go wrong.
He didn't want to die, and he didn't want to
go back to Mars. Nobody on the ship liked him.
(25:31):
They couldn't appreciate his position. He hadn't done anything to them,
but they just didn't like him. He didn't know why
he tried to get along with them. Well, if they
didn't like him, the hell with them. Things worked out
the way he figured they'd be damn sorry.
Speaker 2 (25:48):
He was very clever about the whole plan.
Speaker 1 (25:51):
When turnover came, he pretended to get violently spaceiic. That
gave him an opportunity to steal a bottle of chloral
hydrates from the medic's locker, and while he worked in
the kitchen, he spent a great deal of time sharpening
a big carving knife. Once during his off time, he
managed to disable one of the ship's two lifeboats. He
was saving the other for himself. The ship was eight
(26:12):
hours away from Earth and still decelerating when Clayton pulled
his getaway. It was surprisingly easy. He was supposed to
be asleep when he sneaked down to the drive compartment
with the knife. He pushed open the door, looked in
and grinned like an ape. The engineer and the two
jetmen were out cold from the chloral hydrate in the
coffee from the kitchen. Moving rapidly, he went to the
(26:34):
spares locker and began methodically to smash every replacement part
for the drivers. Then he took three of the signal
bombs from the emergency kit set them for five minutes,
and placed them around the driver's circuits. He looked at
the three sleeping men. What if they woke up before
the bombs went off. He didn't want to kill them, though,
(26:54):
he wanted them to know what had happened and who
had done it. He grinned there was a way. He
simply had to drag them outside and jam the door lock.
He took the key from the engineer, inserted it, turned it,
and snapped off the head, leaving the body of the
key still in the lock. Nobody would unjam it in
the next four minutes. Then he began to run up
(27:15):
the stairwell toward the good lifeboat. He was panting and
out for breath when he arrived, but no one had
stopped him. No one had deemed seen him. He clambered
into the lifeboat, made everything ready and waited. The signal
bombs were not heavy charges. Their main purpose was to
make a flare bright enough to be seen for thousands
(27:36):
of miles in space. Fluorine and magnesium made plenty of
light and heat. Quite suddenly there was no gravity. He
had felt nothing, but he knew that the bombs had exploded.
He punched the launch switch on the control board of
the lifeboat, and the little ship leaped out from the
side of the greater one. Then he turned on the drive,
(27:57):
set it at half a G, and watched the STS
five two dropped behind him. It was no longer discelerating,
so it would miss Earth and drift on into space.
On the other hand, the live ship would come down
very neatly, within a few hundred miles of the spaceboat
in Utah. The destination of the SDS fifty two Landing
(28:17):
the liveship would be the only difficult part of the maneuver,
but they were designed to be handled by beginners. Full
instructions were printed on the simplified control board. Clayton stood
at them for a while, then set the alarm to
wake him in seven hours, and dozed off to sleep.
He dreamed of Indiana. It was full of nice green
hills and leafy woods, and Parkinson was inviting him over
(28:40):
to his mother's house for chicken and whiskey and all
for free. Beneath the dream was the calm assurance that
they would never catch him and send him back. When
the SDS fifty two failed to show up, they would
think he had been lost with it. They would never
look for him. When the alarm, Earth was a mottled
(29:01):
globe looming hugely beneath the ship. Clayton watched the dials
on the board began to follow the instructions on the
landing sheet. He wasn't too good as it. The accelerometer
climbed higher and higher, and he felt as though he
could hardly move his hands to the proper switches. He
was less than fifteen feet off the ground when his
hands slipped. The ship out of control, shifted, spun, and
(29:25):
toppled over on its side, smashing a great hole in
the cabin. Clayton shook his head and tried to stand
up in the wreckage. He got to his hands and knees,
dizzy but unhurt, and took a deep breath of the
fresh air that was blowing in through the hole in
the cabin. It felt just like home. Bureau of Criminal Investigation,
(29:48):
Regional Headquarters, Cheyenne, Wyoming, twentieth of January twenty one two
two Space Transport Service subject Liveship too STS fifty two.
Attention mister P. D. Latimer. Dear Paul, I have on
hand the copies of your reports on the rescue of
the men on the disabled STS fifty two. It is
(30:11):
fortunate that the lunar radar stations could compute their orbit.
The detailed official report will follow, but briefly, this is
what happened. The live ship landed, or rather crashed, several
miles west of Cheyenne, as you know, but it was
impossible to find the man who was piloting it until
yesterday because of the weather. He has been identified as
(30:34):
Ronald Watkins Clayton, exiled Mars fifteen years ago. Evidently he
didn't realize that fifteen years of Martian gravity had so
weakened his muscles that he could hardly walk under the
pull of a full Earth g As it was, he
could only crawl about one hundred yards from the wrecked
liveship before he collapsed. Well, I hope this clears up everything.
(30:58):
I hope you are not getting the snowstorms up there
like we've been getting them.
Speaker 2 (31:02):
John B.
Speaker 1 (31:03):
Remley, Captain c B I The end of the man
who hated Mars.
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