50 in 50

"There was a reason, and perhaps he knew it at the time. To bring us back safely. He did everything he could to get us all returned without harm. But we couldn't be convinced by words. Even if he had stayed we would have done nothing except resent him. I don't think either of us would have had the guts to go through first. We would have just lain here and given up and died."

"Not now we won't.” Aldo said, struggling to his feet. "We are going to stick with it until the MT is perfect and we both can get out of this. We owe him at least that much. If his death is going to have any meaning we are both going to have to return safely."

"Yes, we can do it," Nissim agreed, forcing the words through his taut, closed lips. "Now we can."

The work began.

Welcoming Committee

It was a lousy landing. The tall spaceship tilted, wobbled, and finally jarred into the sand with a fin-rending crunch. Captain Moran looked at the back of Pilot Sinkley's sweating neck and resisted the impulse to close his hands around it.

"That was the worst landing I have seen since I have been in the service.” he said. "This is a rescue mission — so who is going to rescue us?"

"I'm sorry. . Captain…" Sinkley's voice shook as badly as his hands. "It was the glare. . first from the sand. . then the canal…" His voice died away like a run-down record.

There was a grinding crunch from somewhere below and emergency lights began to dance across the board. Captain Moran cursed and thumbed the telltales. Trouble. Engine room. Aft quadrant. The intercom suddenly belched out the gravel voice of Chief Engineer Beckett.

"Some gear carried away when we landed, nothing serious. Two ratings injured. Out."

The pilot sat with his back hunched, in either prayer or fear. He had goofed and goofed badly and he knew it. Captain Moran shot one tension-loaded glare at the back of the lowered head, then stamped out towards the lock. Too much was going wrong and the responsibility was all his.

Dr. Kranolsky, the medical officer, was already at the lock, taking samples through the bleeder tube. Captain Moran chewed his lip and waited while the fat little doctor fussed with his instruments. The vision plate next to the port was on and he looked at it, at the dusty red landscape that stretched away outside. Like a questioning metal finger, the tall bulk of the other ship stood silhouetted against the sky.

That was the reason they had come. One year since the first ship had left; one year without a report or a signal. The first ship, Argus, had carried at least a ton of signaling equipment. None of it had been used. A puzzled world had built a second interplanet ship — the Argus II. Moran had brought her this far — now he had to finish the job. Find out what had happened to the crew of the Argus. And get a report back to earth.

"More air pressure than had expected, Captain." Dr. Kranolsky's voice knifed through his thoughts. "And oxygen as well. About equal to the top of a high mountain on Earth. Also, the culture plates remain clear. Most interesting, because—"

"Doctor. Make it short and make it clear. Can I take my men out there?"

Kranolsky stopped in mid-phrase, deflated. He had no defenses against a man like the captain.

"Yes. . yes. You could go outside. Just be sure that certain precautions are followed—"

"Tell me what they are. Want to get over to the Argus while it's still light."

Back on the bridge the captain started to growl through the door of the radio room, but the operator beat him to the punch.

"I've tried to contact the Argus on all frequencies, Captain, right down to the infrared. Nothing. Either that ship is empty or the crew is—" He left the sentence unfinished, but the captain's thundercloud scowl finished it for him.

"What about search radar?" Captain Moran asked. "They might still be in the vicinity."

Sparks shook his head in a slow negative. "I've been looking at the slow sweep detail screen until I have pips on my eyeballs. There ain't nothing out there — Earthman or Martian. And at the distance I was using it that screen would show anything bigger than a baseball."

Captain Moran had a decision to make and it was a rough one. Almost every man aboard was essential to the operation of the ship. If he sent a small party to examine the other ship they might run into trouble that they couldn't handle. If they didn't come back, none of them would get back to Earth. But the only alternative to a small party was taking the entire ship's complement. That would leave the ship empty — looking just like the Argus.

Moran chewed the problem for a minute and a half, then banged the intercom board with decision.

"Attention, ship's crew, all ratings attention. We are going out of here in fifteen minutes — all of us. Draw Marsuits and the weapons YOU can carry. Now jump."

When they were all out on the red sand, Moran shut the massive lock door behind them and spun the combination lock. Then, dispersed like an infantry squad, they slowly circled towards the Argus.