50 in 50

Cool water from the canteen washed down the tasteless hardtack but he smiled, thinking of thick, juicy steaks. The claim would be assayed and mine owners' eyes would bulge when they read the report. Then they would come to him. Dignified, sincere men clutching contracts in their well-manicured hands. He would sell to the highest bidder, the entire claim, — let someone else do all the work for a change. They would level and surface this granite ridge and big pressure trucks would plow through the earth, bringing miners to and from the underground diggings. He relaxed against the curved wall of the bubble, smiling. He could see himself, bathed, shaven and manicured, walking into the Miners' Rest. .

The daydream vanished as two men in bulging sub-suits stepped through the rock wall. Their figures were transparent; their feet sank into the ground with each step. Both men suddenly jumped into the air_; at mid-arc they switched off their walk-throughs. The figures gained solidity and handed heavily on the floor. They opened their faceplates and sniffed the air.

The shorter man smiled. "It sure smells nice in here, right, Mo?"

Mo was having trouble getting his helmet off; his voice rumbled out through the folds of cloth. "Right, Algie." The helmet came free with a snap.

Pete's eyes widened at the sight, and Algie smiled a humorless grin. "Mo ain't much to look at, but you could learn to like him."

Mo was a giant, seven feet from his boots to the crown of his bullet-shaped head, shaved smooth and glistening with sweat. He must have been born ugly, and time had not improved him. His nose was flattened, one ear was little more than a rag, and a thick mass of white scar tissue drew up his upper lip. Two yellow teeth gleamed through the opening.

Pete slowly closed his canteen and stowed it in the pack. They might be honest rock divers, but they didn't look it. "Anything I can do for you guys?" he asked.

"No thanks, pal," said the short one. "We was just going by and saw the flash of your airmaker. We thought maybe it was one of our pals, so we come over to see. Rock diving sure is a lousy racket these days, ain't it?" As he talked, the little man's eyes flicked casually around the room, taking in everything. With a wheeze, Mo sat down against the wall.

"You're right," said Pete carefully. "I haven't had a strike in months. You guys newcomers? I don't think I've seen you around the camp."

Algie did not reply. He was staring intently at Pete's bulging sample case.

He snapped open a huge clasp knife. "What you got in the sample case, Mac?"

"Just some low-grade ore I picked up. Going to have it assayed, but I doubt if it's even worth carrying. I'll show you."

Pete stood up and walked toward the case. As he passed in front of Algie, he bent swiftly, grabbed the knife hand and jabbed his knee viciously into the short man's stomach. Algie jackknifed and Pete chopped his neck sharply with the edge of his palm. He didn't wait to see him fall but dived toward the pack.

He pulled his army.45 with one hand and scooped out the signal crystal with the other, raising his steel-shod boot to stamp the crystal to powder.

His heel never came down. A gigantic fist gripped his ankle, stop-Ping Pete's whole bulk in midair. He tried to bring the gun around but a hand as large as a ham clutched his wrist. He screamed as the bones grated together. The automatic dropped from his nerveless fingers.

He hung head-down for five minutes while Mo pleaded with the unconscious Algie to tell him what to do. Algie regained consciousness and sat up cursing and rubbing his neck. He told Mo what to do and sat there smiling until Pete lost consciousness.

Slap-slap-slap, slap-slap; his head rocked back and forth in time to the blows. He couldn't stop them, they jarred his head, shook his entire body. From very far away he heard Algie's voice.

"That's enough Mo, that's enough. He's coming around now."

Pete braced himself painfully against the wall and wiped the blood out of his eyes. The short man's face swam into his vision.

"Mac, you're giving us too much trouble. We're going to take your crystal and find your strike, and if it's as good as the samples you got there, I'm going to be very happy and celebrate by killing you real slow. If we don't find it, you get killed slower. You get yours either way. Nobody ever hits Algie, don't you know that?"

They turned on Pete's walk-through and half carried, half dragged him through the wall. About twenty feet away they emerged in another artificial bubble, much larger than his own. It was almost filled by the metallic bulk of an atomic tractor.

Mo pushed him to the floor and kicked his walk-through into a useless ruin. The giant stepped over Pete's body and lumbered across the room. As he swung himself aboard the tractor, Algie switched on the large walk-through unit. Pete saw Algie's mouth open with silent laughter as the ghostly machine lurched forward and drove into the wall.