Miss Tweedham's Elogarsn

The choice was Miss Tweedham's. Either a thlat and freedom--or Malovel and his esse. She chose the latter. Dangerous, yes. But with them came Sanderson, man among men on this desert star.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories September 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

L'Sor, the Martian, said, "Why don't you humans go back to Earth? You're too soft to stay alive on Mars." He spoke good English but his voice was edged with contempt.

"Maybe you've gone soft in Sandersonville but I haven't," Ed Early answered.

"Bah!" L'Sor said. "You talk big, but Malovel will hold you in the hollow of his hands just as he holds the rest of you humans here. You humans are all alike, big talk but no action."

Early looked startled. "I don't know this Malovel," he said.

"You will know him if you are going to stay here," L'Sor said. "You will know him, and the esse. But I do not think you will remain. I think you will tuck your tail between your legs and go sneaking away like a desert jackal."

Listening, John Sanderson, the boss of Sandersonville, made no effort to interfere. Now was a good time to learn what kind of metal was inside Early and L'Sor was a good instrument for the investigation. The Martian was completely outspoken. Sanderson waited quietly to see what Early would say and do. The woman, Miss Tweedham, was also silent. She watched this scene from startled eyes.

Early had come riding a thlat across the desert, a tough, grim, bitter little man with bluster a foot thick all over him. Sanderson had not asked him his business here. The woman, Miss Tweedham, had arrived in a rocket taxi from the space port. Both of them had been brought to him. At first meeting he had rather liked Miss Tweedham. She was a big woman tired of her work and had come to Mars to find something that had been missing in her life. At the thought, Sanderson shook his head. She would find plenty here!

She would also discover how glad she was that all of it had been missing from her life. Of course, they would have to send her back home, otherwise she would end up running screaming across the deserts toward the space port. In the meantime, she might as well see things as they really were. It would be something to whisper, in a shocked tone of voice, to her best friends when she got back to Earth. He watched her out of the corners of his eyes.

"Who's going to make me tuck my tail between my legs, Fiddlefoot?" Early said angrily.

"Fiddlefoot!" At the word, a violent tremor passed over the Martian. He reached for the knife bolstered at his belt. The anger of his race showed in his yellow eyes.

"The man is a fool," Sanderson spoke. "Overlook his words."

"Well, Great One--"

"Let him try to use the knife," Early said, his hand in the pocket of his ragged coat. "I'll make him eat it."

"I wouldn't advise--"

"No fiddlefooted Martian can run a bluff on me. And that goes for this Malovel too."

"Maybe he is not bluffing. He is one of Malovel's priests."

"I don't get this Malovel but what I said still goes, for Fiddlefoot here and his boss, too."