Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction August 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. FLAMEDOWN By H. B. FYFE _It was, of course, one Hell of an ending for a trip to Mars--_ Illustrated by Summers * * * * * Charlie Holmes lost touch with reality amid rending and shattering sounds that lingered dimly. Blackness engulfed him in a wave of agony. He was not sure exactly when the possibility of opening his eyes occurred to him. Vaguely, he could sense--"remember" was too definite--much tugging and hauling upon his supine body. It doubtless seemed justifiable, but he flinched from recalling more clearly that which must have been so extremely unpleasant. Gently, now, he tried rolling his head a few inches right, then left. When it hurt only one-tenth as much as he feared, he let his eyes open. "Hel-lo!" rasped the bulbous creature squatting beside his pallet. Charlie shut his eyes quickly, and very tightly. Something with a dampish, spongy tip, probably one of the grape-red tentacles he had glimpsed, prodded his shoulder. "_Hel-lo!_" insisted the scratchy voice. Charlie peeped warily, was trapped at it, and opened his eyes resignedly. "Where'n'ell am I?" he inquired. It sounded very trite, even in his confused condition. Sections of the dark red skin before him, especially on the barrel-shaped belly, quivered as he spoke. "Surely," grated the remarkable voice, "you remember something?" "The crash!" gasped Charlie, sitting up abruptly. He held his breath, awaiting the knifing pain it seemed natural to expect. When he felt none, he cautiously fingered his ribs, and then a horrid thought prompted him to wiggle his bare toes. Everything seemed to be in place. He lay in a small room, on a thin pallet of furs. Floor and walls of slick, ocher clay reflected the bright outside light pouring through a wide doorway. "What's all the sand?" he demanded, squinting at the heatwaves outside. "You do not recognize it? Look again, Earthman!" _Earthman!_ thought Charlie. _It must be real: I can still see him. What a whack on the head I must have got!_ "You are in pain?" asked the creature solicitously. "Oh ... no. Just ... I can't remember. The crash ... and then--" "Ah, yes. You have not been conscious for some time." His reddish host rippled upward to stand more or less erect upon three thick tentacles. "Even with us, memory is slow after shock. And you may be uneasy in the lighter gravity."