Jupiter (Planet) -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories; Soldiers -- Fiction; War stories
"Pity we're none of us using our right names," he said. "Because I
think we're going to get them in the history books!"
The men laughed. The tension was broken. "Dismissed," said Captain
Smith, and strolled off to his quarters. Tex turned to Breska.
The Martian, his leathery dark face set, was gripping the arms of his
young countryman, the only other Martian in the fort.
"Listen," hissed Breska, his teeth showing white like a dog's fangs.
"Get hold of yourself! If you don't, you'll get into trouble."
Kuna trembled, his wide black eyes watching the smoke from the bodies
roll up into the fog. His skin lacked the leathery burn of Breska's.
Tex guessed that he came from one of the Canal cities, where things
were softer.
"I don't want to die," said Kuna softly. "I don't want to die in this
rotten fog."
"Take it easy, kid." Tex rubbed the sandy-red stubble on his chin and
grinned. "The Skipper'll get us through okay. He's aces."
"Maybe." Kuna's eyes wandered round to Tex. "But why should I take the
chance?"
He was shaken suddenly by a fit of coughing. When he spoke again, his
voice had risen and grown tight as a violin string.
"Why should I stay here and cough my guts out for something that will
never be anyway?"
"Because," said Breska grimly, "on Mars there are men and women
breaking their backs and their hearts, to get enough bread out of the
deserts. You're a city man, Kuna. Have you ever seen the famines that
sweep the drylands? Have you ever seen men with their ribs cutting
through the skin? Women and children with faces like skulls?
"That's why I'm here, coughing my guts out in this stinking fog.
Because people need land to grow food on, and water to grow it with."
Kuna's dark eyes rolled, and Tex frowned. He'd seen that same starry
look in the eyes of cattle on the verge of a stampede.
"What's the bellyache?" he said sharply. "You volunteered, didn't you?"
"I didn't know what it meant," Kuna whispered, and coughed. "I'll die
if I stay here. I don't want to die!"
"What," Breska said gently, "are you going to do about it?"
Kuna smiled. "She was beautiful, wasn't she, Tex?"
The Texan started. "I reckon she was, kid. What of it?"
"You have a lock of her hair. I saw you pick it from the net. The
net'll go out soon, like the grating did. Then there won't be anything
to keep the snakes and beetles off of us. She'll sit up there and watch
us die, and laugh.
"But I won't die, I tell you! I won't!"
He shuddered in Breska's hands, and began to laugh. The laugh rose
to a thin, high scream like the wailing of a panther. Breska hit him
accurately on the point of the jaw.
"Cafard," he grunted, as some of the men came running. "He'll come
round all right."
He dragged Kuna to the dormitory, and came back doubled up with
coughing from the exertion. Tex saw the pain in his dark face.
"Say," he murmured, "you'd better ask for leave when the relief gets
here."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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