THE SURVIVORS By T. D. HAMM Illustrated by DOUGLAS _Step by gruelling step the four of them slogged their way toward a perilous safety. It was a magnificent display of the will for survival. The only question was_, whose _survival_? [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories August 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] There were only four of them now. Soames and Rutherford had literally gone down with the ship in a roar of cascading rock and sand. Out of fifty square miles of the Martian plateau they had been unlucky enough to sit down on the egg-shell thin roof of a sector honey-combed with caves. Scant moments after the exploring party had disembarked, Soames' comments on their resemblance to a Sunday School picnic were suddenly broken off by a cacophonous medley of yells, the rolling thunder of sliding rock, and over all the agonized metallic shrieking of tortured metal as the ship fell, crushed and twisted. There came a final tremendous roar as the fuel tanks blew. The ground heaved convulsively, and shuddered into silence. Stunned and deafened, Bradford, Canham, Palmer and Rodriguez pulled themselves to their feet, staring dazedly at the towering column of dust hanging like a malevolent genie over the half-mile wide chasm. Palmer, white with shock, lunged forward, turning indignantly as Bradford's arm jerked him back. "Soames--and Rutherford--" he stuttered. "We've got to do something!" Bradford's lip twisted mirthlessly. "What're you going to do--jump in after them? If there was anything left of them the fuel tanks took care of it. They're gone--we're here. And we'd better start figuring out what we're going to do about it." The four of them looked at each other silently. They knew as well as he, what they faced. Theirs had been the task of setting up a temporary exploring base till the supply ship arrived in three months--with luck. Supplies for six months and all their equipment except their emergency rations had gone down with the ship. No hope there--as well explore the Grand Canyon with a teaspoon as to try to salvage anything under that million tons of rock. Compressed food they had, two weeks supply per man; their extra oxygen tanks; an extra battery apiece for the suit heaters. Water would be their worst problem. Bradford looked at the miles of barren, reddish wasteland and shrugged fatalistically. "If there's any water at all, it will be at the Polar cap. We might as well get going--we've got a long hike." Palmer grimaced wryly. "Forward, you Eagle Scouts. We can get our merit badges easy." "Yeah, we can get them from Santa Claus at the Pole--" Rodriguez made a valiant attempt at his usual sardonic humor.