H. B. Fyfe

“ If he could have seen Trolla during the latter's inspection of the wrecked ship's interior, he would have worried even more. It was no idle poking about for possible salvage. The spacer spent over an hour examining those compartments accessible without the use of a torch to burn away crumpled metal and plastic bulkheads. He displayed unusual interest in things of obscure value, such as articles of clothing and empty plastic crates that had once held food supplies.
He also talked a good deal to himself in a low voice, but the battered hull concealed this from the man lurking outside. ”

“ Then he hurried after the spacer, who was just disappearing behind a clump of shrubbery.
He could not decide later just when Trolla had in some fashion become aware of him. Quasmin could remember no careless move that might have given him away, nor did he think it likely that he was confronted by a practiced telepath. Such people existed, but they were not normally permitted to risk their unique talents flitting about the unexplored depths of interstellar space. Quasmin blamed it on natural animal instinct. ”

“ Those people are only semi-humanoid!"
Quasmin grinned. Trolla felt vaguely sickened at the sudden realization that his momentary betrayal of a sense of decency was taken as a sign of timidity.
The other turned aside and took a few slow steps to where an empty plastic crate had been braced against a rock for a seat. He sat down and leaned his shoulders against the rock, but with an attitude of alertness. It was the first physical move made by either since Trolla had walked around the corner of the hut. ”

“ That's against every law that ever was. They ... they wouldn't let ya!"
"There's no other way. As you said, they can't send out people to hold a trial here. It isn't safe to take you back alone. They couldn't spare more officers to come with me on the off chance you'd be found way out here."
"No matter how far it is, you ain't got any right to do that!"
Quasmin's right hand was beneath his shirt but Trolla, secure within his shield, ignored that.
"Well, then," he said, "if mere distance doesn't put this planet beyond human law, the same goes for you." ”

“ Ya get too much gas in me, an' you'll be up for murder too."
"That would be your mistake," said Trolla.
"Oh, you might get off," said Quasmin judiciously. "But there lots of people will still say it's murder. You bein' a cop makes no difference. Civilization bein' what it is, the law's gotta protect me too! I gotta right to be helped more than average, because I'm in more than average trouble—right?"
Trolla nodded, but less in agreement than confirming some suspicion of his own. ”

“ By the time he sighted the crude shack from a low hilltop, he believed he had heard sounds three or four times. They might have been indications of native life forms. He forgot about them as he examined the refuge that Quasmin had built.
The hut was crookedly assembled of bulkhead sections ripped from the wreck. There had evidently been batteries available to power simple tools, for lengths of bent plastic were bolted around the corners, and two windows had been cut in the walls. A mound of dirt had been heaped up against one of the sides. ”

“ It was after he staggered to his feet to haul the little machine from its crate that he found Trolla's note attached to the handlebar.
Dear Quasmin, it said. As you tried to point out, there is some argument whether a society has any moral right to punish a criminal or merely an obligation to help him heal himself. ”

“ He approached the crates close enough to read the stenciled labels. Scowling in bewilderment, he set about opening them. Just as the lettering indicated, he found an assortment of electric motors, equipment for building a new generator that could be powered by his waterwheel, and even a supply of glow-panels for light if he should get an electrical system into operation. ”