Jerome Bixby

“ Hale remembered Green Spot. It was a bloody, terrible memory. Green Spot had been one of the earliest and largest farm-settlements on Mars. One night, for some other-worldly reason that the Colonial Authority was still puzzling about, the Martian workers had slit two hundred Terrestrial throats and vanished into the red desert. The Lhrai priests had conveyed regrets, assuring the Authority at the same time that there had been adequate provocation for the act. ”

“ They'll never hold it against you." Randy spread his hands. "I'd rather you'd kill me—now—than take me out there for the redboys."
Hale felt baffled. It had been like this in the old days, Randy had always had his way. Coming to Mars in the first place had been Randy's idea, and he'd pressed it, and Hale had done well on Mars. Maybe Randy had a break coming. Hale thought, five years isn't such a long time, after all. He said tiredly, "All right. You can have your chance. Good luck. And I'll take those twin-stones, Randy." ”

“ Half the law is too damned busy, and the other half's crooked—and we're in the middle. The redboys have run out of patience."
Hale nodded. "My own redboys are ready to go on the warpath. Okay. So Randy's the goat elect. So relax and starve him out."
"They want him tonight. We promised—"
"All right, go keep it. Hell, I didn't promise anything. Damned if I'll risk my neck to—"
"—promised to deliver," Weiss went on flatly, "because we had to. We're in a nut-cracker, Hale. The Lhrai priests are set to trigger another Green Spot unless they get Randy to play with. ”

“ He touched the blaster at his belt, then brought up the hand to get out a cigarette from his jacket pocket. He struck a match on the blaster butt. "Why call me? Why not call the Patrol?"
Someone stirred in the darkness, clearing a throat. "Patrol never hung a looter yet and as long as Boss Ricco kicks back to Patrol brass, they never will. This one, we'll take care of personally. The redboys want him."
Over the cupped match flame, Hale sent a hard glance in the direction of the voice. "Eight, ten men aren't enough."
Weiss said placatingly, "We were tipped that he'd try this temple. ”

“ He can't get out, that's for sure, but we can't get at him without losing a lot of men." Weiss put a hand on Hale's arm, and Hale moved impatiently and Weiss took it away, saying, "You know Randy better'n any of us." ”

“ He said there was five thousand in it for me. He said there was a good pair here, and—"
He stopped short, his young face hardening with shocking suddenness. "By the red gods, Ricco!" he ground out. "Of course—he tipped them off I'd be here. ”