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No one had ever heard of anyone calling himself the Earthman, and the technique wasn't familiar." The scientist paused long enough to eat a little more, then resumed. "Meanwhile, we were getting a Viking rocket ready to launch. We checked it from nose to fins. We didn't miss a thing. Then we posted a guard around it, and a guard to watch the guard. We took no chances at all.
There was something strange about that fierce blank stare. The man's face, too, he saw now, was lined and worn; suffering had left its multitudinous imprint upon an ordinarily rotund countenance. Hilary shouted suddenly: "Good morning." The man did not answer, nor did he stir from his unvarying pose. Deaf! The returned Earthman suffered swift pity. With gentle forefinger he prodded the man.
He heard the second stage explode off and tried to brace himself for the final acceleration. He made himself think. He was in a spot, a very bad spot. The Earthman had sabotaged the flight. But how? The first two stages had worked. Even if the third-stage motor never fired, the rocket was high enough to prove out the project objective. There was only one answer.
There was no slightest turn to the etched profile. It was as if he had not heard. Hilary felt a sudden surge of anger. Damn discourteous, this first Earthman he had met. What had happened to the old hospitality? Had it passed out while he was roaming the spaces? He leaned over, harsh words tumbling for exit, when suddenly he checked himself.
"Where to?" Frank Martin frowned down at Dal. Known as "Tiger" to everyone but the professors, the young man's nickname fit him well. He was big, even for an Earthman, and his massive shoulders and stubborn jaw only served to emphasize his bigness.
Pancho had stumbled across evidence that Miller was the Earthman, Dusty said. Dusty didn't know what the evidence was, and Pancho refused to tell him. But when Big Mac heard about it, he accused Miller, and promised to keep silent in exchange for co-operation. He demanded to be told when a shoot was to be sabotaged. Miller agreed, in exchange for part of the profits.
He said nothing. The guard turned to Hilary again. "Answer me," he barked. "My friend told the truth," Grendon said simply. "Your tag?" "I have none." Suspicion flared openly in the pink eyes. "Where is it?" "I never had one." "Ah!" There was a world of meaning to the exhalation. "You know of course that every Earthman must be registered. The penalty for non-obedience is death."
But natural forces still bound him to earth, and mother earth would reclaim him with crushing, final impact within a very few minutes. He tasted blood. The Earthman had done this! His death would be on the Earthman's head. He knew the drone control couldn't function, but he didn't know why. He was only sure of one thing. The Earthman was a member of the electronics department.
If Tom Preston is the Earthman, I'll turn in my spaceman's suit and proton disintegrator and resign from the human race." Rick grinned. "All right. We'll trust the Chief of Security on your say-so. What's the next step?" "Well, you're not old enough to have much of a work history, so we'll have to exaggerate your ages and the time you've worked.
We don't know why he decided to call himself the Earthman, except that he apparently saw himself as a shining knight in armor, setting to rights the earth's wrongs of course he meant the wrongs supposedly done to him. Being a design engineer he was naturally something of an artist, although his record didn't show any special talent."
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