Writers of the Future, Volume 29 by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online Page A

everything for fifty kilometers. Wiped out all the intelligent life on the planet. Only thing that saved us was our suits. If he’d shot a couple of them, there’d still be intelligent life on that planet, he’d still be alive, and I wouldn’t be in constant pain. You don’t shoot, I’ll shoot you.”
    Lester quieted. “Yes, sir.”
    â€œPart of the reason that the Scouts were formed was so humans wouldn’t wipe out any more intelligent lifeforms, but we’ve got to protect ourselves so that we can protect them.”
    I held up a second scarred finger. “Rule number two: this is work; we’re not on vacation. Get in, get the info, get out. The longer you stay on a planet, the better the chance you’ll get in trouble. You want a vacation, go to Vega 5.”
    Lester nodded. “Makes sense.”
    â€œLast rule: I make the rules.”
    â€œYou’ve got the experience.”
    â€œJust remember that when we’re in the field. Now, we’ve got a few months of training before we go anywhere.” I looked at the kid. Kid —I was barely twenty years older than him. His eager, unscarred face reminded me of a dozen other new Scouts I’d watched come off that passenger ship. Most never made the return trip home. “You ready for this?”
    â€œYes, sir.” Lester sat up very straight. His head touched the roof of the car.
    â€œNo, you’re not.” The car reached the barracks. I got out and grabbed Lester’s bag. I waved my credit chit at the car’s sensor. “Lakeside Hotel, also credit one return trip for the passenger.” The car flashed an acknowledgment. I saw Lester was puzzled. “You got a credit chit?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œYou’ll probably find Marina at the hotel bar drowning her sorrows. Enjoy yourself. It’ll be the last time for a while. I put the return on file so you can get back here if you spend all your savings trying to impress her. You’re in room 36 of the barracks. You get up at the normal time, no matter when you get back.” I slammed the car door and it sped off.
    The kid had overpacked. I had a hell of a time lugging that bag to his room. A couple of other Scouts in the barracks saw me dragging the bag and asked if I’d gotten a care package from mommy. No one offered to help. I love my fellow Scouts.
    When I checked in the morning, the barracks computer said Lester had crawled in at 0200. I cut him some slack and didn’t roust him until 0530. He dragged himself down to the mess hall and started downing what passes for coffee on this planet. They brew it a lot stronger here than they do at the Academy. Lester downed enough to make him really twitchy and keep him awake for a couple of days. That probably saved his good looks.
    We went on a long hike after breakfast. The doc had given me a shot in the knee so I could keep moving. I took a bang-stick to lean on and for extra defense. Lester outfitted himself. The class 3 fence around the facility should have given him a clue, but, as expected, he dressed for a warm summer’s outing.
    Outside the fence, a road led, arrow-straight, to another Scout facility. We took the trails instead, winding through a land of red boulders and sparse desert vegetation. Lester, who hadn’t bothered to tuck his pants into the tops of his boots, was being eaten alive by the sand fleas. He tried to keep up a good pace while scratching and beating on his legs.
    Snarky was waiting in his usual hiding place in the rocks next to a well-worn animal track. Lester had the lead. He managed to get his arm up before Snarky smacked him. That prevented Lester from getting permanent scars on his face, but his arm broke. I sat on a rock to view the melee.
    Snarky is something like a cross between an ant, a bear and an alligator: over two meters tall standing on what goes for his back legs, unpleasant to look at and highly territorial.