Monk had enough Devil Egg seeds to retire
for life. But there was the matter of the pretty
Martian girl, eliminating Luke, and, of course—
THE AAB
By Edward W. Ludwig
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
February 1955
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The cool Martian wind crept across the rust-red expanse of desert. Occasionally its soft touch stirred the thorny leaves of Devil's Eggs—the squat black plants which peppered the silent monotony. Here and there a wisp of sand spiraled upward into the bright, thin morning.
The wind felt clean and new on Monk O'Hara's coarse, blond-stubbled face. He chuckled as noisily as a man buried neck-deep in sand can chuckle.
"Nothing to worry about," he muttered.
"Not a goddam thing."
It was uncomfortable, of course. No man would relish being beaten by hysterical Martian tribesmen, spat on, and buried to roast in the 100-degree Martian noon or freeze in the 50-below-zero night.