"A Terran!" mumbled the injured man.
He shook his head dazedly, tried to sit up, and subsided with a groan.
Why, he looked scared when he saw me, thought Kinton.
"You're all right now," he said soothingly. "It's all over and you're in good hands. I gather there were no other survivors of the crash?"
The man stared curiously. Kinton realized that his own language sputtered clumsily from his lips after ten years. He tried again.
"My name is George Kinton. I don't blame you if I'm hard to understand. You see, I've been here ten years without ever having another Terran to speak to."
The spaceman considered that for a few breaths, then seemed to relax.
"Al Birken," he introduced himself laconically. "Ten years?"
"A little over," confirmed Kinton. "It's extremely unusual that anything gets through to the surface, let alone a spaceship. What happened to you?"
Birken's stare was suspicious.