He strapped a pistol to his waist, donned his helmet and lowered himself to the ground. He looked about him. There was a bluish tint to the atmosphere that hovered over the rim of the circling trees. Yellow, pink and deep-white flowers with fragile petals nodded silently through the stretches of growth.
Another planet, his eyes told him, another simple damned planet, like the one before and the one before that. Vegetation and earth beneath another shining sun.
And this is what I've earned, he told himself. Instead of my land, my estate, my kingdom. His lips compressed and he hammered a fist against the side of the rocket.
Well, it's not going to be, he promised himself, starting his climb back to the cabin. Nothing is going to keep me from getting what I've earned. Nothing. He was swearing aloud when he pulled himself into the cabin.
Jones was watching as Hurtz straightened up inside the littered compartment.
Hurtz unstrapped his pistol belt and tossed it to the floor. "How do you feel, son?" he asked quietly.
The boy only stared at Hurtz.
"All right?" Hurtz said helpfully.
"All right, hell," the boy said in a thin monotone.