Harvey looked at her brokenly. "If what they say is true, how can you save anything?"
Of course, Harvey reflected afterward, the guide could have been talking nonsense, he could have been some sort of nut. So Harvey said nothing about his encounter to the other settlers. But after three days, everybody knew the true conditions of their existence. The story was made explicit by the little debit-and-credit book that each settler was given. Every evening a caravan of Baker's men, pulling carts, came down the road, collected what the settlers had harvested during the day, and marked the credits in their books. Those who worked from dawn to dusk usually managed to achieve 100 credits. A few went over 100—three, four, or five credits over—and were told that if they kept this rate up, why, in six months or so, they'd have enough credits to buy some clothes at the central commissary. Several settlers fell short each day. They got particular attention from the man who collected the depleted oxygen tanks from the settlers and handed each a new one.
"We're not cutting anybody's oxygen off—not right away," he said. "But if I were you, I'd get working—fast. The Colonel looks these accounts over every night. He doesn't like anybody getting far in arrears."
Dr. Lurie, who, with his wife, had averaged only 96 credits on each of the first three days, spoke up puzzledly. "Do you mean—do you mean you actually let people—asphyxiate?"
The leader gave a nasty grin. "I didn't say that—I just said we don't give them any more oxygen. What they do after that is their business."
"Is that right?" growled Red Brace. He moved slowly through to the front of the crowd and then, with a lunge, grabbed the leader by the throat. "I'm just going to squeeze, and squeeze," he gritted, "and what happens to you is your business."
Harvey leaped forward and grabbed Brace's arms. "Let go, Red!" he yelled. "Let go!"
Brace jammed him aside with a jerk of his big shoulders. Harvey leaped at him again. "For God's sake, Red, this isn't the one—it's not his fault!" He yanked at Brace's arms. It was like yanking an oak. Harvey stepped back, his mouth grim, and slammed his fist into Brace's jaw.
Red Brace staggered. The caravan leader slipped from his hands and oozed down on the ground, gasping weakly. Red Brace's fists tightened and he turned on Harvey. "Goddam you, you want to get yourself killed?"