"Do I shock you?" he asked. "I shouldn't—not when you see my motives."
"We don't see them," I snapped.
"Well, let me show you. You're on Mars hunting uranium, right? To mine and ship the radioactives back to Earth to keep the atomic engines going. Right?"
I nodded over at our geiger counters.
"We volunteered to come to Mars," Val said irrelevantly.
"Ah—two young heroes," Ledman said acidly. "How sad. I could almost feel sorry for you. Almost."
"Just what is it you're after?" I said, stalling, stalling.
"Atomics cost me my legs," he said. "You remember the Sadlerville Blast?" he asked.
"Of course." And I did, too. I'd never forget it. No one would. How could I forget that great accident—killing hundreds, injuring thousands more, sterilizing forty miles of Mississippi land—when the Sadlerville pile went up?
"I was there on business at the time," Ledman said. "I represented Ledman Atomics. I was there to sign a new contract for my company. You know who I am, now?"