 What kind of person is Ledman?
THE HUNTED HEROES By ROBERT SILVERBERG The planet itself was tough enough—barren, desolate, forbidding; enough to stop the most adventurous and dedicated. Nothing but what had stopped us could stop a sandcat: sand in the delicate mechanism of the atomic engine. Behind us somewhere was the comfort of the Dome, ahead nothing but the mazes and gullies of this dead world. He was a cripple in a wheelchair—helpless as a rattlesnake. She had been just as much inflamed by the idea of coming to Mars to help in the search for uranium as I was. We knew the pay was poor, but we had felt it a sort of obligation, something we could do as individuals to keep the industries of radioactives-starved Earth going. And we'd always had a roving foot, both of us. No, we had decided together to come to Mars—the way we decided together on everything. The geiger kept up a fairly steady click-pattern, but never broke into that sudden explosive tumult that meant we had found pay-dirt. I stopped, slipped out of the geiger harness, and lowered myself ponderously to the ground. "What'samatter, Ron?" Maybe we shouldn't have come to Mars after all. I watched her, sleeping peacefully, a wayward lock of her soft blonde hair trailing down over one eyebrow, and it seemed hard to believe that we'd exchanged Earth and all it held for us for the raw, untamed struggle that was Mars. The Geig Corps preferred married couples, working in teams. We had no ties on Earth that couldn't be broken without much difficulty. I was neatly bound in thin, tough, plastic tangle-cord, swathed from chin to boot-bottoms, my arms imprisoned, my feet caught. And tangle-cord is about as easy to get out of as a spider's web is for a trapped fly. It had been spun on us only a short time ago, I realized. He wore an outmoded, bulky spacesuit and a fishbowl helmet, all but the face area opaque. Through the fishbowl I could see hard little eyes, a yellowed, parchment-like face, a grim-set jaw. I thought I knew everyone on sparsely-settled Mars. He might have been sitting there for hours, complacently waiting to see how we'd wake up. He reached for the tanglegun, flipped the little switch on its side to MELT, and shot a stream of watery fluid over our legs, keeping the blaster trained on us all the while.
 He is upset and lashing out because he feels betrayed
 He is upset and lashing out because he feels betrayed  He has violent tendancies and hates his old company  He has always been a nutcase  He has been untrustworthy his whole life