The legendary city of M'Tonak lay hidden beneath
Mar's Polar cap, its heart a pulsing flame from
outer space. Jim Landor found the fabulous green
flame, found it sentiently, evilly alive--and
that its living meant death for all mankind.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Startled into action, Jim Landor straightened in his seat. He peered
eagerly through the forward visiplate of the tiny rocket-plane.
From the Martian metropolis that nestled in the opposite hemisphere,
thirteen hundred miles away, he had taken the poorly-mapped, wearisome,
rocket-course of the Polar route in order to save time. Thus he
avoided being hampered by the magnetic storms raging over the Red
Desert at this season. At least, so he'd told his friends.
But the real, the all-important reason he had kept to himself. It was
not only that they would have laughed at him, that mattered little; but
that a growing, nameless dread made him even more reserved than usual.
He smiled thinly now as he visualized their reactions had he dared
mention the mythical city of M'Tonak. M'Tonak, city of forgotten men,
where reposed the fabulous emerald large enough to ransom a world!
Yes, Jim thought without bitterness; at last he had joined the fatal
number of men, usually Earthmen, who had searched for M'Tonak. He was
persuaded against all reason that it did exist somewhere among the
polar wastes, and it was most imperative that he find it! He was sure
that then he would find his brother too, who had disappeared scarcely a
month before. In his perilous passage above the Cap, Jim had zig-zagged
the rocket-plane dangerously off its course, searching the limitless
white wastes with the intentness of desperation. But in vain.
"Well," he murmured now, "no M'Tonak, so I'll settle for Riida--for the
time being."
The tiny Martian town was beneath him, its crazy conical structures
reaching up like pointing forefingers. Jim's hand came down on the
descent lever. A ghostly whirr disturbed the stillness as the plane's
stubby wings sliced the atmosphere on its downward glide. It contacted
gently, plowing a shallow furrow in the powdery sand that rose
cloud-fine to engulf him as he climbed out. Already he saw two men
hurrying toward him from the town.
"One of them must be Conley," he decided and went forward to meet the
mine superintendent.
* * * * *
"Hello, Jim Landor, welcome to Riida!" Conley shook hands with a quiet,
unobtrusive pleasure that seemed sincere. Jim liked him immediately. He
noted his straight-forward eyes, the faint burr of his booming Irish
voice and the little mannerism of thoughtfully rubbing his hand across
his massive chin.
The other Earthman, Conley introduced as Wessel, the newly arrived
surveying engineer for "Tri-Planetary Mining." As Jim glanced at the
thin features and small wiry frame, he sensed something hard behind the
man's clouded eyes. Wessel remained silent, smiling inscrutably as he
listened to their conversation.
"So you came across the Cap, eh Landor?" Conley said friendily, taking
Jim's arm as they trudged toward the town. "Any sign of M'Tonak?" And
as Jim looked at him sharply he hastened to add: "Not that I'm poking
fun at you, lad. But you're news now, you know, same as anyone who goes
seeking for M'Tonak. Heard a news-story about you on the Trans-telector
not more'n a couple hours ago."
"I thought my flight was a secret."
"Ah, no! No man's flight is secret who comes over the Martian Cap.
That can mean but one thing. Yep, the legend of M'Tonak is rife once
more, first time in two years. You're supposed to be searching for the
lost city ... now, what would ye be wanting with an emerald that big?"
Conley half joked, lapsing into his Irish brogue. "Faith an' it makes a
man's head swim to think of such riches."
Jim Landor did not smile. He looked at Conley seriously. "I've only
been on Mars a year, but naturally I'd heard stories of M'Tonak long
before that. _You_ called it a legend just now. Tell me, what is your
honest opinion?"
"Well, lad. Certainly there's _something_ up there to cause these
stories to persist." Conley rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe
it's an ancient city called M'Tonak and maybe it ain't. But men in
search for it have disappeared too regularly, hardly men who wouldn't
ordinarily fail to return from the Polar wastes. And--and if there is a
M'Tonak, your brother may have reached it."
"I shall find my brother," Jim said with a soft certainty. "That's why
I'm here. What about that Martian, the one you said accompanied Frank
into the Cap? Is he here now?"
"He is, and you shall talk to him. But, lad, I'm afraid he can't tell
you any more than I did in the letter."
"I want to hear it first hand."
"Sure," Conley nodded understandingly.
They walked in silence through the powdery sand, nearing the town. Jim
glanced at Wessel, silent still, his hieratic smile barely perceptible.
There was an uncanny aura to the man as if he were immersed in a world
of his own where Jim and Conley had no part.
"There's Frank's mine," Conley pointed beyond the town toward a low
line of hills. "If you look close you can see his shack over there. As
you probably know, he was--well, the independent type. Refused to sell
out to Tri-Planetary Mining. That's why he went on north when his claim
petered out, in an effort to find the source of the radite veins. Want
to go over there and look around?"
"Later," Jim said shortly.
They entered the sprawling town with its curious Martian dwellings. Jim
had never ceased to marvel at them. They were conical and glistening,
built of a reddish manufactured silica. They were surrounded by an
ascending spiral dotted with entrances to the very top. Jim sometimes
wondered, too, at the manner in which Martians tolerated so much
from the Earthmen. But then, it was well known that activity to a
Martian was the final degradation. They looked upon the exertions of
the Earthman in a mixture of uncomprehending wonder and supercilious
amusement, much as a human might watch the eternal hustle of a colony
of ants. Theirs was a world of philosophic contemplation, peace and
indolence.
Now, as they proceeded along the straggling main street of Riida,
Jim wondered about them even more. From various ramps of the conical
buildings residents watched them silently. Tall, wasp-waisted Martians,
dark and leathery, passed them leisurely on the street without a word.
They weren't sullen, it was as though they didn't care. Jim peered into
their heavy-lidden eyes. Colorless eyes, always. He was startled at the
somnolence he saw there. It struck a vague disturbing note in his brain
that was dashed away by Conley's booming voice:
"Here we are!"
* * * * *
They had reached a squat, basaltic building which bore the legend
TRI-PLANETARY MINING CORPORATION.
"Enter the lair of the Octopus," Conley laughed, glancing at the gilded
sign above him.
Wessel frowned at the words, and by that token Jim knew that he was a
Corporation man to the hilt.
Within, Jim found himself in an atmosphere as far removed from Mars as
day is from night. The office was plain and unpretentious. There was
an old-fashioned desk, a few chairs and some iron lockers against the
wall. On the walls, in curious contrast, were pictures of cinema stars
several years out of date, and a few yellowed maps of the company's
workings.
"Not only has Frank's claim petered out," Conley explained, "but
Tri-Planet is beginning to. That's the reason Wessel's here, to try
and trace these radite veins to their source. We think they must stem
from somewhere up in the Cap."