"If there's any habitation there, it's under bottles. There isn't a
speck of atmosphere on the whole planet."
"That makes it definitely an archeological problem, then," Phyfe
said. "It was too much to hope that an advanced civilization like
the Dragboran could have existed another half million years. But the
photos--what do they show?"
He glanced over Underwood's arm. "There are cities! No question that
the planet was once inhabited. But it looks as if it had only been
yesterday that those cities had been occupied!"
"That would be explained by the absence of atmosphere," said Underwood.
"The cities would not be buried under drifted mounds in an airless
world. Some great cataclysm must have removed both atmosphere and life
from the planet at the same time. Perhaps our problem is easier, rather
than more difficult, because of this. If the destruction occurred
reasonably soon after the Dragbora defeated the Sirenians, there may be
ample evidence of their weapons among the ruins."
* * * * *
As Dreyer, Terry, and Illia drifted into the control room after the
landing, an impromptu war council was held.
"We'll have to wait until the fleet gives up and goes back," said
Terry. "We can't hope to go in and blast them out of the way."
"How do we know they'll give up?" asked Illia. "They may be a permanent
guard."
"We don't know what they will do," said Underwood. "They might stay for
months, anyway, and that is too long for us to wait. Even twenty ships
are not a large force on a planet of that size. My plan is to make a
night landing in some barren area, then advance slowly up to one of the
larger cities and hide the ship. We can make explorations by means of
scooter to determine if any of the fleet is in the city. If so, we can
move on; if not, we can begin searching. It makes no difference where
we begin until we get some kind of idea of the history and culture of
the Dragbora."
"It's so hopeless!" Phyfe shook his head fiercely. "It would be a
project for a thousand archeologists for a hundred years to examine and
analyze such ruins as those down there, yet a hundred of us propose
to do it in weeks--hiding from a deadly enemy at the same time! It's
utterly impossible."
"I don't think so," said Underwood. "We are searching only for one
thing. We know it is a weapon. It is not unreasonable to believe there
might be wide reference to it in the writings and history of the
Dragbora, since it was the means of destroying their rival empire. The
only real difficulty is with the fleet, but I think we can work under
their noses for a long enough time."
"You're an incurable optimist," said Terry.
"So are the rest of you, or you'd never have come on this trip."
"I'm agreeable," said Illia. "There's only one thing I'd like to
suggest. If this moon is at all habitable, I think we should take a day
or two off and stretch our legs outside in some sunshine."
There was no objection to that.
* * * * *
Dawn on the moon of the Dragboran world almost corresponded with the
end of their sleeping period. Analysis was made of conditions outside.
The atmosphere proved suitable, though thin. The outside temperature
appeared high, as was expected from their proximity to the sun.
Then, as Underwood ordered the force shell lifted and opened the port,
he received a shock of surprise that made him exclaim aloud. Illia, not
far behind, came running.
"What is it, Del?"
His finger was pointing down toward a group of figures at the base of
the ship. They were quite human in appearance--in the same way that
Demarzule had been. Taller than the Earthmen, and copper-skinned, they
watched the opening of the port and bowed low before Underwood and
Illia.
There were four of them standing, and they were grouped about a fifth
figure lying on a litter.
"Maybe we ought to forget about leaving the ship," said Underwood
doubtfully. "There's no use getting tangled up with superstitious
natives. We haven't time for that."
"No, wait, Del. That one on the litter is hurt," said Illia. "I believe
they've brought him here to see us. Maybe we can do something for him."
Underwood knew it was no use trying to oppose her desire to help. He
said, "Let's get Dreyer. He may be able to talk with them."
Dreyer and Phyfe and Nichols were already coming toward the port
together. They were excited by Underwood's report.
"This may be an offshoot of either the Dragboran or Sirenian
civilization," said Phyfe. "In either case we may find something useful
to us."
"They think we're gods. They want us to cure one of their injured,"
said Underwood. "We can't hope for anything useful in a society as
primitive as that."
The semanticists looked out at the small group. Suddenly, Dreyer
uttered sounds that resembled a series of grunts with changing
inflections. One of the natives, a woman, rose and presented a long
speech wholly meaningless to Underwood. But Dreyer stood with strained
attention, as if comprehending with difficulty every meaning in that
alien tongue.
* * * * *
Then Underwood recalled hearing of Dreyer's statement that a true
semanticist should be able to understand and converse in any alien
language the first time he heard it. In all languages there are sounds
and intonations that have fundamental and identical semantic content.
These, Dreyer asserted, could be identified and used in reconstructing
the language in a ready flow of conversation if one were skillful
enough. Underwood had always believed it was nothing but a boast, but
now he was seeing it in action.
The two women of the group and one of the men seemed utterly lost in
their attitude of worship, but the other figure, standing a little
apart, seemed almost rebellious in appearance. He spoke abruptly and at
little length.
"That fellow is a healthy skeptic," said Dreyer. "He's willing to
accept us as gods, but he wants proof that we are. He's liable to play
tricks to find out."
"We can't bother with them," said Underwood. "There's nothing here for
us."
"There may be," said Dreyer. "We should let Illia see what she can do."
Underwood did not press his protests. He allowed Dreyer to direct the
natives to bring their companion into the ship. There, in the surgery,
Illia examined the injuries. The injured one appeared aged, but there
was a quality of joyousness and exuberance in his countenance that
Underwood found himself almost envying.
But Illia was shaking her head. "It's hopeless," she said. "There's
nothing we can do for him."
She turned on the fluoroscope for Underwood to see. He moved it about,
then exclaimed, "Illia! Those strange organs below the diaphragm--"
She caught her breath sharply. "The same as in Demarzule. These must be
of the same race!"
Dreyer was speaking to the companions of the injured one, explaining
that it was impossible to save the life of the aged man.
The response of the rebellious one was an almost savage growl in his
throat. He spoke then more softly to the injured one, as if explaining.
The serene countenance did not change, but the eyes closed quietly, and
the Earthmen knew that he was dead.
Swiftly, the rebellious one drew a knife of glass from a sheath and
slashed with careless skill at the corpse. He extracted one of the
alien organs and placed it in a container which he carried. With no
other word, he left, and the two women followed sorrowfully and more
slowly. They refused to speak further.
Underwood watched them go. "We seem to have gained a corpse," he said.
"Get a couple of the men to take it out and bury it, will you, Terry?
I wonder what the whole thing means, anyway. Are these remnants of
Sirenian culture?"
His speculations were suddenly interrupted by the blaring of the
interphone. "Doctor Underwood, lookout reports entire Terrestrian fleet
departing from the Dragboran planet!"
The group in surgery looked at each other in sudden silence.
* * * * *
"It doesn't make sense," Terry said finally.
"It does," said Underwood slowly. "If they have found and destroyed
what we hoped to find."
"Also if they wanted to draw us out of hiding," added Dreyer.
"We'd better wait a couple of days and see what they do. If they seem
to be intent on continuing their flight, we can move to the planet with
the sun behind us and they won't detect it. But I think that we should
wait the two days at least, so if one wants to do any looking around on
this moon, there's his chance."
Terry was enthusiastic about exploring the moon. It seemed that here
might be a living fragment of a civilization thousands of years old,
which should have been long dead in the normal course of events, but
which had somehow survived the catastrophes that wiped out the parent
civilizations.
Illia too, was anxious to get away from the ship. Together, they
persuaded Underwood to join them in a scooter exploration of the
surrounding territory. Phyfe and Dreyer were going, but it was
necessary for Mason to remain in technical command at the ship.
Beyond the grassy plain lay a thickly forested section. The scooter
party rose high into the air to clear the wooded area and were lost to
the view of those aboard the _Lavoisier_.
For a long time they rode at treetop level, looking beyond toward the
barren sand wastes that touched the far horizon.