"They have radar and they must know we'll contact the rest of the
'fleet.' They figure it'll be by radar. Since they don't seem to
suspect that we can _see_ the rockets, maybe radar is their only method
of seeing."
"Even if you brought that in from left field, you're thinking, boy,"
said Axel.
But the fogged radar had given us a distinct message: _Earthmen, you're
not welcome because we don't know your reasons for coming here. We
don't want you to land._ The message was as plain as if it had been
sent in English.
There was no thought of turning back. What the hell? We'd come this
far, hadn't we?
We got a good look at Phobos, a jagged, uneven rock. It wasn't even
round. It looked like a chunk of basalt, but Dr. Joel, the geologist,
pointed out black streaks which, he said, were outcroppings of meteoric
iron. It hadn't originally been a part of Mars, as our moon was once a
part of the earth. Phobos was a captured asteroid, and so probably was
Deimos.
The unmanned rockets were in a group, all within ten miles of each
other. They were circling Mars in two hours, inside the orbit of
Phobos. We approached them without radar because they were easily seen
as bright moving specks in the sky.
There was nothing to pack, not even instruments, because these unmanned
rockets were supposed to contain every item we would need. We just put
on our spacesuits, strung a line between the Jehad and the largest of
the three rockets--after stopping the Jehad's rotation--and crossed
over.
Although I'd been treated to some very pretty sights of the earth and
the moon, Mars was on a par with any of them. It's a small planet, only
4,200 miles in diameter, but it didn't look so small now. It filled
half the sky, big, red and angry. In the northern hemisphere, where it
was late spring, the polar ice cap had all but disappeared. Brownish
green vegetation swept southward. Here and there over the surface was
a fleecy cloud and the mysterious canals were as straight as if they'd
been drawn by ruler. All those in the north had doubled and looked
like parallel lines. There was a suggestion of mountains in the area
known as Mare Erithraeum, which was not a sea as the early astronomers
thought, but an oasis.
Once aboard the rocket, I took a seat next to Gail. Unlike the Saturn
capsule, this one had portholes, to be used for observing Mars once we
landed. And through them we could see Mars as we orbited toward our
landing site.
We had entered through locks just above the rocket chambers. A large
storeroom was packed with equipment, and a ladder ran through it to
the nose cone. I noted with a great deal of relief that there was a
huge tank marked _WATER_. It contained enough for all uses on Mars.
Three weeks of "luxury" as far as water was concerned and if we found
drinkable water on Mars, we could replenish our supply on the Jehad.
This, of course, did not take into consideration Dr. Spartan's plans.
Dr. Spartan came aboard last. He sat down.
"Don't remove your helmets," he warned. "I haven't released the oxygen
supply yet and it's best that we land in spacesuits. We don't know what
kind of terrain we'll strike and it's possible we may wind up with a
punctured ship which could cost us our air supply." He paused, then
added: "And, of course, we don't know what weapons the Martians have."
There was a sharp intake of breath in my earphones. It was not only
Gail but others who made the sound.
"In a short time," Spartan went on, "we'll be the first men to set
foot on Martian soil. We've had a long trip, beset by--ah--serious
difficulties." He was using my terminology. "Perhaps you have disliked
me, or even hated me. However, there is more to be thought of than
personalities. The earth expects us to complete a mission on Mars.
I am the leader. I give the orders. And whether you like me or not,
you'll obey. We are going into a strange world, where a strange form of
life--hostile life--exists.
"The Martians will meet us on their own soil, undoubtedly with superior
numbers and, possibly, with weapons we will not comprehend. But on
the earth there are many glorious tales of small, determined groups
who have defended themselves against vastly superior forces. In the
interest of self-preservation we must stick together. In the interest
of the faith of our world in us, the expedition must succeed. We must
stick together until our last day on Mars."
Paying close heed to Spartan's words, his phrase, "until our last
day on Mars," did not escape me. I was certain he intended no group
cohesion after that time.
"Now," he continued after a slight pause, "the planners of this
trip had considerable foresight. In spite of the opinions of many
men who have studied Mars, that intelligent--and hence, possibly,
belligerent--life cannot exist here, the men who selected our equipment
saw to it that we could defend ourselves should the need arise."
Dr. Spartan reached up and pulled open the door of a cabinet behind
him. There, in racks, were two rifles. Six pistols, in holsters, were
on shelves. He pulled out five of the pistols and strapped one on
himself before passing out the others.
"We will keep Grover's pistol in reserve," Spartan said, nodding toward
the one left. "There are clips in all of them and extra ammunition
aboard. We have regular and explosive bullets for the rifles, which are
automatic. You'll note that all the trigger guards are large enough to
accommodate your space gloves."
As we strapped on the pistols, Spartan reached down and held up one of
the rifles. It, too, had a modified trigger guard.
"These are M-14 weapons," he continued. "It's a modern military weapon
using a 7.62 mm. slug. It can be fired automatic or semi-automatic and
it is simple in its operation. However, besides myself, only William
Drake has had experience with these weapons. He was in the army for a
short time. Therefore Drake and I will be the riflemen of the group."
At least, I thought, Spartan and I will be armed equally.
I looked around at the group. Gail was rubbing her hand gingerly over
her weapon. "I don't know how to fire this thing, Dr. Spartan," she
said.
"There's nothing to know," said Spartan. "You point the gun and pull
the trigger. It's very simple if you aim it accurately."
Axel cleared his throat. "Don't you think it would be wiser, sir, if
we made our first appearance on Mars without arms? If we meet the
intelligent life of the planet, or if they should detect us through
spotting devices, it might convince these creatures that we are not
hostile invaders, but peaceful scientists."
"Whoever said we were peaceful?" Spartan asked. "Eventually Mars will
become a colony of the earth."
"That's the same mistake Spain made when Columbus discovered America,"
said Axel. "A lot of blood could have been spared if the nations of
the earth hadn't thought of land grabbing."
"Idealistic motives become you, Ludson," said Spartan, "but they never
got anybody anywhere. Man is the highest form of intelligent life in
the solar universe--"
"How do you know?" Gail asked.
"Because I am a man. We will be doing the Martians a favor by giving
them the benefits of our civilization. I mean to claim Mars for the
earth. And don't worry about these Martian monsters taking offense at
our guns. They may not recognize them as weapons." He paused and then
his voice grew harsh. "Wear your guns at all times. Keep them near at
hand when you sleep. This is an order."
We knew he was right about guns, as he had been right about many
things. No one sold Spartan short on his ability as an astronaut. The
Martians would not recognize guns. Anything we carried in our hands, a
scientific instrument, even a flag of truce, might be mistaken for a
weapon. Just as Mars was new, different and incomprehensible to us, the
earth would be to them, and so would the people of the earth.
"Fasten your seat belts," Spartan snapped.
As I adjusted my straps, I had the same feeling I'd had the first
time I orbited. I was half afraid and half eager. At the time I took
my first solo, I'd asked a ground crewman: "What'll I do if something
goes wrong?" And he replied: "Just sit there. You won't have time to do
anything else."
We'd land on Mars, all right. Chances were good that we'd land alive.
Leaving Mars alive would be a different matter. I found myself
thinking: _If the Martians don't get me, Dr. Spartan will._
Spartan touched a switch. A green light flashed on in the control room.
Everything was ready for the entry into Mars atmosphere. The light
blinked once. The electronic controls were working. At the proper
moment the rockets would slow us down and Mars' gravity would do the
rest.
Then the whole ship shook. Our rockets were blasting. I felt pressure
in the seat of my spacesuit. After living for eighteen months with
gravity so lean that a man could hardly fall down, I had G's in my
pants. I felt as if I'd returned to earth again. I was no longer
afraid. We were on our way down to Mars.
The deceleration began to push up the gravity inside the capsule.
But it was nothing like the force a man felt when re-entering the
earth's atmosphere. Mars is only one tenth the mass of the earth and
its gravity is something like forty per cent. We were falling in
slow motion, and carefully calculated rocket bursts, all handled by
automatic controls, would set us down more gently than a parachute. In
fact, a parachute on Mars would only be slightly more effective than on
the moon. Mars has some atmosphere, though very thin, while the moon
has none at all.
The scenery was beautiful. Perhaps the colors were not as blatant as
those seen approaching the earth. There were no deep blues of the sea,
greens of the fields and forests, yellow of deserts and the snow-tipped
majesty of great mountain ranges. The Martian polar caps were not the
same as ours either, for they were almost perfect circles. The ice
which caps the terrestrial poles is irregular because of continents and
seas.
But Mars was spectacular. Nearly everything had a tint of red. Even the
areas the early astronomers called seas, because they had a greenish
shade, showed a brownish red base. The mountains, which soon became
visible as we approached the planet, were massive but eroded, far less
impressive than the Rockies, the Alps, the Andes or Himalayas. We saw
nothing that looked like bodies of water.
As we approached the planet, our orbital momentum carried us forward
more rapidly than the planet revolved on its axis. Mare Erithraeum
swung beneath us and extending eastward was a broad double-canal called
Nectar, flowing through a wide expanse of reddish desert.
Then I sensed a trembling in the capsule and I knew we had hit the top
of the Martian atmosphere. I could not see anything directly beneath us
now, because the capsule base cut off the view, but turning my head I
saw the brownish green of the Martian pampas far to the north, desert
to the south, Mare Erithraeum to the west, and then two smaller, oval
patches of vegetation to the east.
The latter were Solis Lacus Minor and Solis Lacus Major, between which
two areas we planned to land.
No friction heat was noticeable in the cabin and it was not unexpected.
Although there was air enough to cause some friction on the outside of
the ship, our velocity was far less than any we would have encountered
on re-entry into the earth's atmosphere.
I watched the twin ovals which marked our landing site. The larger
oasis, Lacus Major, was in full view. In the center was a shiny dark
spot which glinted like polished ebony in the sunlight. And southward,
a short distance north of the equator, was another spot just as dark
and just as glinting. Cities, perhaps?
"What do you make of those things, Dr. Joel?" I asked, pointing out the
spots.
Joel shook his head. "Our astronomers have noticed them," he said. "The
one in Lacus Major is called Umbra. The other is Pnyx, at the junction
of two canals. Certain people have suggested they are cities."
"Circular cities?" asked Gail, who also watched the screen.
"With a dome over them," I said. For now I saw why they glinted. That
shiny surface was some transparent substance which covered the city
like an inverted bowl. Beneath were blackened buildings.
"Since you're so interested in these things, Drake," said Spartan, "you
can have the privilege of finding out what they are."
I caught a glimpse of Gail's frightened eyes as she looked toward me,
then turned her head so I could not see her fear. But I knew what Dr.
Spartan had in mind. He wanted me dead, and by sending me to the very
doors of a Martian city, he might save himself the disagreeable task of
committing murder.
Very, very slowly we came down toward the Martian desert. Through the
windows I saw one of our companion rockets land near the rim of the
double canal on our north. The ground was uneven there, being churned
by furrows and crevasses, and for an instant the rocket teetered, then
fell on its side.
Fortunately all of the fuel had been used up or jettisoned before it
touched the ground, consequently there was no fire.
Turning my head I could see the second rocket, standing upright to the
west.
Then there was a solid but jarring bump--about what you'd feel if
you jumped off a ten-foot wall. Our ship rocked with the impact, but
remained upright.
The motors were cut, but the fuel was not jettisoned, because this ship
had to take us back to the Jehad.
"We're on Mars," Gail breathed into her microphone. Her hand reached
out and grasped my arm with a reassuring squeeze.
"Yes, we made it," I said, and wondered if we would ever leave this
planet.
_Chapter 12_
I longed for something on Mars that was definitely of the earth, so
I could say, "This is like home." But the similarities, if any, were
vague. While the rockets settled down on the desert, I heard faintly
the roar of the blasts, like the murmur of a distant waterfall. The air
was so thin that sounds were dampened; still, they were sounds, not the
deathly silence of outer space.
Now that the rockets were stilled, I was held fast in my seat by
gravity--real gravity, not centrifugal force. But it was a very light
tug, not at all like earth's.
"Unfasten your harnesses," said Spartan. "But please remain here in
this cabin till I test the atmosphere."
So saying, he unfastened his own belt and climbed down the ladder. As
he disappeared through the trap door in the floor I caught a glimpse of
his peculiar, pleased smile. Was he responding to the familiarity of
gravity, or was he gloating over some particularly satisfying thought
of future glory?
I heard him open the doors of the locks. Gail squeezed my arm as a
small cloud of dust swept up through the opening to the lower part of
the ship. "Air!" she said. Martian air had rushed into the ship.
Looking out of the porthole, I saw Spartan in his spacesuit, standing
in the red sand, the first human being to set a booted foot on Mars. He
walked gingerly a few paces, then set up a small instrument, pressed
buttons and read dials. Then he reached down, picked up a handful of
sand and tossed it in the air. A playful gesture for Dr. Spartan. But
why shouldn't he be elated? He had led the first voyage from earth to
Mars. The sand he threw seemed to drift down ever so slowly--a little
pebble taking fully a second to fall five feet. On earth it would have
fallen 16 feet in that short space of time.
Spartan stood erect and silent, his helmeted eyes fastened on the
oasis to the east. For a moment I forgot his arrogance, his murderous
heart, and his determination to kill me and to take Gail. He was a
representative of the earth, not an individual now. Then he marched
back to the ship, his evil manner suddenly accentuated. Every move,
every gesture showed his utter contempt for others. He was the kind of
man who was able to make you mad by merely saying, "Good morning."
He entered the ship and closed the locks. Then he came up the ladder to
the control room and twisted a valve which released the air in the ship.
Not until that moment did he address us over his helmet transmitter.
"The Martian atmosphere is much like the earth's," he said. "It has
oxygen, nitrogen, a small amount of carbon dioxide and minute traces of
water vapor. Possibly it also contains inert gases--the heavier ones.
I doubt if there's much helium here. It is not poisonous, although it
does contain a small amount of ammonium vapor. However, it is too thin
to breathe. We may be able to pump air into our ship to replenish our
air supplies, should they get low, but we can't go out of the ship
without spacesuits."
Talk of ammonia in the atmosphere led to new avenues of speculation.
Scientists have suspected for many years that a kind of life might
exist on compounds of ammonia, instead of water. There are indications
that the first life on earth may have absorbed ammonia from sea
water, instead of oxygen, for some such compounds are still present
in proteins. As oxygen grew more plentiful on the earth, life adapted
itself to water and oxygen. On Mars this stage may not have been
reached, although it seemed rather unlikely. As rare as the oxygen
was, Dr. Spartan said, the amount of ammonium vapor in the air was
small.
Soon the cabin was filled with air. We descended the ladder and began
to unpack the materials.
Axel remained in the control room, alert for Martians, listening to the
radio which now was filled with a variety of weird whistles, chirping
noises and rattles.
"They know we've landed," said Axel. "I can't understand these
Martians, but I have a feeling a lot of this is about us."
"We can defend ourselves," said Spartan.
"What if they have nuclear weapons?" I asked.
Dr. Spartan shrugged. "It's not impossible," he said.
* * * * *
That first day on Mars was all work. We went to the nearest rocket ship
that had landed with us, the one that remained upright, and unpacked
its cargo. Since this rocket was not going to leave Mars there was much
more gear aboard because no extra fuel had been carried. Most valuable
of the equipment were two Mars-cars, self-propelled vehicles which were
similar to those used in exploring the moon.
They were four-wheeled, with a cabin swung in the middle. Each wheel
was equipped with tires sixteen feet in diameter. Although the machine
itself was almost as large as a freight car, it was constructed of
aluminum and lightweight alloys and even on earth it would not weigh as
much as an ordinary motorcar. The Mars-cars were electrically driven,
powered by specially built storage batteries which could be charged
from solar cells built into our main rocket.
Also aboard the rocket was ore sampling equipment, which we expected
to use in studying the geology of Mars. Dr. Spartan put Warner Joel to
work with the digging tools to construct a moat around our headquarters
ship. Instead of a drawbridge, a causeway was left to the north of
the ship, running diagonally across the moat. Rocks were piled in the
middle of the causeway so that two paths were left for the tires of the
Mars-cars. A hostile force attempting to cross the causeway could be
enfiladed by pistol and rifle fire from behind a small breastworks at
the base of the ship, or from the locks of the ship itself.
It was while digging this moat that Dr. Joel found rubies. The soil was
full of them. They were more plentiful than pebbles on the earth.
"Possibly a lot of the color of the Martian sand is due to aluminum
oxide tinctured with chromium," Joel explained. He assumed we all knew
this was the chemical composition of rubies.
"I suspected the Martians used lidar," said Axel.
And, of course, he assumed we all knew that lidar was light radar,
which physicists on the earth were just learning how to use. It's a
method of amplifying light through a special tube of artificial rubies.
The light excites the chromium in the rubies and causes the atoms to
give off a red glow. The resulting red beam can be focused to pencil
thinness and sent vast distances. Scientists believe that some of the
nearer stars--meaning stars within the range of ten light years distant
from the sun--can be explored by lidar.
We had unpacked most of the gear from the two ships and had assembled
the Mars-cars by noon the next day.
"Ludson," said Spartan, "take Drake over to the No. three ship and
bring back all the supplies you can carry. The rest of us will make our
living quarters habitable."
"Yes, sir," said Axel. He turned to me. "Come on, Bill. Let's get
started."
"If you see signs of life," Spartan said, "shoot first."
"But, sir," Axel protested, "wouldn't it be best for us not to do
anything unless we're attacked?"
"We must show them that we're more powerful than they are. The best way
to defend is to attack," said Spartan.
"They might be better equipped to shoot than we are, sir," said Axel.
"Ludson, whatever gave you the idea that we're inferior to Martians?
This is a dying, decadent world. We are young, strong and in our
prime--in terms of our planet. Just because the Martians have
intelligence, doesn't mean they are superior."
"But--"
"You have your orders," said Spartan. "Carry them out."
We climbed into the car through tiny locks. The interior was
pressurized and full of air, so that we were able to take off our
helmets. There were large windows on all sides from which we were able
to look out on the red sandy plain.
Our ship had landed in the neck of desert between Solis Lacus Major and
Solis Lacus Minor, which we now shortened to Major and Minor. We were
on a ridge, possibly the highest point between the two oases, although
we could not see Minor to our west, since it was over the horizon.
To the east, the ground sloped downward and on the horizon we could
see the dark green of vegetation that marked the edge of Major. To the
north was the first of the two canals connecting the double oasis. To
the south there was only desert, stretching several hundred miles to
the canal junction at Pnyx.
It was about three miles to the fallen spaceship. It had toppled in the
soft sand, narrowly missing an outcropping of rock. Perhaps the base of
the craft had struck the rock, causing the ship to fall over. I noticed
the rocks were highly polished, without any sign of stratification.
Probably they were igneous. Sandstorms must have given them that fine
polish--there was no water around to erode them and the polar glaciers
didn't come this far south.
A little ridge prevented us from looking down into the canal, and we
drove over it for our first close glimpse of this Martian phenomenon.
We weren't quite prepared for the grandeur of the view. The canal
was at least five miles wide, possibly three miles deep. The walls
were sometimes sheer, dropping thousands of feet, leveling off, then
dropping again to form a series of gigantic terraces. In other spots
landslides had crumbled the walls and a slope had been formed, rather
steep, but not too precipitous for a Mars-car to negotiate.
"Let's go down!" I said.
I wanted to see the bottom of this majestic ditch. It was
awe-inspiring, like the Grand Canyon, which it resembled in color,
except that the walls were unstratified. These rocks had never been
formed at the bottom of the sea, but had been baked by the internal
fires of the planet. The last sea had dried before the canals had been
cut. Although they were red, the color shaded from a brilliant scarlet
to a brownish green at the bottom. There was vegetation down there,
and something else, as precious as anything we'd seen thus far--water!
There wasn't too much of it; merely a tiny stream flowing in the center
of the canal, its path straight, like the canal itself. "I hope it's
fit to drink," I told Axel. "But it's gotta be. This canal wasn't made
by forces of nature. Nor could it have been built by hands, beaks
or paws. Only tools could have done it. And tools are used only by
intelligent life."
Axel knew it. I didn't have to tell him. He was already reaching for
the microphone. He snapped on the transmitter. "Dr. Spartan!" he called.
There was no immediate answer. Then Joel's voice came over the radio.
"Spartan's not here, Axel. He's checking some of the scientific
equipment. Anything important?"
"There's water down here in the canal," Axel said. "Does he want us to
bring some?"
"Stand by," said Joel. "I'll ask."
We waited several minutes. Then Spartan's gruff voice came to us. "Of
course bring water, you stupid fool. Is it fit to drink?"
"We don't know, sir," Axel said. His face flushed with the anger
brought on by Spartan's words. "It's at the bottom of the canal."
"How long will it take to find out?"
"Thirty minutes to an hour," said Axel. "There's a steep incline to the
bottom of the canal."
"Drake can do it," said Spartan. "You unload the rocket ship. Both of
you can stow it aboard the Mars-car when Drake returns."
"Yes, sir." Axel switched off the radio. He turned to me and shook his
head. "That guy doesn't know how to be civil, does he?"
"No," I said, "but what worries me is why he's letting me fetch the
water. It must be because he thinks I'm more expendable than you and he
figures there's danger down there."
"Martians?"
"Yes," I said. I checked my pistol. It was loaded.
Axel put on his helmet and got out of the locks. He disappeared into
the rocket and presently reappeared with a five-gallon can, which he
stowed in the locks. Then I started down one of the less steep inclines
toward the canal.
It was rough and bumpy all the way down. Long before I reached the
bottom, I noted that the vegetation which had looked so small from the
top of the canal, was big and, in some cases, twenty or thirty feet
tall.
There was a sort of timberline, about fifty feet above the level of the
stream. Beyond that no vegetation grew. Below, the ground was covered
with all kinds of plants. That is the best name I could give them. They
really were vegetable, but they weren't like any plants I'd ever seen.
Some were tall, like trees. Others were round, hugging the ground
and looking like brownish cabbages. There were some that looked like
toadstools, except that they were branched and had several caps. Nearly
all the plants were branched, and a few had flowers ranging from
delicate pink to deep purple. None seemed to have leaves.
The largest looked like the Giant Cactus--the saguaro--of Arizona,
although it was not spined.
I found a place where none of the plants looked big enough and tough
enough to impede the Mars-car and headed for the stream, which now
appeared to be about twenty feet wide and very stagnant. I picked up my
mike to tell Axel what I saw.
Then my wheels touched the stem of a Martian saguaro shoot. I heard a
whiplike crack and the whole car was enveloped in blue flame.
I pressed my foot down on the accelerator and rolled over the plant.
Looking back, I saw that it had fallen across another plant, a woody,
slender type that was jointed like bamboo. Both of the plants were
smoking. Sparks were flying from the saguaro with all the deadliness of
a high power line.
"What's the matter, Bill?" Axel called back.