"Right now. I want you to take me out to the desert to the same spot
where you picked me up the other day. I want to visit again that
Martian burrow located there."
"Waaait a minute. If this is a shooting job, are you visiting or
invading?"
"I'm going in that hole again. Anyway I have to get there. We're on our
own. Calvin knows nothing of it. If my hunch is wrong this will cost us
our ranks, jobs, and probably land us in the pen. But I'm going and I
need you badly. Are you with me?"
Shorty answered, "I'm with you, Roal. Your hunches have always been
right with me."
V
The slim, torpedo shape of the patrol craft rose in a long slant over
the glittering Heliopolis. From his logbook Shorty had checked the
course taken on the previous trip to the desert. He reset the controls
to the same course and carefully watched their speed.
"It won't be too easy to find this place in the dark," he said. "I hope
you know what you're doing."
Roal rapidly outlined the situation to him. "There's not a tag end of a
clue to hang onto except this burrow," he finished. "And I'm sure that
Alayna has been captured for her attempted warning to me. If she's not
already dead she hasn't much longer to live, I'm certain, unless we can
find a clue to the mystery of Starhouse."
"I can't see how this desert burrow can lead anywhere."
"I'm not expecting much out of it, either, but it's all we have to go
on. And we know the Martians are somehow in communication with the dope
gang."
"Perhaps not. Maybe they just liked the smell of the stuff and lifted
it from you."
Roal made no answer because Shorty suddenly busied himself with
piloting the ship to the surface of the desert. He spiralled slowly
down until he was as close as possible to the point where he believed
the burrow to be.
The ship slid over the sands with a quiet hiss. Roal and Shorty
darkened the craft and stepped out onto the dimly-lit sands. The
undulating desert was like a frozen sea, trackless and featureless.
"The best way will be to walk in a spiral around the ship and see if we
can cross my tracks," said Roal. "There has been very little wind since
we were here. They might be visible."
Shorty disagreed, but they separated by about six feet and began
walking in a spiral path. As minutes passed and lengthened they wound
outward from the ship and the task seemed more hopeless than ever. Long
ages of desert living had made the Martians masters of camouflage.
After an hour's search had yielded nothing Roal was nearly ready to
admit defeat. "I think we had better go back to the ship and recheck
our position."
"It's as close as we can possibly get it. Your tracks are gone, that's
all. They wouldn't last more than half a day at the most. But how about
this? Here is something that might be worth looking into."
Roal looked at the spot Shorty indicated. A wide, shuffled path in the
sand looked as if a herd of sheep had passed that way.
"Fresh, too," said Roal. "Looks as if a whole congregation of Martians
had come this way recently."
"Shall we follow it."
"We may as well. There's a chance it leads to the burrow of Toomar.
Burrows are pretty far apart, you know."
The path was obvious because of its freshness, but the tracks were not
deep and already the shifting sands were smoothing under the caress of
the night wind. In half an hour they would be gone.
All at once they vanished and the sands were smooth as a sheet.
"Here it is," said Shorty. "Their hole must be right here somewhere."
Roal prodded the sands with his foot. After a moment he struck the
hard surface of a door over a burrow shaft. He scooped away a spot and
pounded forcefully on the stone door.
It echoed dully like the hollowness of a tomb. But after a moment there
was a slow motion and the sand slid down as the slab rose.
A withered Martian head poked cautiously above the sand as Roal and
Shorty darted behind the slab. "Who comes?" the Martian whispered.
"We seek Toomar," said Roal.
"Toomar is below. What business have you with him?"
"I was waiting on the desert a few days ago and Toomar was kind enough
to offer water in his burrow. But when I emerged I found that someone
below had stolen a small white gem from me. I have come to claim the
gem."
"We are most sorry that such an unfortunate occurrence should be laid
at our door," said the Martian humbly. "Come below. I know nothing of
it, but I am sure that none among us was guilty of such a crime. You
may make any demands you wish in procuring the gem again. If one of us
is guilty, he shall be punished."
So far the Martian's acts were in accord with the habits of his race
and the relationship established with Earthmen. But it seemed to Roal
that he almost overdid it. The Martian was almost _anxious_ to get them
into the burrow.
But it was ridiculous, he told himself. He would find nothing here. And
the Martian was only trying to avoid trouble.
* * * * *
Nevertheless, the Earthmens' hands strayed to their lances as they
descended into the dark depths of the burrow. The narrow shaft was the
same as the one he had previously entered, Roal was certain.
A few Martians were sitting against the walls in the first chamber to
which they came. The dim light came from phosphorescent stones set
into the walls. Despite the air of carelessness which appeared as the
Martians' perpetual guise, there was a tension that Roal could not
define. It wasn't in their stick-like limbs, nor was it in their dull
eyes. But it was in the very air that Roal breathed and he could not
help looking about warily.
In a moment the guide returned from his disappearance down a side
tunnel. "Toomar comes," he announced.
The Martian who had offered Roal water appeared now and surveyed them.
Roal repeated the story of the theft.
"It is indeed a grievous thing," said Toomar sorrowfully. "Come into
the lower chambers and we will see all those who were present that
day."