They stared. Something rose up, not rock, not an accidental formation.
It was round, a circle of dots, white pellets on the dead skin of the
planet. A city? Buildings of some kind?
"Please turn the ship," Nasha said excitedly. She pushed her dark hair
from her face. "Turn the ship and let's see what it is!"
The ship turned, changing its course. As they came over the white dots
the Captain lowered the ship, dropping it down as much as he dared.
"Piers," he said. "Piers of some sort of stone. Perhaps poured
artificial stone. The remains of a city."
"Oh, dear," Nasha murmured. "How awful." She watched the ruins disappear
behind them. In a half-circle the white squares jutted from the slag,
chipped and cracked, like broken teeth.
"There's nothing alive," the Captain said at last. "I think we'll go
right back; I know most of the crew want to. Get the Government
Receiving Station on the sender and tell them what we found, and that
we--"
[Illustration]
* * * * *
He staggered.
The first atomic shell had struck the ship, spinning it around. The
Captain fell to the floor, crashing into the control table. Papers and
instruments rained down on him. As he started to his feet the second
shell struck. The ceiling cracked open, struts and girders twisted and
bent. The ship shuddered, falling suddenly down, then righting itself as
automatic controls took over.
The Captain lay on the floor by the smashed control board. In the corner
Nasha struggled to free herself from the debris.
Outside the men were already sealing the gaping leaks in the side of the
ship, through which the precious air was rushing, dissipating into the
void beyond. "Help me!" Dorle was shouting. "Fire over here, wiring
ignited." Two men came running. Tance watched helplessly, his eyeglasses
broken and bent.
"So there is life here, after all," he said, half to himself. "But how
could--"
"Give us a hand," Fomar said, hurrying past. "Give us a hand, we've got
to land the ship!"
It was night. A few stars glinted above them, winking through the
drifting silt that blew across the surface of the planet.
Dorle peered out, frowning. "What a place to be stuck in." He resumed
his work, hammering the bent metal hull of the ship back into place. He
was wearing a pressure suit; there were still many small leaks, and
radioactive particles from the atmosphere had already found their way
into the ship.
Nasha and Fomar were sitting at the table in the control room, pale and
solemn, studying the inventory lists.
"Low on carbohydrates," Fomar said. "We can break down the stored fats
if we want to, but--"
"I wonder if we could find anything outside." Nasha went to the window.
"How uninviting it looks." She paced back and forth, very slender and
small, her face dark with fatigue. "What do you suppose an exploring
party would find?"
Fomar shrugged. "Not much. Maybe a few weeds growing in cracks here and
there. Nothing we could use. Anything that would adapt to this
environment would be toxic, lethal."
Nasha paused, rubbing her cheek. There was a deep scratch there, still
red and swollen. "Then how do you explain--_it_? According to your
theory the inhabitants must have died in their skins, fried like yams.
But who fired on us? Somebody detected us, made a decision, aimed a
gun."
"And gauged distance," the Captain said feebly from the cot in the
corner. He turned toward them. "That's the part that worries me. The
first shell put us out of commission, the second almost destroyed us.
They were well aimed, perfectly aimed. We're not such an easy target."
"True." Fomar nodded. "Well, perhaps we'll know the answer before we
leave here. What a strange situation! All our reasoning tells us that no
life could exist; the whole planet burned dry, the atmosphere itself
gone, completely poisoned."
"The gun that fired the projectiles survived," Nasha said. "Why not
people?"
"It's not the same. Metal doesn't need air to breathe. Metal doesn't get
leukemia from radioactive particles. Metal doesn't need food and water."
There was silence.
"A paradox," Nasha said. "Anyhow, in the morning I think we should send
out a search party. And meanwhile we should keep on trying to get the
ship in condition for the trip back."
"It'll be days before we can take off," Fomar said. "We should keep
every man working here. We can't afford to send out a party."
Nasha smiled a little. "We'll send you in the first party. Maybe you can
discover--what was it you were so interested in?"
"Legumes. Edible legumes."
"Maybe you can find some of them. Only--"
"Only what?"
"Only watch out. They fired on us once without even knowing who we were
or what we came for. Do you suppose that they fought with each other?
Perhaps they couldn't imagine anyone being friendly, under any
circumstances. What a strange evolutionary trait, inter-species warfare.
Fighting within the race!"
"We'll know in the morning," Fomar said. "Let's get some sleep."
* * * * *
The sun came up chill and austere. The three people, two men and a
woman, stepped through the port, dropping down on the hard ground below.
"What a day," Dorle said grumpily. "I said how glad I'd be to walk on
firm ground again, but--"
"Come on," Nasha said. "Up beside me. I want to say something to you.
Will you excuse us, Tance?"
Tance nodded gloomily. Dorle caught up with Nasha. They walked together,
their metal shoes crunching the ground underfoot. Nasha glanced at him.
"Listen. The Captain is dying. No one knows except the two of us. By the
end of the day-period of this planet he'll be dead. The shock did
something to his heart. He was almost sixty, you know."
Dorle nodded. "That's bad. I have a great deal of respect for him. You
will be captain in his place, of course. Since you're vice-captain
now--"
"No. I prefer to see someone else lead, perhaps you or Fomar. I've been
thinking over the situation and it seems to me that I should declare
myself mated to one of you, whichever of you wants to be captain. Then I
could devolve the responsibility."
"Well, I don't want to be captain. Let Fomar do it."
Nasha studied him, tall and blond, striding along beside her in his
pressure suit. "I'm rather partial to you," she said. "We might try it
for a time, at least. But do as you like. Look, we're coming to
something."
They stopped walking, letting Tance catch up. In front of them was some
sort of a ruined building. Dorle stared around thoughtfully.
"Do you see? This whole place is a natural bowl, a huge valley. See how
the rock formations rise up on all sides, protecting the floor. Maybe
some of the great blast was deflected here."
They wandered around the ruins, picking up rocks and fragments. "I think
this was a farm," Tance said, examining a piece of wood. "This was part
of a tower windmill."
"Really?" Nasha took the stick and turned it over. "Interesting. But
let's go; we don't have much time."
"Look," Dorle said suddenly. "Off there, a long way off. Isn't that
something?" He pointed.