Some of the wariness left the other's face.
Everyone knew no Earthman had a Martian friend. The Martians were a
fading but proud race. They resented Earthmen and submitted bitterly
to their presence. Martians did not associate with Earthmen. To do so
would mean loss of social standing and almost always loss of their
lives by the hand of some fanatical anti-Earth group.
Martians submitted to the invasion of their planet by colonists because
they had no choice: they were few in number, a weak, dying race.
Inwardly, they hated Earthmen and, given the chance, would rid Mars of
all colonists.
While his antagonist considered the offer, Farrell's mind whirled
rapidly. How could he escape? His body was trapped beneath the man's
weight, unable to move. Call for help? He quickly discarded the idea:
on one side was a Martian city and on the other was the spaceport.
The group of crude stone buildings were inhabited by aliens. Martians
might come and watch him die if he called for help but they'd never try
to save him. The spaceport was deserted except for the empty, waiting
spaceships and the office buildings were too far away for anyone to
hear a cry.
He could do nothing.
"I'll give you a chance," his enemy said as he rose to his feet. "You
win five thousand for me and I'll let you keep the thousand and your
life." He placed the knife in a sheath and drew a stubby revolver from
a pocket. "If you make a wrong move, I'll blast you in half. I don't
like to use this thing because it's noisy, but--" He waved the gun and
the action seemed to complete the sentence in itself.
* * * * *
"Let's take a taxi," Farrell suggested as he rose shakily and brushed
red sand from his clothes.
"No."
"It'll take an hour to walk there," Farrell protested mildly.
"We'll walk," the man stated. "We'll walk and we'll take the most
deserted streets."
Farrell led the way through the small Martian city that bordered the
spaceport and across a narrow stretch of desert to Dankor canal.
At the canal, he turned and followed it northward, walking on the huge,
weather-smoothed stones that formed one wall of the large waterway.
Thousands of feet below them, muddy water gurgled roaringly as it
moved southward to the Martian farmlands. In the clear atmosphere, the
opposite wall of the canal ten miles away was a thin, dark line.
"What's your name?" Farrell asked suddenly.
"Tharp."
"Where do you work?"
"None of your business."
They walked in silence, the two moons casting double shadows from each
of their bodies.
With a sinking sensation in his stomach, Farrell realized the odds were
against his seeing his family again.
"How did you learn I had the money?" Farrell asked.
Tharp grinned broadly. "When anyone makes a reservation on the flight
to Earth, the news gets around. It got around to me." His laughter
sounded brittle in the thin atmosphere.
After what seemed like years, they arrived at the outskirts of Dankor.
Although it was off-limits, the police patrolled infrequently and even
those patrols were publicly known schedules.
Dankor was a small cluster of low crumbling buildings. The streets
were littered with filth and pale Martians dressed in rags shuffled
aimlessly with blank eyes as if their world had already died.
Jars of brilliant fireflies on roof tops illuminated the village.
Imprisoned in the transparent containers, the fluttering insects cast
an eerie, pulsating glow on the dismal buildings.
Farrell paused before a thick wooden door and kicked it with his right
foot. "The first time I came here," he explained, "I almost broke my
knuckles before they heard me."
A few minutes later, the door opened.
"Come in," a bony, wizened Martian invited.
Tharp remained a few paces behind Farrell as they entered the room.
The stench of the place made their stomachs churn sickly.
A group of listless Martians sat in the center of the floor and watched
a large cube-shaped object. Two Martians on opposite sides of the cube
sat before small control panels.
The Earthmen watched as one Martian touched a button on his control
panel. A green ball inside the cube rose a few inches.
The other Martian pushed a button and a brown ball at the top of the
hollow cube dropped a few inches.