Chapter 11

We were a mere million miles from Mars, traveling at the comparatively snail-like speed of 12,000 miles an hour—a shade over the escape velocity on Mars' surface—when Spartan made his next move.

He announced over the intercom that a serious accident had occurred. The air-lock doors had become unfastened in some mysterious fashion and ten previous gallons of waste water which was being distilled for irrigation purposes for the garden had escaped as steam.

"It will be absolutely necessary for us to find water on Mars," he added. "Otherwise only half our crew, maybe only two of us, will be able to return to the earth. That is all."

It was too damned much, if you ask me. Later, when Axel and I were alone, I voiced my concern and suspicions.

"It was no accident," said Axel bluntly.

"Right," I said. No one had been in the main cabin at the time, about an hour before, when the water escaped. Gail had been asleep in her compartment. I'd been in the machinery room checking the air and water-cycling equipment. Axel had been in the control room, and Joel had been in the galley preparing food for the rest of us. "Maybe he thinks we're stupid," I added. "Anybody could figure out he did it."

"On the log it will look just as Spartan says," Axel told us. "You and I may never live to contradict it. For that matter, neither may Joel."

"Murder?"

Axel nodded his head. "I think he has been planning for a long time to return alone."

"But surely—surely not without Gail?"

"If you were Spartan and thought as he did, what would you do? Gail is the one witness who could endanger him by contradicting his story."

"You think even Gail is in danger?"

Axel shrugged again. "As we mentioned once before, Dr. Spartan is not a man who likes to share glory," he said. "Besides there are two murders which would need some explaining."

It seemed incredible, and yet there was a logical order of events that made Axel's theory plausible. First, Spartan wanted Gail. He had arranged an accident for Willy Zinder and this accident became murder. Second, there had been the accidental damaging of the water-cycling equipment, an incident which had served Dr. Spartan's scheme to cut down the crew—assuming of course that Spartan never intended any of us to return, with the possible exception of Gail. This had resulted in the second murder. Thirdly, he had planned to eliminate me but, for good reason, had changed his mind: I would be needed when the base was set up on Mars. Once that was accomplished I could be disposed of. Or, possibly, Spartan feared hostile creatures on Mars and could not afford to reduce the size of his crew if fighting could be expected. Now he had produced a water shortage.

"Supposing you're right, Axel," I said after these thoughts ran through my mind. "What can we do about it?"

"Nothing—now."

"Later?"

"If we are to live, something must be done," said Axel. "One thing we must decide, Bill, is just how far we are willing to go."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. "If it comes to defending my life, I'll go all out—as far as necessary."

"It isn't that simple," said Axel. "As Spartan said, without exaggeration, there is water enough for only two—three at the most. That means two of us, at least, must die—unless we find water on Mars. Suppose we were to make Spartan a prisoner? What then?"

I realized now what the real problem was. Even as a prisoner, we would not have the right to execute Spartan just because there was insufficient water. And how would we choose the other person to be sacrificed?

"It's a terrible problem, Axel," I said. "Must we decide it now?"

"We must decide it before we leave Mars," he replied. And I agreed. But I also agreed that we could do nothing now unless we wanted to scuttle the entire expedition. In spite of Dr. Spartan, in spite of everything, success of the expedition came first. And ahead of us was Mars—which could mean death to some of us.

The planet loomed like a red giant on the television screens. The signals, which we believed to be ominous, were now signals of hope. If there was life on Mars, there might be water. True, scientists had pointed out that life, different from ours, might exist without water, using ammonia, perhaps. For our sakes, we hoped this wasn't so.

We looked thirstily at the polar caps, the northern one diminishing rapidly, because it was nearly summer in that hemisphere. The southern cap was growing as winter set in.

But we were still uncertain of our reception. "They're uneasy about us," Gail told me. "Just think how you'd feel if a fleet of spaceships from Mars was closing in."

"A fleet? This is only one ship."

"Three rocket ships are already circling Mars," she reminded me. "If the inhabitants spotted us when we were less than halfway here, they certainly would know all about those smaller rockets."

"It shouldn't take them long to see we intend no harm," said Joel. "Unless they're the type who shoot first and ask questions afterwards."

"There may be no common ground for communication at all," Gail said. "Martians may not be life as we know it."

We'd all read everything we could about Mars before we left the earth. The question of life on Mars wasn't debatable. There was life, but whether it amounted to anything more than the vegetation observed by photo and telescope, was another matter. We tried to imagine plants using radar and sending messages—the idea seemed absurd.

The canals—originally named by Schiaparelli, who called them canali, the Italian word for channels, erroneously translated to read canals—were so geometrically straight that many people thought they could not be natural phenomena and were, actually, man-made canals.

There was some oxygen, but how much was an open question. It was hard to determine because all the tests had to be made through the sea of oxygen that surrounds the earth. They were not conclusive. There was water, but the amount could not be determined because the earth's air is full of water vapor. The climate could be studied. Mars was cold, but not too cold. At the equator a very warm day was possible, with, perhaps, temperatures as high as 60 or 70 degrees. Nights could be very cold, below freezing, even in summer. The ice caps were thin because they melted rapidly. Generally they were believed to be ice, but a few scholars thought they might be of carbon dioxide—dry ice. The poles were cold enough to precipitate carbon dioxide in winter.

There were two kinds of clouds on Mars. Fleecy white ones which probably were water vapor, and yellowish clouds strongly suggestive of dust clouds, whipped up by violent storms. Although Mars had thin air, it could have strong winds.

We could now see the two Martian moons. The furthermost of the two, Deimos, is only 15,000 miles from the surface of the planet. Its diameter is about 20 miles, and it revolves around Mars once every sixteen hours. Since the Martian day is about the same length as the earth's, being only 37 minutes longer, Deimos would rise in the west and sink in the east about three days later, being visible and moving slowly eastward through the entire time. The larger moon, Phobos, is about thirty miles in diameter, and only 6,000 miles from the surface of Mars. Even though it is extremely small it would be seen as a tiny, bright disc from the surface of Mars. Its period is six hours, therefore it rises in the west three times every Martian day. It actually circles Mars four times daily but Mars turns once so that Phobos would appear, to Martian eyes, to circle only three times.

Our problem was not to hit Mars, but to score a near miss. We would come close enough to be captured by Martian gravity. Then we would spiral as a satellite, decelerating and tightening our orbit till we were as close as possible to the group of rockets that had been fired from the earth with our supplies. We would board one of these, and then, using electronic controls, would land the three rockets comparatively close together at a spot in the desert near an oasis that looked fruitful for exploration.

The most interesting of these oases, of which there were many, were two oval-shaped greenish brown areas marked on Percival Lowell's maps as Solis Lacus Minor and Solis Lacus Major—generally called Solis Lacus. These were about halfway between the equator and the pole in the northern hemisphere. In 1924 Solis Lacus showed a startling expansion, growing to almost twice its size and extending northward. Undoubtedly vegetation existed in profusion in this area. Furthermore, the two areas were connected by a short canal, which frequently doubled, forming two canals. Between the oases was desert. Thus, by landing between the two Solis Lacuses we could learn a great deal about the physical characteristics of Mars.

At a distance of one million miles, we had to aim carefully at Mars. The planet was speeding along its orbit at about fifteen miles per second, in comparison with our speed which was slightly more than three. If we missed we couldn't catch up because our acceleration was too slow. We'd have to go home empty-handed.

Our electronic computer worked out the corrections to our line of flight so that we would be caught by Mars' gravitational field. We had already located the three unmanned rockets by radar and we had a small telescope in the control room, plus telescopic lens on the video cameras to help us. This was lucky, because as we approached Phobos, Axel called excitedly from the control room.

"We're having trouble with the Martians, Dr. Spartan!"

There was nothing on the television screens to indicate an attack by spaceship, but we did see an unusual amount of "snow," as if there were interference. It wasn't until I took my turn in the control room that I found out the trouble. Axel was there then, having remained to check out what he was certain was the truth.

"They're jamming our radar," he explained. "It's so fogged up we can't locate the unmanned rockets."

"Then they're not friendly," I said. I'd suspected they wouldn't welcome us with open arms, and I think the others had felt the same way.

"Maybe playing safe," he said.

"If we could only find a way to communicate with them," I said. "Maybe we could make them understand that we're friendly."

Axel shook his head. "Would you believe everything a man from outer space told you?" he asked. "With three rocket ships circling their planet, they must expect an invasion, now that a bigger one is approaching."

"At least they don't have missiles," I said. Then a sudden thought struck me. "This fogging of the radar may prove something. Maybe they don't have eyes."

He gave me a blank look. "How do you figure it?"

"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.