Red Planet

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Other World

JIM SET UP housekeeping-or hospital-keeping-in the smallest room that Gekko could find for him. There had been a "growing together" immediately after their arrival. On its conclusion Jim had found, as before, that his command of the dominant tongue was improved. He had made Gekko understand that Frank was sick and needed quiet.

Gekko offered to take over Frank's care, but Jim refused. Martian therapy might cure Frank-or it might kill him. He asked instead for a plentiful supply of drinking water-his right, now that he was a "water friend," almost a tribal brother-and he asked for the colorful Martian silks that had been used by the boys in place of resting frames. From these silks Jim made a soft bed for Frank and a nest nearby for himself and Willis. He bedded Frank down, roused him enough to get him to drink deeply of water, and then waited for his friend to get well.

The room was quite comfortably warm; Jim took off his outdoors suit, stretched, and scratched. On second thought he peeled off Frank's elastic suit as well and covered him with a layer of flame-colored cloth. After that he dug into Frank's travel bag and looked over the food supply. Up to now he had been too busy and too tired to worry about his stomach; now the very sight of the labels made him drool. He picked out a can of synthetic orange juice, vitamin fortified, and a can of simulated chicken filet. The latter had started life in a yeast tank at North Colony, but Jim was used to yeast proteins and the flavor was every bit as tempting as white breast of chicken. Whistling, he got out his knife and got busy.

Willis had wandered off somewhere but he did not miss him. Subconsciously he was not disposed to worry about Willis while they were both in a native city; the place was filled with an atmosphere of peace and security. In fact Jim hardly thought about his patient until he had finished and wiped his mouth.

Frank was still sleeping but his breathing was noisy and his face still flushed. The air in the room, though warm and of satisfactory pressure, was Mars dry. Frank got a handkerchief from his bag, wet it, and put it over Frank's face. From time to time he moistened it again. Later he got another handkerchief, doused it, and tied it around his own face.

Gekko came in with Willis tagging along. "Jim-Marlowe," he stated and settled himself. "Gekko," Jim answered and went on with moistening Frank's face cloth. The Martian remained so quiet for so long that Jim decided that he must have retreated into his "other world" but, when Jim looked at him, Gekko's eyes showed lively, alert interest.

After a long wait he asked Jim what he was doing and why.

Jim tried to explain that his kind must breathe water as well as air but his Martian vocabulary, despite the "growing together," was not up to the strain it placed on it. He gave up and there was another long silence. Eventually the Martian left, Willis with him.

Presently Jim noticed that the face cloths, both his and Frank's, were not drying out rapidly. Shortly they were hardly drying at all. He took off his, as it made him uncomfortable, and decided that it must be uncomfortable for Frank as well; he stopped using them entirely.

Gekko returned. After only ten minutes of silence he spoke, showing thereby almost frantic haste for his kind. He wanted to know if the water that flies with the air was now sufficient? Jim assured him that it was and thanked him. After twenty minutes or so of silence Gekko again left. Jim decided to go to bed. It had been a long, hard day and the previous night could hardly be called a night of rest. He looked around for some way to switch off the light but could find none. Giving up, he lay down, pulled a polychrome sheet up to his chin, and went to sleep.

Sometime during his sleep Willis returned. Jim became aware of it when the little fellow snuggled up against his back. Sleepily, Jim reached behind and petted him, then went back to sleep.

"Hey, Jim-wake up."

Blearily Jim opened his eyes, and closed them. "Go away."

"Come on. Snap out of it. I've been awake me past two hours, while you snored. I want to know some things."

"What do you want to know? Say-how do you feel?"

"Me?" said Frank. "I feel fine. Why shouldn't I? Where are we?"

Jim looked him over. Frank's color was certainly better and his voice sounded normal, the hoarseness all gone. "You were plenty sick yesterday," he informed him. "I think you were out of your head."

Frank wrinkled his forehead. "Maybe I was. I've sure had the damedest dreams. There was a crazy one about a desert cabbage-"

"That was no dream."

"What?"

"I said that was no dream, the desert cabbage-nor any of the rest of it. Do you know where we are?"

"That's what I was asking you."

"We're in Cynia, that's where we are. We-"

"Cynia?"

Jim tried to give Frank a coherent account of the preceding two days. He was somewhat hampered by the item of their sudden translation from far up the canal back to Cynia, because he did not understand it clearly himself. "I figure it's a sort of a subway paralleling the canal. You know-a subway, like you read about."

"Martians don't do that sort of engineering."

"Martians built the canals."

"Yes, but that was a long, long time ago."

"Maybe they built the subway a long time ago. What do you know about it?"

"Well-nothing, I guess. Never mind. I'm hungry. Anything left to eat?"

"Sure." Jim got up. In so doing he woke Willis, who extended his eyes, sized up the situation, and greeted them. Jim picked him up, scratched him, and said, "What time did you come in, you tramp?" then suddenly added, "Hey!"

"'Hey' what?" asked Frank.

"Well, would you look at thatT' Jim pointed at the tumbled silks.

Frank got up and joined him. "Look at what? Oh-"

In the hollow in which Willis had been resting were a dozen small, white spheroids, looking like so many golf balls.

"What do you suppose they are?" asked Jim.

Frank studied them closely. "Jim," he said slowly, "I think you'll just have to face it. Willis isn't a boy; he's a she."

"Huh? Oh, no!"

"Willis good boy," Willis said defensively.

"See for yourself," Frank went on to Jim. "Those are eggs. If Willis didn't lay them, you must have."

Jim looked bewildered, then turned to Willis. "Willis, did you lay those eggs? Did you?"

"Eggs?" said Willis. "What Jim boy say?"

Jim set him down by the nest and pointed. "Did you lay those?"

Willis looked at them, then figuratively shrugged his shoulders and washed his hands of the whole matter. He waddled away. His manner seemed to say that if Jim chose to make a fuss over some eggs or whatever that just happened to show up in the bed, well, that was Jim's business; Willis would have none of it.

"You won't get anything out of him," Frank commented. "I suppose you realize this makes you a grandfather, sort of."

"Don't be funny!"

"Okay, forget the eggs. When do we eat? I'm starved."

Jim gave the eggs an accusing glance and got busy on the commissary. While they were eating Gekko came in. They exchanged grave greetings, then the Martian seemed about to settle himself for another long period of silent sociabilitywhen he caught sight of the eggs.

Neither of the boys had ever seen a Martian hurry before, nor show any signs of excitement. Gekko let out a deep snort and left the room at once, to return promptly with as many companions as could crowd into the room. They all talked at once and paid no attention to the boys.

"What goes on here?" asked Frank, as he crowded against a wall and peered through a thicket of legs.

"Blessed if I know."

After a while they calmed down a little. One of the larger Martians gathered up the eggs with exaggerated care and clutched mem to him. Another picked up Willis and they all trooped out.

Jim stood hesitantly at the door and watched them disappear. "I'd like to find Gekko and ask him about it," he fretted.

"Nuts," said Frank. "Let's finish breakfast."

"Well... all right."

Once the meal was over. Frank opened the larger question. "Okay, so we are in Cynia. We've still got to get home and fast. The question is: how do we go about it? Now as I see it, if these Martians could bring us back here so fast, they can turn around and put us back where they found us and then we can head home up the east leg of Strymon. How does that strike you?"

"It sounds all right, I guess," Jim answered, "but-"

"Then the first thing to do is to find Gekko and try to arrange it, without fiddling around."

"The first thing to do," Jim contradicted, "is to find Willis."

"Why? Hasn't he caused enough trouble? Leave him; he's happy here."

"Frank, you take entirely the wrong attitude toward Willis. Didn't he get us out of a jam? If it hadn't been for Willis, you'd be coughing your lungs out in the desert."

"If it hadn't been for Willis, we wouldn't have been in that jam in the first place."

"Now that's not fair. The truth is-"

"Skip it, skip it. Okay, go find Willis."

Jim left Frank to clean up the litter of breakfast and set out. Although he was never able thereafter to give a fully coherent account of just what happened to him on this errand, certain gross facts are clear. He started by looking for Gekko, asking for him of the first Martian he met in the corridors by the barbarous expedient of voicing the general inquiry followed by Gekko's name.

Jim was not and probably never would be a competent linguist, but his attempt worked. The first Martian he encountered took him to another, as an Earthly citizen might lead a foreigner to a policeman. This Martian took 'him to Gekko.

Jim had no great trouble in explaining to Gekko that he wanted Willis returned to him. Gekko listened, then explained gently that what Jim wanted was impossible.

Jim started over again, sure that his own poor command of me language had caused misunderstanding. Gekko let him finish, then made it quite clear that he understood correctly what it was that Jim wanted, but that Jim could not have it-could not have Willis. No. Gekko was sorrowful to have to refuse his friend with whom he had shared the pure water of life, but this thing could not be.

Under the direct influence of Gekko's powerful personality Jim understood most of what was said and guessed the rest. Gekko's refusal was unmistakable. It is not important that Jim did not have his gun with him; Gekko could not inspire the hatred in him that Howe did. For one thing Gekko's warm sympathy poured over him in a flood; nevertheless Jim was thunderstruck, indignant, and quite unable to accept the verdict. He stared up at the Martian for a long moment. Then he walked away abruptly, not choosing his direction and shouting for Willis as he did so. "Willis! Oh, Willis! Here, Willis boy -come to Jim!"

The Martian started after him, each stride three of Jim's. Jim ran, still shouting. He turned a comer, came face-to-face with three natives and darted between their legs and beyond. Gekko got into a traffic jam with them which required the time-wasting exercise of Martian protocol to straighten out. Jim got considerably ahead.

He stuck his head into every archway he came to and shouted. One such led into a chamber occupied by Martians frozen in that trancelike state they call visiting the "other world." Jim would no more have disturbed a Martian in a trance, ordinarily, than an American western frontier child would have teased a grizzly-but he was in no shape to care or notice; he shouted in there, too, thereby causing an unheard-of and unthinkable disturbance. The least response was violent trembling; one poor creature was so disturbed that he lifted abruptly all of his legs and fell to the floor.

Jim did not notice; he was already gone, shouting into the next chamber.

Gekko caught up with him and scooped him up with two great hand flaps. "Jim-Marlowe!" he said. "Jim-Marlowe, my friend-"

Jim sobbed and beat on the Martian's hard thorax with both his fists. Gekko endured it for a moment, then wrapped a third palm flap around Jim's arms, securing him. Jim looked wildly up at him. "Willis," he said in his own language, "I want Willis. You've got no right!"

Gekko cradled him and answered softly, "I have no power. This is beyond me. We must go to the other world." He moved away. Jim made no answer, tired by his own outburst. Gekko took a ramp downward, then another and another. Down and down he went, much deeper than Jim had ever been before, deeper perhaps than any terrestrial had ever been. On the upper levels they passed other Martians; farther down there were none.

At last Gekko halted in a small chamber far underground. It was exceptional in that it was totally without decoration; its plain, pearl-grey walls seemed almost unMartian. Gekko laid Jim on the floor here and said, "This is a gate to the other world."

Jim picked himself up. "Huh?" he said. "What do you mean?" and then carefully rephrased the question in the dominant tongue. He need not have bothered; Gekko did not hear him.

Jim craned his neck and looked up. Gekko stood utterly motionless, all legs firmly planted. His eyes were open but lifeless. Gekko had crossed over into the "other world."

"For the love of Mike," Jim fretted, "he sure picks a sweet time to pull a stunt like that." He wondered what he ought to do, try to find his way to upper levels alone or wait for Gekko. Natives were reputed to be able to hold a trance for weeks at a time, but Doc MacRae had pooh-poohed such stories.

He decided to wait for a while at least and sat down on the floor, hands clasped around his knees. He felt considerably calmed down and in no special hurry, as if Gekko's boundless calm had flowed over into him while the native had carried him.

After a while, an indefinitely long while, the room grew darker. Jim was not disturbed; he was vastly content, feeling again the untroubled happiness that he had known in his two experiences of "growing together."

A tiny light appeared at a great distance in the darkness and grew. But it did not illuminate the small pearl-grey room; it built up an outdoor scene instead. It was as if a stereo-movie projector were being used to project New Hollywood's best work, in full, natural color. That it was not an importation from Earth Jim knew, for the scene, while utterly realistic, had no slick commercial finish, no plot.

He seemed to be seeing a grove of canal plants from a viewpoint about a foot off the ground. The viewpoint shifted steadily and erratically as if the camera were being trucked on a very low dolly here and there through the stalks of the canal plants. The viewpoint would shift quickly for a few feet, stop, then change direction and move again, but it never got very far off the ground. Sometimes it would wheel in a full circle, a panorama of three hundred and sixty degrees.

It was during one of these full rotations that he caught sight of a water-seeker.

It would not have been strange if he had not recognized it as such, for it was enormously magnified. As it charged in, it filled the entire screen. But it was impossible not to recognize those curving scimitar claws, the grisly horror of the gaping sucker orifice, those pounding legs-and most particularly the stomach-clutching revulsion the thing inspired. Jim could almost smell it.

The viewpoint from which he saw it did not change; it was frozen to one spot while the foul horror rushed directly at him in the final death charge. At the last possible instant, when the thing filled me screen, something happened. The face--or where the face should have been-disappeared, went to pieces, and the creature collapsed in a blasted ruin.

The picture was wiped out completely for a few moments, replaced by whirling colored turmoil. Then a light, sweet voice said, "Well, aren't you the cute little fellow!" The picture built up again as if a curtain had been lifted and Jim stared at another face almost as grotesque as the faceless horror it replaced.

Although this face occupied the whole screen and was weirdly distorted, Jim had no trouble in placing it as a colonial's respirator mask. What startled him almost out of the personal unawareness with which he was accepting this shadow show was that he recognized the mask. It was decorated with the very tiger stripes that Smythe had painted out for a quarter credit; it was his own, as it used to be.

He heard his own voice say, "You're too little to be wandering around by yourself; another one of those vermin might really get you. I think I'll take you home."

The scene went swinging through the canal growth at a greater height, hobbling up and down to the boy's steps. Presently the point of view came out into open country and showed in the distance the star-shaped layout and bubble domes of South Colony.

Jim adjusted to the idea of watching himself, hearing himself, and accepted the notion of seeing things from Willis's viewpoint. The record was quite unedited; it pushed forward in a straight line, a complete recollection of everything Willis had seen and heard from the time Jim had first taken him under his protection. Willis's visual recollections were not entirely accurate; they seemed to be affected by his understanding of what he saw and how used to it he was. Jim-the "Jim" in the shadow show-at first seemed to have three legs; it was some time before the imaginary excrescence vanished. Other actors, Jim's mother, old Doc MacRae, Frank, developed from formless shapes to full, though somewhat distorted, representations.

On the other hand, every sound was heard with great clarity and complete accuracy. As Jim listened and watched he found that he was savoring sounds of every sort and most especially voices with a new and rich delight.

Most especially he enjoyed seeing himself as Willis saw him. With affection and warm humor he saw himself stripped of dignity but clothed in a lively regard; he was loved but not respected. He, Jim himself, was a great bumbling servant, helpful but maddeningly unreliable in his attentions, like a poorly trained dog. As for other human beings, they were curious creatures, harmless on the whole, but unpredictable traffic hazards. This bouncer-eye view of people amused Jim mightily.

Day by day and week by week the account unfolded, even to the periods of dark and quiet when Willis chose to sleep or was shut up. It carried on to Syrtis Minor and into a bad time when Jim was missing. Howe appeared as a despised voice and a pair of legs; Beecher was a faceless nonentity. It continued, step by step, and somehow Jim was neither tired nor bored. He was simply in the continuity and could no more escape from it than could Willis-nor did it occur to him to try. At last it wound up in the Martian city of Cynia and ended in a period of dark and quiet.

Jim stretched his cramped legs; the light was returning. He looked around but Gekko was still deep in 'his trance. He looked back and found that a door had opened in what had appeared to be blank wall. He looked through and into a room beyond, decorated as Martian rooms so frequently are in careful imitation of an outdoor scene-lush countryside more like uie sea bottoms south of Cynia than like the desert.

A Martian was in the room. Jim was never able afterwards to visualize him completely for his face and particularly his eyes compelled attention. An Earthling has no good way to estimate the age of a Martian yet Jim had the unmistakable impression that this Martian was very old-older than his father, older even than Doc MacRae.

"Jim Marlowe," the native said in clear tones. "Welcome, Jim Marlowe, friend of my people and friend of mine. I give you water." He spoke in Basic English, in an accent vaguely familiar.

Jim had never heard a Martian speak an Earthly tongue before, but he knew that some of them did speak Basic. It was a relief to be able to answer in his own speech. "I drink with you. May you ever enjoy pure and plentiful water."

"I thank you, Jim Marlowe." No actual water was used and none was needed. There followed a polite period of quiet, during which Jim thought about the Martian's accent. It was oddly familiar; it put him in mind of his father's voice, again it sounded like Doc MacRae.

"You are troubled, Jim Marlowe. Your unhappiness is ours. How may I help you?"

"I don't want anything," Jim answered, "except to go home and take Willis with me. They took Willis away. They shouldn't have done that."

The silence that followed was even longer than before. At last the Martian answered, "When one stands on the ground, one may not see over the horizon-yet Phobos sees all horizons." He hesitated a moment before the word "Phobos." As if in afterthought he added, "Jim Marlowe, I have but lately learned your tongue. Forgive me if I stumble."

"Oh, you speak it beautifully!" Jim said quite sincerely.

"The words I know; the pictures are not clear. Tell me, Jim Marlowe, what is the london-zoo?"

Jim had to ask him to repeat it before it was clear that the Martian asked about the London Zoo. Jim tried to explain, but broke off before he had finished elaborating the idea. The Martian radiated such cold, implacable anger that Jim was frightened.

After a time the Martian's mood changed abruptly and Jim was again bathed in a warm glow of friendliness that poured out of his host like rays from the Sun and was as real as sunshine to Jim. "Jim Marlowe, twice you have saved the little one whom you call 'Willis' from-" He used first a Martian term not known to Jim, then changed it to "waterseekers." "Have you killed many such?"

"Uh, quite a few, I guess," Jim answered, then added, "I kill 'em whenever I see 'em. They're getting too smart to hang around the colonies much."

The Martian appeared to be thinking this over, but when he got around to answering he had again changed the subject. "Jim Marlowe, twice, perhaps three times, you have saved the little one; once, perhaps twice, our little one has saved you. Each time you have grown closer together. Day by day you have grown together until neither one of you is complete without the other. Do not leave here, Jim Marlowe. Stay. You are welcome in my house, a son and a friend." He had said "daughter" first, instead of "son," then corrected it without any comic effect nor loss of emphasis.

Jim shook his head. "I have to go home. In fact I have to go home right away. It's a mighty kind offer and I want to thank you but-" He explained as clearly as he could the threat to the welfare of the colony and the urgent need for him to carry the message. "If you please, sir, we-my friend and I-would like to be taken back where K'boomch found us. Only I want Willis back before we go."

"You wish to go back to the city where you were found? You do not wish to go home?"

Jim explained that Frank and he would go home from there. "Now, sir, why don't you ask Willis whether or not he wants to stay or to go home with me?"

The old Martian sighed exactly as Jim's father had been known to sigh after a fruitless family discussion. "There is a law of life and a law of death and both are the law of change. Even the hardest rock is worn away by the wind. You understand, my son and friend, that even if the one you call Willis returns with you, there will come a time when the little one must leave you?"

"Uh, yes, I guess so. You mean Willis can come home with me?"

"We will speak to the one you call Willis."

The old one spoke to Gekko, who stirred and muttered in his sleep. Then the three of them wound back up the ramps, with Gekko carrying Jim and the old one following a little behind.

They stopped in a chamber about halfway up to the surface. The room was dark when they reached it but it became illuminated as soon as the party entered. Jim saw that the place was lined, floor to ceiling, with little niches and each niche contained a bouncer, as similar, each to the other, as identical twins.

The little fellows raised their eye stalks when the light came on and peered interestedly around. From somewhere in the room came a shout of "Hi, Jim boy!"

Jim looked around but could not pick out the bouncer that had spoken. Before he could do anything about it the phrase had echoed around the room, "Hi, Jim boy! Hi, Jim boy! Hi, Jim boy!" each time in Jim's own voice, as borrowed by Willis.

Jim turned back to Gekko in bewilderment. "Which one is Willis?" he demanded, forgetting to speak in the dominant tongue.

The chorus started up again, "Which one is Willis? Which one is Willis? WhichWhichWhich one is Willis?"

Jim stepped out into the middle of the room. "Willis!" he commanded, "come to Jim."

Off to his right a bouncer popped out from a middle tier, landed on the floor, and waddled up to him. "Pick up Willis," it demanded. Gratefully, Jim did so.

"Where Jim boy been?" Willis wanted to know.

Jim scratched the bouncer. "You wouldn't understand if I told you. Look, Willis-Jim is about to go home. Does Willis want to go home with him?"

"Jim go?" Willis said doubtfully, as if the unrelenting echoing chorus had made it hard for him to undertsand.

"Jim go home, right away. Is Willis coming or is Willis going to stay here?"

"Jim go; Willis go," the bouncer announced, stating it as a law of nature.

"Okay, tell Gekko that."

"Why?" Willis asked suspiciously.

"Tell Gekko that, or you'll get left behind. Go on, tell him."

"Okay." Willis addressed Gekko in a series of clucks and croaks. Neither the old Martian nor Gekko made any comment; Gekko picked up the two smaller creatures and the procession continued on up toward the surface. Gekko put them down outside the room assigned to Frank and Jim. Jim carried Willis inside.

Frank looked up as they came in. He was sprawled on the silks and, arranged beside him on the floor, was a meal, as yet untouched. "Well, I see you found him," he commented. "It sure took you long enough."

Jim was suddenly overcome with remorse. He had been gone goodness knows how long. Days? Weeks? That movingpicture thing had covered months, in detail. "Gee, Frank, I'm sorry," he apologized. "Were you worried about me?"

"Worried? What for? I just didn't know whether or not to wait lunch on you. You must have been gone at least three hours."

Three hours? Jim started to object that it had been more like three weeks, then thought better of it. He recalled that he had not eaten while away, nor did he feel anything more than normally hungry.

"UhYeah, sure. Sony. Look, do you mind waiting lunch a bit longer?"

"Why? I'm starved."

"Because we're leaving, that's why. Gekko and another native are wailing to take us back to that town where K'boomch found us."

"WellOkay!" Frank stuffed his mouth full and started to pull on his outdoors suit.

Jim imitated him, both as to eating and dressing. "We can finish lunch in the subway dingus," he said, mumbling with his mouth full. "Don't forget to fill your mask reservoir."

"Don't worry. I won't pull that stunt twice." Frank filled his tank and Jim's, took a big drink of water, and offered the rest to Jim. Moments later they slung their skates over their shoulders and were ready to leave. The party filed through ramps and corridors to the "subway station" hall and stopped at one of the archways.

The old Martian went inside, but, somewhat to Jim's surprise, Gekko bade them good-bye. They parted with ritualistic exchange of courtesies appropriate to water friends, then Frank and Jim, with Willis, went inside and the door closed behind them.

The car started up at once. Frank said, "Wups! What is this?" and sat down suddenly. The old Martian, secure on the resting frame, said nothing. Jim laughed.

"Don't you remember the last ride?"

"Not very well. Say, I feel heavy."

"So do I. That's part of the ride. Now how about a bite to eat? It may be a long time before we get another decent meal."

"You ain't whistlin'." Frank got out the remainder of their lunch. When they had finished Frank thought about it and opened another can. Before they had had a chance to eat its contents-cold baked beans and surrogate pork-his stomach suddenly did a flip-flop. "Hey!" he yelped. "What's happened?"

"Nothing. It was like that last time."

"I thought we had plowed into something."

"Nope, it's all right, I tell you. Hand me over some of those beans." They ate the beans and waited; after a time the feeling of extra weight left them and Jim knew that they had arrived.

The door of the car compartment opened and they stepped out into a circular hall exactly like the one they had left. Frank looked around in disappointment. "Say, Jim-we haven't gone anyplace. There's some mistake."

"No, there's not." He turned, intending to speak to the old Martian, but the archway door behind them was already closed. "Oh, that's too bad," he said.

"What's too bad? That they gave us a run-around?"

"They didn't give us a run-around; it's just that this room looks like the one back in Cynia. You'll see when we get up to the surface. No, I was saying 'too bad' because I let-" Jim hesitated, realizing that he had never gotten the old Martian's name. "-because I let the old fellow, not Gekko, the other one, get away without saying good-bye."

"Who?"

"You know, the other one. The one that rode with us."

"What do you mean, the other one? I didn't see anybody but Gekko. And nobody rode with us; we were in there by ourselves."

"Huh? You must be blind."

"You must be nuts."

"Frank Sutton, do you mean to stand there and tell me you didn't see the Martian that rode with us?"

"You heard me the first time."

Jim took a deep breath. "Well, all I've got to say is: if you hadn't had your face buried in your food the whole time and had looked around you occasionally, you'd see more. How in-"

"Forget it, forget it," Frank interrupted, "before you get me sore. There were six Martians, if you like it that way. Let's get on up and outside and see what the score is. We're wasting time."

"Well, all right." They started up the ramps. Jim was very silent; the incident bothered him more than it did Frank.

Partway up they were forced to adjust their masks. Ten minutes or so thereafter they reached a room into which the sunlight came flooding; they hurried through it and outdoors.

A moment later it was Frank's turn to be puzzled and uncertain. "Jim, I know I was light-headed at the time but wasn't, uh-wasn't that town we started from just a onetower burg?"

"It was."

"This one isn't."

"No, it isn't."

"We're lost."

"That's right."