Lost Race of Mars

Chapter 6

The next morning after breakfast Jim and Sally and their parents took the elevator to the surface level and headed, as arranged, for Air Lock Four. There they were met by a young man who had agreed to be their guide to the Old Martian ruins.

He was a lanky, heavily tanned man in his early twenties who was studying to be an engineer.

More than half the students at the tiny Mars Colony University were studying engineering.

Many of the rest were medical students. A handful studied law, but only on a part-time basis.

The single court of Mars Colony had so little activity that the profession of lawyer was not a popular one on the red planet.

Their guide’s name was Martin Huber. He was not a native-born colonist, but had come to Mars with his parents when he was only six.

“Everyone ready?” Martin asked. “I hope you’ve got our lunches in those bags, Mrs. Chambers.

You’ll find breathing suits in those lockers. Just take any one that fits. Our sand-crawler is already outside the air lock.”

Jim and Sally found breathing suits marked “medium” and climbed into them. Martin Huber made a quick check to make sure the suits were properly sealed. Then he gave a signal to the men on duty at the air lock. The inner shutter swung open, and the five of them stepped through into the compartment that led to the outside of the dome. A moment later they emerged into the desert.

Over his suit radio, Martin said, “The temperature is only about twenty-five degrees. It’ll get warmer as the day goes along, but be sure to turn up your heating controls for now. The sand-crawler’s parked right over there.”

The vehicle was very much like the one that had ferried the Chambers family from the spaceport to the dome, except it was much smaller. It held only six, instead of eleven. But the design was the same, with tractor treads in the front and wheels in the back to help propel it through the shifting sand.

They loaded the food in first. By making a request the night before, Mrs. Chambers had been able to get some packed sandwiches for the excursion from the community mess hall. Then they all stepped in, and Martin turned on the motor. The sand-crawler was sealed tight, in case a sandstorm came up suddenly. To be doubly safe they kept their breathing suits on.

The nearest Old Martian caves were about ten miles north of the colony. Martin drove slowly and carefully. There was no real road, but the fierce wind and tumbling sand had worn every hill flat over thousands of years and there were no obstacles. A few rocks studded the desert, sturdy boulders of incredibly brilliant colors—blues and reds and greens—that had somehow resisted the constant weathering process. Occasional larger bluffs jutted up in the distance.

Here and there the runty Martian “trees,” two or three feet high, thrust upward from the sand.

“Those trees are thousands of years old,” Martin said. “Only a little bit of them shows above the sand, but each one has roots going down thirty or forty feet. It’s the only way they keep from being blown away in sandstorms.”

A few miles from the colony they came upon a small cliff about fifty feet high, fantastically contoured and sculptured by the wind. The exposed rock had a glittery look that indicated the presence of mica. The colors, again, were brilliant. Dr. Chambers asked Martin to stop, and got out to take some photographs. Then they continued onwards.

A few minutes later they reached a point where, by looking to the left, they could make out the bed of one of Mars’ dry “seas.” The ground dipped unmistakably. Millions of years before, perhaps, a mighty lake had filled that depression in the ground. The only trace that remained, aside from the bed of the lake itself, was a fringe of green vegetation running off to the west.

“There’s an underground spring there,” Martin said. “It isn’t more than a trickle, of course, and it’s deep under the surface. But it keeps the ground moist and that’s why there’s that band of vegetation going off over there.”

The sun had risen higher now, and was visible as a small, pale yellow disk in the enormously blue sky. The red sand of the desert took on a yellowish tinge in the sunlight. Everything seemed timeless, frozen as if in a dream. Nothing move on the desert.

Suddenly, Martin brought the sand-crawler to a halt. “We’re here,” he announced.

“Where?” Jim said. “I don’t see anything.”

“The entrance to the cave is hard to see. But I know where it is.”

Armed with camera and flashlights, they got out of the sand-crawler. Martin led them to a butte that jutted up some fifty yards away. As they drew closer, Sally asked, “Is that the entrance? That dark spot at the base of the cliff?”

“That’s right,” Martin answered. “The Old Martians all lived underground. Maybe they lived on the surface once, but that was so many millions of years ago that even the ruins are gone.

But we’ve found half a dozen of their underground caves. This one is nearest to the colony, and it’s also the most interesting.”

They reached the entrance. Jim peered into the darkness and could see nothing. Martin stepped around him and said, “There are steps cut into the rock, leading down. They’re very small, so walk carefully.”

They were very small steps, indeed, Jim thought. They were so tiny that the Old Martians must have been midgets two or three feet high to have used them. He picked his way down one step after the other, following Martin.

“We’re now about forty feet below the surface,” Martin announced when they had all reached the bottom. “This particular cave is about five hundred yards long. The ceiling of the passageway is only about six and a half feet high, and in some places it’ll be less, so you and I will have to watch our heads, Dr. Chambers.”

They began to walk. The flashlight beams cast ghostly flickers on the age-old walls of the cave.

“Look how smooth the walls are,” Sally said. “And everything is polished so neatly.”

“Yes, the Old Martians must have been great craftsmen,” Martin agreed. “Ah—now we come to the first dwelling place.” He pointed with his light. An archway about four feet high was cut in the wall of the cave. One by one, the Chamberses crept through the minute opening. They found themselves in a small chamber cut from the rock. It was not more than six feet from floor to ceiling, but it was broad and deep enough to make a good-sized bedroom.

There were faint marks on the wall. “What’s this?” Jim asked.

“It’s a Martian painting. Most of the paint had flaked off this one, but in some of the others they’re still in good shape. The dry climate preserves everything.”

They went on to the next chamber. It, too, was empty, but the wall painting was in better condition. It showed a lake surrounded by tall leafy trees. “That was a favorite theme of the Old Martian artists,” Martin commented. “All the other paintings we have also show Mars as it must have been millions of years ago—a young planet with water and fertile soil.”

Dr. Chambers took a snapshot of the painting, and they continued onward. Another chamber contained several actual mummified Old Martians, well preserved for at least ten thousand years.

There was not much to see—only three Old Martians lying at the rear of the cave. They were wrinkled, withered brown things no more than three feet in length, and it was very difficult to make out much detail. They had two arms and two little pipestem legs, and their heads seemed very large in proportion to their bodies. Their faces, after ten thousand years, were unrecognizable, and if they had ever had hair, they had none now.

For a long moment no one spoke. The sight of the Old Martians made everyone solemn. These people had been civilized when the ancestors of Earth men were still apes swinging through the trees. And now, barring the unexpected, it was safe to say that the last of them had died thousands of years ago. There was nothing left of the once-mighty inhabitants of Mars except a few withered mummies lying in dark caves below the desert.

Once again Dr. Chambers took photographs. Then they all moved on. Some of the other rooms contained pottery and small statues and pieces of abstract sculpture. There were attractive paintings on many walls. But the mustiness of the tomb hung over the entire cave. It had the stillness and the dryness of death.

Finally they reached the end of the tunnel, turned, and retraced their steps. Jim and Sally felt tired, though not so tired as they would have felt on Earth, thanks to the light gravity.

“I’m hungry,” Sally announced as they emerged into the sunlight.

“I am, too,” Jim chimed in. “What time is it, Dad?”

Dr. Chambers had the only wrist watch in the family that told Mars time. He wore it around the arm of his breathing suit. Their old wrist watches were of no use here, but he had borrowed this one from the colony authorities when they had arrived. The Martian day was about thirty-seven minutes longer than a day on Earth, and so each hour ticked off by a Martian wrist watch was a little more than a minute and a half longer than an Earth hour.

“It’s almost two o’clock,” Dr. Chambers said. “Time for lunch, sure enough.”

They entered the sand-crawler. Then, after making sure it was sealed tight, Martin permitted the emergency supply of air to enter it from the tanks below the seats. Now they could remove the helmets of their breathing suits and eat in the crawler.

After lunch, they headed back to the colony. There was little conversation. All of them felt awed by this glimpse of an age-old race.

Back in their own house, Jim said, “Do you still think there’s a chance the Old Martians are alive, Dad?”

Dr. Chambers shrugged. “There’s no reason why not. This planet maybe honeycombed with their caves. If they have some way of manufacturing air below the ground, they might very well have survived.

“How will you be able to find them, Dad?”

“The colony has a radar-equipped helicopter that’s used for detecting underground metal deposits. I’ve asked for the use of it. If we flew over the desert, using the radar eye to help us spot underground caves whose entrances aren’t visible to the naked eye, we might find something. Trouble is, they don’t want to let me have the helicopter.”

“Why not, Dad?” Sally asked. “If it’s what you need—”

“It’s being used for an exploration program right now. I have to wait my turn until they think they can spare it. That might be months.”

Jim shook his head bitterly. “You’d think they didn’t want you to get anywhere in your research, Dad!”

“Remember, son, they have a different idea about what’s important. And as long as we’re their guests, we have to stay in line and not argue too hard.”

Jim said nothing. But privately he found himself almost wishing the year would hurry up and end so he could get back to Earth and his friends and his cat. Poor Chipper! He had hardly thought about the tomcat since coming to Mars. Chipped was probably terribly lonely down there on Earth.

Two days later, Jim was reminded of Chipper again. It was late in the afternoon, and he and Sally were watching their father testing the metabolism of the desert rats when someone rang the bell below.

“I’ll get it,” Jim said, and hurried downstairs. He opened the door and looked up at a very tall, muscular colonist who was holding a box under each arm. The boxes had air hold punched in them.

“Your father home?” the man asked. “I have some animals here for him.”

“Sure. He’s upstairs in the laboratory. Follow me.”

The man’s name was John Webster. He was a mining engineer and had been searching the area south of the dome, hoping to find a deposit of radioactive metals. “I didn’t find any uranium,” he said, “but I did find there. They were wandering around in the desert, and they looked pretty lost. I’ve never seen animals like these before, and I’ve been here sixteen years last month.”

He opened the box on his left and drew out a small animal that kicked its legs friskily.

“A kitten!” Jim and Sally exclaimed at once.

John Webster opened the other box. There were two more of the little creatures in there.

Only one empty cage was in the laboratory at the moment. Dr. Chambers gathered up two of the animals and put them inside, while Jim and Sally looked at the third.

It wasn’t exactly a kitten. It had the grace and sleekness of a full-grown cat, but it was no bigger than Chipper had been when he was six months old. It resembled a cat only in it’s litheness and its softness, and in general body shape. It had no claws, though, just flat pads that were probably better for desert travel. It’s eyes, which were large and solemn, were protected by the usual transparent eyelids. Its body, beneath the covering mass of dark fur, was lean. It squirmed and wriggled, and then cuddled itself up contentedly in the crook of Jim’s arm.

Dr. Chambers gave John Webster food coupons, and when he had gone, Jim said, “Dad, are you going to make experiments on all three of these animals?”

“Why, I suppose so. I want to test their metabolism, see what they eat, find out how they react to oxygen loss—is anything the matter?”

“You don’t need all three, do you, Dad?” Sally asked. “I mean, maybe you could spare one—”

Dr. Chambers looked doubtful. Then he began to grin, and a moment later began to laugh. “All right,” he answered finally. “I guess the cause of science can get along with only two of these critters instead of three. Let me examine him. If he’s harmless and friendly, I guess you can have him.”

And that was how Jim and Sally acquired a substitute for Chipper.