THE CRYSTAL CRYPT

By PHILIP K. DICK

"Attention, Inner-Flight ship! Attention!
You are ordered to land
at the Control Station on Deimos
for inspection. Attention! You are to land
at once!"

The metallic rasp of the speaker echoed
through the corridors of the great ship.
The passengers glanced at each other uneasily,
murmuring and peering out the port
windows at the small speck below, the dot
of rock that was the Martian checkpoint,
Deimos.

"What's up?" an anxious passenger
asked one of the pilots, hurrying through
the ship to check the escape lock.

"We have to land. Keep seated." The
pilot went on.

"Land? But why?" They all looked at
each other. Hovering above the bulging
Inner-Flight ship were three slender Martian
pursuit craft, poised and alert for any
emergency. As the Inner-Flight ship prepared
to land the pursuit ships dropped
lower, carefully maintaining themselves a
short distance away.

"There's something going on," a woman
passenger said nervously. "Lord, I thought
we were finally through with those Martians.
Now what?"

"I don't blame them for giving us one
last going over," a heavy-set business man
said to his companion. "After all, we're
the last ship leaving Mars for Terra. We're
damn lucky they let us go at all."

"You think there really will be war?"
A young man said to the girl sitting in the
seat next to him. "Those Martians won't
dare fight, not with our weapons and ability
to produce. We could take care of Mars in
a month. It's all talk."

The girl glanced at him. "Don't be so
sure. Mars is desperate. They'll fight tooth
and nail. I've been on Mars three years."
She shuddered. "Thank goodness I'm getting
away. If—"

"Prepare to land!" the pilot's voice
came. The ship began to settle slowly, dropping
down toward the tiny emergency field
on the seldom visited moon. Down, down
the ship dropped. There was a grinding
sound, a sickening jolt. Then silence.

"We've landed," the heavy-set business
man said. "They better not do anything to
us! Terra will rip them apart if they violate
one Space Article."

"Please keep your seats," the pilot's voice
came. "No one is to leave the ship, according
to the Martian authorities. We are to
remain here."

A restless stir filled the ship. Some of the
passengers began to read uneasily, others
stared out at the deserted field, nervous and
on edge, watching the three Martian pursuit
ships land and disgorge groups of armed
men.

The Martian soldiers were crossing
the field quickly, moving toward them,
running double time.

This Inner-Flight spaceship was the last
passenger vessel to leave Mars for Terra.
All other ships had long since left, returning
to safety before the outbreak of hostilities.
The passengers were the very last to
go, the final group of Terrans to leave the
grim red planet, business men, expatriates,
tourists, any and all Terrans who had not
already gone home.

"What do you suppose they want?" the
young man said to the girl. "It's hard to
figure Martians out, isn't it? First they give
the ship clearance, let us take off, and now
they radio us to set down again. By the
way, my name's Thacher, Bob Thacher.
Since we're going to be here awhile—"

The port lock opened. Talking ceased
abruptly, as everyone turned. A black-clad
Martian official, a Province Leiter,
stood framed against the bleak sunlight,
staring around the ship. Behind him a
handful of Martian soldiers stood waiting,
their guns ready.

"This will not take long," the Leiter said,
stepping into the ship, the soldiers following
him. "You will be allowed to continue
your trip shortly."

An audible sigh of relief went through
the passengers.

"Look at him," the girl whispered to
Thacher. "How I hate those black uniforms!"

"He's just a Provincial Leiter," Thacher
said. "Don't worry."

The Leiter stood for a moment, his hands
on his hips, looking around at them without
expression. "I have ordered your ship
grounded so that an inspection can be made
of all persons aboard," he said. "You Terrans
are the last to leave our planet. Most
of you are ordinary and harmless— I am
not interested in you. I am interested in
finding three saboteurs, three Terrans, two
men and a woman, who have committed
an incredible act of destruction and violence.
They are said to have fled to this ship."

Murmurs of surprise and indignation
broke out on all sides. The Leiter motioned
the soldiers to follow him up the aisle.

"Two hours ago a Martian city was destroyed.
Nothing remains, only a depression
in the sand where the city was. The city
and all its people have completely vanished.
An entire city destroyed in a second! Mars
will never rest until the saboteurs are captured.
And we know they are aboard this
ship."

"It's impossible," the heavy-set business
man said. "There aren't any saboteurs here."

"We'll begin with you," the Leiter said
to him, stepping up beside the man's seat.
One of the soldiers passed the Leiter a
square metal box. "This will soon tell us
if you're speaking the truth. Stand up. Get
on your feet."

The man rose slowly, flushing. "See
here—"

"Are you involved in the destruction of
the city? Answer!"

The man swallowed angrily. "I know
nothing about any destruction of any city.
And furthermore—"

"He is telling the truth," the metal box
said tonelessly.

"Next person." The Leiter moved down
the aisle.

A thin, bald-headed man stood up nervously.
"No, sir," he said. "I don't know a
thing about it."

"He is telling the truth," the box
affirmed.

"Next person! Stand up!"

One person after another stood, answered,
and sat down again in relief. At
last there were only a few people left who
had not been questioned. The Leiter paused,
studying them intently.

"Only five left. The three must be among
you. We have narrowed it down." His hand
moved to his belt. Something flashed, a
rod of pale fire. He raised the rod, pointing
it steadily at the five people. "All right,
the first one of you. What do you know
about this destruction? Are you involved
with the destruction of our city?"

"No, not at all," the man murmured.

"Yes, he's telling the truth," the box
intoned.

"Next!"

"Nothing— I know nothing. I had nothing
to do with it."

"True," the box said.

The ship was silent. Three people remained,
a middle-aged man and his wife
and their son, a boy of about twelve. They
stood in the corner, staring white-faced at
the Leiter, at the rod in his dark fingers.

"It must be you," the Leiter grated,
moving toward them. The Martian soldiers
raised their guns. "It must be you. You
there, the boy. What do you know about
the destruction of our city? Answer!"

The boy shook his head. "Nothing," he
whispered.

The box was silent for a moment. "He is
telling the truth," it said reluctantly.

"Next!"

"Nothing," the woman muttered. "Nothing."

"The truth."

"Next!"

"I had nothing to do with blowing up
your city," the man said. "You're wasting
your time."

"It is the truth," the box said.

For a long time the Leiter stood, toying
with his rod. At last he pushed it back in his
belt and signalled the soldiers toward the
exit lock.

"You may proceed on your trip," he
said. He walked after the soldiers. At the
hatch he stopped, looking back at the passengers,
his face grim. "You may go— But
Mars will not allow her enemies to escape.
The three saboteurs will be caught, I promise
you." He rubbed his dark jaw thoughtfully.
"It is strange. I was certain they were
on this ship."

Again he looked coldly around at the
Terrans.

"Perhaps I was wrong. All right, proceed!
But remember: the three will be
caught, even if it takes endless years. Mars
will catch them and punish them! I
swear it!"

For a long time no one spoke. The ship
lumbered through space again, its jets
firing evenly, calmly, moving the passengers
toward their own planet, toward home. Behind
them Deimos and the red ball that
was Mars dropped farther and farther away
each moment, disappearing and fading into
the distance.

A sigh of relief passed through the passengers.
"What a lot of hot air that was,"
one grumbled.

"Barbarians!" a woman said.

A few of them stood up, moving out into
the aisle, toward the lounge and the cocktail
bar. Beside Thacher the girl got to her
feet, pulling her jacket around her
shoulders.

"Pardon me," she said, stepping past
him.

"Going to the bar?" Thacher said. "Mind
if I come along?"

"I suppose not."

They followed the others into the lounge,
walking together up the aisle. "You know,"
Thacher said, "I don't even know your
name, yet."

"My name is Mara Gordon."

"Mara? That's a nice name. What part
of Terra are you from? North America?
New York?"

"I've been in New York," Mara said.
"New York is very lovely." She was slender
and pretty, with a cloud of dark hair tumbling
down her neck, against her leather
jacket.

They entered the lounge and stood undecided.

"Let's sit at a table," Mara said, looking
around at the people at the bar, mostly men.
"Perhaps that table over there."

"But someone's there already," Thacher
said. The heavy-set business man had sat
down at the table and deposited his sample
case on the floor. "Do we want to sit with
him?"

"Oh, it's all right," Mara said, crossing
to the table. "May we sit here?" she said to
the man.

The man looked up, half-rising. "It's a
pleasure," he murmured. He studied
Thacher intently. "However, a friend of
mine will be joining me in a moment."

"I'm sure there's room enough for us
all," Mara said. She seated herself and
Thacher helped her with her chair. He sat
down, too, glancing up suddenly at Mara
and the business man. They were looking at
each other almost as if something had passed
between them. The man was middle-aged,
with a florid face and tired, grey eyes. His
hands were mottled with the veins showing
thickly. At the moment he was tapping
nervously.

"My name's Thacher," Thacher said to
him, holding out his hand. "Bob Thacher.
Since we're going to be together for a while
we might as well get to know each other."

The man studied him. Slowly his hand
came out. "Why not? My name's Erickson.
Ralf Erickson."

"Erickson?" Thacher smiled. "You look
like a commercial man, to me." He nodded
toward the sample case on the floor. "Am I
right?"

The man named Erickson started to answer,
but at that moment there was a stir.
A thin man of about thirty had come up to
the table, his eyes bright, staring down at
them warmly. "Well, we're on our way,"
he said to Erickson.

"Hello, Mara." He pulled out a chair and
sat down quickly, folding his hands on the
table before him. He noticed Thacher and
drew back a little. "Pardon me," he murmured.

"Bob Thacher is my name," Thacher said.
"I hope I'm not intruding here." He
glanced around at the three of them, Mara,
alert, watching him intently, heavy-set
Erickson, his face blank, and this person.
"Say, do you three know each other?" he
asked suddenly.

There was silence.

The robot attendant slid over soundlessly,
poised to take their orders. Erickson roused
himself. "Let's see," he murmured. "What
will we have? Mara?"

"Whiskey and water."

"You, Jan?"

The bright slim man smiled. "The same."

"Thacher?"

"Gin and tonic."

"Whiskey and water for me, also," Erickson
said. The robot attendant went off. It
returned at once with the drinks, setting them on
the table. Each took his own. "Well,"
Erickson said, holding his glass up. "To
our mutual success."

All drank, Thacher and the three of
them, heavy-set Erickson, Mara, her
eyes nervous and alert, Jan, who had just
come. Again a look passed between Mara
and Erickson, a look so swift that he would
not have caught it had he not been looking
directly at her.

"What line do you represent, Mr. Erickson?"
Thacher asked.

Erickson glanced at him, then down at
the sample case on the floor. He grunted.
"Well, as you can see, I'm a salesman."

Thacher smiled. "I knew it! You get so
you can always spot a salesman right off by
his sample case. A salesman always has to
carry something to show. What are you in,
sir?"

Erickson paused. He licked his thick lips,
his eyes blank and lidded, like a toad's.
At last he rubbed his mouth with his hand
and reached down, lifting up the sample
case. He set it on the table in front of him.

"Well?" he said. "Perhaps we might even
show Mr. Thacher."

They all stared down at the sample case.
It seemed to be an ordinary leather case,
with a metal handle and a snap lock. "I'm
getting curious," Thacher said. "What's in
there? You're all so tense. Diamonds?
Stolen jewels?"

Jan laughed harshly, mirthlessly. "Erick,
put it down. We're not far enough away,
yet."

"Nonsense," Erick rumbled. "We're
away, Jan."

"Please," Mara whispered. "Wait, Erick."

"Wait? Why? What for? You're so accustomed
to—"

"Erick," Mara said. She nodded toward
Thacher. "We don't know him, Erick.
Please!"

"He's a Terran, isn't he?" Erickson said.
"All Terrans are together in these times."
He fumbled suddenly at the catch lock on
the case. "Yes, Mr. Thacher. I'm a salesman.
We're all salesmen, the three of us."

"Then you do know each other."

"Yes." Erickson nodded. His two companions
sat rigidly, staring down. "Yes, we
do. Here, I'll show you our line."

He opened the case. From it he took a
letter-knife, a pencil sharpener, a glass globe
paperweight, a box of thumb tacks, a
stapler, some clips, a plastic ashtray, and
some things Thacher could not identify.
He placed the objects in a row in front of
him on the table top. Then he closed the
sample case.

"I gather you're in office supplies,"
Thacher said. He touched the letter-knife
with his finger. "Nice quality steel. Looks
like Swedish steel, to me."

Erickson nodded, looking into Thacher's
face. "Not really an impressive business,
is it? Office supplies. Ashtrays, paper clips."
He smiled.

"Oh—" Thacher shrugged. "Why not?
They're a necessity in modern business. The
only thing I wonder—"

"What's that?"

"Well, I wonder how you'd ever find
enough customers on Mars to make it worth
your while." He paused, examining the
glass paperweight. He lifted it up, holding
it to the light, staring at the scene within
until Erickson took it out of his hand and
put it back in the sample case. "And another
thing. If you three know each other,
why did you sit apart when you got on?"

They looked at him quickly.

"And why didn't you speak to each other
until we left Deimos?" He leaned toward
Erickson, smiling at him. "Two men and a
woman. Three of you. Sitting apart in the
ship. Not speaking, not until the check-station
was past. I find myself thinking over
what the Martian said. Three saboteurs. A
woman and two men."

Erickson put the things back in the
sample case. He was smiling, but his face
had gone chalk white. Mara stared down,
playing with a drop of water on the edge
of her glass. Jan clenched his hands together
nervously, blinking rapidly.

"You three are the ones the Leiter was
after," Thacher said softly. "You are the
destroyers, the saboteurs. But their lie detector— Why
didn't it trap you? How did
you get by that? And now you're safe, outside
the check-station." He grinned, staring
around at them. "I'll be damned! And I
really thought you were a salesman, Erickson.
You really fooled me."

Erickson relaxed a little. "Well, Mr.
Thacher, it's in a good cause. I'm sure you
have no love for Mars, either. No Terran
does. And I see you're leaving with the rest
of us."

"True," Thacher said. "You must certainly
have an interesting account to give,
the three of you." He looked around the
table.

"We still have an hour or so of travel.
Sometimes it gets dull, this Mars-Terra run.
Nothing to see, nothing to do but sit and
drink in the lounge." He raised his eyes
slowly. "Any chance you'd like to spin a
story to keep us awake?"

Jan and Mara looked at Erickson. "Go
on," Jan said. "He knows who we are. Tell
him the rest of the story."

"You might as well," Mara said.

Jan let out a sigh suddenly, a sigh of
relief. "Let's put the cards on the table, get
this weight off us. I'm tired of sneaking
around, slipping—"

"Sure," Erickson said expansively. "Why
not?" He settled back in his chair, unbuttoning
his vest. "Certainly, Mr. Thacher. I'll
be glad to spin you a story. And I'm sure
it will be interesting enough to keep you
awake."

They ran through the groves of dead
trees, leaping across the sun-baked
Martian soil, running silently together. They
went up a little rise, across a narrow ridge.
Suddenly Erick stopped, throwing himself
down flat on the ground. The others did
the same, pressing themselves against the
soil, gasping for breath.

"Be silent," Erick muttered. He raised
himself a little. "No noise. There'll be
Leiters nearby, from now on. We don't dare
take any chances."

Between the three people lying in the
grove of dead trees and the City was a
barren, level waste of desert, over a mile of
blasted sand. No trees or bushes marred
the smooth, parched surface. Only an occasional
wind, a dry wind eddying and twisting,
blew the sand up into little rills. A
faint odor came to them, a bitter smell of
heat and sand, carried by the wind.

Erick pointed. "Look. The City— There
it is."

They stared, still breathing deeply from
their race through the trees. The City was
close, closer than they had ever seen it
before. Never had they gotten so close to it
in times past. Terrans were never allowed
near the great Martian cities, the centers of
Martian life. Even in ordinary times, when
there was no threat of approaching war, the
Martians shrewdly kept all Terrans away
from their citadels, partly from fear, partly
from a deep, innate sense of hostility toward
the white-skinned visitors whose commercial
ventures had earned them the respect,
and the dislike, of the whole system.

"How does it look to you?" Erick said.

The City was huge, much larger than
they had imagined from the drawings and
models they had studied so carefully back
in New York, in the War Ministry Office.
Huge it was, huge and stark, black towers
rising up against the sky, incredibly thin
columns of ancient metal, columns that had
stood wind and sun for centuries. Around
the City was a wall of stone, red stone,
immense bricks that had been lugged there
and fitted into place by slaves of the early
Martian dynasties, under the whiplash of
the first great Kings of Mars.

An ancient, sun-baked City, a City set in
the middle of a wasted plain, beyond groves
of dead trees, a City seldom seen by Terrans—but
a City studied on maps and charts in
every War Office on Terra. A City that contained,
for all its ancient stone and archaic
towers, the ruling group of all Mars, the
Council of Senior Leiters, black-clad men
who governed and ruled with an iron hand.

The Senior Leiters, twelve fanatic and
devoted men, black priests, but priests with
flashing rods of fire, lie detectors, rocket
ships, intra-space cannon, many more things
the Terran Senate could only conjecture
about. The Senior Leiters and their subordinate
Province Leiters— Erick and the two
behind him suppressed a shudder.

"We've got to be careful," Erick said
again. "We'll be passing among them, soon.
If they guess who we are, or what we're
here for—"

He snapped open the case he carried,
glancing inside for a second. Then he closed
it again, grasping the handle firmly. "Let's
go," he said. He stood up slowly. "You two
come up beside me. I want to make sure
you look the way you should."

Mara and Jan stepped quickly ahead.
Erick studied them critically as the
three of them walked slowly down the
slope, onto the plain, toward the towering
black spires of the City.

"Jan," Erick said. "Take hold of her
hand! Remember, you're going to marry
her; she's your bride. And Martian peasants
think a lot of their brides."

Jan was dressed in the short trousers and
coat of the Martian farmer, a knotted rope
tied around his waist, a hat on his head to
keep off the sun. His skin was dark, colored
by dye until it was almost bronze.

"You look fine," Erick said to him. He
glanced at Mara. Her black hair was tied
in a knot, looped through a hollowed-out
yuke bone. Her face was dark, too, dark
and lined with colored ceremonial pigment,
green and orange stripes across her cheeks.
Earrings were strung through her ears. On
her feet were tiny slippers of perruh hide,
laced around her ankles, and she wore long
translucent Martian trousers with a bright
sash tied around her waist. Between her
small breasts a chain of stone beads rested,
good-luck charms for the coming marriage.

"All right," Erick said. He, himself, wore
the flowing grey robe of a Martian priest,
dirty robes that were supposed to remain on
him all his life, to be buried around him
when he died. "I think we'll get past the
guards. There should be heavy morning
traffic on the road."

They walked on, the hard sand crunching
under their feet. Against the horizon they
could see specks moving, other persons
going toward the City, farmers and peasants
and merchants, bringing their crops and goods
to market.

"See the cart!" Mara exclaimed.

They were nearing a narrow road, two
ruts worn into the sand. A Martian hufa
was pulling the cart, its great sides wet with
perspiration, its tongue hanging out. The
cart was piled high with bales of cloth,
rough country cloth, hand dipped. A bent
farmer urged the hufa on.

"And there." She pointed, smiling.

A group of merchants riding small animals
were moving along behind the cart,
Martians in long robes, their faces hidden
by sand masks. On each animal was a pack,
carefully tied on with rope. And beyond the
merchants, plodding dully along, were
peasants and farmers in an endless procession,
some riding carts or animals, but
mostly on foot.

Mara and Jan and Erick joined the line
of people, melting in behind the merchants.
No one noticed them; no one looked up or
gave any sign. The march continued as before.
Neither Jan nor Mara said anything to
each other. They walked a little behind
Erick, who paced with a certain dignity, a
certain bearing becoming his position.

Once he slowed down, pointing up at
the sky. "Look," he murmured, in the Martian
hill dialect. "See that?"

Two black dots circled lazily. Martian
patrol craft, the military on the outlook for
any sign of unusual activity. War was
almost ready to break out with Terra. Any
day, almost any moment.

"We'll be just in time," Erick said.
"Tomorrow will be too late. The last ship
will have left Mars."

"I hope nothing stops us," Mara said.
"I want to get back home when we're
through."

Half an hour passed. They neared the
City, the wall growing as they walked,
rising higher and higher until it seemed to
blot out the sky itself. A vast wall, a wall
of eternal stone that had felt the wind and
sun for centuries. A group of Martian
soldiers were standing at the entrance, the
single passage-gate hewn into the rock,
leading to the City. As each person went
through the soldiers examined him, poking
his garments, looking into his load.

Erick tensed. The line had slowed almost
to a halt. "It'll be our turn, soon," he murmured.
"Be prepared."

"Let's hope no Leiters come around,"
Jan said. "The soldiers aren't so bad."

Mara was staring up at the wall and the
towers beyond. Under their feet the ground
trembled, vibrating and shaking. She could
see tongues of flame rising from the towers,
from the deep underground factories and
forges of the City. The air was thick and
dense with particles of soot. Mara rubbed
her mouth, coughing.

"Here they come," Erick said softly.

The merchants had been examined and
allowed to pass through the dark gate, the
entrance through the wall into the City.
They and their silent animals had already
disappeared inside. The leader of the group
of soldiers was beckoning impatiently to
Erick, waving him on.

"Come along!" he said. "Hurry up there,
old man."

Erick advanced slowly, his arms wrapped
around his body, looking down at the
ground.

"Who are you and what's your business
here?" the soldier demanded, his hands on
his hips, his gun hanging idly at his waist.
Most of the soldiers were lounging lazily,
leaning against the wall, some even squatting
in the shade. Flies crawled on the face
of one who had fallen asleep, his gun on
the ground beside him.

"My business?" Erick murmured. "I am
a village priest."

"Why do you want to enter the City?"

"I must bring these two people before
the magistrate to marry them." He indicated
Mara and Jan, standing a little behind him.
"That is the Law the Leiters have made."

The soldier laughed. He circled around
Erick. "What do you have in that bag you
carry?"

"Laundry. We stay the night."

"What village are you from?"

"Kranos."

"Kranos?" The soldier looked to a companion.
"Ever heard of Kranos?"

"A backward pig sty. I saw it once on a
hunting trip."

The leader of the soldiers nodded to Jan
and Mara. The two of them advanced, their
hands clasped, standing close together. One
of the soldiers put his hand on Mara's bare
shoulder, turning her around.

"Nice little wife you're getting," he said.
"Good and firm-looking." He winked,
grinning lewdly.

Jan glanced at him in sullen resentment.
The soldiers guffawed. "All right," the
leader said to Erick. "You people can pass."

Erick took a small purse from his robes
and gave the soldier a coin. Then the three
of them went into the dark tunnel that was
the entrance, passing through the wall of
stone, into the City beyond.

They were within the City!

"Now," Erick whispered. "Hurry."

Around them the City roared and cracked,
the sound of a thousand vents and machines,
shaking the stones under their feet. Erick
led Mara and Jan into a corner, by a row
of brick warehouses. People were everywhere,
hurrying back and forth, shouting
above the din, merchants, peddlers, soldiers,
street women. Erick bent down and opened
the case he carried. From the case he quickly
took three small coils of fine metal, intricate
meshed wires and vanes worked together
into a small cone. Jan took one and Mara
took one. Erick put the remaining cone into
his robe and snapped the case shut again.

"Now remember, the coils must be buried
in such a way that the line runs through the
center of the City. We must trisect the main
section, where the largest concentration of
buildings is. Remember the maps! Watch
the alleys and streets carefully. Talk to no
one if you can help it. Each of you has
enough Martian money to buy your way out
of trouble. Watch especially for cut-purses,
and for heaven's sake, don't get lost."

Erick broke off. Two black-clad Leiters
were coming along the inside of the
wall, strolling together with their hands
behind their backs. They noticed the three
who stood in the corner by the warehouses
and stopped.

"Go," Erick muttered. "And be back here
at sundown." He smiled grimly. "Or never
come back."

Each went off a different way, walking
quickly without looking back. The Leiters
watched them go. "The little bride was
quite lovely," one Leiter said. "Those hill
people have the stamp of nobility in their
blood, from the old times."

"A very lucky young peasant to possess
her," the other said. They went on. Erick
looked after them, still smiling a little. Then
he joined the surging mass of people that
milled eternally through the streets of the
City.

At dusk they met outside the gate. The
sun was soon to set, and the air had turned
thin and frigid. It cut through their clothing
like knives.

Mara huddled against Jan, trembling and
rubbing her bare arms.

"Well?" Erick said. "Did you both succeed?"

Around them peasants and merchants
were pouring from the entrance, leaving the
City to return to their farms and villages,
starting the long trip back across the plain
toward the hills beyond. None of them
noticed the shivering girl and the young
man and the old priest standing by the wall.

"Mine's in place," Jan said. "On the
other side of the City, on the extreme edge.
Buried by a well."

"Mine's in the industrial section," Mara
whispered, her teeth chattering. "Jan, give
me something to put over me! I'm
freezing."

"Good," Erick said. "Then the three coils
should trisect dead center, if the models
were correct." He looked up at the darkening
sky. Already, stars were beginning to
show. Two dots, the evening patrol, moved
slowly toward the horizon. "Let's hurry. It
won't be long."

They joined the line of Martians moving
along the road, away from the City. Behind
them the City was losing itself in the
sombre tones of night, its black spires disappearing
into darkness.

They walked silently with the country
people until the flat ridge of dead trees
became visible on the horizon. Then they
left the road and turned off, walking
toward the trees.

"Almost time!" Erick said. He increased
his pace, looking back at Jan and Mara
impatiently.

"Come on!"

They hurried, making their way through
the twilight, stumbling over rocks and dead
branches, up the side of the ridge. At the
top Erick halted, standing with his hands on
his hips, looking back.

"See," he murmured. "The City. The last
time we'll ever see it this way."

"Can I sit down?" Mara said. "My feet
hurt me."

Jan pulled at Erick's sleeve. "Hurry,
Erick! Not much time left." He laughed
nervously. "If everything goes right we'll be
able to look at it—forever."

"But not like this," Erick murmured. He
squatted down, snapping his case open. He
took some tubes and wiring out and assembled
them together on the ground, at
the peak of the ridge. A small pyramid of
wire and plastic grew, shaped by his expert
hands.

At last he grunted, standing up. "All
right."

"Is it pointed directly at the City?" Mara
asked anxiously, looking down at the
pyramid.

Erick nodded. "Yes, it's placed according—"
He stopped, suddenly stiffening.
"Get back! It's time! Hurry!"

Jan ran, down the far side of the slope,
away from the City, pulling Mara with him.
Erick came quickly after, still looking back
at the distant spires, almost lost in the night
sky.

"Down."

Jan sprawled out, Mara beside him, her
trembling body pressed against his. Erick
settled down into the sand and dead
branches, still trying to see. "I want to see
it," he murmured. "A miracle. I want to
see—"

A flash, a blinding burst of violet light,
lit up the sky. Erick clapped his hands over
his eyes. The flash whitened, growing
larger, expanding. Suddenly there was a
roar, and a furious hot wind rushed past
him, throwing him on his face in the sand.
The hot dry wind licked and seared at
them, crackling the bits of branches into
flame. Mara and Jan shut their eyes, pressed
tightly together.

"God—" Erick muttered.

The storm passed. They opened their
eyes slowly. The sky was still alive with
fire, a drifting cloud of sparks that was
beginning to dissipate with the night wind.
Erick stood up unsteadily, helping Jan and
Mara to their feet. The three of them stood,
staring silently across the dark waste, the
black plain, none of them speaking.

The City was gone.

At last Erick turned away. "That part's
done," he said. "Now the rest! Give me a
hand, Jan. There'll be a thousand patrol
ships around here in a minute."

"I see one already," Mara said, pointing
up. A spot winked in the sky, a rapidly
moving spot. "They're coming, Erick."
There was a throb of chill fear in her voice.

"I know." Erick and Jan squatted on the
ground around the pyramid of tubes and
plastic, pulling the pyramid apart. The
pyramid was fused, fused together like
molten glass. Erick tore the pieces away
with trembling fingers. From the remains
of the pyramid he pulled something forth,
something he held up high, trying to make
it out in the darkness. Jan and Mara came
close to see, both staring up intently, almost
without breathing.

"There it is," Erick said. "There!"

In his hand was a globe, a small transparent
globe of glass. Within the glass
something moved, something minute and
fragile, spires almost too small to be seen,
microscopic, a complex web swimming
within the hollow glass globe. A web of
spires. A City.

Erick put the globe into the case and
snapped it shut. "Let's go," he said. They
began to lope back through the trees, back
the way they had come before. "We'll
change in the car," he said as they ran.
"I think we should keep these clothes on
until we're actually inside the car. We still
might encounter someone."

"I'll be glad to get my own clothing on
again," Jan said. "I feel funny in these little
pants."

"How do you think I feel?" Mara
gasped. "I'm freezing in this, what there
is of it."

"All young Martian brides dress that
way," Erick said. He clutched the case
tightly as they ran. "I think it looks fine."

"Thank you," Mara said, "but it is cold."

"What do you suppose they'll think?"
Jan asked. "They'll assume the City was
destroyed, won't they? That's certain."

"Yes," Erick said. "They'll be sure it
was blown up. We can count on that. And
it will be damn important to us that they
think so!"

"The car should be around here, someplace,"
Mara said, slowing down.

"No. Farther on," Erick said. "Past that
little hill over there. In the ravine, by the
trees. It's so hard to see where we are."

"Shall I light something?" Jan said.

"No. There may be patrols around
who—"

He halted abruptly. Jan and Mara stopped
beside him. "What—" Mara began.

A light glimmered. Something stirred in
the darkness. There was a sound.

"Quick!" Erick rasped. He dropped,
throwing the case far away from him, into
the bushes. He straightened up tensely.

A figure loomed up, moving through the
darkness, and behind it came more figures,
men, soldiers in uniform. The light flashed
up brightly, blinding them. Erick closed
his eyes. The light left him, touching Mara
and Jan, standing silently together, clasping
hands. Then it flicked down to the
ground and around in a circle.

A Leiter stepped forward, a tall figure
in black, with his soldiers close behind him,
their guns ready. "You three," the Leiter
said. "Who are you? Don't move. Stand
where you are."

He came up to Erick, peering at him intently,
his hard Martian face without expression.
He went all around Erick, examining
his robes, his sleeves.

"Please—" Erick began in a quavering
voice, but the Leiter cut him off.

"I'll do the talking. Who are you three?
What are you doing here? Speak up."

"We—we are going back to our village,"
Erick muttered, staring down, his
hands folded. "We were in the City, and
now we are going home."

One of the soldiers spoke into a mouthpiece.
He clicked it off and put it away.

"Come with me," the Leiter said. "We're
taking you in. Hurry along."

"In? Back to the City?"

One of the soldiers laughed. "The City
is gone," he said. "All that's left of it you
can put in the palm of your hand."

"But what happened?" Mara said.

"No one knows. Come on, hurry it up!"

There was a sound. A soldier came
quickly out of the darkness. "A Senior
Leiter," he said. "Coming this way." He
disappeared again.

"A Senior Leiter." The soldiers stood
waiting, standing at a respectful
attention. A moment later the Senior Leiter
stepped into the light, a black-clad old man,
his ancient face thin and hard, like a bird's,
eyes bright and alert. He looked from
Erick to Jan.

"Who are these people?" he demanded.

"Villagers going back home."

"No, they're not. They don't stand like
villagers. Villagers slump—diet, poor food.
These people are not villagers. I myself
came from the hills, and I know."

He stepped close to Erick, looking keenly
into his face. "Who are you? Look at his
chin—he never shaved with a sharpened
stone! Something is wrong here."

In his hand a rod of pale fire flashed.
"The City is gone, and with it at least half
the Leiter Council. It is very strange, a
flash, then heat, and a wind. But it was not
fission. I am puzzled. All at once the City
has vanished. Nothing is left but a depression
in the sand."

"We'll take them in," the other Leiter
said. "Soldiers, surround them. Make
certain that—"

"Run!" Erick cried. He struck out,
knocking the rod from the Senior Leiter's
hand. They were all running, soldiers shouting,
flashing their lights, stumbling against
each other in the darkness. Erick dropped
to his knees, groping frantically in the
bushes. His fingers closed over the handle
of the case and he leaped up. In Terran he
shouted to Mara and Jan.

"Hurry! To the car! Run!" He set off,
down the slope, stumbling through the
darkness. He could hear soldiers behind
him, soldiers running and falling. A body
collided against him and he struck out.
Someplace behind him there was a hiss, and
a section of the slope went up in flames.
The Leiter's rod—

"Erick," Mara cried from the darkness.
He ran toward her. Suddenly he slipped,
falling on a stone. Confusion and firing.
The sound of excited voices.

"Erick, is that you?" Jan caught hold of
him, helping him up. "The car. It's over
here. Where's Mara?"

"I'm here," Mara's voice came. "Over
here, by the car."

A light flashed. A tree went up in a puff
of fire, and Erick felt the singe of the heat
against his face. He and Jan made their
way toward the girl. Mara's hand caught
his in the darkness.

"Now the car," Erick said. "If they
haven't got to it." He slid down the slope
into the ravine, fumbling in the darkness,
reaching and holding onto the handle of the
case. Reaching, reaching—

He touched something cold and smooth.
Metal, a metal door handle. Relief flooded
through him. "I've found it! Jan, get inside.
Mara, come on." He pushed Jan past him,
into the car. Mara slipped in after Jan, her
small agile body crowding in beside him.

"Stop!" a voice shouted from above.
"There's no use hiding in that ravine. We'll
get you! Come up and—"

The sound of voices was drowned out by
the roar of the car's motor. A moment later
they shot into the darkness, the car rising
into the air. Treetops broke and cracked
under them as Erick turned the car from
side to side, avoiding the groping shafts of
pale light from below, the last furious
thrusts from the two Leiters and their soldiers.

Then they were away, above the trees,
high in the air, gaining speed each moment,
leaving the knot of Martians far behind.

"Toward Marsport," Jan said to Erick.
"Right?"

Erick nodded. "Yes. We'll land outside
the field, in the hills. We can change back
to our regular clothing there, our commercial
clothing. Damn it—we'll be lucky if
we can get there in time for the ship."

"The last ship," Mara whispered, her
chest rising and falling. "What if we don't
get there in time?"

Erick looked down at the leather case in
his lap. "We'll have to get there," he
murmured. "We must!"

For a long time there was silence.
Thacher stared at Erickson. The older
man was leaning back in his chair, sipping
a little of his drink. Mara and Jan were
silent.

"So you didn't destroy the City,"
Thacher said. "You didn't destroy it at all.
You shrank it down and put it in a glass
globe, in a paperweight. And now you're
salesmen again, with a sample case of office
supplies!"

Erickson smiled. He opened the briefcase
and reaching into it he brought out the glass
globe paperweight. He held it up, looking
into it. "Yes, we stole the City from the
Martians. That's how we got by the lie
detector. It was true that we knew nothing
about a destroyed City."

"But why?" Thacher said. "Why steal a
City? Why not merely bomb it?"

"Ransom," Mara said fervently, gazing
into the globe, her dark eyes bright. "Their
biggest City, half of their Council—in
Erick's hand!"

"Mars will have to do what Terra asks,"
Erickson said. "Now Terra will be able to
make her commercial demands felt. Maybe
there won't even be a war. Perhaps Terra
will get her way without fighting." Still
smiling, he put the globe back into the
briefcase and locked it.

"Quite a story," Thacher said. "What an
amazing process, reduction of size— A
whole City reduced to microscopic dimensions.
Amazing. No wonder you were able
to escape. With such daring as that, no one
could hope to stop you."

He looked down at the briefcase on the
floor. Underneath them the jets murmured
and vibrated evenly, as the ship moved
through space toward distant Terra.

"We still have quite a way to go," Jan
said. "You've heard our story, Thacher.
Why not tell us yours? What sort of line
are you in? What's your business?"

"Yes," Mara said. "What do you do?"

"What do I do?" Thacher said. "Well,
if you like, I'll show you." He reached into
his coat and brought out something. Something
that flashed and glinted, something
slender. A rod of pale fire.

The three stared at it. Sickened shock
settled over them slowly.

Thacher held the rod loosely, calmly,
pointing it at Erickson. "We knew you three
were on this ship," he said. "There was no
doubt of that. But we did not know what
had become of the City. My theory was
that the City had not been destroyed at all,
that something else had happened to it.
Council instruments measured a sudden loss
of mass in that area, a decrease equal to the
mass of the City. Somehow the City had
been spirited away, not destroyed. But I
could not convince the other Council Leiters
of it. I had to follow you alone."

Thacher turned a little, nodding to the
men sitting at the bar. The men rose at
once, coming toward the table.

"A very interesting process you have.
Mars will benefit a great deal from it. Perhaps
it will even turn the tide in our favor.
When we return to Marsport I wish to
begin work on it at once. And now, if you
will please pass me the briefcase—"