Old Mars

I know. But if there’s a landing field, it stands to reason that there’s a hangar. Why leave the flyer out where anyone can see it?

I’ll look. I wonder if they even had flyers back then.

And a moment later came the answer.

No luck.

All right. It was worth a try.

“Has this city we’re heading to got a name?” Scorpio asked the Martian.

“It has had several,” said Quedipai. “In the days of the Krang rulers, it was Melafona. Later, during the Sixth Pleistar Dynasty, it became Bechitil. And its last name, before it was sacked a little over five centuries ago, was Rastipotal.” He sighed. “And today it has no name at all. Even when it appears on maps, it is designated only as the abandoned ruin of a deserted city.”

“Given the area it covers, it looks like it might have held half a million people, maybe more,” said Scorpio.

“It did once,” confirmed the Martian.

“Why has it been standing empty for the last few centuries? Did the populace get tired of being sacked?”

“You know very little of Martian history, Scorpion,” said Quedipai.

“I skipped that course of studies,” said Scorpio.

You skipped school entirely.

“The war of five centuries ago is known informally as the Germ War,” said Quedipai. “It was fought not with guns and explosives, not with heat rays and sonic weapons, but with living viruses that wiped out entire populations. And those that didn’t die were genetically mutated. They produced a generation of malformed monsters, and there was a planetary purge of them.” His face tensed. “It is the era of which almost every Martian is least proud.”

“I can see why,” said Scorpio. “Well, that explains why the city is empty … if it is.”

“There is no way to find out, short of landing and exploring it,” said the Martian.

“Merlin will tell us,” said Scorpio. “It would be nice if something was living there—a Martian, a duxbollah, something.”

Quedipai frowned in puzzlement. “Why?”

“I’d like some physical proof that the virus that wiped out the city is gone, or dead, or so weak it can’t harm whatever’s living here.”

“It is safe,” said the Martian. “Its art treasures reside in the museum that is associated with my university. Somebody was able to procure them and bring them back unharmed.”

“For all you know, they were removed before the virus was unleashed, or possibly they were collected by men … well, Martians … in protective suits.”

“Then perhaps we should stay in the Crater, as I originally wanted.”

“We’ll decide when the time comes,” answered Scorpio.

They soon were cruising low over the city, looking for a likely landing spot, and Scorpio found one right in the city center. He set the flyer down gently, killed the lights and motor, sat still for a few moments, and finally turned to Merlin.

Well?

I don’t think—began the Venusian. Then he suddenly tensed. Wait! We’re in luck!

What is it?

Merlin frowned as he concentrated. Three thieves, on the run from the law.

Martians?

Two from Titan, and an Earthman.

How long have they been hiding here?

Six days.

And they’re still healthy? Okay, we can leave the flyer.

“Looks a little like Pompeii, or maybe that deserted city on Mercury’s dark side,” commented Scorpio, staring at their surroundings.

“If you say so,” replied Quedipai. “I have never been off the planet.”

“It’s an interesting solar system,” said Scorpio. “You should try to see some of it.”

“We each have our passions. Mine is—”

“I know,” Scorpio interrupted. “Merlin, how close are they?”

“They?” repeated the Martian uneasily.

“Three outlaws, hiding from the authorities,” answered Scorpio.

“Is it safe?”

“They’ve been here long enough to prove that the city’s probably safe from any virus. Whether we’re safe from them is another matter.”

“Perhaps we should stay in the ship,” suggested Quedipai uneasily.

“They know where we are. I’d like to know where they are too.” He turned to the Venusian. “How about it, Merlin?”

I’m trying to pinpoint them. It’s more difficult with Titanians than with most races.

“I’ve been sitting here long enough,” said Scorpio, opening the hatch and jumping down to the ground. He helped Quedipai down, then stood aside as Merlin leaped out and landed lightly.

I love this gravity, thought the Venusian.

“Avast there!” cried a human voice.

“Avast?” repeated Scorpio, half-smiling. “Do people still say ‘Avast’?”

“Who are you and what’s your business here?” continued the voice.