and scout around this area. See if you can pick up anything more. This is really important!”
Arpad and Bruce hurried out of the tent. Together they walked slowly around the plain in which their space ship stood. They would pause every so often, get down on hands and knees and sift through the loose rocks and sandy spots. For a while they found nothing more, until Bruce had worked his way to the area in which their ship had first come down, where their runners had carved a path.
He saw now that some of the larger rocks were strangely angular. Pushing some around, he noticed more. Calling Arpad, they explored the area thoroughly. There were many such angular rocks, and now in several spots they noticed that one or two such were still perched on top of others. Bruce found a little piece of reddish stuff, plastic of some sort, probably part of a machine, though he couldn’t place it.
Arpad turned up some bits of broken material which looked like splinters of a smashed vase or pot.
When they came back to Garcia, and sat around and discussed their findings, they knew they had come across one of the most amazing discoveries in interplanetary history. Clearly there had once been a city standing in this plain on Mimas. A city that had crumbled into ruin and dust probably hundreds of thousands of years ago—and a city that defied all the logic of life.
Garcia explained this, “How could life survive here? There could never have been enough air here, even when this satellite was new and still hot from its creation. My guess is that this city was a colony planted from somewhere else. But where and who could it have been that was here so many lost ages ago—back before there were even men on Earth, in the era when the dinosaur and the lizard were the highest forms of life back home?”
For a moment their discoveries had erased their thoughts of the missing engineer. But now it was Bruce's turn to take over the radio watch, and instantly their worries returned. The radio had been silent for three hours now.
For the next twenty-four measured hours, one of them kept the watch, while the other two continued the exploration of the mysterious ruins. They no longer forgot their problem. As each hour passed, deeper and deeper dread filled Bruce’s heart. Arpad was silent, lost in thought, and Garcia would make efforts at being cheery, but nobody responded.
The mapping of the city continued. There was very little substantial material left. The ages that had passed, even in the eternal quiet and preservation of airlessness, had reduced everything to near dust. They found a few more objects, bits of junk, pieces of broken jars, the sort of odd junk one might find on the fringes of an old trash heap. Everything they found was made of the same sort of plastic substance. In one or two cases there were fragments of rust that blew away at the touch. It was Garcia’s theory that by accident this one plastic substance the ancient inhabitants had used was the nearest to permanence. It alone had survived the passage of the millions of years.
Of the nature of the builders, there was no hint. The knife handle, though smaller than a man would build, might have fitted a midget’s palm, but that was the only clue.
Finally, after they had finished a meal together in the ship, and gone back to the tent in their space suits for a turn at the radio, they sat around in discussion.
The radio was still dead. Garcia looked at the two young hands, his face very grim. We’ve got to decide what to do now. Our time is running out, we’ve but a few dozen more hours before we will have to leave— or else we will never leave during our lifetimes. Dr. Rhodes may still be alive; he has food and air for another day, a little more if he is careful. But we can’t afford to wait. We must decide now.”
Bruce said quietly, “We have the other space boat. I think we should use it to go after my father’s
Arpad and Bruce hurried out of the tent. Together they walked slowly around the plain in which their space ship stood. They would pause every so often, get down on hands and knees and sift through the loose rocks and sandy spots. For a while they found nothing more, until Bruce had worked his way to the area in which their ship had first come down, where their runners had carved a path.
He saw now that some of the larger rocks were strangely angular. Pushing some around, he noticed more. Calling Arpad, they explored the area thoroughly. There were many such angular rocks, and now in several spots they noticed that one or two such were still perched on top of others. Bruce found a little piece of reddish stuff, plastic of some sort, probably part of a machine, though he couldn’t place it.
Arpad turned up some bits of broken material which looked like splinters of a smashed vase or pot.
When they came back to Garcia, and sat around and discussed their findings, they knew they had come across one of the most amazing discoveries in interplanetary history. Clearly there had once been a city standing in this plain on Mimas. A city that had crumbled into ruin and dust probably hundreds of thousands of years ago—and a city that defied all the logic of life.
Garcia explained this, “How could life survive here? There could never have been enough air here, even when this satellite was new and still hot from its creation. My guess is that this city was a colony planted from somewhere else. But where and who could it have been that was here so many lost ages ago—back before there were even men on Earth, in the era when the dinosaur and the lizard were the highest forms of life back home?”
For a moment their discoveries had erased their thoughts of the missing engineer. But now it was Bruce's turn to take over the radio watch, and instantly their worries returned. The radio had been silent for three hours now.
For the next twenty-four measured hours, one of them kept the watch, while the other two continued the exploration of the mysterious ruins. They no longer forgot their problem. As each hour passed, deeper and deeper dread filled Bruce’s heart. Arpad was silent, lost in thought, and Garcia would make efforts at being cheery, but nobody responded.
The mapping of the city continued. There was very little substantial material left. The ages that had passed, even in the eternal quiet and preservation of airlessness, had reduced everything to near dust. They found a few more objects, bits of junk, pieces of broken jars, the sort of odd junk one might find on the fringes of an old trash heap. Everything they found was made of the same sort of plastic substance. In one or two cases there were fragments of rust that blew away at the touch. It was Garcia’s theory that by accident this one plastic substance the ancient inhabitants had used was the nearest to permanence. It alone had survived the passage of the millions of years.
Of the nature of the builders, there was no hint. The knife handle, though smaller than a man would build, might have fitted a midget’s palm, but that was the only clue.
Finally, after they had finished a meal together in the ship, and gone back to the tent in their space suits for a turn at the radio, they sat around in discussion.
The radio was still dead. Garcia looked at the two young hands, his face very grim. We’ve got to decide what to do now. Our time is running out, we’ve but a few dozen more hours before we will have to leave— or else we will never leave during our lifetimes. Dr. Rhodes may still be alive; he has food and air for another day, a little more if he is careful. But we can’t afford to wait. We must decide now.”
Bruce said quietly, “We have the other space boat. I think we should use it to go after my father’s
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