diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-04 11:11:01 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-04 11:11:01 -0800 |
| commit | f5ebd099ea8de2a08648a884bc47f853f4a609e6 (patch) | |
| tree | 33f604030c9d5e747d51b69308f9abc6588daa7d | |
| parent | 7c76e6cba630a5a00b487e56d72957c02f75f84e (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63751-0.txt | 1661 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63751-0.zip | bin | 32783 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63751-h.zip | bin | 405193 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63751-h/63751-h.htm | 1749 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63751-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 232305 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63751-h/images/illus.jpg | bin | 139495 -> 0 bytes |
9 files changed, 17 insertions, 3410 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65590f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63751 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63751) diff --git a/old/63751-0.txt b/old/63751-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7c934c3..0000000 --- a/old/63751-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1661 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Derelict, by William J. Matthews - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: The Derelict - -Author: William J. Matthews - -Release Date: December 05, 2020 [EBook #63751] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DERELICT *** - - - - - THE DERELICT - - BY WILLIAM J. MATTHEWS - - The end of the trail ... he knew it, she knew - it, old Hanu knew it and so Jeff Thorne - stumbled off into the Martian desert--to die. - But death takes strange forms out there.... - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Fall 1946. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Geoffrey Thorne was "on the beach." Face down on it, in fact, head and -shoulders deep in the brackish eddies of the slowly rising tide, the -sluggish waters of the North Nergal Polar cap. And it was odds he would -die there miserably in his drunken stupor, had not there come a sudden -interruption of the t'ang-ridden miasm in which he lay. - -A sibilant rush of feet dashed across the worn Martian sand, splashed -into the shallows, and Thorne felt quick, vital hands snatch and roll -him face up, slapping a dull sensitivity into his addled wits. He shook -his head dazedly, realized his predicament, and feebly struggled to -rise. It was beyond his power. - -With a snort of disgust, his rescuers caught him under the arms and -dragged him unceremoniously backward. Once clear enough of the dull -waters rolling languidly upon the low, hot beach, he let go and Thorne -sat down heavily in the sand. - -"I'd call that a waste of effort," a well-fed voice coldly observed. - -"Paul, please!" replied a woman's softer voice. Thorne shook his head -viciously, raised himself on one arm, and sought to focus his blurred -vision on the group facing him. - -There were a dozen or so, well-dressed, well-fed, bright with color -and metal in the sunshine. Tourists. He looked up at the young petty -officer of International who had dragged him from the water. There was -a pained look of weary resignation on the clean-cut young face as he -turned to his temporary charges. - -"I must apologize, ladies and gentlemen. This bit of local color was -unscheduled. It happens occasionally on the inner planets. Conditions -grow too rigorous and a man--uh--goes down." - -Thorne laughed, a dreadful, choked hacking that set the fluttering -tourists back a step or two in sheer fright. - -"A man goes down, kid." He rubbed his eyes and leered at them. "Damned -far down that you show him off like a Martian." - -The officer of International Airways, Inc., winced and then added, to -his group, "He's right, you know. Privacy's about all that's left up -here on this station. Shall we go on? There are the caves I promised to -show you, farther along." - -He moved up the beach, the tourists straggling after him, still -looking back at the dejected figure of Thorne half-lying, half-sitting -in the hot sand. Their voices came drifting back upon his throbbing -consciousness. - -"But, Mr. Atlee," a woman's voice urged, "we can't just leave him there -like that. Mightn't he drown?" - -"The tide doesn't come much higher, Miss Thurland. He'll be all right. -Once out of that coma, he won't drop into it again for a day or two, -unless he gets more t'ang." - -"What is this t'ang, Mr. Atlee?" another woman asked. "A Martian drink?" - -"Yes, it is. High explosive ... and one drink wrecks a man for life. -They never get it out of their systems, and they don't much care. -It's like the opium off Jupiter, only worse. They'd kill for it. -Fortunately, they can't get it any too easily--but it's not fortunate -for poor devils like Thorne." - -They were gone, then. The last had vanished in the misty haze spun by -the blazing sunshine on the northern rocks. Heading for the Vulhan -caves farther along no doubt. Rock crystals and ancient weapons -from some forgotten battle there for the picking up, glittering -gew-gaws to pleasure lazy, personally-conducted school-teachers and -insurance-brokers on holiday. A crooked grin twisted Thorne's lips. It -hadn't been so easy a few years ago. - -It had been hard. Too hard for Jeff Thorne. - -Well, there was always t'ang. - - * * * * * - -He heaved himself up, shook the sand from his ragged clothes, and -lurched unsteadily to the water's edge. Kneeling, he splashed the cool, -brackish stuff on his muddy face, his swollen hands. He was running -them listlessly through his dark hair, trying to conquer its wild -disorder, when a sound behind him brought him about with an oath. His -brows darkened. - -"You're missing the show at the Caves," he pointed out, a sneer in his -rasping voice. "Or do you prefer this?" He waved rudely at the hot -sand, the dulling ripples, the low, pulpy vegetation crowning the long -slope up the beach. - -The girl watched him steadily, her hands tight upon a small red and -white bag, and under her grave, slow regard a dull flush crept along -his cheek-bones to lose itself in the stubby tangle of beard. The dark -blue eyes were soft and thoughtful and more than a little sad. Mirrored -in them, for the first time in many months, Thorne saw for a moment -what he had become and the flush died away in a gray-white pallor. It -was not pleasant. - -"You--are Mr. Geoffrey Thorne?" she asked. The rich tones of her voice -sent a tingle through the hapless derelict of the void. How long since -he had heard a woman say "Mister Thorne"? How long since he had heard -a woman so much as address him? His crooked grin returned. "My name -is ... Jeff Thorne, Miss," he replied. - -She smiled in answer, a smile only slightly less awry. "You don't know -me, Mr. Thorne. I'm Helen Thurland. A friend of mine, Nancy Bertrand, -was once stewardess on your Venus-Titan run. She thought the world of -you." - -"Then I'm glad she didn't accompany you," Thorne rasped. He plunged -raggedly up the slope toward the inviting shade of the floppy vegetable -trees cresting the rise. "Get out of that sun, girl. It's hotter than -you think." - -In silent obedience she followed, but he turned at the top to lower at -her. "Is Miss Bertrand at Vulhan City?" he demanded. "If she is, and -you bring her here to look at ... at me...." - -The girl looked down at the glittering sunlight on the sea. "Nancy -isn't at the City." - -He sighed gustily with relief. "I thought plenty of her myself," he -admitted, slumping down against a thick tree-trunk. "The best I...." He -paused; then looked out to sea himself, fingering his whiskers. - -"The best stewardess you ever had," she completed. Taking off the huge, -floppy hat affected by tourists in the Martian heat, she looked down -thoughtfully at him. - -"She's dead, you know." - -He stiffened, "Nancy?" - -"Yes. A meteor in the tubes, they said. And the pilot couldn't land -anywhere but on Io--and not good even there. There weren't many left. -She's buried there, by a little green lake. I went there first this -spring. I--I wish I hadn't. And just now, when Mr. Atlee named you, I -thought of a space-pilot who wouldn't have left those stones on Io. The -best pilot International ever had." - -His lean, dirty fingers wrung aimlessly together. His heel ploughed a -recurrent furrow in the shadows. "That pilot is as dead--as Nancy. Poor -little kid." He gnawed his lip. It would not do to go maudlin. Not now. - -"You are Geoffrey Thorne, International?" she insisted, sitting on a -fallen trunk and dropping her hat at her side. Leaning forward, she -watched his pallor darken. "You are the pilot who pioneered the Jupiter -and Pluto runs, who rescued the Argonaut expedition, who broke up the -Wind River and Merton gangs?" - - * * * * * - -He looked at her and she shrank from the pain in his glare. "You heard -Atlee. I'm Thorne, if that's anything. You saw him, a green space-kid -fresh from the Lunar way-stations with two-year ratings on his pretty -red uniform ... saw him drag a sodden bum from what passes for a gutter -here. He was nice to me, Atlee. They're all nice to me. But I can't -even enter Vulhan City any more. One of the worst sink-holes in the -System and I can't get in ... I can't get in ..." his voice trailed -away aimlessly and he picked at a thread dangling from his burst tunic. - -"But--is there anything for you?" she asked. "It _is_ a sink-hole. I -suppose that's why Mr. Atlee was detailed to take us out to these caves -on the stop-over. But there's no work there, no good chance for a pilot -such as you." - -He laughed. It was a better effort than the one he had achieved on the -beach, but she preferred the former. "No chance, indeed! But there's -t'ang. There's always t'ang!" he laughed, then caught at his ribs as a -shuddering spasm tore at him. - -"Please!" She touched him, ever so slightly, shaking his trembling -body. "You mustn't! Is there nothing you can do? Nothing? Can you not -go home?" - -He faced her squarely and his eyes, she noted, were less bloodshot -and oddly steady as he looked into hers. "You don't know. It isn't -generally known, I suppose, anywhere in the System. We can't go back." - -"You can't give it up?" - -"That among other things. But no ship will take a t'anger, even as a -passenger. That's what they call us, when not worse. They say it's -incurable. Lord knows I couldn't disprove it. I can't give it up, and, -if they took it away from me ..." he shrugged and a chill rippled up -her spine. "You might say we're marooned here, on Mars, on Pluto, on -Venus ... all who take up with these weird native brews and weirder -natives. We don't go back. We can't. And we don't want to." - -"I can't believe that," she protested. Then, at his tragic, sidelong -glance, she hastened on. "But this t'ang? What is it? How--how did -_you_ ever come to--to get mixed up with such...?" She floundered -helplessly, and some inborn instinct of gentility prompted him to rise -and scan the sea for a moment. Then he turned, watching her. Again -his eyes and fingers sought a ragged strip of scarlet tunic to twist -aimlessly. - -"It wasn't much," he admitted. "There was a crash a couple of years -ago. Faulty tube drive. We lost some passengers and all our stores. It -was a two-hundred mile trek to Luxtol City, over the Phidian desert. I -suppose you saw it, flying up here. Nothing but t'ang bushes ... and -their berries to eat. I got the taste and it's...." His voice faded -away and, looking up, she saw a strange wryness pass over his face. - - * * * * * - -Then he shrugged, laughing. "What's the use? You're not for that old -line. Just a line. A sponger's plea." His voice stung. "It got money -once. Handouts. And now it's worn out and I can tell you the truth ... -a simpler truth than a simple lie. No, I didn't get the taste in any -such soul-satisfying way. T'ang berries are deadly poisonous. - -"I was young and a fool for luck with gun or ship. I dragged in a -little fame, notoriety if you will, breaking up a gang or two preying -on the International. We pioneered, those days, and drank. Lots of -things, among them t'ang. Grandstanding to the old-timers. Nothing -could down the great Jeff Thorne. I took a drink--and another. You -see the result. Two years ago I was cock of the walk and king of the -space-ways; today a snotty drags me out of the muck to keep me from -stifling ... and no great favor, either." - -She was silent for a long time. Then she took up her hat and slowly -rose to her feet. "It's too late, then?" There was sadness in her eyes -as she met his sullen glance. He shrugged and turned away, deliberately -rude. There was the rumble of the sea beneath it all. - -"Too late." - -"Is--is there anything...?" - -"Thank you, no." He did not see her hesitate, then open her bag. -Several paper notes were thrust into his lax hand. He turned angrily, -but she looked so shame-faced and embarrassed he cut short his first -instinctive outburst. She put out her hand. "Please. It isn't much--for -either of us. Let it be a present from Nancy, too. To Jeff Thorne, -International." - -He looked down at the money, System credits on Terran banks. "Twenty. -You know where it'll go, I suppose. For t'ang." - -"That's no matter, Mr. Thorne. It's your life. I spend most of my time -telling others what and what not to do, as a teacher. Let me forget on -my vacation." - -He smiled through the tangle of his unkempt beard, an almost savage -gleam of white teeth in the shadows. "I'll forget, won't I? I've -forgotten so much already, you see." He crushed the credits in grimy -fingers. "This, too. But ... I thank you ... and you'd better go. -Beachcombers, even on Mars, aren't any more savory than the old kind on -Earth, and I'd not have those others talking, Miss. I'll remember Nancy -and I'll remember her friend; you forget Jeff Thorne, unless to point a -moral to your students." - -She smiled, holding out a hand, pink-palmed and clean. "Not that, Mr. -Thorne. Goodby." - -Instinctively he met her grasp, using the hand which he clutched her -money. For a moment he paused, then slowly let his hand drop back to -his side. - -"Not that way, either, Miss ... Miss Thurland. Just goodby." - -He watched her walk swiftly up the beach, a slender, graceful figure -in the bright sunlight. Sleek and clean and decent, copper-tinted hair -glittering about her small head until she put on her hat. She did not -pause or look back. And then she was gone. - -A fresh shadow fell across the sand. Thorne, breaking in upon his moody -abstraction, turned with a start to face a tall Martian native who -stood impassively watching him. A slim spear glittered and twinkled in -the moving foliage above the man's grey-polled head. - -A smile spread vacuously across Thorne's countenance, loosening his -lean jaw and dulling his eyes. He held out the credits. "Look, Hanu! -Money! We can send one of your young men now to the City. I shall have -it again." - -The Martian did not stir. From the thick grey mane of hair mantling -his lean and apish countenance two great unblinking eyes stared -disconcertingly at the bedraggled Earthman he had fed and sheltered -this past year. The bony figure on its thin legs did not seem to -breathe, so still he remained, and Thorne shambled forward in slow -alarm, mumbling a question. The Martian evaded him with silken ease, -but as he stepped aside his thin arm stretched out, prehensile fingers -extended like claws. They struck the notes from Thorne's lax hand. - -"Here! What the devil, Hanu?" Indignation stirred the returning -lethargy gripping the derelict, and he came up with an angry jerk. The -long fish-spear dropped, the razored blade resting across the fallen -money as if to slice it in two. The Martian's voice was thin, but -gravely dignified. - -"No, Thorne. No man goes to the City." - -"What the devil do you mean?" - - * * * * * - -Hanu groped for words in the lingua franca which served the races for -communication on all the inner worlds. He stroked thoughtfully at his -thick Boer beard, pain in his great round eyes. - -"You came here, friend Thorne, in great trouble. The devil-juice was in -your blood and your friends had driven you forth as all who drink the -t'ang must go. We are simple folk. My people were glad of you, for we -have been friendly to your Earthmen, and I have been glad, truly glad. -You have been good and our friend, in spite of the t'ang. We have asked -nothing of you." - -"I know that," Thorne rapped impatiently. He edged nearer the fallen -money. "I've had food, clothing, and shelter from your people. Perhaps -I've even had friendship. I needed it. But why refuse me now?" - -The Martian impaled a note on his spear and held it out to Thorne. His -long-nosed face grew stern and the lean body tightened. "We refuse -nothing, friend Thorne. You are no longer with us, or of us. Take up -your money if you will, but go." - -"Why?" - -The great eyes swung up the beach, then back to the sagging -beachcomber. The note fluttered from his blade. "A woman's money, -friend Thorne. Not even t'ang can excuse beggary." - -Thorne staggered back. Shuddering, icy nausea ripped through his worn -frame. Clenching his fists, he turned his back on the tall Martian -that his blinding shame might not be seen. A rustle of paper told him -the native chieftain was gathering up the fallen currency. He did not -turn. But a gentle poke from the spear-butt awoke him from his daze and -he turned at last, to find his money presented at his breast upon the -chief's blade. Slowly he took it, slowly tore it across and across, -dropping it listlessly upon the sand. - -"Where shall I go?" he asked, more of the empty air than of the grave -Martian watching him so sadly. The native shook his grey-maned head. - -"Where shall any t'anger go?" he replied. The sting of the epithet, -although innocently meant by the generous Martian, twisted Thorne's -sodden mind until he pounded his temples with a groan of empty pain. - -"Where, indeed, good Hanu?" Almost he laughed, throwing wide his -tattered arms in the remnants of the brave red International jacket. -"To the north Vulhan City and the gutter, to the south your people and -a greater contempt than theirs, for I have tried to be their friend. -Oh, I know, Hanu! It's in your eyes. It's in mine, too. There for good -and all. So what's left but the sea again ... and no petty fool to -drag me forth to shame me even before you, the last of all my friends." - -"I am your friend always, friend Thorne." The Martian's voice was -gentle. "But you have come to the end. You know that now. But not in -the sea." - -"Where else?" Thorne sat down abruptly, his legs giving way beneath -him. A haze was descending over his foggy mind and he pressed his -temples again, burying his face in his hands, Hanu nodded to the left. - -"The desert." - -Thorne looked up, amazed. "That horror!" - -"The desert is slow ... but not unkind. There will be many things to -think on as you walk." Hanu leaned on his spear, regarding the sunken -wreck sitting before him. "Our old men go forth in the evening when -they no longer care to live. Our wicked pass from us across the sand, -for we do not kill. There is peace there ... and rest. What else, we do -not know. They never return." - -A shudder passed over the beachcomber. Slowly he rose to his feet. -"No," he admitted, staring with a grudging, affectionate admiration at -the grey one. "You do not kill." Abruptly he offered his hand. "Before -I go?" - -Hanu smiled, pulling his whisker. "You will go? The woman is already -gone and we will forget her like yesterday's tide, but we shall not -forget the man who was with us that far-off day. We shall not forget." -The pink-palmed, five-fingered hand clasped Thorne's. "Forget us not, -friend Thorne." - -"I won't, Hanu. Goodby ... and thanks. It's all I can leave you, friend, -but I know it counts, even from a space-rat like myself." Abruptly he -wheeled and trudged away up the slope toward the higher trees back of -the beach. He did not look back, even when Hanu's spear plunged into -the sand twenty feet ahead and the grieving Martian wailed a piercing -call of farewell. - -Taking the gift, Thorne staggered wearily on. Trees rose and fell about -him, rude, stubby giants with the fat, pulpy stems designed to catch -and store the precious polar waters melting before the first summer -sun. The ridge passed and the rolling, bushy foothills along the coast -led him endlessly down through the salt marshes where strange shapes -moved and stirred at sight of the alien intruder. Then the arid hills -beyond and, at last, cresting a bush-straggled rise, Thorne saw before -him the first dun sweep of the vast inland deserts that have laid Mars -waste and brought low a proud civilization. - -He slept there that first night, hollowing a little scoop of reddish -sand for his ragged hip and a mound for his neck. For a time, after the -first quick darkness, he lay watching Mars' rolling moons wheel across -the horizon, silvering all the desolation and shimmering into a clear, -alien beauty the ruin time had brought. - -Hanu, the chief, had been right. There were thoughts. But gradually the -bitterness and ache of defeat sank away on a flood-tide of weariness -and Thorne slept beneath the Martian moons. - - * * * * * - -An inquisitive sand-lizard, poking at his spear with its horny nose, -awoke him before dawn. Not hungry enough to destroy the little -monstrosity, Thorne shooed it away and scrambled up. There was a -thirst inside him blurring his vision ... but not for the water he was -abandoning. Again, as so often in the recent past, he would have sold -what remained of his soul for a bottle of the dreadful, numbing t'ang. -But here one was as remote as the other. He gritted his teeth and moved -slowly down the ridge toward the distant south. - -Hour after hour plodded wearily on as the dull-eyed Earthling lurched -in a slow, dreadful stride farther and farther into the blazing Martian -desert. The hot sunlight glanced and blazed in glittering splendor from -his keen spearblade, slung across his back with a strip torn from his -ragged tunic. It scorched fiercely and persistently at the hat he had -made from a withered desert plant's dun leaf. It burned the reddening -sands to blister the man's half-bare soles through the torn pilot's -boots. It crisped the thin atmosphere to nostril-tingling flame.... - -From time to time he came on bushes, tiny, low-squatting bushes with -yellow pads for leaves and deadly stings for thorns. Their flesh was -death. Twice he passed a thin-stalked t'ang bush, hiding in the lee of -some crested dune, flaunting its crimson and black fruit at the weary, -shuddering traveler. There, too, was death. Thorne grinned. And what -else but the slower death and decay brewed from these devil-berries -drove him thus hopeless into the wastes to be at peace and die? - -The second day he found a body. Perhaps one of the old men of Hanu's -wise, grave tribe, setting out into the sunset like Ulysses to seek one -last wonder before the long night overtook him. Perhaps a condemned -man sent gravely forth to wander and seek repentance before suffering -his natural penalty. Thorne could not tell. It was a skeleton by now. -A polished spear lay across the arching ribs and the bony hands were -clasped upon it in a strange gesture of resignation, as though the man -had laid himself down at last to rest. - -He found two more such skeletons before night. The spear of one lay -through the broken ribs, and he shuddered. The man had not waited. -Although his body, numbed and ravaged by the fires of t'ang, required -little now to sustain its life, it was weakening fast and a deeper -lethargy was creeping over him. He wondered when it would be that he, -too, must lie down at last, folding his hands on his breast, and watch -the sun go down or rise for the last time. Well, it would find him -ready. - -For Hanu had been right and all his tribesmen in their strange, -funereal rites had known well what they had been about. The great, -eternal waste of rolling sand and barren rock, the solemn passing of -the ageless sun and silent moons had borne down upon Thorne until from -their unhurried peace had been born a quieter peace within his breast. -Hunger and thirst, numbed by the strain of the t'ang in his system, -faded almost unnoticed into a lethargy. Even the screaming need of the -drugging liquid which had tortured him at first was fading. - -Soon there would be nothing left but the silent golden sun, the ruddy -sands ... and another quiet skeleton watching the brassy sky with dark, -unseeing eyes of bone. Thorne cracked his tortured lips in a grin. At -least it would not be in a gutter of Vulhan City or face down in the -flooding Nergal tide, a shoaling hulk.... - -Slowly he moved on through the night. He had lost track of how many -nights. It was cooler so. He watched Phobos rise in cool splendor -far across the sands, a thin black streak standing upright across her -shining disk. For a moment he stared in dull, uncomprehending wonder, -then bent his head and plodded quietly onward. - -Why he walked he did not know, for he had long ceased to question this -strange, ultimate Odyssey on which he had embarked. He only knew he -must go on and on, the one unreasoning urge linking him to the old, -proud heritage of the pioneers of trail and sea and space. And for such -as he there was no turning back.... - -When he tripped upon a rotted balk of timber and pitched headlong to -the sand he did not know. For a moment he lay there, unmoving. Then, -with a sigh, he attempted to rise, but exhaustion swept over his -relaxed body in a shuddering flood and he sank back, asleep almost -before he touched the sand. - -It was the growing heat of the sun that awakened him, well past -mid-day. Dull, lack-lustre eyes opened and stared unseeingly upward. -Grimy, wasted hands twitched weakly upon the sand. A faint breath like -a sigh crept between the cracked and swollen lips. - - * * * * * - -It was minutes later, as he instinctively groped for his friend's spear -to lay across his chest as had those others ere they died, that Thorne -came to realize he could not see the sun. Hot, dusty radiations danced -about over his head, and glimmering motes hung in the shadowy depths -beyond his weakened vision, but somehow, faintly, the realization of -shadow crept over his worn-out consciousness. With the realization came -a slowly growing perception of light as he focused his eyes upon the -tapering, unbelievable mass of the gigantic monolith looming over him. - -Three thousand feet it leaped into the Martian sky, a ragged, broken -tower of grey-white stone, turreted with fantastic decay, eroded and -pitted by the storms and dust of twice ten thousand years. - -He turned his head. Beyond it loomed another, only slightly less -massive, but far more eroded. Here and there, standing in a rough -semi-circle, other towers reared their broken heads into the brassy -bowl of the sky, mere shattered heaps of dusty rubble. - -Slowly Thorne sat up. He was huddled at the base of the tallest -monument atop a sloping pile of broken sand and shards drifting down -from the decaying walls. Beneath him long gray shadows of what had once -been piers crept out into a low, extensive basin of sand, broken here -and there by heaped mounds jagged with age-greyed timber. - -"Ships!" he whispered. "By all the Krue of Mars, ships!" - -He dragged himself upright. A glance behind him showed him the futility -of hope. The tremendous edifice at whose base he had fallen had ages -since crumbled within itself until, collapsing inward, it had fused -into one solid pillar of worn masonry and powdered sand. The others -were even less preserved, but wrecked, shattered, decaying as they -were, there remained about their hoary turrets a splendor so great -he instinctively straightened his weary form. In the presence of so -magnificent a declaration by man, he took on a new dignity worthy of -their unyielding might. - - * * * * * - -Here, then, lay one of those ancient citadels of a long-gone race, -the ancestors of the silent, peaceful Martians of today. A teeming -metropolis of the North, it had shrunk and perished with the death of -the drying seas whose disappearance had all but ruined the once-green -planet, leaving up the blowing sands its gigantic bones in grisly -memory of what once had been. And here, among these empty monoliths, -Thorne knew at last he had come to the end of the spaceman's trail. He -would go no farther. - -Well, for such as he it should not be unwelcome. He took his hand from -the powdery wall and weakly shook his head. It was a tedious business, -this dying. - -What it was that drew him out of the shadow and down the slope he never -knew. Perhaps it was the numb indifference of despair, perhaps only the -last, momentary flicker of that indomitable curiosity which had drawn -the Earthman adventuring across the world and now flings it light-years -wide over the Solar System. It served, nevertheless, to draw him -wearily down from the rubble beneath the gigantic tower into the low -basin which had been the tight harbor of this long-gone city of Mars. -Automatically he trudged onward, to bring up presently before one of -the low mounds dotting the harbor floor. - -It had been a ship, he knew. What forgotten wood made up its mouldering -bones to outlast the crumbling stone of its home port he did not know, -nor greatly care. There had been so many great and wonderful things on -Mars forgotten long since by the sad, wistful remnants of her dying -peoples. - -Lean, broken ribs thrust upward rudely through the golden sands, -wooden-pegged planks still clinging forlornly to their splintered -shafts. There had been metal, too ... copper, bronze, iron bolts, -and silver trim on the poop. All had long since been looted by the -wandering desert tribes who wandered furtively through these tremendous -monuments of their forgotten past. - -From mound to mound Thorne trudged with a weary indifference. As well -to die thus on his feet as face up in the sun. For die he must. Water -there was none, and the only vegetation an occasional low death-bush -with utter agony buried in its flat, leprous leaf-pads. A cluster -of brilliant t'ang sprays glittered savagely in the shady lee of a -shattered wreck, and Thorne shuddered. - -Here, too, death crept in wait, a death already fastened fang-deep in -his sodden, pain-wracked body from a score of dingy Vulhan t'ang-hells. -But what odds? The death from those dark and crimson fruits was quick -and terrible, perhaps, but only quicker than the fate already lying in -his veins. Let there be an end, even to this aimless wandering. - -Slowly Thorne walked up to the bush. There were many, growing in -strange luxuriance along the dust-worn flanks of an ugly wreck -half-buried in the sand. Other wrecks flanked it, three of them, lean, -wicked skeletons of ancient Martian fighting ships, one with her broken -prow yet buried in the freighter's bulging side. He touched the nearest -plank and it drifted into powdered dust beneath his fingers, leaving a -round hole in the grey wall. Again he put his hand through the ship's -side. Another hole was puffed out as cleanly as by a dis-ray. - -Curiosity stirred in him once more. Picking up a stone, he broke open -the wreck's side, bring down the entire flank in an almost soundless -crash of powdering timbers and dissolving decks. The hold, pierced upon -the farther side by the ram of the dead warship which had undoubtedly -sunk the two of them, lay open to the sunlight, barred by the ragged -shadows of the broken stern works. - -"Jars," muttered Thorne. The hold had been packed to the deck with fat, -yet not ungraceful clay jars eight feet high and three wide. He lurched -through the opening he had made. - -"Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves," he mumbled. Maxfield Parrish jars, -Oriental and sinister enough to have held a pair of the ancient robber -band. He patted one, and weak though the blow was, the jar dissolved -into drifting mist. - -Thorne stared. - -Preserving the graceful shape of the vanished jar, a beautiful block -of some golden amber substance stood twinkling among its fellows. He -pounded another jar. It, too, shuddered into misty dust, leaving its -petrified contents, blazing like tawny fire in the Martian sun. Down -the long row Thorne went, poking and kicking. Jar after jar dissolved, -leaving a shimmering stack of solid amber blocks shaped with inhuman -perfection to the mound of the clay in which for countless forgotten -centuries they had been petrifying beneath the dying seas and deserts. -Incredibly hard and smoother than glass, their sleek flanks ripped and -gleamed, shimmering in the bars of sunlight slanting down through the -rotted deck. But other than these, the ship lay bare and lifeless. - -"Frozen oil," mumbled Thorne, turning away at last. Even had he been -able to melt and eat the stuff, the thought of prolonging life had -become insupportable. Weakly he stumbled toward the broken wall he had -pushed in to enter. Here there was naught for him, but beyond, in the -shadows, lay the deadly t'ang and its berries. Well, it had begun this -ghastly Odyssey and it was fitting it should end it in the only way it -could be ended. - -He groped in the shadows for his spear. Lifting it, he thrust a plank -into drifting dissolution, clearing a way out. For a moment, staring -at the sunlight beyond the opening, he did not see. Then his eyes -were drawn to the blade of his spear as it sagged in his lax grasp, -for, resting on the sand within the ship's overcast, it gleamed with -a strange radiance. White fire blazed intermittently along its wide, -polished blade. - - * * * * * - -Thorne frowned. He lifted the blade. In the sunlight the light dancing -on his spear became white-hot, intolerable. He thrust it back into -the shadows where a broken bit of deck overhung the ruined hold. A -shattering blaze of cold, blue-white light blasted along the hammered -steel, casting its eery radiance upon Thorne's bearded, dusty face in -a wild dance of light and dark. It gleamed madly in his mad, staring -eyes. It shook like flame in his trembling hands, then fell like a -shooting star upon the dusty sands as the weapon sagged from his -relaxing grip. Slowly Thorne pivoted, his wild eyes fixed in awed amaze -upon the rows and heaps of amber jars lying in such glowing luster -among the fallen wreckage of the deck he had shattered. Sunlight ran -and danced mockingly along their smooth flanks, sparkled and blazed -with a fierce glow upon curve and highlight. He dropped his eyes to the -fallen spear, blazing like a meteor in the dusk, half-buried in the -sand, then lifted them again to the fabulous wealth lying before him. - -"Vadirrian oil!" he whispered, choking. - -Steel-hard, imperishable, the few fragments of the ancient oil of the -Vadirrian tree which had been such a common article of commerce in -the olden days commanded today a price so astronomical men were made -wealthy for life through the discovery of a mere pinhead scrap or -drifting grain. Radio-activated through the ages by the action of Mar's -inner core, it had come to mean salvation in scores of the terrible new -plagues introduced among the planets by the advent of space-travel. -There were perhaps no more than six to eight ounces in the hospitals of -the entire Universe at the present time, worth over three hundred and -sixty billion credits. Here, in perfect condition, lay sixty tons. - -He had come into the desert seeking death and the release it brought; -he had found fortune inestimable. The irony of his plight brought a -wry, bitter smile to his cracked lips, for, after all, he could hardly -be said to have been cheated of his earlier aim. Fortune or none, -death sat grinning at him from the broken timbers of the ancient ship, -gleaming from the petrified oil still in its original shape from jars -now dust and less than dust. Without food or water, he stood already -dead and nothing here in the shadows could save him from the inexorable -end he had so persistently sought. - -Thorne stumbled from the freighter and stood once more in the hot, -bright Martian sunlight. The giant tower of the deserted city loomed -behind him, but he did not look that way. He stared a moment at the -blade of his spear, faintly gleaming even in this bright glare, then -all around him at the rolling desolation which had once been the proud, -rich harbor of the great city now mouldering in silence along the -powdered quays behind him. There was no life. - -Blindly he moved away, scuffing through the sand. The excitement of -his find wore down and the griping pangs of torment again seized and -wrenched at him. Yet it was not with the same aimless shamble with -which he had entered the sunken harbor bowl that he left it, but, -instinctively, he found himself trying to follow his own plainly marked -trail across the shallow sand hills. He might make it. - -He did not, of course. Weakened and broken by his long, waterless march -into the desert, sapped by his own excesses, he followed his trail for -mile after mile until it blurred and spun before his eyes and melted -at last into one blinding haze of flaming Martian heat. The trail -vanished, though he did not know he had wandered from it. Presently he -knew nothing but that, somehow, he must keep going on and on. Why, he -could no longer remember, but the dim, instinctive urge was there and -served to motivate him when he would have fallen to die with the others -over whose mummies he more than once stumbled. - -The hunger was the worst. The terrible ravages of t'ang had somewhat -blunted his need for liquids, but he still could starve. Yet here and -there upon his way he chanced on little bushes and clumps of plants, -thick-leaved, leprous, yellow and blue and horrid purple, essence of -poisonous death to all things Terrestrial or Martian. - -Here and there, also, he encountered dried mummies or the skeletons of -such weird Martian life as had succumbed to hunger and tasted the spiny -death blooming across the desert sands. And there were t'ang bushes, -heavy with the bright red and purple berries whose fermented juice had -wrought him such deadly havoc. Thorne stared dully, conscious of the -fitness of things which set these horrors blooming only in such fatal -wastelands. - -He moved on and on, his eyes aching to the ceaseless play and -counterplay of mirages and kindred phantoms that swept the changing -landscapes like magic lanterns. Again and again he found himself -walking into the streets of a dead city, or perhaps one peopled by -living beings. But even as his feet touched the cobbled walks the -phantom dissolved and he plunged into a marsh that vanished as quickly -when he bent to taste the water splashing about his torn feet. It was -the final blow and he went down heavily and lay sprawled there on the -powdery, dusty slope where no marsh had lain for ten thousand years. - - * * * * * - -An hour later he wearily opened his eyes. The sun was lower, but the -heat and pain had not lessened perceptibly. A hundred feet away a -little copse of t'ang bushes flowered gracefully in thin sprays of twig -and serried little fruit arching up and out like frozen fountains of -death. Thick-leaved, monstrous cactus plants crouched in the scanty -shade flung by the taller t'angs. Cruel rows of gleaming spines thrust -outward belligerently, as though there were creatures even on waterless -Mars mad enough to rend and tear their poisonous flesh for the pitiful -moisture distilled from her lean breast. He grinned weakly and began -crawling forward. Mirages, at least, need no longer haunt his wheeling -brain. - -He ate the plants. Stripping the t'ang bushes of their scarlet, -bursting rows, he gobbled down the berries like peanuts. It no longer -mattered that death salted the repast. But here, deep in the desert, -the berries were dry and flat, insufficient for his need. Recklessly -he tore open the broad-leaved plants at his feet, slicing and ripping -their hideous flesh with his spear, and gulping great chunks of the -dripping pulp as avidly as though he ate in silken Kyra, the pleasure -dome on Io. No plant escaped him. - -He destroyed them all, eating what he would of their softer hearts. -When he had wiped out the little group, he lurched onward to another, -and another, sampling each and devouring many to their very roots. -Although he had eaten enough pulped death to destroy a city, the -counter-action of varying poisons neutralized each other for a while, -but he could not go on forever. - -Within an hour, as he stumbled on, revived for the moment by this foul -repast, the pains struck him down as though by lightning, stiffening -his weakened body from head to toe in a fiery spasm. A great ball of -flame burst in his belly and spread scintillating all through his -frame until he screamed aloud and made no sound in the doing, until he -twitched and writhed no more, until he lay at last in the cooler shades -of night ... a limp, white thing across an ancient dune of Martian -sand, one more thing for the quiet, dreaming desert to claim and softly -fold away in her drifting dust with other remnants of the past. - - * * * * * - -But Geoffrey Thorne was not of the past. That he was of the present, -and not good, he became painfully aware some time later. There was a -low humming, drumming roar in his ears, and the bed on which he lay -vibrated softly. He did not open his eyes. Here was another mirage, and -a cruel one. He had not thought to die dreaming of the old days when -Geoffrey Thorne was among the great ones of the space-world. He lay in -a rocket bunk--and the ship was in motion. - -A hard, rough hand shook his shoulder. "Ye're awake, lad." The voice, -like the hand, was hard, yet not unkind. It was strangely familiar and -he opened his eyes. The grizzled face staring down at him broke into a -short, choppy smile. "Easy lad, easy. Just lie still." - -"Captain Fraser!" Thorne mumbled. "Joy Fraser ... how ... am I on your -ship?" - -"Sure, sure, Thorne." Fraser patted his shoulder. "Ye're on the -_Moonfire_, an hour out of Vulhan City. I'll get ye to a hospital quick -as I can." - -"Hospital? What hospital? I feel--ghaaaa!" Thorne fell back heavily, -gagging, as he remembered the incredible miscellany he had been gnawing -just before it had struck him down in agony. Death-agony, he had -thought, but yet--apparently.... - -"Ye're ghostly, lad," rumbled the long-faced Scotchman, pushing down -the impatient derelict. "Were ye lost long in the sand?" - -"I don't know. A long time ... a long ... time...." Thorne lay still -for a while, his hand over his eyes. - -There was a strange, puzzled look in Fraser's eyes as he watched the -man who had once been his friend. Jeff Thorne had been among the best -of five worlds, and now.... - -"Could I get ye anything, lad?" he asked, gently. The other shook his -head. - -"I feel all right," he said, finally. "Dead-tired, but all right." - -"Pumped water into ye," Fraser grinned. "Soaked ye in it. Ye lay in ma -bath near five hours, out and all. Does wonders up here." - -"You must have worked miracles, Joy," acknowledged Thorne, wonderingly. -"What did you do? I know I was dying." - -The rocket captain looked down, flushing miserably. He picked at a -fleck on his purple tunic. - -"Well, lad, you know ... we hear things in the trade. I knew ... you -drank t'ang. So I remembered I had a bottle. Stuff in the armory for -trading, ye remember. You had half a glass." - -Thorne smiled wryly. "Yes? Thanks, Fraser. You took a risk, dispensing -the stuff without a permit, but the patient--" His eyes widened and he -came suddenly to his elbow, disregarding Fraser's attempt to thrust him -down in the bunk again. "Half a glass, you said?" - -"Sure, lad. That's all." He looked anxiously at the bearded derelict. -"Ye don't mean it was too much?" - -"No, no, nothing like that," Thorne waved aside the other's troubled -protest, his brows knitting. He had had more than that before, but even -to stronger men than himself such a dose meant stunned, broken stupor -that might well last from two to four days. Yet he felt nothing. - -"Fraser, when you found me, where was I?" - -"Out cold on a sand-hill, lad. O'Leary spotted you from the engine room -as we sailed by. Ye had a Martian spear ... and something else I want -to talk to you about later." - -Thorne did not catch the other's meaning, but pressed on. "There was no -city near?" - -"City!" Fraser stared. "Ye mean ... oh, ye mean a deserted city, eh? -No, there was no city. No cities in those parts to my knowledge. Mirage -country, ye know, lad. One o' them?" - -"Could you remember--were there plants near me--Martian desert plants -like cactus--maybe t'ang bushes?" - -"Can't say, Thorne. None right near ye, anyhow. Just clear sand. Why?" - -"Could you find the spot again?" - -"Sure. Right in the log. Aimin' to go back?" - -"Perhaps ... some day. But you don't understand, Joy. Those plants ... -I had been eating them." - -Fraser started back in horror, coming to his feet as his stool -clattered across the smooth steel floor. "But my Lord, man ... them -things is fatal! One nibble and ye're a cooked goose!" - -"I know. I've seen men who died that way, and I wanted to go out as -quickly. I couldn't take it any more. But I ate everything--all colors -and all the tastes you could find in your foulest nightmares. I even -ate the t'ang berries. Am _I_ dead?" - -"Lord knows why you ain't, lad!" - -"I know I ate the things, Joy. But that's not what I meant. Perhaps the -things counteracted themselves in me, I ate so many. I meant the t'ang." - -"You--it didn't affect you!" Fraser eyed his patient in growing -astonishment. There were no indications Thorne had sopped up a heavy -dose of the lethal drug. - -"No. I feel nothing. Just like I'd had a good sleep, though I'm still -worn out and weak. Dead tired and hungry, but I have no thirst. And my -craving for the stuff is classic, Joy." - -"I've heard that, lad." Fraser shook his head, remembering the wild -tales. - -"I don't _want_ a drink, Joy!" - - * * * * * - -Thorne struggled to a seat on the edge of the bunk, unshaven, his hair -brush-wild, his eyes red and rheumy, a derelict to the soles of his -torn boots. Yet he did not want a drink, he whose passion had been -drink, whose only joy and only thought had been drink until it had -swept him from the heights to such depths that even a Martian refused -longer to shelter him and sent him forth into the desert to find death. - -"Maybe ye've just been numbed," suggested Fraser. "I gave ye half a -glass, I told ye." - -"It should have laid me out cold." - -"Anyone else it would," returned Fraser, somewhat brutally. "You been -lapping it up so thick you might be a little immune, ye know. I took -the chance." - -"It wouldn't have made any difference if I had been laid out another -day or two, anyhow," Thorne returned, as brutally. "I might be getting -a little thick. I could take more than I could at first. But I wanted -it just as bad, or worse. Now I don't want it. Have you any left?" - -"Most of the bottle." - -"May I have a glass?" - -Fraser snorted, his Scotch coming through almost visibly. "Don't want -it, eh?" He pulled a squat, green bottle from the wall cabinet beside -the bunk. "Just how big a glass, Mr. Thorne?" - -"Full." - -He filled the glass and handed it in stony silence to the ex-pilot. -Thorne took it and looked into the turgid green depths. He smelled -the sweet, cidery odor. He passed it to and fro under his nose. No -reaction. Nothing. - -"It's just water, Joy." He looked up at Fraser, wide-eyed, grinning. - -"It's high-test Royal Seal," retorted the freighter captain. "It cost -me plenty and you know it." - -"Yes, but--to me--me, the biggest sot on Mars--it's just water! No -taste, no smell, no nothing." He lifted the glass to his lips. There -was a short pause. Slowly he lowered his hand, a glare of madness -in his eyes. Fraser drew back, but, fascinated, made no effect to -interfere. - -"It's still ... water, Joy. Water. Tastes like water, smells like -water. The stuff doesn't affect me at all." He flung up his hand, -gulping down the terrible t'ang like mad, spilling it down his stubby -chin and staining his rags a dirtier color than before. Only when the -last drop had vanished did he lower the glass, and Fraser, watching -in amazement, saw that no tinge of exhilaration swayed his patient. A -thimblefull of the stuff would set off a jag in an ordinary man that -made a whiskey-drunk look like an ice-cream festival. Thorne, saturated -with the wicked juice, sat in quiet, deliberate possession of his every -sense and faculty. - -"I've had my drink, Joy. I didn't want it, except as I would want -any drink when thirsty. I didn't taste a thing. I feel nothing." He -stumbled erect, holding onto the upright of the bunk. "I'm tired, -dead-tired. I could sleep a week. But I'm not drunk, Joy. I'm not -drunk. I can't get drunk. Never again. I can't be poisoned. I'm -saturated with poison. You'll have to shoot me to get rid of me, Joy." - -"We don't want to get rid of you, Jeff." There were unaccustomed lines -in the freighter captain's face and a softness which had not been there -since he bade goodby to his children back on Earth five months ago. -"We've hated to lose you. And now you're back again, you want us to -shoot you!" - -Their hands met and wrung hard together. "Welcome back!" It was a -pleasant thing for the derelict Thorne to hear once more. But he knew. - -"I can't come back, Joy, though I thank you. I'm a t'ang drinker and, -as such, I lose all rights." - -"You're cured, man! You've proved that. You're alive! The berries and -leaves you ate destroyed your craving. We can prove it in any court of -law, any space commission. Drink a barrel of the stuff in their faces." - -"Perhaps I'm cured. I think so now, but there may be a relapse. Anyhow, -cured or not, there's a strict law on the books and it isn't going to -be lifted to allow me to return to Earth or any of the Lines. Too many -aren't cured." - -Fraser scowled. "You are. What about the others? Can't they--?" - -"Do I know what I ate? The proportions? What went with what and how -much? I was dizzy as a loon. All I really remember clearly is eating -t'ang berries. Deadly poison. Can a cure be mixed with ingredients like -that?" - -Fraser was not daunted. "Perhaps you can't force the law, Thorne. But -you do know what cured you. Work out a cure. Get the botanists and -biologists on it, man. Let them do the work, if it _is_ your clue. -Flying isn't the only thing in life, Jeff." - -"Do I look like a fountain, to start research on the course, Joy?" -Thorne surveyed his rags in a spotted mirror on the wall of the -freighter's little surgery. "I look like the subject matter." - -"You can do anything with money, lad." - -"And do I look like money, Joy?" - -"Not at present, of course. But when we reach Vulhan City, you can look -as you like. Ye're wealthy, lad. Wealthier than Donaldson o' the Line." - -"Which of us has been drinking the t'ang, Joy?" - -"This is no dream, pipe or any other kind, Jeff." The captain held up a -small, broken sliver of irridescent golden amber, clamped in a leaden -grip, which he had taken from the cabinet as Thorne jeered. "I think -you'll find it worth about one hundred and seventy thousand, lad. One -hundred and seventy thousand. Think it over. Ye had it caught in your -clothes when we found ye." - - * * * * * - -Martineau, Captain of the Port at Vulhan City, snapped the inter-office -switch in impatience. His voice cracked sharply. "I will not see -Captain Thorne, Miss Gurn. You know that as well as I do! You hear?" - -Miss Gurn's voice was tremulous, but determined. "I know, sir, but he -insists on seeing you. It is--" - -"Have Williams throw him out, Miss Gurn," snapped the Port Captain. -"How in Karac's name did you let him in, anyway?" - -"He says it is Government business, sir. He refuses to go. And -Lieutenant Williams is not here." - -"Government business?" Martineau glowered. "Then send him in. I'll deal -with this t'anger myself." Snapping off the phone switch, he flipped -another. The local Patrol Superintendent looked up at him in the -screen. "Bannerman, could you step in a moment? I think Thorne's going -to make trouble and I'm going to deal with him right here and now." - -"Of course, Martineau. I've been expecting him." The big, white-haired -officer heaved himself up and picked up his glittering helmet. "Be -right in." The screen faded as Thorne was ushered in by a wide-eyed -Miss Gurn. - -Trim and stiffly neat in the scarlet tunic and blue-black trousers of -the International, Thorne stood coolly at attention, thin and worn but -clean-shaven, scrubbed, and pressed. Gold sparkled on his close-fitting -helmet and on the butts of his twin Blandarcs. Under one scarlet arm he -carried a small black box. - -"Well, Thorne," broke in Martineau as the other door opened to admit -the bulk of the Patrol Superintendent. "Your business, please." - -Thorne flushed, but did not move. He could not afford to resent -discourtesies he had become so bitterly accustomed to receiving these -past two years. He laid the box on the Port Captain's desk. - -"This is to return to Earth at once, sir. It is extraordinarily -valuable. I am requesting passage on the first battle rocket leaving -Mars." - -The Patrolman intervened quietly. "You know you cannot return to Earth, -Captain Thorne." - -"I know, sir. I request passage for this consignment only." - -"What is it ... t'ang?" Martineau asked, brutally, pushing roughly at -the box. - -A grim smile touched Thorne's dry lips. "No, sir. It is a little over -an ounce of--petrified Vadirrian oil!" - -Martineau leaped erect with a strangled cry, his face going crimson -with anger. The Superintendent, having known what was in the box, made -no sound but watched them with a grim smile. - -"If this is a joke, you bush-bum," choked the Port Captain, "I'll see -personally you suffer for it, Thorne. The hard way. You dare come here -and--" - -"It is not a joke, sir," broke in Bannerman, at last. "We have been -notified of this strike. It is registered in our files and the specimen -is entirely genuine. I recommend that Captain Thorne's request be -fulfilled." His voice was crisp and clear. - -Martineau sagged, staring at the little box. "But--but there's a -fortune there, sir. Thousand on thousands--where did this--this man -locate such a treasure? The Martian government has been notified?" - -"All necessary steps have been taken, sir," Thorne smiled. "The -declared value of this specimen is one hundred and eighty-two thousand -credits. Proper amounts have been forwarded to the Vulhan General -Hospital, with others to Loxthal City, Andobre, Vlax, and New Luna. -This is directed to the Universal Laboratories at New Yatt, North -America, vested in the name of Miss Helen Thurland." - -"You make no claim to accompanying it?" - -"None, sir. I am cured of t'ang, but there is no known medical way to -prove that to anyone's satisfaction but my own. I know the law and am -willing to abide by it. I claim its protection in this matter." - -"Fair enough, Captain Thorne," agreed Martineau, reluctantly, seating -himself and poking gingerly at the fortune on his desk. "You have that -right." - -"You accept the shipment?" - -"It shall be sent on the _Warhorse_ next Thursday, by way of Luna. Here -is your receipt and your insurance papers. Present them to the Starmail -office next week and receive your arrival receipt. About the twentieth, -I believe." - -"What is the charge?" - -Bannerman quietly intervened. "There is no charge. The Vadirrian is for -the Universals, and as such travels light." - -Thorne bowed stiffly, as Martians do, and stepped back. "I thank you, -gentlemen. I know the Vadirrian is in good hands." - -Bannerman heaved himself up. "Step into my office a moment, will you, -Thorne? If the Captain will excuse us?" Martineau nodded, saluting -sharply. There was no more talk of "bush-bums". - -The Superintendent of Patrol, however, was not impressed. Seated at -his own desk, he pinned Thorne with an eagle glare. "I don't ask -for information, Captain Thorne, but I must request you to show -cause why you should not be removed from Vulhan City as a t'anger -and--uh--general undesirable." - -"I am cured of the t'ang habit, sir. So far as medical authority -here can go, they give me a clean bill of health. I have witnesses, -pictures, papers." - - * * * * * - -Bannerman snorted. "If I take so much for granted, and, mark you, I -have no right to assume that out of hundreds you alone have managed -to cure yourself. Medics or no, I must still ask what means of -subsistence you have. We cannot tolerate relief cases here on Mars, -Captain," he added, sternly. - -A dull red flush stained Thorne's worn features. "I have never been on -your rolls, sir." - -"Granted. But can you keep off them? Do you have a job?" - -"Who will hire me now?" - -"Have you money?" - -"All I possess lies on Captain Martineau's desk yonder, sir. When I -found I had unwittingly carried off a scrap of the petrified oil in my -torn boot, I felt I had no true right to it under the circumstances in -which I made the discovery." - -"Highly commendable," rasped Bannerman, rubbing his chin in -exasperation. "Didn't you think it would leave you as flat as you have -been the last year or so, man? What shall you live on? Will you go back -to the natives, shaming us all?" - -"They are good people, sir. I could do worse." - -"You could, by hang! And have, sir! You have no hope of relocating the -main bulk of this treasure?" - -"None, sir. It was in the mirage country, you know, and I have nothing -to search even plain and simple desert, let alone that weird district. -Perhaps some day I may be able to push my claim and make up an -expedition." - -"And until that time...." - -"With your permission, sir, I should like to write a letter to -accompany the Vadirrian. Then ... I shall go home." - -"Home?" - -"My ... beach home, sir. I have considerable property fronting on the -Nergal Sea, you know. As far as I care to walk," he added with some -bitterness. - -Bannerman shrugged. "Public property, Thorne. There are pens and paper -there. I'll see your letter off with the box." - -"Thank you, sir." - -But, pen in hand, Thorne sat staring into space, nibbing thoughtfully -at the tip. It was not easy. Finally, he began to write, slowly, -awkwardly forming the letters he had not shaped for two years and more. -But, presently, warming to the unaccustomed task, they came more easily -and the pen scratched briskly in the silent office. Bannerman buried -himself in his paper work, ignoring the visitor at the other table. - - _Dear Miss Thurland_, - - _You will remember me, I think, even if only as a poor space-bum - dragged by the heels from the Nergal Sea, on Mars, just outside - Vulhan City. You were kind to give me money, twenty credits._ - - _You may remember I told you the money would be for t'ang. It - wasn't, however, nor has it been spent at all. You showed me what - I was, Miss Thurland, and I didn't like the picture._ - - _Notice of receipt will come to you, perhaps before this letter, - that a parcel has been deposited in your name at the Foundation in - New Yatt. It is the fortune I found in the desert. I know you would - not accept such a gift from me, so please believe me I do not - intend it as a gift, nor even as a payment for the credits you gave - me. One cannot repay things like that, even with the parcel at - the Foundation._ - - _It is pure Vadirrian oil, petrified, valued at more than one - hundred and eighty thousand credits. I am sure you realize how - valuable, far more than in mere credits, this find can be. It will - give new life to hundreds of stricken people suffering the strange - disease we transmit between the planets with this new commerce._ - - _You spoke of my ex-steward, Nancy Bertrand. We can do nothing for - her now, buried on Io, but because you were her friend, I would ask - you to set up the fund as a memorial to her, to train nurses and - stewards for the space-runs and to insure that girls as fine as she - are given the chance she made for herself to go out into the world - and do work as important as hers. I know that is not too much to - ask of you, Miss Thurland. Your own expenses for the transaction - are included in the fund. Because I may not return to Earth, now - or ever, I have taken the liberty of imposing this bequest on you, - knowing that, as you loved Nancy, it will give you pleasure to - insure her some fitting memorial._ - - _Any reply will reach me if addressed to Captain B. Bannerman, - Superintendent of Patrol, Vulhan City, Mars. Again, let me thank - you. My life is worth little to myself or others, but you gave - me back my self-respect._ - - _I shall hope to see you again one day, should you visit beyond the - moon._ - - _Sincerely,_ - - _Geofrey Thorne._ - - * * * * * - -An hour or so later, Vulhan City only a dim glow of light in the -evening sky behind him, Thorne was walking quietly along the beach. - -There was someone waiting for him on the low headland beyond which lay -his own particular cove where he had spent so much and so unworthily -the time lying heavily on his hands. - -The Martian, Hanu, his grizzled whiskers blowing about his wizened, -elfish face stood alone, an armed man. - -"I have returned, Hanu." - -"It was not to return you left this cove," the Martian replied, -sternly. His great round eyes were fixed on the other. - -"My debt is paid, Hanu." - -"Money will not repay. Can your gold buy back, your honor, or ours?" - -"I did not repay in gold, friend, but in the golden oil your ancestors -left us all--the Vadirrian. I bought opportunity and happiness for many -others with its price. For myself, you see me as I am. I have nothing -else. I return as I left, a derelict." - -A slow, wise smile crept over the Martian's wrinkled monkey-face. He -pulled at his whiskers. Then he linked arms with the ex-pilot. "Come, -friend Thorne. You have paid the debt. Let us go down to the village -and see what the women have laid for the evening meal. We shall welcome -you...." - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DERELICT *** - -***** This file should be named 63751-0.txt or 63751-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/7/5/63751/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/63751-0.zip b/old/63751-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 63af1fb..0000000 --- a/old/63751-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63751-h.zip b/old/63751-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7690b77..0000000 --- a/old/63751-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63751-h/63751-h.htm b/old/63751-h/63751-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a6c69bc..0000000 --- a/old/63751-h/63751-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1749 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Derelict, by William J. Matthews. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<pre style='margin-bottom:6em;'>The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Derelict, by William J. Matthews - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: The Derelict - -Author: William J. Matthews - -Release Date: December 05, 2020 [EBook #63751] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DERELICT *** -</pre> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>THE DERELICT</h1> - -<h2>BY WILLIAM J. MATTHEWS</h2> - -<p>The end of the trail ... he knew it, she knew<br /> -it, old Hanu knew it and so Jeff Thorne<br /> -stumbled off into the Martian desert—to die.<br /> -But death takes strange forms out there....</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Fall 1946.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Geoffrey Thorne was "on the beach." Face down on it, in fact, head and -shoulders deep in the brackish eddies of the slowly rising tide, the -sluggish waters of the North Nergal Polar cap. And it was odds he would -die there miserably in his drunken stupor, had not there come a sudden -interruption of the t'ang-ridden miasm in which he lay.</p> - -<p>A sibilant rush of feet dashed across the worn Martian sand, splashed -into the shallows, and Thorne felt quick, vital hands snatch and roll -him face up, slapping a dull sensitivity into his addled wits. He shook -his head dazedly, realized his predicament, and feebly struggled to -rise. It was beyond his power.</p> - -<p>With a snort of disgust, his rescuers caught him under the arms and -dragged him unceremoniously backward. Once clear enough of the dull -waters rolling languidly upon the low, hot beach, he let go and Thorne -sat down heavily in the sand.</p> - -<p>"I'd call that a waste of effort," a well-fed voice coldly observed.</p> - -<p>"Paul, please!" replied a woman's softer voice. Thorne shook his head -viciously, raised himself on one arm, and sought to focus his blurred -vision on the group facing him.</p> - -<p>There were a dozen or so, well-dressed, well-fed, bright with color -and metal in the sunshine. Tourists. He looked up at the young petty -officer of International who had dragged him from the water. There was -a pained look of weary resignation on the clean-cut young face as he -turned to his temporary charges.</p> - -<p>"I must apologize, ladies and gentlemen. This bit of local color was -unscheduled. It happens occasionally on the inner planets. Conditions -grow too rigorous and a man—uh—goes down."</p> - -<p>Thorne laughed, a dreadful, choked hacking that set the fluttering -tourists back a step or two in sheer fright.</p> - -<p>"A man goes down, kid." He rubbed his eyes and leered at them. "Damned -far down that you show him off like a Martian."</p> - -<p>The officer of International Airways, Inc., winced and then added, to -his group, "He's right, you know. Privacy's about all that's left up -here on this station. Shall we go on? There are the caves I promised to -show you, farther along."</p> - -<p>He moved up the beach, the tourists straggling after him, still -looking back at the dejected figure of Thorne half-lying, half-sitting -in the hot sand. Their voices came drifting back upon his throbbing -consciousness.</p> - -<p>"But, Mr. Atlee," a woman's voice urged, "we can't just leave him there -like that. Mightn't he drown?"</p> - -<p>"The tide doesn't come much higher, Miss Thurland. He'll be all right. -Once out of that coma, he won't drop into it again for a day or two, -unless he gets more t'ang."</p> - -<p>"What is this t'ang, Mr. Atlee?" another woman asked. "A Martian drink?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is. High explosive ... and one drink wrecks a man for life. -They never get it out of their systems, and they don't much care. -It's like the opium off Jupiter, only worse. They'd kill for it. -Fortunately, they can't get it any too easily—but it's not fortunate -for poor devils like Thorne."</p> - -<p>They were gone, then. The last had vanished in the misty haze spun by -the blazing sunshine on the northern rocks. Heading for the Vulhan -caves farther along no doubt. Rock crystals and ancient weapons -from some forgotten battle there for the picking up, glittering -gew-gaws to pleasure lazy, personally-conducted school-teachers and -insurance-brokers on holiday. A crooked grin twisted Thorne's lips. It -hadn't been so easy a few years ago.</p> - -<p>It had been hard. Too hard for Jeff Thorne.</p> - -<p>Well, there was always t'ang.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He heaved himself up, shook the sand from his ragged clothes, and -lurched unsteadily to the water's edge. Kneeling, he splashed the cool, -brackish stuff on his muddy face, his swollen hands. He was running -them listlessly through his dark hair, trying to conquer its wild -disorder, when a sound behind him brought him about with an oath. His -brows darkened.</p> - -<p>"You're missing the show at the Caves," he pointed out, a sneer in his -rasping voice. "Or do you prefer this?" He waved rudely at the hot -sand, the dulling ripples, the low, pulpy vegetation crowning the long -slope up the beach.</p> - -<p>The girl watched him steadily, her hands tight upon a small red and -white bag, and under her grave, slow regard a dull flush crept along -his cheek-bones to lose itself in the stubby tangle of beard. The dark -blue eyes were soft and thoughtful and more than a little sad. Mirrored -in them, for the first time in many months, Thorne saw for a moment -what he had become and the flush died away in a gray-white pallor. It -was not pleasant.</p> - -<p>"You—are Mr. Geoffrey Thorne?" she asked. The rich tones of her voice -sent a tingle through the hapless derelict of the void. How long since -he had heard a woman say "Mister Thorne"? How long since he had heard -a woman so much as address him? His crooked grin returned. "My name -is ... Jeff Thorne, Miss," he replied.</p> - -<p>She smiled in answer, a smile only slightly less awry. "You don't know -me, Mr. Thorne. I'm Helen Thurland. A friend of mine, Nancy Bertrand, -was once stewardess on your Venus-Titan run. She thought the world of -you."</p> - -<p>"Then I'm glad she didn't accompany you," Thorne rasped. He plunged -raggedly up the slope toward the inviting shade of the floppy vegetable -trees cresting the rise. "Get out of that sun, girl. It's hotter than -you think."</p> - -<p>In silent obedience she followed, but he turned at the top to lower at -her. "Is Miss Bertrand at Vulhan City?" he demanded. "If she is, and -you bring her here to look at ... at me...."</p> - -<p>The girl looked down at the glittering sunlight on the sea. "Nancy -isn't at the City."</p> - -<p>He sighed gustily with relief. "I thought plenty of her myself," he -admitted, slumping down against a thick tree-trunk. "The best I...." He -paused; then looked out to sea himself, fingering his whiskers.</p> - -<p>"The best stewardess you ever had," she completed. Taking off the huge, -floppy hat affected by tourists in the Martian heat, she looked down -thoughtfully at him.</p> - -<p>"She's dead, you know."</p> - -<p>He stiffened, "Nancy?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. A meteor in the tubes, they said. And the pilot couldn't land -anywhere but on Io—and not good even there. There weren't many left. -She's buried there, by a little green lake. I went there first this -spring. I—I wish I hadn't. And just now, when Mr. Atlee named you, I -thought of a space-pilot who wouldn't have left those stones on Io. The -best pilot International ever had."</p> - -<p>His lean, dirty fingers wrung aimlessly together. His heel ploughed a -recurrent furrow in the shadows. "That pilot is as dead—as Nancy. Poor -little kid." He gnawed his lip. It would not do to go maudlin. Not now.</p> - -<p>"You are Geoffrey Thorne, International?" she insisted, sitting on a -fallen trunk and dropping her hat at her side. Leaning forward, she -watched his pallor darken. "You are the pilot who pioneered the Jupiter -and Pluto runs, who rescued the Argonaut expedition, who broke up the -Wind River and Merton gangs?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He looked at her and she shrank from the pain in his glare. "You heard -Atlee. I'm Thorne, if that's anything. You saw him, a green space-kid -fresh from the Lunar way-stations with two-year ratings on his pretty -red uniform ... saw him drag a sodden bum from what passes for a gutter -here. He was nice to me, Atlee. They're all nice to me. But I can't -even enter Vulhan City any more. One of the worst sink-holes in the -System and I can't get in ... I can't get in ..." his voice trailed -away aimlessly and he picked at a thread dangling from his burst tunic.</p> - -<p>"But—is there anything for you?" she asked. "It <i>is</i> a sink-hole. I -suppose that's why Mr. Atlee was detailed to take us out to these caves -on the stop-over. But there's no work there, no good chance for a pilot -such as you."</p> - -<p>He laughed. It was a better effort than the one he had achieved on the -beach, but she preferred the former. "No chance, indeed! But there's -t'ang. There's always t'ang!" he laughed, then caught at his ribs as a -shuddering spasm tore at him.</p> - -<p>"Please!" She touched him, ever so slightly, shaking his trembling -body. "You mustn't! Is there nothing you can do? Nothing? Can you not -go home?"</p> - -<p>He faced her squarely and his eyes, she noted, were less bloodshot -and oddly steady as he looked into hers. "You don't know. It isn't -generally known, I suppose, anywhere in the System. We can't go back."</p> - -<p>"You can't give it up?"</p> - -<p>"That among other things. But no ship will take a t'anger, even as a -passenger. That's what they call us, when not worse. They say it's -incurable. Lord knows I couldn't disprove it. I can't give it up, and, -if they took it away from me ..." he shrugged and a chill rippled up -her spine. "You might say we're marooned here, on Mars, on Pluto, on -Venus ... all who take up with these weird native brews and weirder -natives. We don't go back. We can't. And we don't want to."</p> - -<p>"I can't believe that," she protested. Then, at his tragic, sidelong -glance, she hastened on. "But this t'ang? What is it? How—how did -<i>you</i> ever come to—to get mixed up with such...?" She floundered -helplessly, and some inborn instinct of gentility prompted him to rise -and scan the sea for a moment. Then he turned, watching her. Again -his eyes and fingers sought a ragged strip of scarlet tunic to twist -aimlessly.</p> - -<p>"It wasn't much," he admitted. "There was a crash a couple of years -ago. Faulty tube drive. We lost some passengers and all our stores. It -was a two-hundred mile trek to Luxtol City, over the Phidian desert. I -suppose you saw it, flying up here. Nothing but t'ang bushes ... and -their berries to eat. I got the taste and it's...." His voice faded -away and, looking up, she saw a strange wryness pass over his face.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Then he shrugged, laughing. "What's the use? You're not for that old -line. Just a line. A sponger's plea." His voice stung. "It got money -once. Handouts. And now it's worn out and I can tell you the truth ... -a simpler truth than a simple lie. No, I didn't get the taste in any -such soul-satisfying way. T'ang berries are deadly poisonous.</p> - -<p>"I was young and a fool for luck with gun or ship. I dragged in a -little fame, notoriety if you will, breaking up a gang or two preying -on the International. We pioneered, those days, and drank. Lots of -things, among them t'ang. Grandstanding to the old-timers. Nothing -could down the great Jeff Thorne. I took a drink—and another. You -see the result. Two years ago I was cock of the walk and king of the -space-ways; today a snotty drags me out of the muck to keep me from -stifling ... and no great favor, either."</p> - -<p>She was silent for a long time. Then she took up her hat and slowly -rose to her feet. "It's too late, then?" There was sadness in her eyes -as she met his sullen glance. He shrugged and turned away, deliberately -rude. There was the rumble of the sea beneath it all.</p> - -<p>"Too late."</p> - -<p>"Is—is there anything...?"</p> - -<p>"Thank you, no." He did not see her hesitate, then open her bag. -Several paper notes were thrust into his lax hand. He turned angrily, -but she looked so shame-faced and embarrassed he cut short his first -instinctive outburst. She put out her hand. "Please. It isn't much—for -either of us. Let it be a present from Nancy, too. To Jeff Thorne, -International."</p> - -<p>He looked down at the money, System credits on Terran banks. "Twenty. -You know where it'll go, I suppose. For t'ang."</p> - -<p>"That's no matter, Mr. Thorne. It's your life. I spend most of my time -telling others what and what not to do, as a teacher. Let me forget on -my vacation."</p> - -<p>He smiled through the tangle of his unkempt beard, an almost savage -gleam of white teeth in the shadows. "I'll forget, won't I? I've -forgotten so much already, you see." He crushed the credits in grimy -fingers. "This, too. But ... I thank you ... and you'd better go. -Beachcombers, even on Mars, aren't any more savory than the old kind on -Earth, and I'd not have those others talking, Miss. I'll remember Nancy -and I'll remember her friend; you forget Jeff Thorne, unless to point a -moral to your students."</p> - -<p>She smiled, holding out a hand, pink-palmed and clean. "Not that, Mr. -Thorne. Goodby."</p> - -<p>Instinctively he met her grasp, using the hand which he clutched her -money. For a moment he paused, then slowly let his hand drop back to -his side.</p> - -<p>"Not that way, either, Miss ... Miss Thurland. Just goodby."</p> - -<p>He watched her walk swiftly up the beach, a slender, graceful figure -in the bright sunlight. Sleek and clean and decent, copper-tinted hair -glittering about her small head until she put on her hat. She did not -pause or look back. And then she was gone.</p> - -<p>A fresh shadow fell across the sand. Thorne, breaking in upon his moody -abstraction, turned with a start to face a tall Martian native who -stood impassively watching him. A slim spear glittered and twinkled in -the moving foliage above the man's grey-polled head.</p> - -<p>A smile spread vacuously across Thorne's countenance, loosening his -lean jaw and dulling his eyes. He held out the credits. "Look, Hanu! -Money! We can send one of your young men now to the City. I shall have -it again."</p> - -<p>The Martian did not stir. From the thick grey mane of hair mantling -his lean and apish countenance two great unblinking eyes stared -disconcertingly at the bedraggled Earthman he had fed and sheltered -this past year. The bony figure on its thin legs did not seem to -breathe, so still he remained, and Thorne shambled forward in slow -alarm, mumbling a question. The Martian evaded him with silken ease, -but as he stepped aside his thin arm stretched out, prehensile fingers -extended like claws. They struck the notes from Thorne's lax hand.</p> - -<p>"Here! What the devil, Hanu?" Indignation stirred the returning -lethargy gripping the derelict, and he came up with an angry jerk. The -long fish-spear dropped, the razored blade resting across the fallen -money as if to slice it in two. The Martian's voice was thin, but -gravely dignified.</p> - -<p>"No, Thorne. No man goes to the City."</p> - -<p>"What the devil do you mean?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hanu groped for words in the lingua franca which served the races for -communication on all the inner worlds. He stroked thoughtfully at his -thick Boer beard, pain in his great round eyes.</p> - -<p>"You came here, friend Thorne, in great trouble. The devil-juice was in -your blood and your friends had driven you forth as all who drink the -t'ang must go. We are simple folk. My people were glad of you, for we -have been friendly to your Earthmen, and I have been glad, truly glad. -You have been good and our friend, in spite of the t'ang. We have asked -nothing of you."</p> - -<p>"I know that," Thorne rapped impatiently. He edged nearer the fallen -money. "I've had food, clothing, and shelter from your people. Perhaps -I've even had friendship. I needed it. But why refuse me now?"</p> - -<p>The Martian impaled a note on his spear and held it out to Thorne. His -long-nosed face grew stern and the lean body tightened. "We refuse -nothing, friend Thorne. You are no longer with us, or of us. Take up -your money if you will, but go."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>The great eyes swung up the beach, then back to the sagging -beachcomber. The note fluttered from his blade. "A woman's money, -friend Thorne. Not even t'ang can excuse beggary."</p> - -<p>Thorne staggered back. Shuddering, icy nausea ripped through his worn -frame. Clenching his fists, he turned his back on the tall Martian -that his blinding shame might not be seen. A rustle of paper told him -the native chieftain was gathering up the fallen currency. He did not -turn. But a gentle poke from the spear-butt awoke him from his daze and -he turned at last, to find his money presented at his breast upon the -chief's blade. Slowly he took it, slowly tore it across and across, -dropping it listlessly upon the sand.</p> - -<p>"Where shall I go?" he asked, more of the empty air than of the grave -Martian watching him so sadly. The native shook his grey-maned head.</p> - -<p>"Where shall any t'anger go?" he replied. The sting of the epithet, -although innocently meant by the generous Martian, twisted Thorne's -sodden mind until he pounded his temples with a groan of empty pain.</p> - -<p>"Where, indeed, good Hanu?" Almost he laughed, throwing wide his -tattered arms in the remnants of the brave red International jacket. -"To the north Vulhan City and the gutter, to the south your people and -a greater contempt than theirs, for I have tried to be their friend. -Oh, I know, Hanu! It's in your eyes. It's in mine, too. There for good -and all. So what's left but the sea again ... and no petty fool to -drag me forth to shame me even before you, the last of all my friends."</p> - -<p>"I am your friend always, friend Thorne." The Martian's voice was -gentle. "But you have come to the end. You know that now. But not in -the sea."</p> - -<p>"Where else?" Thorne sat down abruptly, his legs giving way beneath -him. A haze was descending over his foggy mind and he pressed his -temples again, burying his face in his hands, Hanu nodded to the left.</p> - -<p>"The desert."</p> - -<p>Thorne looked up, amazed. "That horror!"</p> - -<p>"The desert is slow ... but not unkind. There will be many things to -think on as you walk." Hanu leaned on his spear, regarding the sunken -wreck sitting before him. "Our old men go forth in the evening when -they no longer care to live. Our wicked pass from us across the sand, -for we do not kill. There is peace there ... and rest. What else, we do -not know. They never return."</p> - -<p>A shudder passed over the beachcomber. Slowly he rose to his feet. -"No," he admitted, staring with a grudging, affectionate admiration at -the grey one. "You do not kill." Abruptly he offered his hand. "Before -I go?"</p> - -<p>Hanu smiled, pulling his whisker. "You will go? The woman is already -gone and we will forget her like yesterday's tide, but we shall not -forget the man who was with us that far-off day. We shall not forget." -The pink-palmed, five-fingered hand clasped Thorne's. "Forget us not, -friend Thorne."</p> - -<p>"I won't, Hanu. Goodby ... and thanks. It's all I can leave you, friend, -but I know it counts, even from a space-rat like myself." Abruptly he -wheeled and trudged away up the slope toward the higher trees back of -the beach. He did not look back, even when Hanu's spear plunged into -the sand twenty feet ahead and the grieving Martian wailed a piercing -call of farewell.</p> - -<p>Taking the gift, Thorne staggered wearily on. Trees rose and fell about -him, rude, stubby giants with the fat, pulpy stems designed to catch -and store the precious polar waters melting before the first summer -sun. The ridge passed and the rolling, bushy foothills along the coast -led him endlessly down through the salt marshes where strange shapes -moved and stirred at sight of the alien intruder. Then the arid hills -beyond and, at last, cresting a bush-straggled rise, Thorne saw before -him the first dun sweep of the vast inland deserts that have laid Mars -waste and brought low a proud civilization.</p> - -<p>He slept there that first night, hollowing a little scoop of reddish -sand for his ragged hip and a mound for his neck. For a time, after the -first quick darkness, he lay watching Mars' rolling moons wheel across -the horizon, silvering all the desolation and shimmering into a clear, -alien beauty the ruin time had brought.</p> - -<p>Hanu, the chief, had been right. There were thoughts. But gradually the -bitterness and ache of defeat sank away on a flood-tide of weariness -and Thorne slept beneath the Martian moons.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>An inquisitive sand-lizard, poking at his spear with its horny nose, -awoke him before dawn. Not hungry enough to destroy the little -monstrosity, Thorne shooed it away and scrambled up. There was a -thirst inside him blurring his vision ... but not for the water he was -abandoning. Again, as so often in the recent past, he would have sold -what remained of his soul for a bottle of the dreadful, numbing t'ang. -But here one was as remote as the other. He gritted his teeth and moved -slowly down the ridge toward the distant south.</p> - -<p>Hour after hour plodded wearily on as the dull-eyed Earthling lurched -in a slow, dreadful stride farther and farther into the blazing Martian -desert. The hot sunlight glanced and blazed in glittering splendor from -his keen spearblade, slung across his back with a strip torn from his -ragged tunic. It scorched fiercely and persistently at the hat he had -made from a withered desert plant's dun leaf. It burned the reddening -sands to blister the man's half-bare soles through the torn pilot's -boots. It crisped the thin atmosphere to nostril-tingling flame....</p> - -<p>From time to time he came on bushes, tiny, low-squatting bushes with -yellow pads for leaves and deadly stings for thorns. Their flesh was -death. Twice he passed a thin-stalked t'ang bush, hiding in the lee of -some crested dune, flaunting its crimson and black fruit at the weary, -shuddering traveler. There, too, was death. Thorne grinned. And what -else but the slower death and decay brewed from these devil-berries -drove him thus hopeless into the wastes to be at peace and die?</p> - -<p>The second day he found a body. Perhaps one of the old men of Hanu's -wise, grave tribe, setting out into the sunset like Ulysses to seek one -last wonder before the long night overtook him. Perhaps a condemned -man sent gravely forth to wander and seek repentance before suffering -his natural penalty. Thorne could not tell. It was a skeleton by now. -A polished spear lay across the arching ribs and the bony hands were -clasped upon it in a strange gesture of resignation, as though the man -had laid himself down at last to rest.</p> - -<p>He found two more such skeletons before night. The spear of one lay -through the broken ribs, and he shuddered. The man had not waited. -Although his body, numbed and ravaged by the fires of t'ang, required -little now to sustain its life, it was weakening fast and a deeper -lethargy was creeping over him. He wondered when it would be that he, -too, must lie down at last, folding his hands on his breast, and watch -the sun go down or rise for the last time. Well, it would find him -ready.</p> - -<p>For Hanu had been right and all his tribesmen in their strange, -funereal rites had known well what they had been about. The great, -eternal waste of rolling sand and barren rock, the solemn passing of -the ageless sun and silent moons had borne down upon Thorne until from -their unhurried peace had been born a quieter peace within his breast. -Hunger and thirst, numbed by the strain of the t'ang in his system, -faded almost unnoticed into a lethargy. Even the screaming need of the -drugging liquid which had tortured him at first was fading.</p> - -<p>Soon there would be nothing left but the silent golden sun, the ruddy -sands ... and another quiet skeleton watching the brassy sky with dark, -unseeing eyes of bone. Thorne cracked his tortured lips in a grin. At -least it would not be in a gutter of Vulhan City or face down in the -flooding Nergal tide, a shoaling hulk....</p> - -<p>Slowly he moved on through the night. He had lost track of how many -nights. It was cooler so. He watched Phobos rise in cool splendor -far across the sands, a thin black streak standing upright across her -shining disk. For a moment he stared in dull, uncomprehending wonder, -then bent his head and plodded quietly onward.</p> - -<p>Why he walked he did not know, for he had long ceased to question this -strange, ultimate Odyssey on which he had embarked. He only knew he -must go on and on, the one unreasoning urge linking him to the old, -proud heritage of the pioneers of trail and sea and space. And for such -as he there was no turning back....</p> - -<p>When he tripped upon a rotted balk of timber and pitched headlong to -the sand he did not know. For a moment he lay there, unmoving. Then, -with a sigh, he attempted to rise, but exhaustion swept over his -relaxed body in a shuddering flood and he sank back, asleep almost -before he touched the sand.</p> - -<p>It was the growing heat of the sun that awakened him, well past -mid-day. Dull, lack-lustre eyes opened and stared unseeingly upward. -Grimy, wasted hands twitched weakly upon the sand. A faint breath like -a sigh crept between the cracked and swollen lips.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was minutes later, as he instinctively groped for his friend's spear -to lay across his chest as had those others ere they died, that Thorne -came to realize he could not see the sun. Hot, dusty radiations danced -about over his head, and glimmering motes hung in the shadowy depths -beyond his weakened vision, but somehow, faintly, the realization of -shadow crept over his worn-out consciousness. With the realization came -a slowly growing perception of light as he focused his eyes upon the -tapering, unbelievable mass of the gigantic monolith looming over him.</p> - -<p>Three thousand feet it leaped into the Martian sky, a ragged, broken -tower of grey-white stone, turreted with fantastic decay, eroded and -pitted by the storms and dust of twice ten thousand years.</p> - -<p>He turned his head. Beyond it loomed another, only slightly less -massive, but far more eroded. Here and there, standing in a rough -semi-circle, other towers reared their broken heads into the brassy -bowl of the sky, mere shattered heaps of dusty rubble.</p> - -<p>Slowly Thorne sat up. He was huddled at the base of the tallest -monument atop a sloping pile of broken sand and shards drifting down -from the decaying walls. Beneath him long gray shadows of what had once -been piers crept out into a low, extensive basin of sand, broken here -and there by heaped mounds jagged with age-greyed timber.</p> - -<p>"Ships!" he whispered. "By all the Krue of Mars, ships!"</p> - -<p>He dragged himself upright. A glance behind him showed him the futility -of hope. The tremendous edifice at whose base he had fallen had ages -since crumbled within itself until, collapsing inward, it had fused -into one solid pillar of worn masonry and powdered sand. The others -were even less preserved, but wrecked, shattered, decaying as they -were, there remained about their hoary turrets a splendor so great -he instinctively straightened his weary form. In the presence of so -magnificent a declaration by man, he took on a new dignity worthy of -their unyielding might.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Here, then, lay one of those ancient citadels of a long-gone race, -the ancestors of the silent, peaceful Martians of today. A teeming -metropolis of the North, it had shrunk and perished with the death of -the drying seas whose disappearance had all but ruined the once-green -planet, leaving up the blowing sands its gigantic bones in grisly -memory of what once had been. And here, among these empty monoliths, -Thorne knew at last he had come to the end of the spaceman's trail. He -would go no farther.</p> - -<p>Well, for such as he it should not be unwelcome. He took his hand from -the powdery wall and weakly shook his head. It was a tedious business, -this dying.</p> - -<p>What it was that drew him out of the shadow and down the slope he never -knew. Perhaps it was the numb indifference of despair, perhaps only the -last, momentary flicker of that indomitable curiosity which had drawn -the Earthman adventuring across the world and now flings it light-years -wide over the Solar System. It served, nevertheless, to draw him -wearily down from the rubble beneath the gigantic tower into the low -basin which had been the tight harbor of this long-gone city of Mars. -Automatically he trudged onward, to bring up presently before one of -the low mounds dotting the harbor floor.</p> - -<p>It had been a ship, he knew. What forgotten wood made up its mouldering -bones to outlast the crumbling stone of its home port he did not know, -nor greatly care. There had been so many great and wonderful things on -Mars forgotten long since by the sad, wistful remnants of her dying -peoples.</p> - -<p>Lean, broken ribs thrust upward rudely through the golden sands, -wooden-pegged planks still clinging forlornly to their splintered -shafts. There had been metal, too ... copper, bronze, iron bolts, -and silver trim on the poop. All had long since been looted by the -wandering desert tribes who wandered furtively through these tremendous -monuments of their forgotten past.</p> - -<p>From mound to mound Thorne trudged with a weary indifference. As well -to die thus on his feet as face up in the sun. For die he must. Water -there was none, and the only vegetation an occasional low death-bush -with utter agony buried in its flat, leprous leaf-pads. A cluster -of brilliant t'ang sprays glittered savagely in the shady lee of a -shattered wreck, and Thorne shuddered.</p> - -<p>Here, too, death crept in wait, a death already fastened fang-deep in -his sodden, pain-wracked body from a score of dingy Vulhan t'ang-hells. -But what odds? The death from those dark and crimson fruits was quick -and terrible, perhaps, but only quicker than the fate already lying in -his veins. Let there be an end, even to this aimless wandering.</p> - -<p>Slowly Thorne walked up to the bush. There were many, growing in -strange luxuriance along the dust-worn flanks of an ugly wreck -half-buried in the sand. Other wrecks flanked it, three of them, lean, -wicked skeletons of ancient Martian fighting ships, one with her broken -prow yet buried in the freighter's bulging side. He touched the nearest -plank and it drifted into powdered dust beneath his fingers, leaving a -round hole in the grey wall. Again he put his hand through the ship's -side. Another hole was puffed out as cleanly as by a dis-ray.</p> - -<p>Curiosity stirred in him once more. Picking up a stone, he broke open -the wreck's side, bring down the entire flank in an almost soundless -crash of powdering timbers and dissolving decks. The hold, pierced upon -the farther side by the ram of the dead warship which had undoubtedly -sunk the two of them, lay open to the sunlight, barred by the ragged -shadows of the broken stern works.</p> - -<p>"Jars," muttered Thorne. The hold had been packed to the deck with fat, -yet not ungraceful clay jars eight feet high and three wide. He lurched -through the opening he had made.</p> - -<p>"Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves," he mumbled. Maxfield Parrish jars, -Oriental and sinister enough to have held a pair of the ancient robber -band. He patted one, and weak though the blow was, the jar dissolved -into drifting mist.</p> - -<p>Thorne stared.</p> - -<p>Preserving the graceful shape of the vanished jar, a beautiful block -of some golden amber substance stood twinkling among its fellows. He -pounded another jar. It, too, shuddered into misty dust, leaving its -petrified contents, blazing like tawny fire in the Martian sun. Down -the long row Thorne went, poking and kicking. Jar after jar dissolved, -leaving a shimmering stack of solid amber blocks shaped with inhuman -perfection to the mound of the clay in which for countless forgotten -centuries they had been petrifying beneath the dying seas and deserts. -Incredibly hard and smoother than glass, their sleek flanks ripped and -gleamed, shimmering in the bars of sunlight slanting down through the -rotted deck. But other than these, the ship lay bare and lifeless.</p> - -<p>"Frozen oil," mumbled Thorne, turning away at last. Even had he been -able to melt and eat the stuff, the thought of prolonging life had -become insupportable. Weakly he stumbled toward the broken wall he had -pushed in to enter. Here there was naught for him, but beyond, in the -shadows, lay the deadly t'ang and its berries. Well, it had begun this -ghastly Odyssey and it was fitting it should end it in the only way it -could be ended.</p> - -<p>He groped in the shadows for his spear. Lifting it, he thrust a plank -into drifting dissolution, clearing a way out. For a moment, staring -at the sunlight beyond the opening, he did not see. Then his eyes -were drawn to the blade of his spear as it sagged in his lax grasp, -for, resting on the sand within the ship's overcast, it gleamed with -a strange radiance. White fire blazed intermittently along its wide, -polished blade.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Thorne frowned. He lifted the blade. In the sunlight the light dancing -on his spear became white-hot, intolerable. He thrust it back into -the shadows where a broken bit of deck overhung the ruined hold. A -shattering blaze of cold, blue-white light blasted along the hammered -steel, casting its eery radiance upon Thorne's bearded, dusty face in -a wild dance of light and dark. It gleamed madly in his mad, staring -eyes. It shook like flame in his trembling hands, then fell like a -shooting star upon the dusty sands as the weapon sagged from his -relaxing grip. Slowly Thorne pivoted, his wild eyes fixed in awed amaze -upon the rows and heaps of amber jars lying in such glowing luster -among the fallen wreckage of the deck he had shattered. Sunlight ran -and danced mockingly along their smooth flanks, sparkled and blazed -with a fierce glow upon curve and highlight. He dropped his eyes to the -fallen spear, blazing like a meteor in the dusk, half-buried in the -sand, then lifted them again to the fabulous wealth lying before him.</p> - -<p>"Vadirrian oil!" he whispered, choking.</p> - -<p>Steel-hard, imperishable, the few fragments of the ancient oil of the -Vadirrian tree which had been such a common article of commerce in -the olden days commanded today a price so astronomical men were made -wealthy for life through the discovery of a mere pinhead scrap or -drifting grain. Radio-activated through the ages by the action of Mar's -inner core, it had come to mean salvation in scores of the terrible new -plagues introduced among the planets by the advent of space-travel. -There were perhaps no more than six to eight ounces in the hospitals of -the entire Universe at the present time, worth over three hundred and -sixty billion credits. Here, in perfect condition, lay sixty tons.</p> - -<p>He had come into the desert seeking death and the release it brought; -he had found fortune inestimable. The irony of his plight brought a -wry, bitter smile to his cracked lips, for, after all, he could hardly -be said to have been cheated of his earlier aim. Fortune or none, -death sat grinning at him from the broken timbers of the ancient ship, -gleaming from the petrified oil still in its original shape from jars -now dust and less than dust. Without food or water, he stood already -dead and nothing here in the shadows could save him from the inexorable -end he had so persistently sought.</p> - -<p>Thorne stumbled from the freighter and stood once more in the hot, -bright Martian sunlight. The giant tower of the deserted city loomed -behind him, but he did not look that way. He stared a moment at the -blade of his spear, faintly gleaming even in this bright glare, then -all around him at the rolling desolation which had once been the proud, -rich harbor of the great city now mouldering in silence along the -powdered quays behind him. There was no life.</p> - -<p>Blindly he moved away, scuffing through the sand. The excitement of -his find wore down and the griping pangs of torment again seized and -wrenched at him. Yet it was not with the same aimless shamble with -which he had entered the sunken harbor bowl that he left it, but, -instinctively, he found himself trying to follow his own plainly marked -trail across the shallow sand hills. He might make it.</p> - -<p>He did not, of course. Weakened and broken by his long, waterless march -into the desert, sapped by his own excesses, he followed his trail for -mile after mile until it blurred and spun before his eyes and melted -at last into one blinding haze of flaming Martian heat. The trail -vanished, though he did not know he had wandered from it. Presently he -knew nothing but that, somehow, he must keep going on and on. Why, he -could no longer remember, but the dim, instinctive urge was there and -served to motivate him when he would have fallen to die with the others -over whose mummies he more than once stumbled.</p> - -<p>The hunger was the worst. The terrible ravages of t'ang had somewhat -blunted his need for liquids, but he still could starve. Yet here and -there upon his way he chanced on little bushes and clumps of plants, -thick-leaved, leprous, yellow and blue and horrid purple, essence of -poisonous death to all things Terrestrial or Martian.</p> - -<p>Here and there, also, he encountered dried mummies or the skeletons of -such weird Martian life as had succumbed to hunger and tasted the spiny -death blooming across the desert sands. And there were t'ang bushes, -heavy with the bright red and purple berries whose fermented juice had -wrought him such deadly havoc. Thorne stared dully, conscious of the -fitness of things which set these horrors blooming only in such fatal -wastelands.</p> - -<p>He moved on and on, his eyes aching to the ceaseless play and -counterplay of mirages and kindred phantoms that swept the changing -landscapes like magic lanterns. Again and again he found himself -walking into the streets of a dead city, or perhaps one peopled by -living beings. But even as his feet touched the cobbled walks the -phantom dissolved and he plunged into a marsh that vanished as quickly -when he bent to taste the water splashing about his torn feet. It was -the final blow and he went down heavily and lay sprawled there on the -powdery, dusty slope where no marsh had lain for ten thousand years.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>An hour later he wearily opened his eyes. The sun was lower, but the -heat and pain had not lessened perceptibly. A hundred feet away a -little copse of t'ang bushes flowered gracefully in thin sprays of twig -and serried little fruit arching up and out like frozen fountains of -death. Thick-leaved, monstrous cactus plants crouched in the scanty -shade flung by the taller t'angs. Cruel rows of gleaming spines thrust -outward belligerently, as though there were creatures even on waterless -Mars mad enough to rend and tear their poisonous flesh for the pitiful -moisture distilled from her lean breast. He grinned weakly and began -crawling forward. Mirages, at least, need no longer haunt his wheeling -brain.</p> - -<p>He ate the plants. Stripping the t'ang bushes of their scarlet, -bursting rows, he gobbled down the berries like peanuts. It no longer -mattered that death salted the repast. But here, deep in the desert, -the berries were dry and flat, insufficient for his need. Recklessly -he tore open the broad-leaved plants at his feet, slicing and ripping -their hideous flesh with his spear, and gulping great chunks of the -dripping pulp as avidly as though he ate in silken Kyra, the pleasure -dome on Io. No plant escaped him.</p> - -<p>He destroyed them all, eating what he would of their softer hearts. -When he had wiped out the little group, he lurched onward to another, -and another, sampling each and devouring many to their very roots. -Although he had eaten enough pulped death to destroy a city, the -counter-action of varying poisons neutralized each other for a while, -but he could not go on forever.</p> - -<p>Within an hour, as he stumbled on, revived for the moment by this foul -repast, the pains struck him down as though by lightning, stiffening -his weakened body from head to toe in a fiery spasm. A great ball of -flame burst in his belly and spread scintillating all through his -frame until he screamed aloud and made no sound in the doing, until he -twitched and writhed no more, until he lay at last in the cooler shades -of night ... a limp, white thing across an ancient dune of Martian -sand, one more thing for the quiet, dreaming desert to claim and softly -fold away in her drifting dust with other remnants of the past.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But Geoffrey Thorne was not of the past. That he was of the present, -and not good, he became painfully aware some time later. There was a -low humming, drumming roar in his ears, and the bed on which he lay -vibrated softly. He did not open his eyes. Here was another mirage, and -a cruel one. He had not thought to die dreaming of the old days when -Geoffrey Thorne was among the great ones of the space-world. He lay in -a rocket bunk—and the ship was in motion.</p> - -<p>A hard, rough hand shook his shoulder. "Ye're awake, lad." The voice, -like the hand, was hard, yet not unkind. It was strangely familiar and -he opened his eyes. The grizzled face staring down at him broke into a -short, choppy smile. "Easy lad, easy. Just lie still."</p> - -<p>"Captain Fraser!" Thorne mumbled. "Joy Fraser ... how ... am I on your -ship?"</p> - -<p>"Sure, sure, Thorne." Fraser patted his shoulder. "Ye're on the -<i>Moonfire</i>, an hour out of Vulhan City. I'll get ye to a hospital quick -as I can."</p> - -<p>"Hospital? What hospital? I feel—ghaaaa!" Thorne fell back heavily, -gagging, as he remembered the incredible miscellany he had been gnawing -just before it had struck him down in agony. Death-agony, he had -thought, but yet—apparently....</p> - -<p>"Ye're ghostly, lad," rumbled the long-faced Scotchman, pushing down -the impatient derelict. "Were ye lost long in the sand?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. A long time ... a long ... time...." Thorne lay still -for a while, his hand over his eyes.</p> - -<p>There was a strange, puzzled look in Fraser's eyes as he watched the -man who had once been his friend. Jeff Thorne had been among the best -of five worlds, and now....</p> - -<p>"Could I get ye anything, lad?" he asked, gently. The other shook his -head.</p> - -<p>"I feel all right," he said, finally. "Dead-tired, but all right."</p> - -<p>"Pumped water into ye," Fraser grinned. "Soaked ye in it. Ye lay in ma -bath near five hours, out and all. Does wonders up here."</p> - -<p>"You must have worked miracles, Joy," acknowledged Thorne, wonderingly. -"What did you do? I know I was dying."</p> - -<p>The rocket captain looked down, flushing miserably. He picked at a -fleck on his purple tunic.</p> - -<p>"Well, lad, you know ... we hear things in the trade. I knew ... you -drank t'ang. So I remembered I had a bottle. Stuff in the armory for -trading, ye remember. You had half a glass."</p> - -<p>Thorne smiled wryly. "Yes? Thanks, Fraser. You took a risk, dispensing -the stuff without a permit, but the patient—" His eyes widened and he -came suddenly to his elbow, disregarding Fraser's attempt to thrust him -down in the bunk again. "Half a glass, you said?"</p> - -<p>"Sure, lad. That's all." He looked anxiously at the bearded derelict. -"Ye don't mean it was too much?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, nothing like that," Thorne waved aside the other's troubled -protest, his brows knitting. He had had more than that before, but even -to stronger men than himself such a dose meant stunned, broken stupor -that might well last from two to four days. Yet he felt nothing.</p> - -<p>"Fraser, when you found me, where was I?"</p> - -<p>"Out cold on a sand-hill, lad. O'Leary spotted you from the engine room -as we sailed by. Ye had a Martian spear ... and something else I want -to talk to you about later."</p> - -<p>Thorne did not catch the other's meaning, but pressed on. "There was no -city near?"</p> - -<p>"City!" Fraser stared. "Ye mean ... oh, ye mean a deserted city, eh? -No, there was no city. No cities in those parts to my knowledge. Mirage -country, ye know, lad. One o' them?"</p> - -<p>"Could you remember—were there plants near me—Martian desert plants -like cactus—maybe t'ang bushes?"</p> - -<p>"Can't say, Thorne. None right near ye, anyhow. Just clear sand. Why?"</p> - -<p>"Could you find the spot again?"</p> - -<p>"Sure. Right in the log. Aimin' to go back?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps ... some day. But you don't understand, Joy. Those plants ... -I had been eating them."</p> - -<p>Fraser started back in horror, coming to his feet as his stool -clattered across the smooth steel floor. "But my Lord, man ... them -things is fatal! One nibble and ye're a cooked goose!"</p> - -<p>"I know. I've seen men who died that way, and I wanted to go out as -quickly. I couldn't take it any more. But I ate everything—all colors -and all the tastes you could find in your foulest nightmares. I even -ate the t'ang berries. Am <i>I</i> dead?"</p> - -<p>"Lord knows why you ain't, lad!"</p> - -<p>"I know I ate the things, Joy. But that's not what I meant. Perhaps the -things counteracted themselves in me, I ate so many. I meant the t'ang."</p> - -<p>"You—it didn't affect you!" Fraser eyed his patient in growing -astonishment. There were no indications Thorne had sopped up a heavy -dose of the lethal drug.</p> - -<p>"No. I feel nothing. Just like I'd had a good sleep, though I'm still -worn out and weak. Dead tired and hungry, but I have no thirst. And my -craving for the stuff is classic, Joy."</p> - -<p>"I've heard that, lad." Fraser shook his head, remembering the wild -tales.</p> - -<p>"I don't <i>want</i> a drink, Joy!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Thorne struggled to a seat on the edge of the bunk, unshaven, his hair -brush-wild, his eyes red and rheumy, a derelict to the soles of his -torn boots. Yet he did not want a drink, he whose passion had been -drink, whose only joy and only thought had been drink until it had -swept him from the heights to such depths that even a Martian refused -longer to shelter him and sent him forth into the desert to find death.</p> - -<p>"Maybe ye've just been numbed," suggested Fraser. "I gave ye half a -glass, I told ye."</p> - -<p>"It should have laid me out cold."</p> - -<p>"Anyone else it would," returned Fraser, somewhat brutally. "You been -lapping it up so thick you might be a little immune, ye know. I took -the chance."</p> - -<p>"It wouldn't have made any difference if I had been laid out another -day or two, anyhow," Thorne returned, as brutally. "I might be getting -a little thick. I could take more than I could at first. But I wanted -it just as bad, or worse. Now I don't want it. Have you any left?"</p> - -<p>"Most of the bottle."</p> - -<p>"May I have a glass?"</p> - -<p>Fraser snorted, his Scotch coming through almost visibly. "Don't want -it, eh?" He pulled a squat, green bottle from the wall cabinet beside -the bunk. "Just how big a glass, Mr. Thorne?"</p> - -<p>"Full."</p> - -<p>He filled the glass and handed it in stony silence to the ex-pilot. -Thorne took it and looked into the turgid green depths. He smelled -the sweet, cidery odor. He passed it to and fro under his nose. No -reaction. Nothing.</p> - -<p>"It's just water, Joy." He looked up at Fraser, wide-eyed, grinning.</p> - -<p>"It's high-test Royal Seal," retorted the freighter captain. "It cost -me plenty and you know it."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but—to me—me, the biggest sot on Mars—it's just water! No -taste, no smell, no nothing." He lifted the glass to his lips. There -was a short pause. Slowly he lowered his hand, a glare of madness -in his eyes. Fraser drew back, but, fascinated, made no effect to -interfere.</p> - -<p>"It's still ... water, Joy. Water. Tastes like water, smells like -water. The stuff doesn't affect me at all." He flung up his hand, -gulping down the terrible t'ang like mad, spilling it down his stubby -chin and staining his rags a dirtier color than before. Only when the -last drop had vanished did he lower the glass, and Fraser, watching -in amazement, saw that no tinge of exhilaration swayed his patient. A -thimblefull of the stuff would set off a jag in an ordinary man that -made a whiskey-drunk look like an ice-cream festival. Thorne, saturated -with the wicked juice, sat in quiet, deliberate possession of his every -sense and faculty.</p> - -<p>"I've had my drink, Joy. I didn't want it, except as I would want -any drink when thirsty. I didn't taste a thing. I feel nothing." He -stumbled erect, holding onto the upright of the bunk. "I'm tired, -dead-tired. I could sleep a week. But I'm not drunk, Joy. I'm not -drunk. I can't get drunk. Never again. I can't be poisoned. I'm -saturated with poison. You'll have to shoot me to get rid of me, Joy."</p> - -<p>"We don't want to get rid of you, Jeff." There were unaccustomed lines -in the freighter captain's face and a softness which had not been there -since he bade goodby to his children back on Earth five months ago. -"We've hated to lose you. And now you're back again, you want us to -shoot you!"</p> - -<p>Their hands met and wrung hard together. "Welcome back!" It was a -pleasant thing for the derelict Thorne to hear once more. But he knew.</p> - -<p>"I can't come back, Joy, though I thank you. I'm a t'ang drinker and, -as such, I lose all rights."</p> - -<p>"You're cured, man! You've proved that. You're alive! The berries and -leaves you ate destroyed your craving. We can prove it in any court of -law, any space commission. Drink a barrel of the stuff in their faces."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps I'm cured. I think so now, but there may be a relapse. Anyhow, -cured or not, there's a strict law on the books and it isn't going to -be lifted to allow me to return to Earth or any of the Lines. Too many -aren't cured."</p> - -<p>Fraser scowled. "You are. What about the others? Can't they—?"</p> - -<p>"Do I know what I ate? The proportions? What went with what and how -much? I was dizzy as a loon. All I really remember clearly is eating -t'ang berries. Deadly poison. Can a cure be mixed with ingredients like -that?"</p> - -<p>Fraser was not daunted. "Perhaps you can't force the law, Thorne. But -you do know what cured you. Work out a cure. Get the botanists and -biologists on it, man. Let them do the work, if it <i>is</i> your clue. -Flying isn't the only thing in life, Jeff."</p> - -<p>"Do I look like a fountain, to start research on the course, Joy?" -Thorne surveyed his rags in a spotted mirror on the wall of the -freighter's little surgery. "I look like the subject matter."</p> - -<p>"You can do anything with money, lad."</p> - -<p>"And do I look like money, Joy?"</p> - -<p>"Not at present, of course. But when we reach Vulhan City, you can look -as you like. Ye're wealthy, lad. Wealthier than Donaldson o' the Line."</p> - -<p>"Which of us has been drinking the t'ang, Joy?"</p> - -<p>"This is no dream, pipe or any other kind, Jeff." The captain held up a -small, broken sliver of irridescent golden amber, clamped in a leaden -grip, which he had taken from the cabinet as Thorne jeered. "I think -you'll find it worth about one hundred and seventy thousand, lad. One -hundred and seventy thousand. Think it over. Ye had it caught in your -clothes when we found ye."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Martineau, Captain of the Port at Vulhan City, snapped the inter-office -switch in impatience. His voice cracked sharply. "I will not see -Captain Thorne, Miss Gurn. You know that as well as I do! You hear?"</p> - -<p>Miss Gurn's voice was tremulous, but determined. "I know, sir, but he -insists on seeing you. It is—"</p> - -<p>"Have Williams throw him out, Miss Gurn," snapped the Port Captain. -"How in Karac's name did you let him in, anyway?"</p> - -<p>"He says it is Government business, sir. He refuses to go. And -Lieutenant Williams is not here."</p> - -<p>"Government business?" Martineau glowered. "Then send him in. I'll deal -with this t'anger myself." Snapping off the phone switch, he flipped -another. The local Patrol Superintendent looked up at him in the -screen. "Bannerman, could you step in a moment? I think Thorne's going -to make trouble and I'm going to deal with him right here and now."</p> - -<p>"Of course, Martineau. I've been expecting him." The big, white-haired -officer heaved himself up and picked up his glittering helmet. "Be -right in." The screen faded as Thorne was ushered in by a wide-eyed -Miss Gurn.</p> - -<p>Trim and stiffly neat in the scarlet tunic and blue-black trousers of -the International, Thorne stood coolly at attention, thin and worn but -clean-shaven, scrubbed, and pressed. Gold sparkled on his close-fitting -helmet and on the butts of his twin Blandarcs. Under one scarlet arm he -carried a small black box.</p> - -<p>"Well, Thorne," broke in Martineau as the other door opened to admit -the bulk of the Patrol Superintendent. "Your business, please."</p> - -<p>Thorne flushed, but did not move. He could not afford to resent -discourtesies he had become so bitterly accustomed to receiving these -past two years. He laid the box on the Port Captain's desk.</p> - -<p>"This is to return to Earth at once, sir. It is extraordinarily -valuable. I am requesting passage on the first battle rocket leaving -Mars."</p> - -<p>The Patrolman intervened quietly. "You know you cannot return to Earth, -Captain Thorne."</p> - -<p>"I know, sir. I request passage for this consignment only."</p> - -<p>"What is it ... t'ang?" Martineau asked, brutally, pushing roughly at -the box.</p> - -<p>A grim smile touched Thorne's dry lips. "No, sir. It is a little over -an ounce of—petrified Vadirrian oil!"</p> - -<p>Martineau leaped erect with a strangled cry, his face going crimson -with anger. The Superintendent, having known what was in the box, made -no sound but watched them with a grim smile.</p> - -<p>"If this is a joke, you bush-bum," choked the Port Captain, "I'll see -personally you suffer for it, Thorne. The hard way. You dare come here -and—"</p> - -<p>"It is not a joke, sir," broke in Bannerman, at last. "We have been -notified of this strike. It is registered in our files and the specimen -is entirely genuine. I recommend that Captain Thorne's request be -fulfilled." His voice was crisp and clear.</p> - -<p>Martineau sagged, staring at the little box. "But—but there's a -fortune there, sir. Thousand on thousands—where did this—this man -locate such a treasure? The Martian government has been notified?"</p> - -<p>"All necessary steps have been taken, sir," Thorne smiled. "The -declared value of this specimen is one hundred and eighty-two thousand -credits. Proper amounts have been forwarded to the Vulhan General -Hospital, with others to Loxthal City, Andobre, Vlax, and New Luna. -This is directed to the Universal Laboratories at New Yatt, North -America, vested in the name of Miss Helen Thurland."</p> - -<p>"You make no claim to accompanying it?"</p> - -<p>"None, sir. I am cured of t'ang, but there is no known medical way to -prove that to anyone's satisfaction but my own. I know the law and am -willing to abide by it. I claim its protection in this matter."</p> - -<p>"Fair enough, Captain Thorne," agreed Martineau, reluctantly, seating -himself and poking gingerly at the fortune on his desk. "You have that -right."</p> - -<p>"You accept the shipment?"</p> - -<p>"It shall be sent on the <i>Warhorse</i> next Thursday, by way of Luna. Here -is your receipt and your insurance papers. Present them to the Starmail -office next week and receive your arrival receipt. About the twentieth, -I believe."</p> - -<p>"What is the charge?"</p> - -<p>Bannerman quietly intervened. "There is no charge. The Vadirrian is for -the Universals, and as such travels light."</p> - -<p>Thorne bowed stiffly, as Martians do, and stepped back. "I thank you, -gentlemen. I know the Vadirrian is in good hands."</p> - -<p>Bannerman heaved himself up. "Step into my office a moment, will you, -Thorne? If the Captain will excuse us?" Martineau nodded, saluting -sharply. There was no more talk of "bush-bums".</p> - -<p>The Superintendent of Patrol, however, was not impressed. Seated at -his own desk, he pinned Thorne with an eagle glare. "I don't ask -for information, Captain Thorne, but I must request you to show -cause why you should not be removed from Vulhan City as a t'anger -and—uh—general undesirable."</p> - -<p>"I am cured of the t'ang habit, sir. So far as medical authority -here can go, they give me a clean bill of health. I have witnesses, -pictures, papers."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bannerman snorted. "If I take so much for granted, and, mark you, I -have no right to assume that out of hundreds you alone have managed -to cure yourself. Medics or no, I must still ask what means of -subsistence you have. We cannot tolerate relief cases here on Mars, -Captain," he added, sternly.</p> - -<p>A dull red flush stained Thorne's worn features. "I have never been on -your rolls, sir."</p> - -<p>"Granted. But can you keep off them? Do you have a job?"</p> - -<p>"Who will hire me now?"</p> - -<p>"Have you money?"</p> - -<p>"All I possess lies on Captain Martineau's desk yonder, sir. When I -found I had unwittingly carried off a scrap of the petrified oil in my -torn boot, I felt I had no true right to it under the circumstances in -which I made the discovery."</p> - -<p>"Highly commendable," rasped Bannerman, rubbing his chin in -exasperation. "Didn't you think it would leave you as flat as you have -been the last year or so, man? What shall you live on? Will you go back -to the natives, shaming us all?"</p> - -<p>"They are good people, sir. I could do worse."</p> - -<p>"You could, by hang! And have, sir! You have no hope of relocating the -main bulk of this treasure?"</p> - -<p>"None, sir. It was in the mirage country, you know, and I have nothing -to search even plain and simple desert, let alone that weird district. -Perhaps some day I may be able to push my claim and make up an -expedition."</p> - -<p>"And until that time...."</p> - -<p>"With your permission, sir, I should like to write a letter to -accompany the Vadirrian. Then ... I shall go home."</p> - -<p>"Home?"</p> - -<p>"My ... beach home, sir. I have considerable property fronting on the -Nergal Sea, you know. As far as I care to walk," he added with some -bitterness.</p> - -<p>Bannerman shrugged. "Public property, Thorne. There are pens and paper -there. I'll see your letter off with the box."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, sir."</p> - -<p>But, pen in hand, Thorne sat staring into space, nibbing thoughtfully -at the tip. It was not easy. Finally, he began to write, slowly, -awkwardly forming the letters he had not shaped for two years and more. -But, presently, warming to the unaccustomed task, they came more easily -and the pen scratched briskly in the silent office. Bannerman buried -himself in his paper work, ignoring the visitor at the other table.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>Dear Miss Thurland</i>,</p> - -<p><i>You will remember me, I think, even if only as a poor space-bum -dragged by the heels from the Nergal Sea, on Mars, just outside Vulhan -City. You were kind to give me money, twenty credits.</i></p> - -<p><i>You may remember I told you the money would be for t'ang. It wasn't, -however, nor has it been spent at all. You showed me what I was, Miss -Thurland, and I didn't like the picture.</i></p> - -<p><i>Notice of receipt will come to you, perhaps before this letter, that -a parcel has been deposited in your name at the Foundation in New -Yatt. It is the fortune I found in the desert. I know you would not -accept such a gift from me, so please believe me I do not intend it as -a gift, nor even as a payment for the credits you gave me. One cannot -repay things like that, even with the parcel at the Foundation.</i></p> - -<p><i>It is pure Vadirrian oil, petrified, valued at more than one hundred -and eighty thousand credits. I am sure you realize how valuable, far -more than in mere credits, this find can be. It will give new life to -hundreds of stricken people suffering the strange disease we transmit -between the planets with this new commerce.</i></p> - -<p><i>You spoke of my ex-steward, Nancy Bertrand. We can do nothing for her -now, buried on Io, but because you were her friend, I would ask you -to set up the fund as a memorial to her, to train nurses and stewards -for the space-runs and to insure that girls as fine as she are given -the chance she made for herself to go out into the world and do work -as important as hers. I know that is not too much to ask of you, Miss -Thurland. Your own expenses for the transaction are included in the -fund. Because I may not return to Earth, now or ever, I have taken the -liberty of imposing this bequest on you, knowing that, as you loved -Nancy, it will give you pleasure to insure her some fitting memorial.</i></p> - -<p><i>Any reply will reach me if addressed to Captain B. Bannerman, -Superintendent of Patrol, Vulhan City, Mars. Again, let me thank you. -My life is worth little to myself or others, but you gave me back my -self-respect.</i></p> - -<p><i>I shall hope to see you again one day, should you visit beyond the -moon.</i></p> - -<p class="ph1"><i>Sincerely,</i><br /> -<i>Geofrey Thorne.</i></p></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>An hour or so later, Vulhan City only a dim glow of light in the -evening sky behind him, Thorne was walking quietly along the beach.</p> - -<p>There was someone waiting for him on the low headland beyond which lay -his own particular cove where he had spent so much and so unworthily -the time lying heavily on his hands.</p> - -<p>The Martian, Hanu, his grizzled whiskers blowing about his wizened, -elfish face stood alone, an armed man.</p> - -<p>"I have returned, Hanu."</p> - -<p>"It was not to return you left this cove," the Martian replied, -sternly. His great round eyes were fixed on the other.</p> - -<p>"My debt is paid, Hanu."</p> - -<p>"Money will not repay. Can your gold buy back, your honor, or ours?"</p> - -<p>"I did not repay in gold, friend, but in the golden oil your ancestors -left us all—the Vadirrian. I bought opportunity and happiness for many -others with its price. For myself, you see me as I am. I have nothing -else. I return as I left, a derelict."</p> - -<p>A slow, wise smile crept over the Martian's wrinkled monkey-face. He -pulled at his whiskers. Then he linked arms with the ex-pilot. "Come, -friend Thorne. You have paid the debt. Let us go down to the village -and see what the women have laid for the evening meal. We shall welcome -you...."</p> - -<pre style='margin-top:6em'> -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DERELICT *** - -This file should be named 63751-h.htm or 63751-h.zip - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/7/5/63751/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - -</pre> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/63751-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/63751-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 68d5e6a..0000000 --- a/old/63751-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63751-h/images/illus.jpg b/old/63751-h/images/illus.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3b37ce2..0000000 --- a/old/63751-h/images/illus.jpg +++ /dev/null |
