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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..fc5058b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63392 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63392) diff --git a/old/63392-h.zip b/old/63392-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7a6b0bc..0000000 --- a/old/63392-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63392-h/63392-h.htm b/old/63392-h/63392-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 71aef1a..0000000 --- a/old/63392-h/63392-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1320 +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 Doorway to Kal-jmar, by Stuart Fleming. - </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; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Doorway to Kal-Jmar, by Stuart Fleming - -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'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Doorway to Kal-Jmar - -Author: Stuart Fleming - -Release Date: October 6, 2020 [EBook #63392] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOORWAY TO KAL-JMAR *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>Doorway to Kal-Jmar</h1> - -<h2>By Stuart Fleming</h2> - -<p>Two men had died before Syme Rector's guns<br /> -to give him the key to the ancient city of<br /> -Kal-Jmar—a city of untold wealth, and of<br /> -robots that made desires instant commands.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Winter 1944.<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>The tall man loitered a moment before a garish window display, his eyes -impassive in his space-burned face, as the Lillis patrolman passed. -Then he turned, burying his long chin in the folds of his sand cape, -and took up the pursuit of the dark figure ahead once more.</p> - -<p>Above, the city's multicolored lights were reflected from the -translucent Dome—a distant, subtly distorted Lillis, through which the -stars shone dimly.</p> - -<p>Getting through that dome had been his first urgent problem, but now he -had another, and a more pressing one. It had been simple enough to pass -himself off as an itinerant prospector and gain entrance to the city, -after his ship had crashed in the Mare Cimmerium. But the rest would -not be so simple. He had to acquire a spaceman's identity card, and he -had to do it fast. It was only a matter of time until the Triplanet -Patrol gave up the misleading trail he had made into the hill country, -and concluded that he must have reached Lillis. After that, his only -safety lay in shipping out on a freighter as soon as possible. He had -to get off Mars, because his trail was warm, and the Patrol thorough.</p> - -<p>They knew, of course, that he was an outlaw—the very fact of the -crashed, illegally-armed ship would have told them that. But they -didn't know that he was Syme Rector, the most-wanted and most-feared -raider in the System. In that was his only advantage.</p> - -<p>He walked a little faster, as his quarry turned up a side street and -then boarded a moving ramp to an upper level. He watched until the -short, wide-shouldered figure in spaceman's harness disappeared over -the top of the ramp, and then followed.</p> - -<p>The man was waiting for him at the mouth of the ascending tunnel.</p> - -<p>Syme looked at him casually, without a flicker of expression, and -started to walk on, but the other stepped into his path. He was quite -young, Syme saw, with a fighter's shoulders under the white leather, -and a hard, determined thrust to his firm jaw.</p> - -<p>"All right," the boy said quietly. "What is it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't understand," Syme said.</p> - -<p>"The game, the angle. You've been following me. Do you want trouble?"</p> - -<p>"Why, no," Syme told him bewilderedly. "I haven't been following you. -I—"</p> - -<p>The boy knuckled his chin reflectively. "You could be lying," he said -finally. "But maybe I've made a mistake." Then—"Okay, citizen, you can -clear—but don't let me catch you on my tail again."</p> - -<p>Syme murmured something and turned away, feeling the spaceman's eyes -on the small of his back until he turned the corner. At the next -street he took a ramp up, crossed over and came down on the other side -a block away. He waited until he saw the boy's broad figure pass the -intersection, and then followed again more cautiously.</p> - -<p>It was risky, but there was no other way. The signatures, the data, -even the photograph on the card could be forged once Syme got his hands -on it, but the identity card itself—that oblong of dark diamondite, -glowing with the tiny fires of radioactivity—that could not be -imitated, and the only way to get it was to kill.</p> - -<p>Up ahead was the Founders' Tower, the tallest building in Lillis. The -boy strode into the entrance lobby, bought a ticket for the observation -platform, and took the elevator. As soon as his car was out of sight in -the transparent tube, Syme followed. He put a half-credit slug into the -machine, took the punctured slip of plastic that came out. The ticket -went into a scanning slot in the wall of the car, and the elevator -whisked him up.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The tower was high, more than a hundred meters above the highest level -of the city, and the curved dome that kept air in Lillis was close -overhead. Syme looked up, after his first appraising glance about the -platform, and saw the bright-blue pinpoint of Earth. The sight stirred -a touch of nostalgia in him, as it always did, but he put it aside.</p> - -<p>The boy was hunched over the circular balustrade a little distance -away. Except for him, the platform was empty. Syme loosened his slim, -deadly energy pistol in its holster and padded catlike toward the -silent figure.</p> - -<p>It was over in a minute. The boy whirled as he came up, warned by -some slight sound, or by the breath of Syme's passage in the still -air. He opened his mouth to shout, and brought up his arm in a swift, -instinctive gesture. But the blow never landed. Syme's pistol spat its -silent white pencil of flame, and the boy crumpled to the floor with a -minute, charred hole in the white leather over his chest.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Syme stooped over him swiftly, found a thick wallet and thrust it into -his pocket without a second glance. Then he raised the body in his arms -and thrust it over the parapet.</p> - -<p>It fell, and in the same instant Syme felt a violent tug at his wrist. -Before he could move to stop himself, he was over the edge. Too late, -he realized what had happened—one of the hooks on the dead spaceman's -harness had caught the heavy wristband of his chronometer. He was -falling, linked to the body of his victim!</p> - -<p>Hardly knowing what he did, he lashed out wildly with his other arm, -felt his fingertips catch and bite into the edge of the balustrade. His -body hit the wall of the tower with a thump, and, a second later, the -corpse below him hit the wall. Then they both hung there, swaying a -little and Syme's fingers slipped a little with each motion.</p> - -<p>Gritting his teeth, he brought the magnificent muscles of his arm into -play, raising the forearm against the dead weight of the dangling body. -Fraction by slow fraction of an inch, it came up. Syme could feel the -sweat pouring from his brow, running saltily into his eyes. His arms -felt as if they were being torn from their sockets. Then the hook -slipped free, and the tearing, unbearable weight vanished.</p> - -<p>The reaction swung Syme against the building again, and he almost -lost his slippery hold on the balustrade. After a moment he heard the -spaceman's body strike with a squashy thud, somewhere below.</p> - -<p>He swung up his other arm, got a better grip on the balustrade. He -tried cautiously to get a leg up, but the motion loosened his hold on -the smooth surface again. He relaxed, thinking furiously. He could hold -on for another minute at most; then it was the final blast-off.</p> - -<p>He heard running footsteps, and then a pale face peered over the ledge -at him. He realized suddenly that the whole incident could have taken -only a few seconds. He croaked, "Get me up."</p> - -<p>Wordlessly, the man clasped thin fingers around his wrist. The other -pulled, with much puffing and panting, and with his help Syme managed -to get a leg over the edge and hoist his trembling body to safety.</p> - -<p>"Are you all right?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Syme looked at the man, nursing the tortured muscles of his arms. His -rescuer was tall and thin, of indeterminate age. He had light, sandy -hair, a sharp nose, and—oddly conflicting—pale, serious eyes and a -humorous wide mouth. He was still panting.</p> - -<p>"I'm not hurt," Syme said. He grinned, his white teeth flashing in his -dark, lean face. "Thanks for giving me a hand."</p> - -<p>"You scared hell out of me," said the man. "I heard a thud. I -thought—you'd gone over." He looked at Syme questioningly.</p> - -<p>"That was my bag," the outlaw said quickly. "It slipped out of my hand, -and I overbalanced myself when I grabbed for it."</p> - -<p>The man sighed. "I need a drink. <i>You</i> need a drink. Come on." He -picked up a small black suitcase from the floor and started for the -elevator, then stopped. "Oh—your bag. Shouldn't we do something about -that?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind," said Syme, taking his arm. "The shock must have busted it -wide open. My laundry is probably all over Lillis by now."</p> - -<p>They got off at the amusement level, three tiers down, and found a -cafe around the corner. Syme wasn't worried about the man he had just -killed. He had heard no second thud, so the body must have stayed on -the first outcropping of the tower it struck. It probably wouldn't be -found until morning.</p> - -<p>And he had the wallet. When he paid for the first round of <i>culcha</i>, he -took it out and stole a glance at the identification card inside. There -it was—his ticket to freedom. He began feeling expansive, and even -friendly toward the slender, mouse-like man across the table. It was -the <i>culcha</i>, of course. He knew it, and didn't care. In the morning -he'd find a freighter berth—in as big a spaceport as Lillis, there -were always jobs open. Meanwhile, he might as well enjoy himself, and -it was safer to be seen with a companion than to be alone.</p> - -<p>He listened lazily to what the other was saying, leaning his tall, -graceful body back into the softly-cushioned seat.</p> - -<p>"Lissen," said Harold Tate. He leaned forward on one elbow, slipped, -caught himself, and looked at the elbow reproachfully. "Lissen," he -said again, "I trust you, Jones. You're obvi-obviously an adventurer, -but you have an honest face. I can't see it very well at the moment, -but I hic!—pardon—seem to recall it as an honest face. I'm going to -tell you something, because I need your help!—help." He paused. "I -need a guide. D'you know this part of Mars well?"</p> - -<p>"Sure," said Syme absently. Out in the center of the floor, an AG -plate had been turned on. Five Venusian girls were diving and twisting -in its influence, propelling themselves by the motion of their -delicately-webbed feet and trailing long gauzy streamers of synthesilk -after them. Syme watched them through narrowed lids, feeling the glow -of <i>culcha</i> inside him.</p> - -<p>"I wanta go to Kal-Jmar," said Tate.</p> - -<p>Syme snapped to attention, every nerve tingling. An indefinable sense, -a hunch that had served him well before, told him that something big -was coming—something that promised adventure and loot for Syme Rector. -"Why?" he asked softly. "Why to Kal-Jmar?"</p> - -<p>Harold Tate told him, and later, when Syme had taken him to his rooms, -he showed him what was in his little black suitcase. Syme had been -right; it was big.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Kal-Jmar was the riddle of the Solar System. It was the only remaining -city of the ancient Martian race—the race that, legends said, had -risen to greater heights than any other Solar culture. The machines, -the artifacts, the records of the Martians were all there, perfectly -preserved inside the city's bubble-like dome, after God knew how many -thousands of years. But they couldn't be reached.</p> - -<p>For Kal-Jmar's dome was not the thing of steelite that protected -Lillis: it was a tenuous, globular field of force that defied analysis -as it defied explosives and diamond drills. The field extended both -above and below the ground, and tunneling was of no avail. No one knew -what had happened to the Martians, whether they were the ancestors of -the present decadent Martian race, or a different species. No one knew -anything about them or about Kal-Jmar.</p> - -<p>In the early days, when the conquest of Mars was just beginning, Earth -scientists had been wild to get into the city. They had observed it -from every angle, taken photographs of its architecture and the robots -that still patrolled its fantastically winding streets, and then they -had tried everything they knew to pierce the wall.</p> - -<p>Later, however, when every unsuccessful attempt had precipitated a -bloody uprising of the present-day Martians—resulting in a rapid -dwindling of the number of Martians—the Mars Protectorate had stepped -in and forbidden any further experiments; forbidden, in fact, any -Earthman to go near the place.</p> - -<p>Thus matter had stood for over a hundred years, until Harold Tate. -Tate, a physicist, had stumbled on a field that seemed to be identical -in properties to the Kal-Jmar dome; and what is more, he had found a -force that would break it down.</p> - -<p>And so he had made his first trip to Mars, and within twenty-four -hours, by the blindest of chances, blurted out his secret to Syme -Rector, the scourge of the spaceways, the man with a thousand credits -on his sleek, tigerish head.</p> - -<p>Syme's smile was not tigerish now; it was carefully, studiedly mild. -For Tate was no longer drunk, and it was important that it should not -occur to him that he had been indiscreet.</p> - -<p>"This is native territory we're coming to, Harold," he said. "Better -strap on your gun."</p> - -<p>"Why. Are they really dangerous?"</p> - -<p>"They're unpredictable," Syme told him. "They're built differently, and -they think differently. They breathe like us, down in their caverns -where there's air, but they also eat sand, and get their oxygen that -way."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I've heard about that," Tate said. "Iron oxide—very interesting -metabolism." He got his energy pistol out of the compartment and -strapped it on absently.</p> - -<p>Syme turned the little sand car up a gentle rise towards the tortuous -hill country in the distance. "Not only that," he continued. "They -eat the damndest stuff. Lichens and fungi and tumble-grass off the -deserts—all full of deadly poisons, from arsenic up the line to -xopite. They seem intelligent enough—in their own way—but they never -come near our cities and they either can't or won't learn Terrestrial. -When the first colonists came here, they had to learn <i>their</i> crazy -language. Every word of it can mean any one of a dozen different -things, depending on the inflection you give it. I can speak it some, -but not much. Nobody can. We don't think the same."</p> - -<p>"So you think they might attack us?" Tate asked again, nervously.</p> - -<p>"They <i>might</i> do anything," Syme said curtly. "Don't worry about it."</p> - -<p>The hills were much closer than they had seemed, because of Mars' -deceptively low horizon. In half an hour they were in the midst of a -wilderness of fantastically eroded dunes and channels, laboring on -sliding treads up the sides of steep hills only to slither down again -on the other side.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Syme stopped the car abruptly as a deep, winding channel appeared -across their path. "Gully," he announced. "Shall we cross it, or follow -it?"</p> - -<p>Tate peered through the steelite nose of the car. "Follow, I guess," -he offered. "It seems to go more or less where we're going, and if we -cross it we'll only come to a couple dozen more."</p> - -<p>Syme nodded and moved the sand car up to the edge of the gully. Then he -pressed a stud on the control board; a metal arm extruded from the tail -of the car and a heavy spike slowly unscrewed from it, driving deep -into the sand. A light on the board flashed, indicating that the spike -was in and would bear the car's weight, and Syme started the car over -the edge.</p> - -<p>As the little car nosed down into the gully, the metal arm left behind -revealed itself to be attached to a length of thick, very strong wire -cable, with a control cord inside. They inched down the almost vertical -incline, unreeling the cable behind them, and starting minor landslides -as they descended.</p> - -<p>Finally they touched bottom. Syme pressed another stud, and above, the -metal spike that had supported them screwed itself out of the ground -again and the cable reeled in.</p> - -<p>Tate had been watching with interest. "Very ingenious," he said. "But -how do we get up again?"</p> - -<p>"Most of these gullies peter out gradually," said Syme, "but if we want -or have to climb out where it's deep, we have a little harpoon gun that -shoots the anchor up on top."</p> - -<p>"Good. I shouldn't like to stay down here for the rest of my -natural life. Depressing view." He looked up at the narrow strip of -almost-black sky visible from the floor of the gully, and shook his -head.</p> - -<p>Neither Syme nor Tate ever had a chance to test the efficiency of their -harpoon gun. They had traveled no more than five hundred meters, and -the gully was as deep as ever, when Tate, looking up, saw a deeper -blackness blot out part of the black sky directly overhead. He shouted, -"Look out!" and grabbed for the nearest steering lever.</p> - -<p>The car wheeled around in a half circle and ran into the wall of the -gully. Syme was saying, "What—?" when there was a thunderous crash -that shook the sturdy walls of the car, as a huge boulder smashed into -the ground immediately to their left.</p> - -<p>When the smoky red dust had cleared away, they saw that the left tread -of the sand car was crushed beyond all recognition.</p> - -<p>Syme was cursing slowly and steadily with a deep, seething anger. Tate -said, "I guess we walk from here on." Then he looked up again and -caught a glimpse of the horde of beasts that were rushing up the gully -toward them.</p> - -<p>"My God!" he said. "What are those?"</p> - -<p>Syme looked. "Those," he said bitterly, "are Martians."</p> - -<p>The natives, like all Martian fauna, were multi-legged. Also like all -Martian fauna, they moved so fast that you couldn't see how many legs -they did have. Actually, however, the natives had six legs apiece—or, -more properly, four legs and two arms. Their lungs were not as large -as they appeared, being collapsed at the moment. What caused the bulge -that made their torsos look like sausages was a huge air bladder, with -a valve arrangement from the stomach and feeding directly into the -bloodstream.</p> - -<p>Their faces were vaguely canine, but the foreheads were high, and the -lips were not split. They did resemble dogs, in that their thick black -fur was splotched with irregulate patches of white. These patches of -white were subject to muscular control and could be spread out fanwise; -or, conversely, the black could be expanded to cover the white, which -helped to take care of the extremes of Martian temperature. Right now -they were mostly black.</p> - -<p>The natives slowed down and spread out to surround the wrecked sand -car, and it could be seen that most of them were armed with spears, -although some had the slim Benson energy guns—strictly forbidden to -Martians.</p> - -<p>Syme stopped cursing and watched tensely. Tate said nothing, but he -swallowed audibly.</p> - -<p>One Martian, who looked exactly like all the rest, stepped forward and -motioned unmistakably for the two to come out. He waited a moment and -then gestured with his energy gun. That gun, Syme knew from experience, -could burn through a small thickness of steelite if held on the same -spot long enough.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Come on," Syme said grimly. He rose and reached for a pressure suit, -and Tate followed him.</p> - -<p>"What do you think they'll—" he began, and then stopped himself. "I -know. They're unpredictable."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," said Syme, and opened the door. The air in the car <i>whooshed</i> -into the near-vacuum outside, and he and Tate stepped out.</p> - -<p>The Martian leader looked at them enigmatically, then turned and -started off. The other natives closed in on them, and they all bounded -along under the weak gravity.</p> - -<p>They bounded along for what Syme figured as a good kilometer and a -half, and they then reached a branch in the gully and turned down -it, going lower all the time. Under the light of their helmet lamps, -they could see the walls of the gully—a tunnel, now—getting darker -and more solid. Finally, when Syme estimated they were about nine -kilometers down, there was even a suggestion of moisture.</p> - -<p>The tunnel debouched at last into a large cavern. There was a -phosphorescent gleam from fungus along the walls, but Syme couldn't -decide how far away the far wall was. He noticed something else, though.</p> - -<p>"There's air here," he said to Tate. "I can see dust motes in it." He -switched his helmet microphone from radio over to the audio membrane -on the outside of the helmet. "<i>Kalis methra</i>," he began haltingly, -"<i>seltin guna getal.</i>"</p> - -<p>"Yes, there is air here," said the Martian leader, startlingly. "Not -enough for your use, however, so do not open your helmets."</p> - -<p>Syme swore amazedly.</p> - -<p>"I thought you said they didn't speak Terrestrial," Tate said. Syme -ignored him.</p> - -<p>"We had our reasons for not doing so," the Martian said.</p> - -<p>"But how—?"</p> - -<p>"We are telepaths, of course. On a planet which is nearly airless on -its surface, we have to be. A tendency of the Terrestrial mind is to -ignore the obvious. We have not had a spoken language of our own for -several thousand years."</p> - -<p>He darted a glance at Syme's darkly scowling face. His own hairy face -was expressionless, but Syme sensed that he was amused. "Yes, you're -right," he said. "The language you and your fellows struggled to learn -is a fraud, a hodge-podge concocted to deceive you."</p> - -<p>Tate looked interested. "But why this—this gigantic masquerade?"</p> - -<p>"You had nothing to give us," the Martian said simply.</p> - -<p>Tate frowned, then flushed. "You mean you avoided revealing yourselves -because you—had nothing to gain from mental intercourse with us?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>Tate thought again. "But—"</p> - -<p>"No," the Martian interrupted him, "revealing the extent of our -civilization would have spared us nothing at your people's hands. Yours -is an imperialist culture, and you would have had Mars, whether you -thought you were taking it from equals or not."</p> - -<p>"Never mind that," Syme broke in impatiently. "What do you want with -us?"</p> - -<p>The Martian looked at him appraisingly. "You already suspect. -Unfortunately, you must die."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was a weird situation, Syme thought. His mind was racing, but as yet -he could see no way out. He began to wonder, if he did, could he keep -the Martians from knowing about it? Then he realized that the Martian -must have received that thought, too, and he was enraged. He stood, -holding himself in check with an effort.</p> - -<p>"Will you tell us why?" Tate asked.</p> - -<p>"You were brought here for that purpose. It is part of our conception -of justice. I will tell you and your—friend—anything you wish to -know."</p> - -<p>Syme noticed that the other Martians had retired to the farther side of -the cavern. Some were munching the glowing fungus. That left only the -leader, who was standing alertly on all fours a short distance away -from them, holding the Benson gun trained on them. Syme tried not to -think about the gun, especially about making a grab for it. It was like -trying not to think of the word "hippopotamus."</p> - -<p>Tate squatted down comfortably on the floor of the cavern, apparently -unconcerned, but his hands were trembling slightly. "First why—" he -began.</p> - -<p>"There are many secrets in Kal-Jmar," the Martian said, "among them a -very simple catalyzing agent which could within fifty years transform -Mars to a planet with Terrestrially-thick atmosphere."</p> - -<p>"I think I see," Tate said thoughtfully. "That's been the ultimate aim -all along, but so far the problem has us licked. If we solved it, then -we'd have all of Mars, not just the cities. Your people would die out. -You couldn't have that, of course."</p> - -<p>He sighed deeply. He spread his gloved hands before him and looked -at them with a queer intentness. "Well—how about the Martians—the -Kal-Jmar Martians, I mean? I'd dearly love to know the answer to that -one."</p> - -<p>"Neither of the alternatives in your mind is correct. They were not a -separate species, although they were unlike us. But they were not our -ancestors, either. They were the contemporaries of our ancestors."</p> - -<p>"Several thousand years ago Mars' loss of atmosphere began to make -itself felt. There were two ways out. Some chose to seal themselves -into cities like Kal-Jmar; our ancestors chose to adapt their bodies to -the new conditions. Thus the race split. Their answer to the problem -was an evasion; they remained static. Our answer was the true one, for -we progressed. We progressed beyond the need of science; they remained -its slaves. They died of a plague—and other causes.</p> - -<p>"You see," he finished gently, "our deception has caused a natural -confusion in your minds. They were the degenerates, not we."</p> - -<p>"And yet," Tate mused, "you are being destroyed by contact with -an—inferior—culture."</p> - -<p>"We hope to win yet," the Martian said.</p> - -<p>Tate stood up, his face very white. "Tell me one thing," he begged. -"Will our two races ever live together in amity?"</p> - -<p>The Martian lowered his head. "That is for unborn generations." He -looked at Tate again and aimed the energy gun. "You are a brave man," -he said. "I am sorry."</p> - -<p>Syme saw all his hopes of treasure and glory go glimmering down the -sights of the Martian's Benson gun, and suddenly the pent-up rage in -him exploded. Too swiftly for his intention to be telegraphed, before -he knew himself what he meant to do, he hurled himself bodily into the -Martian.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was like tangling with a draft horse. The Martian was astonishingly -strong. Syme scrambled desperately for the gun, got it, but couldn't -tear it out of the Martian's fingers. And all the time he could almost -feel the Martian's telepathic call for help surging out. He heard the -swift pad of his followers coming across the cavern.</p> - -<p>He put everything he had into one mighty, murderous effort. Every -muscle fiber in his superbly trained body crackled and surged with -power. He roared his fury. And the gun twisted out of the Martian's -iron grip!</p> - -<p>He clubbed the prostrate leader with it instantly, then reversed the -weapon and snapped a shot at the nearest Martian. The creature dropped -his lance and fell without a sound.</p> - -<p>The next instant a ray blinked at him, and he rolled out of the way -barely in time. The searing ray cut a swath over the leader's body and -swerved to cut down on him. Still rolling, he fired at the holder of -the weapon. The gun dropped and winked out on the floor.</p> - -<p>Syme jumped to his feet and faced his enemies, snarling like the -trapped tiger he was. Another ray slashed at him, and he bent lithely -to let it whistle over his head. Another, lower this time. He flipped -his body into the air and landed upright, his gun still blazing. His -right leg burned fiercely from a ray-graze, but he ignored it. And -all the while he was mowing down the massed natives in great swaths, -seeking out the ones armed with Bensons in swift, terrible slashes, -dodging spears and other missiles in midair, and roaring at the top of -his powerful lungs.</p> - -<p>At last there were none with guns left to oppose him. He scythed down -the rest in two terrible, lightning sweeps of his ray, then dropped -the weapon from blistered fingers.</p> - -<p>He was gasping for breath, and realized that he was losing air from -the seared-open right leg of his suit. He reached for the emergency -kit at his side, drawing in great, gasping breaths, and fumbled out -a tube of sealing liquid. He spread the stuff on liberally, smearing -it impartially over flesh and fabric. It felt like liquid hell on the -burned, bleeding leg, but he kept on until the quick-drying fluid -formed an airtight patch.</p> - -<p>Only then did he turn, to see Tate flattened against the wall behind -him, his hands empty at his sides. "I'm sorry," Tate said miserably. "I -could have grabbed a spear or something, but—I just couldn't, not even -to save my own life. I—I halfway hoped they'd kill both of us."</p> - -<p>Syme glared at him and spat, too enraged to think of diplomacy. He -turned and strode out of the cavern, carrying his right leg stiffly, -but with his feral, tigerish head held high.</p> - -<p>He led the way, wordlessly, back to the wrecked sand car. Tate followed -him with a hangdog, beaten air, as though he had just found something -that shattered all his previous concepts of the verities in life, and -didn't know what to do about it.</p> - -<p>Still silently, Syme refilled his oxygen tank, watched Tate do the -same, and then picked up two spare tanks and the precious black -suitcase and handed one of the tanks to Tate. Then he stumped around -to the back of the car and inspected the damage. The cable reel, which -might have drawn them out of the gully, was hopelessly smashed. That -was that.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They started off down the canyon, Syme urging the slighter man to -a fast clip, even though his leg was already stiffening. When they -finally reached a climbable spot, Syme was limping badly and Tate was -obviously exhausted.</p> - -<p>They clambered wearily out onto the level sands again just as the -small, blazing sun was setting. "Luck," grunted Syme. "Our only chance -of getting near the city is at night." He peered around, shading his -eyes from the sun's glare with a gauntleted hand. "See that?"</p> - -<p>Following his pointing finger, Tate saw a faint, ephemeral arc showing -above a line of low hills in the distance. "Kal-Jmar," said Syme.</p> - -<p>Tate brightened a little. His body was too filled with fatigue for his -mind to do any work on the problem that was baffling him, and so it -receded into the back of his mind.</p> - -<p>"Kal-Jmar," whispered Syme again.</p> - -<p>There was no twilight. The sun dropped abruptly behind the low horizon, -and darkness fell, sudden and absolute. Syme picked up the extra oxygen -tank and the suitcase, checked his direction by a wrist compass, and -started toward the hills. Tate rose wearily to his feet and followed -again.</p> - -<p>Two hours later, Kal-Jmar stood before them. They had wormed their -way past the sentry posts, doing most of the last two hundred meters -on all fours. With skill and luck, and with Syme's fierce, burning -determination, they had managed to escape detection—and there they -were. Journey's end.</p> - -<p>Tate stared up at the shining, starlight towers in speechless -admiration. If the people who had built this city had been decadent, -still their architecture was magnificent. The city was a rhapsody made -solid. There was a sense of decay about it, he thought, but it was the -decay of supreme beauty, caught at the very verge of dissolution and -preserved for all eternity.</p> - -<p>"Well?" demanded Syme.</p> - -<p>Tate started, shaken out of his dream. He looked down at the black -suitcase, a little wonderingly, and then pulled it to him and opened it.</p> - -<p>Inside, carefully wrapped in shock-absorbing tissue, was a fragile -contrivance of many tubes and wires, and a tiny parabolic mirror. It -had a brand new Elecorp 210 volt battery, and it needed every volt of -that tremendous power. Tate made the connections, his hands trembling -slightly, and set it up on a telescoping tripod. Syme watched him -closely, his big body tensed with expectation.</p> - -<p>The field was before them, shimmering faintly in the starlight. It -looked unsubstantial as the stuff of dreams, but both men knew that no -power man possessed, unless it was the thing Tate held, could penetrate -that screen.</p> - -<p>Tate set the mechanism up close to the field, aimed it very delicately, -and closed a minute switch. After a long second, he opened it again.</p> - -<p>Nothing happened.</p> - -<p>The screen was still there, as unsubstantial and as solid as ever. -There was no change.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Tate looked worriedly at his wiring, a deep wrinkle appearing between -his pale, serious eyes. Syme stood stock-still but quivering with -repressed energy, scowling like a thundercloud.</p> - -<p>"It must be capable of working," Tate told himself querulously. "The -Martians knew—they wouldn't have tried to stop us if—Wait a minute." -He paced back and forth, biting his lip. Syme watched him with catlike -eyes, clenching and unclenching his great fists.</p> - -<p>Tate paused. "I think I have it," he said slowly. "I haven't enough -power to hetrodyne the whole screen, although that's theoretically -possible. But there must be weaker portions of the field—doors—set -to open on the impact of a beam like this one. But I've only got power -enough for two more tries. Jones, where would you put an entrance, if -you'd built Kal-Jmar?"</p> - -<p>Syme's eyes widened, and he stared around slowly. "A thousand years -ago?" he muttered. "Two thousand? These hills were raised in five -hundred. We can't go by topography.</p> - -<p>"In front of one of the main arteries, then. But there are dozens, no -one larger than the other. Did they have dozens of doors?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe," said Tate. He pointed to the right, where the fairy towers of -Kal-Jmar swept aside to leave a broad avenue. "It's the nearest—as -good as any other."</p> - -<p>They walked over to it in silence, and in silence Tate set up his -equipment once more. He shifted it from side to side, squinting, until -he had it lined up exactly on the center of the avenue. Then he took a -long breath, and closed the switch again.</p> - -<p>The switch came up. Syme stared with fierce eagerness, eyes ablaze. For -a moment there was nothing, and then—</p> - -<p>Tate clutched the big man's arm. "Look!" he breathed.</p> - -<p>Where the ray from Tate's machine had impinged, a faintly-glowing -spot of violet radiance! As they watched it widened, dilating into a -perfect circle of violet, enclosing nothingness. The door was opening.</p> - -<p>"It worked," Tate said softly. "It worked!"</p> - -<p>Syme shook off his grip impatiently, put his hand to the gun in the -holster of his suit. Tate was still watching, fascinated. "Look," he -said again. "The color is changing slightly, falling down the spectrum. -I think that's a warning signal. When it reaches red, the door will -close." He moved toward the widening door, like a sleepwalker.</p> - -<p>"Wait," Syme said hoarsely. "You forgot the machine."</p> - -<p>Tate turned, said, "Oh yes," and walked back. Then he saw the gun in -Syme's hand. His jaw dropped slightly, but he didn't say anything. He -just stood there, looking dumbly from the gun to Syme's dark face.</p> - -<p>Syme shot him carefully in the chest.</p> - -<p>He dropped like a rag doll, but Syme's aim had been bad. He wasn't dead -yet. He rolled his eyes up, like a child. His lips moved. In spite of -himself, Syme bent forward to listen.</p> - -<p>"<i>You'll be</i>—<i>sorry</i>," Tate said, and died.</p> - -<p>Air was sighing out through the widening hole in the screen. Syme -straightened and smiled tolerantly. For a moment, he had been -unreasonably afraid of what Tate was about to say. Some detail he had -forgotten, perhaps, something that would trap him now that Tate, the -man who knew the answers, was dead. But—he'd be sorry!</p> - -<p>For what? Another dead fool?</p> - -<p>He gathered up the delicate mechanism in one arm, and, filling his deep -lungs, stepped forward through the opening.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The towers of dead Kal-Jmar loomed over him in the dusk as he strode -like a conqueror down the long-deserted avenue. The city was full of -the whisperings of Kal-Jmar's ancient wraiths, but they touched only -a corner of his mind. He was filled to overflowing with the bright, -glowing joy of conquest. The city was his!</p> - -<p>His boots trod an avenue where no foot had fallen these untold eons, -yet there was no dust. The city was bright and furbished waiting for -him. He was intoxicated. <i>The city was his!</i></p> - -<p>There was a gentle ramp leading upward, and Syme followed it, breathing -in the manufactured air of his pressure suit like wine. All around him, -the city blazed with treasures beyond price.</p> - -<p><i>It was his!</i></p> - -<p>The ramp led to a portal set in the side of a shining needle of a -building. Syme strode up to the threshold, and the door dilated for -him. He stepped inside; the door closed and a soft light glowed on.</p> - -<p>There was air here: good, breathable air. A tiny zephyr of it was -blowing from some hidden source against his body. Greatly daring, he -unfastened the helmet of his suit and flung it back. He breathed in a -lungful of it. God, but it was good after that canned stuff! It was a -little heady; it made his head swim—but it was good air, excellent air!</p> - -<p>He looked around him, measuring, assessing for the first time. This -room alone was worth a fortune. There was platinum; in ornaments, set -into the walls, in furniture. That would be enough to buy the little -things—a new ship, or perhaps even immunity back on Earth. But that -was as nothing to the rest of it, the things three worlds would clamor -for—the artifacts, the record books, the machines!</p> - -<p>He strode about the room, building plan on grandiose plan. He could -take back only a little with him at first; but he could return again -and again, with Tate's mechanism and new batteries. But he'd explore -the city thoroughly before he left. Somewhere there must be weapons. An -invincible weapon, perhaps, that a man could carry in his hand. Perhaps -even a perfect body screen. With that he wouldn't have to steal away -from Mars on a freighter, hiding his loot and his greatness in a dingy -engine room. He could walk into a Triplanet ship and order its captain -to take him wherever he chose to go!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He stood then in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, his head swimming -with glory—and remembered suddenly that he was hungry. He felt in the -container of his helmet, extracted a couple of food tablets, and popped -them into his mouth.</p> - -<p>They would take care of his needs, but they didn't satisfy his hunger. -No food tablets for him after this! Steaks, wines, souffles.... His -mouth began to water at the very thought.</p> - -<p>And then the robot rolled on soundless wheels into the room. Syme -whirled and saw it only when it was almost upon him. The thing was -remarkably lifelike, and for a moment he was startled.</p> - -<p>But it was not alive. It was only a Martian feeding-machine, kept in -repair all these millennia by other robots. It was not intelligent, -and so it did not know that its masters would never return. It did not -know, either, that Syme was not a Martian, or that he wanted a steak, -and not the distilled liquor of the <i>xopa</i> fungus, which still grew in -the subterranean gardens of Kal-Jmar. It was capable only of receiving -the mental impulse of hunger, and of responding to that impulse.</p> - -<p>And so when Syme saw it and opened his mouth in startlement, the -robot acted as it had done with its degenerate, slothful masters. Its -flexible feeding tube darted out and half down the man's gullet before -he could move to avoid it. And down Syme Rector's throat poured a flood -of <i>xopa</i>-juice, nectar to Martians, but swift, terrible death to human -beings....</p> - -<p>Outside, the last doorway to Kal-Jmar closed forever, across from the -cold body of Tate.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Doorway to Kal-Jmar, by Stuart Fleming - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOORWAY TO KAL-JMAR *** - -***** This file should be named 63392-h.htm or 63392-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/3/9/63392/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -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. 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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'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Doorway to Kal-Jmar - -Author: Stuart Fleming - -Release Date: October 6, 2020 [EBook #63392] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOORWAY TO KAL-JMAR *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Doorway to Kal-Jmar - - By Stuart Fleming - - Two men had died before Syme Rector's guns - to give him the key to the ancient city of - Kal-Jmar--a city of untold wealth, and of - robots that made desires instant commands. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Winter 1944. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -The tall man loitered a moment before a garish window display, his eyes -impassive in his space-burned face, as the Lillis patrolman passed. -Then he turned, burying his long chin in the folds of his sand cape, -and took up the pursuit of the dark figure ahead once more. - -Above, the city's multicolored lights were reflected from the -translucent Dome--a distant, subtly distorted Lillis, through which the -stars shone dimly. - -Getting through that dome had been his first urgent problem, but now he -had another, and a more pressing one. It had been simple enough to pass -himself off as an itinerant prospector and gain entrance to the city, -after his ship had crashed in the Mare Cimmerium. But the rest would -not be so simple. He had to acquire a spaceman's identity card, and he -had to do it fast. It was only a matter of time until the Triplanet -Patrol gave up the misleading trail he had made into the hill country, -and concluded that he must have reached Lillis. After that, his only -safety lay in shipping out on a freighter as soon as possible. He had -to get off Mars, because his trail was warm, and the Patrol thorough. - -They knew, of course, that he was an outlaw--the very fact of the -crashed, illegally-armed ship would have told them that. But they -didn't know that he was Syme Rector, the most-wanted and most-feared -raider in the System. In that was his only advantage. - -He walked a little faster, as his quarry turned up a side street and -then boarded a moving ramp to an upper level. He watched until the -short, wide-shouldered figure in spaceman's harness disappeared over -the top of the ramp, and then followed. - -The man was waiting for him at the mouth of the ascending tunnel. - -Syme looked at him casually, without a flicker of expression, and -started to walk on, but the other stepped into his path. He was quite -young, Syme saw, with a fighter's shoulders under the white leather, -and a hard, determined thrust to his firm jaw. - -"All right," the boy said quietly. "What is it?" - -"I don't understand," Syme said. - -"The game, the angle. You've been following me. Do you want trouble?" - -"Why, no," Syme told him bewilderedly. "I haven't been following you. -I--" - -The boy knuckled his chin reflectively. "You could be lying," he said -finally. "But maybe I've made a mistake." Then--"Okay, citizen, you can -clear--but don't let me catch you on my tail again." - -Syme murmured something and turned away, feeling the spaceman's eyes -on the small of his back until he turned the corner. At the next -street he took a ramp up, crossed over and came down on the other side -a block away. He waited until he saw the boy's broad figure pass the -intersection, and then followed again more cautiously. - -It was risky, but there was no other way. The signatures, the data, -even the photograph on the card could be forged once Syme got his hands -on it, but the identity card itself--that oblong of dark diamondite, -glowing with the tiny fires of radioactivity--that could not be -imitated, and the only way to get it was to kill. - -Up ahead was the Founders' Tower, the tallest building in Lillis. The -boy strode into the entrance lobby, bought a ticket for the observation -platform, and took the elevator. As soon as his car was out of sight in -the transparent tube, Syme followed. He put a half-credit slug into the -machine, took the punctured slip of plastic that came out. The ticket -went into a scanning slot in the wall of the car, and the elevator -whisked him up. - - * * * * * - -The tower was high, more than a hundred meters above the highest level -of the city, and the curved dome that kept air in Lillis was close -overhead. Syme looked up, after his first appraising glance about the -platform, and saw the bright-blue pinpoint of Earth. The sight stirred -a touch of nostalgia in him, as it always did, but he put it aside. - -The boy was hunched over the circular balustrade a little distance -away. Except for him, the platform was empty. Syme loosened his slim, -deadly energy pistol in its holster and padded catlike toward the -silent figure. - -It was over in a minute. The boy whirled as he came up, warned by -some slight sound, or by the breath of Syme's passage in the still -air. He opened his mouth to shout, and brought up his arm in a swift, -instinctive gesture. But the blow never landed. Syme's pistol spat its -silent white pencil of flame, and the boy crumpled to the floor with a -minute, charred hole in the white leather over his chest. - -Syme stooped over him swiftly, found a thick wallet and thrust it into -his pocket without a second glance. Then he raised the body in his arms -and thrust it over the parapet. - -It fell, and in the same instant Syme felt a violent tug at his wrist. -Before he could move to stop himself, he was over the edge. Too late, -he realized what had happened--one of the hooks on the dead spaceman's -harness had caught the heavy wristband of his chronometer. He was -falling, linked to the body of his victim! - -Hardly knowing what he did, he lashed out wildly with his other arm, -felt his fingertips catch and bite into the edge of the balustrade. His -body hit the wall of the tower with a thump, and, a second later, the -corpse below him hit the wall. Then they both hung there, swaying a -little and Syme's fingers slipped a little with each motion. - -Gritting his teeth, he brought the magnificent muscles of his arm into -play, raising the forearm against the dead weight of the dangling body. -Fraction by slow fraction of an inch, it came up. Syme could feel the -sweat pouring from his brow, running saltily into his eyes. His arms -felt as if they were being torn from their sockets. Then the hook -slipped free, and the tearing, unbearable weight vanished. - -The reaction swung Syme against the building again, and he almost -lost his slippery hold on the balustrade. After a moment he heard the -spaceman's body strike with a squashy thud, somewhere below. - -He swung up his other arm, got a better grip on the balustrade. He -tried cautiously to get a leg up, but the motion loosened his hold on -the smooth surface again. He relaxed, thinking furiously. He could hold -on for another minute at most; then it was the final blast-off. - -He heard running footsteps, and then a pale face peered over the ledge -at him. He realized suddenly that the whole incident could have taken -only a few seconds. He croaked, "Get me up." - -Wordlessly, the man clasped thin fingers around his wrist. The other -pulled, with much puffing and panting, and with his help Syme managed -to get a leg over the edge and hoist his trembling body to safety. - -"Are you all right?" - - * * * * * - -Syme looked at the man, nursing the tortured muscles of his arms. His -rescuer was tall and thin, of indeterminate age. He had light, sandy -hair, a sharp nose, and--oddly conflicting--pale, serious eyes and a -humorous wide mouth. He was still panting. - -"I'm not hurt," Syme said. He grinned, his white teeth flashing in his -dark, lean face. "Thanks for giving me a hand." - -"You scared hell out of me," said the man. "I heard a thud. I -thought--you'd gone over." He looked at Syme questioningly. - -"That was my bag," the outlaw said quickly. "It slipped out of my hand, -and I overbalanced myself when I grabbed for it." - -The man sighed. "I need a drink. _You_ need a drink. Come on." He -picked up a small black suitcase from the floor and started for the -elevator, then stopped. "Oh--your bag. Shouldn't we do something about -that?" - -"Never mind," said Syme, taking his arm. "The shock must have busted it -wide open. My laundry is probably all over Lillis by now." - -They got off at the amusement level, three tiers down, and found a -cafe around the corner. Syme wasn't worried about the man he had just -killed. He had heard no second thud, so the body must have stayed on -the first outcropping of the tower it struck. It probably wouldn't be -found until morning. - -And he had the wallet. When he paid for the first round of _culcha_, he -took it out and stole a glance at the identification card inside. There -it was--his ticket to freedom. He began feeling expansive, and even -friendly toward the slender, mouse-like man across the table. It was -the _culcha_, of course. He knew it, and didn't care. In the morning -he'd find a freighter berth--in as big a spaceport as Lillis, there -were always jobs open. Meanwhile, he might as well enjoy himself, and -it was safer to be seen with a companion than to be alone. - -He listened lazily to what the other was saying, leaning his tall, -graceful body back into the softly-cushioned seat. - -"Lissen," said Harold Tate. He leaned forward on one elbow, slipped, -caught himself, and looked at the elbow reproachfully. "Lissen," he -said again, "I trust you, Jones. You're obvi-obviously an adventurer, -but you have an honest face. I can't see it very well at the moment, -but I hic!--pardon--seem to recall it as an honest face. I'm going to -tell you something, because I need your help!--help." He paused. "I -need a guide. D'you know this part of Mars well?" - -"Sure," said Syme absently. Out in the center of the floor, an AG -plate had been turned on. Five Venusian girls were diving and twisting -in its influence, propelling themselves by the motion of their -delicately-webbed feet and trailing long gauzy streamers of synthesilk -after them. Syme watched them through narrowed lids, feeling the glow -of _culcha_ inside him. - -"I wanta go to Kal-Jmar," said Tate. - -Syme snapped to attention, every nerve tingling. An indefinable sense, -a hunch that had served him well before, told him that something big -was coming--something that promised adventure and loot for Syme Rector. -"Why?" he asked softly. "Why to Kal-Jmar?" - -Harold Tate told him, and later, when Syme had taken him to his rooms, -he showed him what was in his little black suitcase. Syme had been -right; it was big. - - * * * * * - -Kal-Jmar was the riddle of the Solar System. It was the only remaining -city of the ancient Martian race--the race that, legends said, had -risen to greater heights than any other Solar culture. The machines, -the artifacts, the records of the Martians were all there, perfectly -preserved inside the city's bubble-like dome, after God knew how many -thousands of years. But they couldn't be reached. - -For Kal-Jmar's dome was not the thing of steelite that protected -Lillis: it was a tenuous, globular field of force that defied analysis -as it defied explosives and diamond drills. The field extended both -above and below the ground, and tunneling was of no avail. No one knew -what had happened to the Martians, whether they were the ancestors of -the present decadent Martian race, or a different species. No one knew -anything about them or about Kal-Jmar. - -In the early days, when the conquest of Mars was just beginning, Earth -scientists had been wild to get into the city. They had observed it -from every angle, taken photographs of its architecture and the robots -that still patrolled its fantastically winding streets, and then they -had tried everything they knew to pierce the wall. - -Later, however, when every unsuccessful attempt had precipitated a -bloody uprising of the present-day Martians--resulting in a rapid -dwindling of the number of Martians--the Mars Protectorate had stepped -in and forbidden any further experiments; forbidden, in fact, any -Earthman to go near the place. - -Thus matter had stood for over a hundred years, until Harold Tate. -Tate, a physicist, had stumbled on a field that seemed to be identical -in properties to the Kal-Jmar dome; and what is more, he had found a -force that would break it down. - -And so he had made his first trip to Mars, and within twenty-four -hours, by the blindest of chances, blurted out his secret to Syme -Rector, the scourge of the spaceways, the man with a thousand credits -on his sleek, tigerish head. - -Syme's smile was not tigerish now; it was carefully, studiedly mild. -For Tate was no longer drunk, and it was important that it should not -occur to him that he had been indiscreet. - -"This is native territory we're coming to, Harold," he said. "Better -strap on your gun." - -"Why. Are they really dangerous?" - -"They're unpredictable," Syme told him. "They're built differently, and -they think differently. They breathe like us, down in their caverns -where there's air, but they also eat sand, and get their oxygen that -way." - -"Yes, I've heard about that," Tate said. "Iron oxide--very interesting -metabolism." He got his energy pistol out of the compartment and -strapped it on absently. - -Syme turned the little sand car up a gentle rise towards the tortuous -hill country in the distance. "Not only that," he continued. "They -eat the damndest stuff. Lichens and fungi and tumble-grass off the -deserts--all full of deadly poisons, from arsenic up the line to -xopite. They seem intelligent enough--in their own way--but they never -come near our cities and they either can't or won't learn Terrestrial. -When the first colonists came here, they had to learn _their_ crazy -language. Every word of it can mean any one of a dozen different -things, depending on the inflection you give it. I can speak it some, -but not much. Nobody can. We don't think the same." - -"So you think they might attack us?" Tate asked again, nervously. - -"They _might_ do anything," Syme said curtly. "Don't worry about it." - -The hills were much closer than they had seemed, because of Mars' -deceptively low horizon. In half an hour they were in the midst of a -wilderness of fantastically eroded dunes and channels, laboring on -sliding treads up the sides of steep hills only to slither down again -on the other side. - - * * * * * - -Syme stopped the car abruptly as a deep, winding channel appeared -across their path. "Gully," he announced. "Shall we cross it, or follow -it?" - -Tate peered through the steelite nose of the car. "Follow, I guess," -he offered. "It seems to go more or less where we're going, and if we -cross it we'll only come to a couple dozen more." - -Syme nodded and moved the sand car up to the edge of the gully. Then he -pressed a stud on the control board; a metal arm extruded from the tail -of the car and a heavy spike slowly unscrewed from it, driving deep -into the sand. A light on the board flashed, indicating that the spike -was in and would bear the car's weight, and Syme started the car over -the edge. - -As the little car nosed down into the gully, the metal arm left behind -revealed itself to be attached to a length of thick, very strong wire -cable, with a control cord inside. They inched down the almost vertical -incline, unreeling the cable behind them, and starting minor landslides -as they descended. - -Finally they touched bottom. Syme pressed another stud, and above, the -metal spike that had supported them screwed itself out of the ground -again and the cable reeled in. - -Tate had been watching with interest. "Very ingenious," he said. "But -how do we get up again?" - -"Most of these gullies peter out gradually," said Syme, "but if we want -or have to climb out where it's deep, we have a little harpoon gun that -shoots the anchor up on top." - -"Good. I shouldn't like to stay down here for the rest of my -natural life. Depressing view." He looked up at the narrow strip of -almost-black sky visible from the floor of the gully, and shook his -head. - -Neither Syme nor Tate ever had a chance to test the efficiency of their -harpoon gun. They had traveled no more than five hundred meters, and -the gully was as deep as ever, when Tate, looking up, saw a deeper -blackness blot out part of the black sky directly overhead. He shouted, -"Look out!" and grabbed for the nearest steering lever. - -The car wheeled around in a half circle and ran into the wall of the -gully. Syme was saying, "What--?" when there was a thunderous crash -that shook the sturdy walls of the car, as a huge boulder smashed into -the ground immediately to their left. - -When the smoky red dust had cleared away, they saw that the left tread -of the sand car was crushed beyond all recognition. - -Syme was cursing slowly and steadily with a deep, seething anger. Tate -said, "I guess we walk from here on." Then he looked up again and -caught a glimpse of the horde of beasts that were rushing up the gully -toward them. - -"My God!" he said. "What are those?" - -Syme looked. "Those," he said bitterly, "are Martians." - -The natives, like all Martian fauna, were multi-legged. Also like all -Martian fauna, they moved so fast that you couldn't see how many legs -they did have. Actually, however, the natives had six legs apiece--or, -more properly, four legs and two arms. Their lungs were not as large -as they appeared, being collapsed at the moment. What caused the bulge -that made their torsos look like sausages was a huge air bladder, with -a valve arrangement from the stomach and feeding directly into the -bloodstream. - -Their faces were vaguely canine, but the foreheads were high, and the -lips were not split. They did resemble dogs, in that their thick black -fur was splotched with irregulate patches of white. These patches of -white were subject to muscular control and could be spread out fanwise; -or, conversely, the black could be expanded to cover the white, which -helped to take care of the extremes of Martian temperature. Right now -they were mostly black. - -The natives slowed down and spread out to surround the wrecked sand -car, and it could be seen that most of them were armed with spears, -although some had the slim Benson energy guns--strictly forbidden to -Martians. - -Syme stopped cursing and watched tensely. Tate said nothing, but he -swallowed audibly. - -One Martian, who looked exactly like all the rest, stepped forward and -motioned unmistakably for the two to come out. He waited a moment and -then gestured with his energy gun. That gun, Syme knew from experience, -could burn through a small thickness of steelite if held on the same -spot long enough. - - * * * * * - -"Come on," Syme said grimly. He rose and reached for a pressure suit, -and Tate followed him. - -"What do you think they'll--" he began, and then stopped himself. "I -know. They're unpredictable." - -"Yeah," said Syme, and opened the door. The air in the car _whooshed_ -into the near-vacuum outside, and he and Tate stepped out. - -The Martian leader looked at them enigmatically, then turned and -started off. The other natives closed in on them, and they all bounded -along under the weak gravity. - -They bounded along for what Syme figured as a good kilometer and a -half, and they then reached a branch in the gully and turned down -it, going lower all the time. Under the light of their helmet lamps, -they could see the walls of the gully--a tunnel, now--getting darker -and more solid. Finally, when Syme estimated they were about nine -kilometers down, there was even a suggestion of moisture. - -The tunnel debouched at last into a large cavern. There was a -phosphorescent gleam from fungus along the walls, but Syme couldn't -decide how far away the far wall was. He noticed something else, though. - -"There's air here," he said to Tate. "I can see dust motes in it." He -switched his helmet microphone from radio over to the audio membrane -on the outside of the helmet. "_Kalis methra_," he began haltingly, -"_seltin guna getal._" - -"Yes, there is air here," said the Martian leader, startlingly. "Not -enough for your use, however, so do not open your helmets." - -Syme swore amazedly. - -"I thought you said they didn't speak Terrestrial," Tate said. Syme -ignored him. - -"We had our reasons for not doing so," the Martian said. - -"But how--?" - -"We are telepaths, of course. On a planet which is nearly airless on -its surface, we have to be. A tendency of the Terrestrial mind is to -ignore the obvious. We have not had a spoken language of our own for -several thousand years." - -He darted a glance at Syme's darkly scowling face. His own hairy face -was expressionless, but Syme sensed that he was amused. "Yes, you're -right," he said. "The language you and your fellows struggled to learn -is a fraud, a hodge-podge concocted to deceive you." - -Tate looked interested. "But why this--this gigantic masquerade?" - -"You had nothing to give us," the Martian said simply. - -Tate frowned, then flushed. "You mean you avoided revealing yourselves -because you--had nothing to gain from mental intercourse with us?" - -"Yes." - -Tate thought again. "But--" - -"No," the Martian interrupted him, "revealing the extent of our -civilization would have spared us nothing at your people's hands. Yours -is an imperialist culture, and you would have had Mars, whether you -thought you were taking it from equals or not." - -"Never mind that," Syme broke in impatiently. "What do you want with -us?" - -The Martian looked at him appraisingly. "You already suspect. -Unfortunately, you must die." - - * * * * * - -It was a weird situation, Syme thought. His mind was racing, but as yet -he could see no way out. He began to wonder, if he did, could he keep -the Martians from knowing about it? Then he realized that the Martian -must have received that thought, too, and he was enraged. He stood, -holding himself in check with an effort. - -"Will you tell us why?" Tate asked. - -"You were brought here for that purpose. It is part of our conception -of justice. I will tell you and your--friend--anything you wish to -know." - -Syme noticed that the other Martians had retired to the farther side of -the cavern. Some were munching the glowing fungus. That left only the -leader, who was standing alertly on all fours a short distance away -from them, holding the Benson gun trained on them. Syme tried not to -think about the gun, especially about making a grab for it. It was like -trying not to think of the word "hippopotamus." - -Tate squatted down comfortably on the floor of the cavern, apparently -unconcerned, but his hands were trembling slightly. "First why--" he -began. - -"There are many secrets in Kal-Jmar," the Martian said, "among them a -very simple catalyzing agent which could within fifty years transform -Mars to a planet with Terrestrially-thick atmosphere." - -"I think I see," Tate said thoughtfully. "That's been the ultimate aim -all along, but so far the problem has us licked. If we solved it, then -we'd have all of Mars, not just the cities. Your people would die out. -You couldn't have that, of course." - -He sighed deeply. He spread his gloved hands before him and looked -at them with a queer intentness. "Well--how about the Martians--the -Kal-Jmar Martians, I mean? I'd dearly love to know the answer to that -one." - -"Neither of the alternatives in your mind is correct. They were not a -separate species, although they were unlike us. But they were not our -ancestors, either. They were the contemporaries of our ancestors." - -"Several thousand years ago Mars' loss of atmosphere began to make -itself felt. There were two ways out. Some chose to seal themselves -into cities like Kal-Jmar; our ancestors chose to adapt their bodies to -the new conditions. Thus the race split. Their answer to the problem -was an evasion; they remained static. Our answer was the true one, for -we progressed. We progressed beyond the need of science; they remained -its slaves. They died of a plague--and other causes. - -"You see," he finished gently, "our deception has caused a natural -confusion in your minds. They were the degenerates, not we." - -"And yet," Tate mused, "you are being destroyed by contact with -an--inferior--culture." - -"We hope to win yet," the Martian said. - -Tate stood up, his face very white. "Tell me one thing," he begged. -"Will our two races ever live together in amity?" - -The Martian lowered his head. "That is for unborn generations." He -looked at Tate again and aimed the energy gun. "You are a brave man," -he said. "I am sorry." - -Syme saw all his hopes of treasure and glory go glimmering down the -sights of the Martian's Benson gun, and suddenly the pent-up rage in -him exploded. Too swiftly for his intention to be telegraphed, before -he knew himself what he meant to do, he hurled himself bodily into the -Martian. - - * * * * * - -It was like tangling with a draft horse. The Martian was astonishingly -strong. Syme scrambled desperately for the gun, got it, but couldn't -tear it out of the Martian's fingers. And all the time he could almost -feel the Martian's telepathic call for help surging out. He heard the -swift pad of his followers coming across the cavern. - -He put everything he had into one mighty, murderous effort. Every -muscle fiber in his superbly trained body crackled and surged with -power. He roared his fury. And the gun twisted out of the Martian's -iron grip! - -He clubbed the prostrate leader with it instantly, then reversed the -weapon and snapped a shot at the nearest Martian. The creature dropped -his lance and fell without a sound. - -The next instant a ray blinked at him, and he rolled out of the way -barely in time. The searing ray cut a swath over the leader's body and -swerved to cut down on him. Still rolling, he fired at the holder of -the weapon. The gun dropped and winked out on the floor. - -Syme jumped to his feet and faced his enemies, snarling like the -trapped tiger he was. Another ray slashed at him, and he bent lithely -to let it whistle over his head. Another, lower this time. He flipped -his body into the air and landed upright, his gun still blazing. His -right leg burned fiercely from a ray-graze, but he ignored it. And -all the while he was mowing down the massed natives in great swaths, -seeking out the ones armed with Bensons in swift, terrible slashes, -dodging spears and other missiles in midair, and roaring at the top of -his powerful lungs. - -At last there were none with guns left to oppose him. He scythed down -the rest in two terrible, lightning sweeps of his ray, then dropped -the weapon from blistered fingers. - -He was gasping for breath, and realized that he was losing air from -the seared-open right leg of his suit. He reached for the emergency -kit at his side, drawing in great, gasping breaths, and fumbled out -a tube of sealing liquid. He spread the stuff on liberally, smearing -it impartially over flesh and fabric. It felt like liquid hell on the -burned, bleeding leg, but he kept on until the quick-drying fluid -formed an airtight patch. - -Only then did he turn, to see Tate flattened against the wall behind -him, his hands empty at his sides. "I'm sorry," Tate said miserably. "I -could have grabbed a spear or something, but--I just couldn't, not even -to save my own life. I--I halfway hoped they'd kill both of us." - -Syme glared at him and spat, too enraged to think of diplomacy. He -turned and strode out of the cavern, carrying his right leg stiffly, -but with his feral, tigerish head held high. - -He led the way, wordlessly, back to the wrecked sand car. Tate followed -him with a hangdog, beaten air, as though he had just found something -that shattered all his previous concepts of the verities in life, and -didn't know what to do about it. - -Still silently, Syme refilled his oxygen tank, watched Tate do the -same, and then picked up two spare tanks and the precious black -suitcase and handed one of the tanks to Tate. Then he stumped around -to the back of the car and inspected the damage. The cable reel, which -might have drawn them out of the gully, was hopelessly smashed. That -was that. - - * * * * * - -They started off down the canyon, Syme urging the slighter man to -a fast clip, even though his leg was already stiffening. When they -finally reached a climbable spot, Syme was limping badly and Tate was -obviously exhausted. - -They clambered wearily out onto the level sands again just as the -small, blazing sun was setting. "Luck," grunted Syme. "Our only chance -of getting near the city is at night." He peered around, shading his -eyes from the sun's glare with a gauntleted hand. "See that?" - -Following his pointing finger, Tate saw a faint, ephemeral arc showing -above a line of low hills in the distance. "Kal-Jmar," said Syme. - -Tate brightened a little. His body was too filled with fatigue for his -mind to do any work on the problem that was baffling him, and so it -receded into the back of his mind. - -"Kal-Jmar," whispered Syme again. - -There was no twilight. The sun dropped abruptly behind the low horizon, -and darkness fell, sudden and absolute. Syme picked up the extra oxygen -tank and the suitcase, checked his direction by a wrist compass, and -started toward the hills. Tate rose wearily to his feet and followed -again. - -Two hours later, Kal-Jmar stood before them. They had wormed their -way past the sentry posts, doing most of the last two hundred meters -on all fours. With skill and luck, and with Syme's fierce, burning -determination, they had managed to escape detection--and there they -were. Journey's end. - -Tate stared up at the shining, starlight towers in speechless -admiration. If the people who had built this city had been decadent, -still their architecture was magnificent. The city was a rhapsody made -solid. There was a sense of decay about it, he thought, but it was the -decay of supreme beauty, caught at the very verge of dissolution and -preserved for all eternity. - -"Well?" demanded Syme. - -Tate started, shaken out of his dream. He looked down at the black -suitcase, a little wonderingly, and then pulled it to him and opened it. - -Inside, carefully wrapped in shock-absorbing tissue, was a fragile -contrivance of many tubes and wires, and a tiny parabolic mirror. It -had a brand new Elecorp 210 volt battery, and it needed every volt of -that tremendous power. Tate made the connections, his hands trembling -slightly, and set it up on a telescoping tripod. Syme watched him -closely, his big body tensed with expectation. - -The field was before them, shimmering faintly in the starlight. It -looked unsubstantial as the stuff of dreams, but both men knew that no -power man possessed, unless it was the thing Tate held, could penetrate -that screen. - -Tate set the mechanism up close to the field, aimed it very delicately, -and closed a minute switch. After a long second, he opened it again. - -Nothing happened. - -The screen was still there, as unsubstantial and as solid as ever. -There was no change. - - * * * * * - -Tate looked worriedly at his wiring, a deep wrinkle appearing between -his pale, serious eyes. Syme stood stock-still but quivering with -repressed energy, scowling like a thundercloud. - -"It must be capable of working," Tate told himself querulously. "The -Martians knew--they wouldn't have tried to stop us if--Wait a minute." -He paced back and forth, biting his lip. Syme watched him with catlike -eyes, clenching and unclenching his great fists. - -Tate paused. "I think I have it," he said slowly. "I haven't enough -power to hetrodyne the whole screen, although that's theoretically -possible. But there must be weaker portions of the field--doors--set -to open on the impact of a beam like this one. But I've only got power -enough for two more tries. Jones, where would you put an entrance, if -you'd built Kal-Jmar?" - -Syme's eyes widened, and he stared around slowly. "A thousand years -ago?" he muttered. "Two thousand? These hills were raised in five -hundred. We can't go by topography. - -"In front of one of the main arteries, then. But there are dozens, no -one larger than the other. Did they have dozens of doors?" - -"Maybe," said Tate. He pointed to the right, where the fairy towers of -Kal-Jmar swept aside to leave a broad avenue. "It's the nearest--as -good as any other." - -They walked over to it in silence, and in silence Tate set up his -equipment once more. He shifted it from side to side, squinting, until -he had it lined up exactly on the center of the avenue. Then he took a -long breath, and closed the switch again. - -The switch came up. Syme stared with fierce eagerness, eyes ablaze. For -a moment there was nothing, and then-- - -Tate clutched the big man's arm. "Look!" he breathed. - -Where the ray from Tate's machine had impinged, a faintly-glowing -spot of violet radiance! As they watched it widened, dilating into a -perfect circle of violet, enclosing nothingness. The door was opening. - -"It worked," Tate said softly. "It worked!" - -Syme shook off his grip impatiently, put his hand to the gun in the -holster of his suit. Tate was still watching, fascinated. "Look," he -said again. "The color is changing slightly, falling down the spectrum. -I think that's a warning signal. When it reaches red, the door will -close." He moved toward the widening door, like a sleepwalker. - -"Wait," Syme said hoarsely. "You forgot the machine." - -Tate turned, said, "Oh yes," and walked back. Then he saw the gun in -Syme's hand. His jaw dropped slightly, but he didn't say anything. He -just stood there, looking dumbly from the gun to Syme's dark face. - -Syme shot him carefully in the chest. - -He dropped like a rag doll, but Syme's aim had been bad. He wasn't dead -yet. He rolled his eyes up, like a child. His lips moved. In spite of -himself, Syme bent forward to listen. - -"_You'll be_--_sorry_," Tate said, and died. - -Air was sighing out through the widening hole in the screen. Syme -straightened and smiled tolerantly. For a moment, he had been -unreasonably afraid of what Tate was about to say. Some detail he had -forgotten, perhaps, something that would trap him now that Tate, the -man who knew the answers, was dead. But--he'd be sorry! - -For what? Another dead fool? - -He gathered up the delicate mechanism in one arm, and, filling his deep -lungs, stepped forward through the opening. - - * * * * * - -The towers of dead Kal-Jmar loomed over him in the dusk as he strode -like a conqueror down the long-deserted avenue. The city was full of -the whisperings of Kal-Jmar's ancient wraiths, but they touched only -a corner of his mind. He was filled to overflowing with the bright, -glowing joy of conquest. The city was his! - -His boots trod an avenue where no foot had fallen these untold eons, -yet there was no dust. The city was bright and furbished waiting for -him. He was intoxicated. _The city was his!_ - -There was a gentle ramp leading upward, and Syme followed it, breathing -in the manufactured air of his pressure suit like wine. All around him, -the city blazed with treasures beyond price. - -_It was his!_ - -The ramp led to a portal set in the side of a shining needle of a -building. Syme strode up to the threshold, and the door dilated for -him. He stepped inside; the door closed and a soft light glowed on. - -There was air here: good, breathable air. A tiny zephyr of it was -blowing from some hidden source against his body. Greatly daring, he -unfastened the helmet of his suit and flung it back. He breathed in a -lungful of it. God, but it was good after that canned stuff! It was a -little heady; it made his head swim--but it was good air, excellent air! - -He looked around him, measuring, assessing for the first time. This -room alone was worth a fortune. There was platinum; in ornaments, set -into the walls, in furniture. That would be enough to buy the little -things--a new ship, or perhaps even immunity back on Earth. But that -was as nothing to the rest of it, the things three worlds would clamor -for--the artifacts, the record books, the machines! - -He strode about the room, building plan on grandiose plan. He could -take back only a little with him at first; but he could return again -and again, with Tate's mechanism and new batteries. But he'd explore -the city thoroughly before he left. Somewhere there must be weapons. An -invincible weapon, perhaps, that a man could carry in his hand. Perhaps -even a perfect body screen. With that he wouldn't have to steal away -from Mars on a freighter, hiding his loot and his greatness in a dingy -engine room. He could walk into a Triplanet ship and order its captain -to take him wherever he chose to go! - - * * * * * - -He stood then in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, his head swimming -with glory--and remembered suddenly that he was hungry. He felt in the -container of his helmet, extracted a couple of food tablets, and popped -them into his mouth. - -They would take care of his needs, but they didn't satisfy his hunger. -No food tablets for him after this! Steaks, wines, souffles.... His -mouth began to water at the very thought. - -And then the robot rolled on soundless wheels into the room. Syme -whirled and saw it only when it was almost upon him. The thing was -remarkably lifelike, and for a moment he was startled. - -But it was not alive. It was only a Martian feeding-machine, kept in -repair all these millennia by other robots. It was not intelligent, -and so it did not know that its masters would never return. It did not -know, either, that Syme was not a Martian, or that he wanted a steak, -and not the distilled liquor of the _xopa_ fungus, which still grew in -the subterranean gardens of Kal-Jmar. It was capable only of receiving -the mental impulse of hunger, and of responding to that impulse. - -And so when Syme saw it and opened his mouth in startlement, the -robot acted as it had done with its degenerate, slothful masters. Its -flexible feeding tube darted out and half down the man's gullet before -he could move to avoid it. And down Syme Rector's throat poured a flood -of _xopa_-juice, nectar to Martians, but swift, terrible death to human -beings.... - -Outside, the last doorway to Kal-Jmar closed forever, across from the -cold body of Tate. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Doorway to Kal-Jmar, by Stuart Fleming - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOORWAY TO KAL-JMAR *** - -***** This file should be named 63392.txt or 63392.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/3/9/63392/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -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. 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