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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..8e13b80 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64073 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64073) diff --git a/old/64073-0.txt b/old/64073-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b1e4a11..0000000 --- a/old/64073-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1249 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dateline: Mars, by Richard Wilson - -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: Dateline: Mars - -Author: Richard Wilson - -Release Date: December 22, 2020 [eBook #64073] - -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 DATELINE: MARS *** - - - - - Dateline: MARS - - By RICHARD WILSON - - It was the story behind the biggest story - on Mars--how Fate had grimly reckoned with - the Rockhead Rastol--but Scott Warren of - Galactic News couldn't write it ... yet. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories May 1951. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Scott Warren snapped off the vision screen and sat down in front of -his typewriter. Through the glass side of the building he could see -the lights of the celebrations whose sounds he had just silenced. He -lighted a cigarette and started to type out the final edition of _Today -on Mars_ for transmission by Interradio to the New York bureau of the -Galactic News Service. He started the news roundup: - -"IOPA, MARS--(GN)--Events on Mars were at a snailspace today, the -midpoint of the traditional three-day Landing Day holiday...." - -Scott rolled the paper up in the carriage of his typewriter and jagged -a line through what he had written. Four "days" in the same sentence -might get past the night desk, but the New York bureau chief would -send him a memo about it in the morning. - -He started again. - -"... Landing Day celebrations on Mars are at their midpoint tonight, -with both Earth people and natives...." - -He x'ed out "natives" and substituted "Martians," remembering the memo -he'd got about _that_. - -"... both Earth people and Martians forgetting their political and -physical differences to take part in planetwide carnivals. Business -houses, government offices and stores have been closed down since -Friday, and Pleasure is king. The two great cities on Mars--Iopa and -Senalla--are ablaze with light, from their desert outskirts to the -quarter-mile-high government buildings that mark the center of each. -Parades, speeches...." - -Scott snubbed out his cigarette, shoved his chair away from the desk. -He looked out over Iopa toward the government building, spotted in -searchlight rays from all sides of the city. It was bad enough writing -this stuff--bad enough grinding out a routine night lead, to be later -dictated to Interradio for transmission across space to Earth, simply -because the news schedule demanded two daily Mars roundups-- - -But it wasn't even the truth. - - * * * * * - -The truth was that both Earth people and Martians were observing -Landing Day with the usual fuss--but that it was all a big masquerade. -The oldtime distrust of Terrestrials that had come with the first -spaceship was still there. It had never been completely wiped out. The -only ones being taken in were the people back home, who knew nothing -about Mars except what they were told by people like Scott Warren, and -who usually saw it only as a red pinpoint in the sky, if the weather -happened to be right. - -When he got to thinking this way, Scott Warren felt more like a -propagandist for World Government than a newsman--the chief of the Mars -bureau of Galactic News. He wished he could tell them the truth, a -truth not dictated by Policy. Some day he'd write a book. That was what -all newsmen said, wasn't it? The truth would have gone something like -this: - -"The distrust Martians have for Earth people--yes, that includes you, -dear friends of the reading, listening and viewing audience--wasn't -completely wiped out even when World Government corrected its first -monumental blunder. Oh, yes, W.G. has made blunders, and the first was -a whooperdoo, ladies, gentlemen and prodigies, a whooperdoo of the -first order, a dilly whose details still are skirted when we talk about -it, because they're very, very embarrassing. - -"The first spaceship, you see, dealt naturally enough with those -who had seemed to be the rulers of Mars, if not the duly elected -representatives of the pee-pul. And so did the Earth emissaries who -followed. These Martians in the welcoming party were a crafty race, -stockily built with oversized heads like granite, hard-bargaining -and double-crossing. Rockheads, we called them, and still do, -underestimating them. - -"As our politicians point out with pride, there has been no -colonization of Mars--as such. Not even despite the cries of the -imperialists back home. And there has been no war, you will remember, -although for a while it was touch and go. - -"Among the first to come from Earth were the World Government -commissions. C.E.A.--exploration and assessment. C.E.D.--economic -development. C.I.I.--industrial integration. C.H.W. came later--health -and welfare. And so did C.I.E.--information and education. - -"It all worked very smoothly. Mars, you remember, was the goal of -space-flight for half a century, ever since the pioneer hop to the icy -rock of the moon; and the planning commission had it all set up, in -advance, from Martian Relations right down to War Planning (top secret -in the "if necessary" category). - -"But Earth muffed it, and good. The Rockheads of Mars who met the -spaceship, and whose delegations worked with the Earth emissaries, -were intelligent people, true--but they were the fascists of Mars. -What World Government didn't know, and couldn't have known, was that -there had been a military revolution on the red planet a short ten -years before the first spaceship landed, and that in that revolution -the democratic government of the planet was overthrown and its leaders -killed or banished!" - - * * * * * - -Scott Warren took an imaginary sip of water and paced up and down -his imaginary lecture platform. He pointed a finger at his imaginary -classroom. - -The big shots of W.G. had found out about it, of course. It didn't take -them too long. Only about two years went by before they were convinced -of what had happened, and they had had suspicion of it long before. But -it took W.G. twenty years to do anything about it. Twenty years, mind -you, when the average lifespan of a Martian is forty. - -Of course there were reasons. Good, sound, diplomatic reasons. In the -first place, it would have been embarrassing to act sooner. There had -been such hoopla and ballyhoo during the first negotiations with the -Rockheads, so many grandiose statements and telepix of interplanetary -amity, that to have confessed then would have been diplomatic -suicide--or so they thought. So the fiction had been maintained. Not -only maintained, but magnified and distorted. - -So bad did the distortion become that the people back home had almost -no inkling of the difficulties in negotiation, of the many concessions -Earth had to make to Mars' totalitarian rulers. They didn't know how -many insults the Earth envoys had to swallow, or of the innumerable -conferences that ended in deadlock because of the Rockheads' impossible -demands--demands made to impress their own subject people with their -might--or of the W.G. investigators who were imprisoned because they -had stumbled across some particularly noisome secret of the corrupt -Martian government. - -Scott was getting quite wound up. He was pointing a finger again when -the door opened. His finger paralyzed in midair. - -The thing that entered was taller than he. The entire upper half of it -was a face. An idiotically-grinning, white-toothed face. Its eyes were -outlined in black and its lips were an oversized red. A caricature of -a woman's face, with a great mass of blonde hair coiled fantastically -above. - -"What the hell," said Scott. - -The figure bent forward, and the huge mask came off. - -"Hello, Scott," a girl said. - -"My Terrestrial aunt," said Scott. "Ylia." - -She was a Martian, the daughter of one of the subcommissioners of her -government. Ylia wasn't pretty by any Earth standard. She had the -big head of her race, the stocky body and the flat face. But she was -esteemed by the Martians as attractive, as far as looks count on that -planet. - -"Why the mask?" asked Scott. "I didn't think you went in for all this -brothers-together nonsense." - -"Everybody's masked tonight," she said, meaning all the women. "I had -to see you, and I thought I'd attract less attention if I wore one, -too." - -Scott knew what the masks represented. They were brought out every -Landing Day and worn in the streets for the traditional celebrations. -The masks were all of women--Earth women. Few Earth women had come -to Mars, but Earth's advertising had come as soon as the planet was -opened to trade. And with the ads had come the art which hadn't -changed in centuries. A pretty face, it was reasoned--if there was any -reasoning--ought to sell as much soap or cigarettes on Mars as it had -on Earth. Hence the masks, representing Earth's greatest contribution -thus far to the culture of its neighboring planet--advertising and the -female face. - -"What's up, Ylia?" Scott asked. - -"We're having a meeting, sort of, and Father would like you to come, if -you can." - -"Why sure," he said. "When is it?" - -"Anytime you get there. You see, you're sort of part of it." - -"Will there be anything I can use in the roundup?" Scott asked. -"There's nothing in it so far except color stuff on Landing Day. It has -to go off in a few hours." - -"You're the newsman," Ylia said. "Why not come and see?" - -"Good enough," he said. - -"There's something Father would like you to bring with you." - -"I don't usually carry a gun," said Scott, "but I guess I could -scrounge one up if I had to." - -"Nothing like that. I think you have what he needs right in your files. -The Green Arrow affair. You do have it, don't you?" - -"Of course. We have copies of all the stories on it that Galactic sent -out. I can dig them up in a couple of minutes." - -"No," said Ylia. "Not that part of it. What we want is the information -you didn't send out." - -"Oh?" said Scott. - - * * * * * - -The Green Arrow was the name the news services had given a guerrilla -leader who'd spearheaded the resistance movement against the Rockheads -before World Government had got around to any definite action. The -name came from a chalk symbol he had left behind him after each raid -or foray. Around the Green Arrow had rallied a handful of partisans -who had not been content with W.G.'s slow and not-so-sure methods of -deposing the Rockhead regime. They were men of ideals and, more than -that, of action. Somewhere in the desert below Syrtis had been the -Arrow's headquarters. All the punitive expeditions of the Rockheads had -failed to find him. No one had known who he was. On the rare occasions -that an Arrow man was captured, no amount of torture could get a single -secret from him. - -The damage the Green Arrow did to the Rockheads was negligible in its -overall effect. But he had been more than a night raider--he'd been a -symbol to the people in the Rockhead yoke that someone was actively -on their side. There was a tremendous lift in spirit each time the -Arrow hit a Rockhead target, and for days thereafter people in the -community where he had struck--and in others, too--were more cocky and -less cooperative than the Rockheads thought they had a right to be. -The Arrow's raids sparked slow-down movements and some sabotage and -evoked Rockhead reprisals, against guilty and innocent alike. Some -of the reprisals were cruel--so cruel that they would have deterred -a less determined man--but the Green Arrow was not to be swayed. He -remained--even after he was captured and executed--a symbol of liberty -in a land which had not tasted such a blessing for years. - -Galactic News had covered the Green Arrow story from start to finish. -G.N. gave it the full treatment, despite threats from the Rockheads and -the denial to it of certain newsgathering facilities. More than that, -Scott Warren got permission from G.N.'s New York headquarters to send a -man out to interview the Arrow. The reporter got through where all the -anti-partisan forces of the Rockheads had failed, and interviewed the -Arrow in his desert headquarters. That interview was the journalistic -beat of the year--and was highly embarrassing to the Rockheads. Shortly -thereafter the reporter was arrested by the Rockhead secret police, and -it took all the influence of World Government to have him released. -The name of that reporter was George Mercer. He was now covering the -Martian parliament for Galactic News. - -There had been more in Mercer's story than had been made public, -however. Before Galactic broke the story, it went with it to W.G. A -high diplomatic official there, in the interests of security, asked -G.N. to withhold one fact, and Galactic agreed. As things turned out -it was nothing W.G. hadn't known; but something in the nature of a -politico-military secret. It was the name of the Green Arrow. - - * * * * * - -Scott Warren knew what the name was, but it meant nothing to him. He -got Mercer's original story out of the files--it had once been kept in -a safe--and put it in an inside pocket. - -"This used to be classified material," he said to the girl. "It's not -any more. I don't know why you want it." - -Ylia smiled. "Are you ready to go?" - -He nodded. She put the grotesque mask on again and the two of them left -the building. - -Ylia's father was Kring, a sub-commissioner of commerce in the -government of President Murain. (The news services had begun the custom -of transliterating Martian names into pronounceable English, the W.G. -language, and W.G. itself later adopted it.) Murain was a symbol of -World Government's diplomatic triumph, as Earth chose to regard it. -For two decades the dirty political game of collaboration with the -Rockheads had been played--although it was on such a high level that -diplomacy was considered the proper word. It ended, finally, with free -elections--the first since the military coup. - -The elections were the result of W.G.'s long psychological siege -against the Rockheads. The men from Earth played on the vanity of the -complacent dictators until they believed they could be the people's -choice voluntarily. It was a masterpiece, Scott had to admit--but a -masterpiece of striped-pants double-cross. On the one hand the Earthmen -pumped up the egos of the Rockheads, and on the other they smuggled the -democratic leaders--those who still lived--out of their desert Siberias -and let them talk to the people in thousands of small indoor gatherings. - -The people anywhere--whether it's in Iopa or Middletown--are smart -if they have the facts. These people went to the polls and booted -the Rockheads out. It was close, and there was some violence when -W.G. watchers arrested repeaters from the Rockheads' machine, but -the dictatorship went down in a relatively peaceful manner. The -democratic coup evoked a singing story from Scott Warren, who was then -newly-assigned to the post of Mars bureau chief. The story won him a -journalistic prize. - -The election also provoked a counter-revolution by the Rockheads, -which had to be put down by World Government's police troops. That was -another story, and it won Scott a rest leave on Earth--which he cut -short to get back to the news beat which he found, strangely, he had an -unaccountable hankering for. - -And so democratic government returned to Mars and everything was -dandy--for a while. - - * * * * * - -Scott and Ylia pushed their way through the celebrating crowds. -The big, grinning masks of Earth women were moving chaotically, -idiotically, all around them. Spotlights which were partly heat-lamps -played over the throng in their many colors, coloring and warming the -night scene. Musicians in outlandish costumes circulated in groups of -three or four, their reedy tunes conflicting and yet mingling in a -pleasing semi-harmony. - -Most of the crowds were Martians, but here and there a party of Earth -people was taking part in the gaiety. In the warm glow of one big -spotlight, an Earthman was dancing with a Martian girl, her mask and -his fantastic steps parodying a popular Terrestrial ballroom team. - -Suddenly there was an intrusion into this scene of celebration. From a -side street into the main square which Scott and Ylia were now going -through there came a knot of people. They came on slowly, about a dozen -of them, their steady progress in contrast to the aimless, carefree -motions of the rest. Their faces were serious, and the group held both -Martians and Earthmen. They were young-old faces, young in age but old -in their apparent contempt for the scene all round them. The group -remained close together, not costumed, and when a reveler pulled at -the sleeve of one in invitation to join a chain dance, he was pushed -away brusquely, almost angrily. When the group reached a well-lighted -position near the center of the square, its members formed themselves -into a tight circle. They pulled signs from beneath their tunics and -thrust them up, then began moving in a shuffling lockstep, chanting -discordantly. They were pickets--serious, almost fanatic young men of -two planets, bound together in their cause. Their signs read: "Down -with the Earth Imperialists," "Democracy, Not Mockery," "What are you -Celebrating--Colonization?" and so on. - -They chanted the same things, out of unison, so that their voices -created a nerve-tingling atmosphere of unrest. They shouted defiantly, -yet not looking anywhere but at the neck of the man directly ahead in -the revolving picket line. "Reds Picket Landing Day Fete," Scott said -to himself, thinking in headline terms. - -There was tension now among the celebrants in this part of the square. -This was not a time for problems, or for thinking about them, and those -who had gathered to have fun were being robbed of their spree. - -Abruptly a Martian stepped up and in a quick motion wrested a sign -from one of the pickets. He ripped it up and danced on the pieces. The -picket whose sign had been snatched made no protest, aside from a look -of surprise and a frown. He stayed in ranks, and the circle continued -to go round. - -Cheers went up and other revelers pressed forward. The marchers -tightened their ranks and took firmer grips on their signs. The Martian -who had snatched the first was now conferring with others. He motioned -to a group of silently-standing musicians, and they took up a tune. The -music was rousing and patriotic, and some costumed Martians went into -a wild snake dance. With apparent good humor, but with telling effect, -they drove into the circle of pickets and split them into two groups. -In the scramble, several more signs were trampled underfoot. More -revelers joined the attack and the pickets were split again, until they -were widely separated and all their signs were gone. Their unity lost, -they disappeared in the crowd. - -The musicians switched to a gayer tune and there were cheers and -laughter. The Martian who had grabbed down the first sign was hoisted -into the air, where he bowed his over sized head, grinning. - -The interruption of the fun was ended, and without violence. Scott and -Ylia moved on. - - * * * * * - -But Scott knew the picketing had been only one manifestation of a -smoldering problem. There was truth in those signs, and the people -knew it. They just hadn't wanted to be reminded of it now. And, -besides, most of them didn't want their thinking done for them by the -left-wingers, who proclaimed the right of the people but too often in -history had aborted the very rights they spoke of so feelingly. - -The limited democracy the people now enjoyed had been hard-won. It was -not perfect, they knew, and they suspected that there was corruption -here and there, either in their own government or in W.G. But the -Martian people had had a bellyful of violence. The force used by the -Rockheads, just lately overthrown in a peaceful election, was fresh -in their minds, and they were willing to go along for a while with -President Murain--at least to give him a chance. - -They trusted Murain. He was one of them. But Scott was aware that -Murain himself was too trusting. The Martian president was a grateful -man, and his gratitude had made him less suspicious than a politician -should be. - -Where the Rockheads had driven hard bargains with Earth, Murain's -representatives drove none at all. They trusted their deliverers--the -men of W.G.--to do the right thing. And the Earthmen, some of them, -were doing the right thing--but for themselves. - -Where the Martian democratic government had once lost to the fascists -through force, it was now losing to friends who were rooking it, -in a perfectly legitimate, businesslike way. The Commission on -Exploration and Assessment had now become known off the record as -A. & E.--assessment and exploitation. The business and industries which -should have made the Martians prosper--which should have given them the -schools and housing they had been robbed of by the Rockheads--these had -their profits skimmed off and sent to Earth. The Martians had their -freedom now, true, but they couldn't eat it or build with it. - -Ylia pulled at Scott's sleeve. They turned down a side street and, at -an old stone house that seemed as ancient as Mars itself, she led him -through an archway and into a court. She knocked at a door, and, when -it opened, took off her ridiculous mask and entered, beckoning Scott to -follow. - - * * * * * - -They entered a room that was low and wide, furnished with a mixture of -Earth and Mars styles, including some of those chairs which are geared -to Martian dimensions--oversized headrest and, between closely-spaced -arms, a seat that a plump Terrestrial either had to squeeze into, or -avoid. - -Of the three people in the room, Scott recognized two: Kring, Ylia's -father, and Toby Black, a W.G. investigator whose real job was known -to only a few and who posed as a sales manager for a construction -firm. The guise enabled him to be places where the presence of a W.G. -representative would be unwelcome. Here, possibly. The other Martian in -the room looked familiar, but Scott couldn't place him. - -Scott shook hands with Kring and let himself be introduced to Toby, -although they'd had many a drink together in the Press Club bar and in -less respectable places. - -"And this is Mr. Rastol," Kring said of the familiar-looking Martian. - -Then Scott remembered. Two days ago President Murain had decided on a -man to fill the job of commerce minister in the Martian government, a -post vacated through the death of a cabinet member. Murain had offered -the job to Rastol. Scott had no idea what had prompted the offer. He -felt sure that Murain hadn't acted of his own free choice; pressure -must have been brought on him. Apparently it was a concession he felt -it necessary to make--a sort of horse trade with some powerful leader -in Parliament to get an administration bill through. All Scott knew, -now that he remembered, was that Rastol was a Rockhead. Not an overt -one, true. There was no blood on his hands, as far as anyone could -prove. But Rastol had been a power in the totalitarian government -lately voted out. Possibly Murain could find no one else for the job. -Rastol had ability, of course, but he also had a tinge, if not a -definite odor. - -He had been brought to trial, under a W.G. indictment, but had been -acquitted of complicity in any of the really unsavory doings of the -Rockhead regime. Some had said it was lack of evidence, but newsmen -covering the trial had a strong suspicion that several prosecution -witnesses had been given bank accounts. And Rastol went free. - -And now Murain was offering him the big commerce job--one that held -the purse strings of a fair share of the Martian budget. The post -would give Rastol the power to spend, to let contracts, to make loans -and parcel out a tremendous amount of business. That money could -go to help the economy of Mars back on its feet, or it could be -pork-barreled into the coffers of firms whose ties with the Rockheads -had been only nominally broken. - -Rastol's acceptance of the job, not yet forthcoming, and his -confirmation in it by Parliament, would be a kick in the teeth to -Martian democracy. The reason for this off-in-the-corner Landing Day -soiree became a little clearer--although Scott still was unable to -figure out why he'd been invited. - -Scott shook the hand Rastol extended and said something noncommittal. -Most Martians looked almost alike to Earth's eyes, except for their sex -differences, but Rastol was distinctive. He was corpulent, a thing most -Martians were not, and he was hairless, which also was unusual. His -skin was whiter than that of most of his planetmen, and he had no neck -to speak of. If Scott had been a caricaturist, he'd have drawn Rastol -as an egg. - -Ylia had left the room. She came back now with a tray, and served -drinks. Scott took one of the small pottery cups and told himself he -mustn't drink more than two of them. They contained a syrupy blue -liquid with the kick of a rocket-exhaust. - -Kring raised his cup. "To the Republic," he said. They all sipped their -drinks. - -"I've asked you here," Kring said, "for a purpose. I should not have -chosen Landing Day if it had not been important. Some of you have very -generously broken other engagements or left your work--" he bowed to -Scott--"to be here." - -Rastol spoke in a low, resonant voice. "It is an honor to be asked to -your home, Mr. Kring." - -The "mister" was something Earthmen had brought. Mars, before the -Rockheads set up their semi-feudal system, had had no such term of -address. - -Kring bowed again. "I am especially happy that you were able to come, -Mr. Rastol, because what I have to say should be of particular interest -to you." He turned to Toby Black. "You, Mr. Black, are interested in -construction, of course, and Mr. Warren's news service has an interest -in something similar--reconstruction. So we are well met." - -Scott didn't know what this preamble was leading to, but he wished -Kring would get on with it. He did. - -"Mr. Warren," Kring went on, "may also have a news story of some value. -You see, before Mr. Rastol leaves this room tonight, he will have -announced that he cannot accept the post of minister of commerce in the -Murain government." - -Rastol didn't move, except for a narrowing of his eyes. Then he said, -carefully: "Indeed?" - -Kring smiled a little. "Yes," he said. "I think Mr. Rastol will find -that his private affairs are of such a demanding nature that he will be -forced regretfully to decline the honor tendered by President Murain." - -Rastol said evenly: "I hesitate to differ with my gracious host, but it -would seem to me that an individual might be considered to know his own -affairs better than another." - -"I am sure," said Kring, "that no one knows your affairs better than -you, Mr. Rastol." - -Scott looked at Toby Black, who had leaned forward in his chair as if -trying to see the significance of it all. Scott knew that Toby knew as -much about Rastol as anyone, and probably more. Toby was one of half -a dozen men who were permitted to ride the private elevator to the -private office of the director-general of World Government. - -Rastol looked at a timepiece on the wall and rose from his chair. "I am -afraid I must say good night. I had hoped to be better company, but I -have just remembered an appointment." - -"Please sit down, Mr. Rastol," said Kring. "We have much more to -discuss." - -Rastol moved toward the door. Ylia stepped in front of it. She had a -Q-gun in her hand. - -"I am quite proud of my daughter's marksmanship," said Kring. "She is -the equal of any soldier at hitting a target. At short range she never -misses by so much as a hair." - -Rastol sat down. - -He sipped his drink and appeared to relax. "Be good enough to tell -me," he said, "why you think I would be so lacking in a sense of public -duty as to reject an assignment to which my government has called me." - -"The answer is simple," said Kring. "The Murain government is not your -government. Your allegiance is to the totalitarian movement." - -"I think the public record will show the falsehood of that statement," -said Rastol. "The trial to which I was so cruelly subjected proved just -the opposite. You will recall that the verdict was one of acquittal." - -"Only," said Kring, "because some witnesses were bribed--and others -were murdered." - -Rastol smiled thinly. "Your proof?" - -Kring smiled also. "Of that? None, I admit. But we have proof of other -things--things without value in a court of law, perhaps, but which may -persuade you to retire to private life, for your tranquillity of mind." - -"Produce them," said Rastol. - -He was a cool one, Scott had to admit. Then the newsman realized that -Kring was looking at him. - -"Mr. Warren," he said, "if you will be so kind." And he held out his -hand. - -Scott gave him the papers he had brought from the office. He had no -idea what bearing they had on the situation now being unfolded. - -Kring broke the seal on the envelope and opened it. He looked through -the news reports--those which had been used and those which hadn't. -Finally he found what he was looking for. - -"You have heard of the Green Arrow," Kring asked Rastol. - -"Of course. A bandit and outlaw who achieved some notoriety. What of -him?" - -"You may not have heard," said Kring, "that his real name became known. -To myself and some others who cared to ask, after it was no longer a -guarded secret. His name was Acton...." - -Kring looked closely at Rastol. The big Martian gave no flicker of -recognition. - -"A not uncommon name," said Rastol. - -"Acton was the name of your son, was it not?" - -There was silence in the room. Kring's eyes looked steadily into -Rastol's. Ylia stood at the door, her gun no longer pointing at the -guest, but down at her side. Toby Black was stopped with a cigarette -halfway to his lips. - -Scott raised a hand to brush away what he thought might be an insect -on the back of his neck. There was nothing there; it was part of the -tension. - -Kring spoke again. "Was not Acton the name of your son, and did he not -fight against you and the things you stood for?" - -Rastol's eyes went from one to another in the room. He made no other -movement. Even his breathing was not apparent. At length he said: - -"Yes, Acton was my son." - - * * * * * - -Kring's breath came hard, as if he had been holding it. - -Then Rastol added: "But what of that? Really, gentlemen, this is a -most ridiculous performance. To bring me to this house, to threaten me -with weapons and with words and to produce mysterious papers with the -flourish of a wandering mystic--this is childish. I must ask you to -excuse me. I have an important letter to write President Murain." - -"What will the letter say?" - -"It will say that I accept humbly, yet with pride that I have been -chosen, the position of minister of commerce in the government to which -I owe allegiance and wish to serve to the best of my poor ability." - -"Allegiance!" Kring spat the word. "You speak of allegiance, who have -never known it to anything decent and honorable. You blaspheme the -memory of your son's great deeds when you use the word." - -"Neither my son nor any creature that crawls on the ground has any -bearing on my decision. Your threats and blackmail are unworthy of -you, Mr. Kring. And if you persist in this farce, or seek to use your -information publicly, I shall be forced to make a noisy and patriotic -speech which will look incongruous in my biography but which will have -the stupid public applauding from the galleries. I shall say that as -an older man I believed in gradual change and that no man was happier -than I when Mars became a republic under the aegis of World Government. -I shall say, if I am forced to, that of course I had publicly deplored -the activities of the man called the Green Arrow, but that I was in -good company, for did not Mr. Murain--then not yet President Murain -of the Republic-to-be--also plead for peaceful methods of achieving -freedom, and urge his followers to shun violence? And if someone is so -unfeeling as to mention that Acton was my son, could not my impatience -with his activities have been in reality a father's fears for the life -of the boy he had loved from the cradle? Oh, I shall make them weep, -Mr. Kring, and your petty plan will come to nothing. Furthermore, I -shall demand your resignation as a sub-commissioner of commerce, and I -have little doubt that I shall receive it." - -"You are an excellent man with a speech," said Kring. "That I admit. -But there is more which you pretend not to know." - -"Is there?" - -"Much more. You may or may not choose to recall--Druro." - -Rastol chose to say nothing. Druro had been one of the blackest -marks against the Rockhead regime. It was the name of an infamous -concentration camp, in which thousands of prisoners had died of -malnutrition and overwork and thousands more had been put to death -because of their political views. - -"I can tell you something about Druro," said Toby Black. "I was there -as a guest of your government--the Rockhead government is the one I'm -talking about, Rastol, not the one you claim you're suddenly so fond -of." - -Toby put out his cigarette and leaned forward. His thin face got hard. - -"Kring is a gentleman even when he's dealing with a louse, Rastol, but -I'm no diplomat. I'm just a hardheaded old trader from Earth, and maybe -some people think my language is crude. But I say what I think, and -I don't like you and your kind. Usually I don't mix in politics--my -business is construction. I started when I was a young squirt and -built things with my hands, and they got calloused. Now I sit in a fine -office and scoot around in a fine air-car, and other men do the dirty -work. But that's honest work. The dirty work I can't stomach is your -kind, Rastol, and since I've got the chance to undo some of it, or -maybe prevent some more of it, I asked Kring to let me speak my piece." - -Scott could easily have been persuaded, if he hadn't known better, -that World Government Investigator Toby Black was just that rockribbed -businessman-with-a-conscience that he was pretending to be. - -Toby went on: "The reason I saw Druro the way mighty few people saw it -was that somebody slipped up. Druro was also a factory town and there -was room there for a new plant. God knows you had enough slave labor to -make it damned profitable. So I was invited by your Rockheads to look -over parts of the town so my company could make a bid on building the -plant they wanted. But I saw more than you fascists intended, Rastol. -I'm an old country boy and I get up early. One day I got up earlier -than those gorillas who were supposed to tag around with me to keep my -nose clean. And my nose got good and dirty, Rastol. The stench of Druro -is still in it. I got out and talked to the people in town, and the -people had plenty to tell me about that camp just over the hill. Some -of the people I spoke to had been inside it, and they knew what they -were talking about." - -"An interesting anecdote, Mr. Black," Rastol interrupted, "but I must -confess that I see no relevance." - -Toby lighted a cigarette and spat out the smoke. "The relevance is -coming right up. I heard a lot of different things about Druro from a -lot of different people, but one of the things I heard over and over -again was the same. It was the name of the man whose signature sent -those thousands to their death. I don't have to tell you, Rastol, what -that name was. You sign your letters with it every day." - - * * * * * - -"You can prove nothing," snapped Rastol, his composure jolted for the -first time. "It would be your word against mine, and why should anyone -believe you?" - -"That's true," said Toby. "There's no proof. After I heard of your -acquittal I got good and mad about it, and I made a special trip to see -if I could find some of those people I'd talked to back then--to get -affidavits, if they wouldn't testify in person, to get new evidence. -But you and your Rockheads did a good job, all right. You practically -wiped out Druro. There wasn't a soul left who would testify against you -or any other fascist." - -"You see? You have no proof." - -"No," said Kring, "no proof that would be good in court. But everyone -in this room now is convinced of your guilt. That must be a terrible -burden on your conscience. If I were you I should welcome this -opportunity to make some slight amend. I appeal to you, Mr. Rastol, to -decline the post of commerce minister." - -Rastol laughed. "You appeal! You beg! This is the weakness of your -system. You yourselves are so weak that your government cannot be -strong. I know now that the threats against me tonight all were -psychological. Even that Q-gun in your daughter's hands. You would -not shoot me. It is against your principles. Fortunately I have no -principles, and after I have become commerce minister there will be -others like me in the cabinet. And then it will not be long before Mars -again has the kind of government a planet like this needs. Now I am -going--and if any of you decides to remember any of this in public I -shall deny it. And then who do you think will be believed? - -"Stand aside, young lady. I am leaving." - -Rastol got up from his chair. - -This wasn't Scott's show, but he spoke up anyway. It looked as if -everything else had failed. - -He said: "I have quite a story here, Rastol. I haven't been taking -notes, but they say I have a stenographic ear." - -Rastol whirled on him. "Use it, and I'll sue you and Galactic News -Service for libel and everything else in the statutes. I'll deny -everything and produce two witnesses for every one of yours. You're -not dealing with an amateur, young man. And now I say good night, you -fools." - -Kring moved to stand beside his daughter. "There is yet more," he said. -"We had hoped to spare you this, although I know now that our concern -for your feelings was misguided." - -"There is no more," said Rastol. "You have bluffed and you have lost." -He whipped his hand through the air. "Stand aside. I am going." - -"Stay," said a new voice. - -Rastol turned slowly. At the end of the room opposite the door some -hangings had parted. Through them from another room had come a tall, -cloaked Martian, a young man. Rastol looked at him under a wrinkled -forehead. - -"Who are you?" he asked. - -"Hello, Father," said Acton. - -Rastol peered across the room. His face seemed to come apart. It went -slack, seemed to turn gray. - -"You're dead!" cried Rastol. "This is a trick! A disguise! Turn up the -lights!" - -Acton stepped forward to within a foot of the older man. "Look well," -he said. "Is it a disguise?" - -"But you're dead. I know you're dead. I--" - -"Yes, Father. I should be." Acton's eyes were steady, but without hate. -They looked hurt and pitying. "I was at Druro, and you signed the order -for my execution yourself. It was carried out, you thought, and the -last witness against you was stilled. You thought." - -The young man threw back his cloak. He had no left arm. "They took me -for dead. The Q-rays burned away my arm and I fell with the others. -I was buried among the corpses. But my friends found me later. There -wasn't much life in me, but they nourished it, and I am here." - -"No!" screamed Rastol. "It's not true! It's a lie!" - -[Illustration: "No!" screamed Rastol. "It's not true ... it's a lie!"] - -He wavered away from his son's gaze and half fell into a chair. - -"You deny it," said Acton. "Come, we'll tell the people. They -will decide. We'll go to the great square and ask them whom they -believe--Rastol or the Green Arrow." - -"No," said Rastol. "No ... no." - - * * * * * - -Back in the Galactic News Service bureau, Scott Warren came to the last -paragraph of _Today on Mars_. He had written his quota of words about -Landing Day and the speeches and parades and carnival. He had a story -bigger than any of this, of course, but he couldn't use it. Toby Black -asked him not to; not yet. - -Rastol had declined Acton's challenge to go before the people. There -in Kring's house, under the hard eyes of his son, Rastol had written a -letter to President Murain and signed it. - -The rest would come later. It took time to get the legal wheels in -motion, to prepare a genocide case; but although World Government moved -slowly sometimes, it did move. In two months or three or six, Rastol -would be indicted and tried, and this time there would be no doubt of -the verdict. In the meantime.... - -Scott wrote: "Elsewhere on Mars, these things happened: Fire broke out -in Senalla, driving fifty persons from their homes. No one was injured, -but damage to the apartment house block was extensive.... A collision -between two air-cars sent three persons to the hospital in Iopa with -critical injuries.... A sandstorm blowing across the desert 100 miles -northeast of Iopa has cut communications with the town of Ramor.... -And Rastol decided against accepting the post of commerce minister, -which had been offered to him by President Murain. Rastol said he was -honored by the offer, but that the pressure of private affairs made it -impossible for him to accept." - -Scott Warren typed "30" at the end of his copy and sent it off to -Interradio for transmission to Earth. He resigned himself to the -possibility that the night desk in the New York bureau would cut out -his last paragraph to save space. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DATELINE: MARS *** - -***** This file should be named 64073-0.txt or 64073-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/0/7/64073/ - -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Dateline: Mars</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Richard Wilson</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 22, 2020 [eBook #64073]</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DATELINE: MARS ***</div> - - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>Dateline: MARS</h1> - -<h2>By RICHARD WILSON</h2> - -<p>It was the story behind the biggest story<br /> -on Mars—how Fate had grimly reckoned with<br /> -the Rockhead Rastol—but Scott Warren of<br /> -Galactic News couldn't write it ... yet.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories May 1951.<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>Scott Warren snapped off the vision screen and sat down in front of -his typewriter. Through the glass side of the building he could see -the lights of the celebrations whose sounds he had just silenced. He -lighted a cigarette and started to type out the final edition of <i>Today -on Mars</i> for transmission by Interradio to the New York bureau of the -Galactic News Service. He started the news roundup:</p> - -<p>"IOPA, MARS—(GN)—Events on Mars were at a snailspace today, the -midpoint of the traditional three-day Landing Day holiday...."</p> - -<p>Scott rolled the paper up in the carriage of his typewriter and jagged -a line through what he had written. Four "days" in the same sentence -might get past the night desk, but the New York bureau chief would -send him a memo about it in the morning.</p> - -<p>He started again.</p> - -<p>"... Landing Day celebrations on Mars are at their midpoint tonight, -with both Earth people and natives...."</p> - -<p>He x'ed out "natives" and substituted "Martians," remembering the memo -he'd got about <i>that</i>.</p> - -<p>"... both Earth people and Martians forgetting their political and -physical differences to take part in planetwide carnivals. Business -houses, government offices and stores have been closed down since -Friday, and Pleasure is king. The two great cities on Mars—Iopa and -Senalla—are ablaze with light, from their desert outskirts to the -quarter-mile-high government buildings that mark the center of each. -Parades, speeches...."</p> - -<p>Scott snubbed out his cigarette, shoved his chair away from the desk. -He looked out over Iopa toward the government building, spotted in -searchlight rays from all sides of the city. It was bad enough writing -this stuff—bad enough grinding out a routine night lead, to be later -dictated to Interradio for transmission across space to Earth, simply -because the news schedule demanded two daily Mars roundups—</p> - -<p>But it wasn't even the truth.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The truth was that both Earth people and Martians were observing -Landing Day with the usual fuss—but that it was all a big masquerade. -The oldtime distrust of Terrestrials that had come with the first -spaceship was still there. It had never been completely wiped out. The -only ones being taken in were the people back home, who knew nothing -about Mars except what they were told by people like Scott Warren, and -who usually saw it only as a red pinpoint in the sky, if the weather -happened to be right.</p> - -<p>When he got to thinking this way, Scott Warren felt more like a -propagandist for World Government than a newsman—the chief of the Mars -bureau of Galactic News. He wished he could tell them the truth, a -truth not dictated by Policy. Some day he'd write a book. That was what -all newsmen said, wasn't it? The truth would have gone something like -this:</p> - -<p>"The distrust Martians have for Earth people—yes, that includes you, -dear friends of the reading, listening and viewing audience—wasn't -completely wiped out even when World Government corrected its first -monumental blunder. Oh, yes, W.G. has made blunders, and the first was -a whooperdoo, ladies, gentlemen and prodigies, a whooperdoo of the -first order, a dilly whose details still are skirted when we talk about -it, because they're very, very embarrassing.</p> - -<p>"The first spaceship, you see, dealt naturally enough with those -who had seemed to be the rulers of Mars, if not the duly elected -representatives of the pee-pul. And so did the Earth emissaries who -followed. These Martians in the welcoming party were a crafty race, -stockily built with oversized heads like granite, hard-bargaining -and double-crossing. Rockheads, we called them, and still do, -underestimating them.</p> - -<p>"As our politicians point out with pride, there has been no -colonization of Mars—as such. Not even despite the cries of the -imperialists back home. And there has been no war, you will remember, -although for a while it was touch and go.</p> - -<p>"Among the first to come from Earth were the World Government -commissions. C.E.A.—exploration and assessment. C.E.D.—economic -development. C.I.I.—industrial integration. C.H.W. came later—health -and welfare. And so did C.I.E.—information and education.</p> - -<p>"It all worked very smoothly. Mars, you remember, was the goal of -space-flight for half a century, ever since the pioneer hop to the icy -rock of the moon; and the planning commission had it all set up, in -advance, from Martian Relations right down to War Planning (top secret -in the "if necessary" category).</p> - -<p>"But Earth muffed it, and good. The Rockheads of Mars who met the -spaceship, and whose delegations worked with the Earth emissaries, -were intelligent people, true—but they were the fascists of Mars. -What World Government didn't know, and couldn't have known, was that -there had been a military revolution on the red planet a short ten -years before the first spaceship landed, and that in that revolution -the democratic government of the planet was overthrown and its leaders -killed or banished!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Scott Warren took an imaginary sip of water and paced up and down -his imaginary lecture platform. He pointed a finger at his imaginary -classroom.</p> - -<p>The big shots of W.G. had found out about it, of course. It didn't take -them too long. Only about two years went by before they were convinced -of what had happened, and they had had suspicion of it long before. But -it took W.G. twenty years to do anything about it. Twenty years, mind -you, when the average lifespan of a Martian is forty.</p> - -<p>Of course there were reasons. Good, sound, diplomatic reasons. In the -first place, it would have been embarrassing to act sooner. There had -been such hoopla and ballyhoo during the first negotiations with the -Rockheads, so many grandiose statements and telepix of interplanetary -amity, that to have confessed then would have been diplomatic -suicide—or so they thought. So the fiction had been maintained. Not -only maintained, but magnified and distorted.</p> - -<p>So bad did the distortion become that the people back home had almost -no inkling of the difficulties in negotiation, of the many concessions -Earth had to make to Mars' totalitarian rulers. They didn't know how -many insults the Earth envoys had to swallow, or of the innumerable -conferences that ended in deadlock because of the Rockheads' impossible -demands—demands made to impress their own subject people with their -might—or of the W.G. investigators who were imprisoned because they -had stumbled across some particularly noisome secret of the corrupt -Martian government.</p> - -<p>Scott was getting quite wound up. He was pointing a finger again when -the door opened. His finger paralyzed in midair.</p> - -<p>The thing that entered was taller than he. The entire upper half of it -was a face. An idiotically-grinning, white-toothed face. Its eyes were -outlined in black and its lips were an oversized red. A caricature of -a woman's face, with a great mass of blonde hair coiled fantastically -above.</p> - -<p>"What the hell," said Scott.</p> - -<p>The figure bent forward, and the huge mask came off.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Scott," a girl said.</p> - -<p>"My Terrestrial aunt," said Scott. "Ylia."</p> - -<p>She was a Martian, the daughter of one of the subcommissioners of her -government. Ylia wasn't pretty by any Earth standard. She had the -big head of her race, the stocky body and the flat face. But she was -esteemed by the Martians as attractive, as far as looks count on that -planet.</p> - -<p>"Why the mask?" asked Scott. "I didn't think you went in for all this -brothers-together nonsense."</p> - -<p>"Everybody's masked tonight," she said, meaning all the women. "I had -to see you, and I thought I'd attract less attention if I wore one, -too."</p> - -<p>Scott knew what the masks represented. They were brought out every -Landing Day and worn in the streets for the traditional celebrations. -The masks were all of women—Earth women. Few Earth women had come -to Mars, but Earth's advertising had come as soon as the planet was -opened to trade. And with the ads had come the art which hadn't -changed in centuries. A pretty face, it was reasoned—if there was any -reasoning—ought to sell as much soap or cigarettes on Mars as it had -on Earth. Hence the masks, representing Earth's greatest contribution -thus far to the culture of its neighboring planet—advertising and the -female face.</p> - -<p>"What's up, Ylia?" Scott asked.</p> - -<p>"We're having a meeting, sort of, and Father would like you to come, if -you can."</p> - -<p>"Why sure," he said. "When is it?"</p> - -<p>"Anytime you get there. You see, you're sort of part of it."</p> - -<p>"Will there be anything I can use in the roundup?" Scott asked. -"There's nothing in it so far except color stuff on Landing Day. It has -to go off in a few hours."</p> - -<p>"You're the newsman," Ylia said. "Why not come and see?"</p> - -<p>"Good enough," he said.</p> - -<p>"There's something Father would like you to bring with you."</p> - -<p>"I don't usually carry a gun," said Scott, "but I guess I could -scrounge one up if I had to."</p> - -<p>"Nothing like that. I think you have what he needs right in your files. -The Green Arrow affair. You do have it, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Of course. We have copies of all the stories on it that Galactic sent -out. I can dig them up in a couple of minutes."</p> - -<p>"No," said Ylia. "Not that part of it. What we want is the information -you didn't send out."</p> - -<p>"Oh?" said Scott.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Green Arrow was the name the news services had given a guerrilla -leader who'd spearheaded the resistance movement against the Rockheads -before World Government had got around to any definite action. The -name came from a chalk symbol he had left behind him after each raid -or foray. Around the Green Arrow had rallied a handful of partisans -who had not been content with W.G.'s slow and not-so-sure methods of -deposing the Rockhead regime. They were men of ideals and, more than -that, of action. Somewhere in the desert below Syrtis had been the -Arrow's headquarters. All the punitive expeditions of the Rockheads had -failed to find him. No one had known who he was. On the rare occasions -that an Arrow man was captured, no amount of torture could get a single -secret from him.</p> - -<p>The damage the Green Arrow did to the Rockheads was negligible in its -overall effect. But he had been more than a night raider—he'd been a -symbol to the people in the Rockhead yoke that someone was actively -on their side. There was a tremendous lift in spirit each time the -Arrow hit a Rockhead target, and for days thereafter people in the -community where he had struck—and in others, too—were more cocky and -less cooperative than the Rockheads thought they had a right to be. -The Arrow's raids sparked slow-down movements and some sabotage and -evoked Rockhead reprisals, against guilty and innocent alike. Some -of the reprisals were cruel—so cruel that they would have deterred -a less determined man—but the Green Arrow was not to be swayed. He -remained—even after he was captured and executed—a symbol of liberty -in a land which had not tasted such a blessing for years.</p> - -<p>Galactic News had covered the Green Arrow story from start to finish. -G.N. gave it the full treatment, despite threats from the Rockheads and -the denial to it of certain newsgathering facilities. More than that, -Scott Warren got permission from G.N.'s New York headquarters to send a -man out to interview the Arrow. The reporter got through where all the -anti-partisan forces of the Rockheads had failed, and interviewed the -Arrow in his desert headquarters. That interview was the journalistic -beat of the year—and was highly embarrassing to the Rockheads. Shortly -thereafter the reporter was arrested by the Rockhead secret police, and -it took all the influence of World Government to have him released. -The name of that reporter was George Mercer. He was now covering the -Martian parliament for Galactic News.</p> - -<p>There had been more in Mercer's story than had been made public, -however. Before Galactic broke the story, it went with it to W.G. A -high diplomatic official there, in the interests of security, asked -G.N. to withhold one fact, and Galactic agreed. As things turned out -it was nothing W.G. hadn't known; but something in the nature of a -politico-military secret. It was the name of the Green Arrow.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Scott Warren knew what the name was, but it meant nothing to him. He -got Mercer's original story out of the files—it had once been kept in -a safe—and put it in an inside pocket.</p> - -<p>"This used to be classified material," he said to the girl. "It's not -any more. I don't know why you want it."</p> - -<p>Ylia smiled. "Are you ready to go?"</p> - -<p>He nodded. She put the grotesque mask on again and the two of them left -the building.</p> - -<p>Ylia's father was Kring, a sub-commissioner of commerce in the -government of President Murain. (The news services had begun the custom -of transliterating Martian names into pronounceable English, the W.G. -language, and W.G. itself later adopted it.) Murain was a symbol of -World Government's diplomatic triumph, as Earth chose to regard it. -For two decades the dirty political game of collaboration with the -Rockheads had been played—although it was on such a high level that -diplomacy was considered the proper word. It ended, finally, with free -elections—the first since the military coup.</p> - -<p>The elections were the result of W.G.'s long psychological siege -against the Rockheads. The men from Earth played on the vanity of the -complacent dictators until they believed they could be the people's -choice voluntarily. It was a masterpiece, Scott had to admit—but a -masterpiece of striped-pants double-cross. On the one hand the Earthmen -pumped up the egos of the Rockheads, and on the other they smuggled the -democratic leaders—those who still lived—out of their desert Siberias -and let them talk to the people in thousands of small indoor gatherings.</p> - -<p>The people anywhere—whether it's in Iopa or Middletown—are smart -if they have the facts. These people went to the polls and booted -the Rockheads out. It was close, and there was some violence when -W.G. watchers arrested repeaters from the Rockheads' machine, but -the dictatorship went down in a relatively peaceful manner. The -democratic coup evoked a singing story from Scott Warren, who was then -newly-assigned to the post of Mars bureau chief. The story won him a -journalistic prize.</p> - -<p>The election also provoked a counter-revolution by the Rockheads, -which had to be put down by World Government's police troops. That was -another story, and it won Scott a rest leave on Earth—which he cut -short to get back to the news beat which he found, strangely, he had an -unaccountable hankering for.</p> - -<p>And so democratic government returned to Mars and everything was -dandy—for a while.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Scott and Ylia pushed their way through the celebrating crowds. -The big, grinning masks of Earth women were moving chaotically, -idiotically, all around them. Spotlights which were partly heat-lamps -played over the throng in their many colors, coloring and warming the -night scene. Musicians in outlandish costumes circulated in groups of -three or four, their reedy tunes conflicting and yet mingling in a -pleasing semi-harmony.</p> - -<p>Most of the crowds were Martians, but here and there a party of Earth -people was taking part in the gaiety. In the warm glow of one big -spotlight, an Earthman was dancing with a Martian girl, her mask and -his fantastic steps parodying a popular Terrestrial ballroom team.</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was an intrusion into this scene of celebration. From a -side street into the main square which Scott and Ylia were now going -through there came a knot of people. They came on slowly, about a dozen -of them, their steady progress in contrast to the aimless, carefree -motions of the rest. Their faces were serious, and the group held both -Martians and Earthmen. They were young-old faces, young in age but old -in their apparent contempt for the scene all round them. The group -remained close together, not costumed, and when a reveler pulled at -the sleeve of one in invitation to join a chain dance, he was pushed -away brusquely, almost angrily. When the group reached a well-lighted -position near the center of the square, its members formed themselves -into a tight circle. They pulled signs from beneath their tunics and -thrust them up, then began moving in a shuffling lockstep, chanting -discordantly. They were pickets—serious, almost fanatic young men of -two planets, bound together in their cause. Their signs read: "Down -with the Earth Imperialists," "Democracy, Not Mockery," "What are you -Celebrating—Colonization?" and so on.</p> - -<p>They chanted the same things, out of unison, so that their voices -created a nerve-tingling atmosphere of unrest. They shouted defiantly, -yet not looking anywhere but at the neck of the man directly ahead in -the revolving picket line. "Reds Picket Landing Day Fete," Scott said -to himself, thinking in headline terms.</p> - -<p>There was tension now among the celebrants in this part of the square. -This was not a time for problems, or for thinking about them, and those -who had gathered to have fun were being robbed of their spree.</p> - -<p>Abruptly a Martian stepped up and in a quick motion wrested a sign -from one of the pickets. He ripped it up and danced on the pieces. The -picket whose sign had been snatched made no protest, aside from a look -of surprise and a frown. He stayed in ranks, and the circle continued -to go round.</p> - -<p>Cheers went up and other revelers pressed forward. The marchers -tightened their ranks and took firmer grips on their signs. The Martian -who had snatched the first was now conferring with others. He motioned -to a group of silently-standing musicians, and they took up a tune. The -music was rousing and patriotic, and some costumed Martians went into -a wild snake dance. With apparent good humor, but with telling effect, -they drove into the circle of pickets and split them into two groups. -In the scramble, several more signs were trampled underfoot. More -revelers joined the attack and the pickets were split again, until they -were widely separated and all their signs were gone. Their unity lost, -they disappeared in the crowd.</p> - -<p>The musicians switched to a gayer tune and there were cheers and -laughter. The Martian who had grabbed down the first sign was hoisted -into the air, where he bowed his over sized head, grinning.</p> - -<p>The interruption of the fun was ended, and without violence. Scott and -Ylia moved on.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But Scott knew the picketing had been only one manifestation of a -smoldering problem. There was truth in those signs, and the people -knew it. They just hadn't wanted to be reminded of it now. And, -besides, most of them didn't want their thinking done for them by the -left-wingers, who proclaimed the right of the people but too often in -history had aborted the very rights they spoke of so feelingly.</p> - -<p>The limited democracy the people now enjoyed had been hard-won. It was -not perfect, they knew, and they suspected that there was corruption -here and there, either in their own government or in W.G. But the -Martian people had had a bellyful of violence. The force used by the -Rockheads, just lately overthrown in a peaceful election, was fresh -in their minds, and they were willing to go along for a while with -President Murain—at least to give him a chance.</p> - -<p>They trusted Murain. He was one of them. But Scott was aware that -Murain himself was too trusting. The Martian president was a grateful -man, and his gratitude had made him less suspicious than a politician -should be.</p> - -<p>Where the Rockheads had driven hard bargains with Earth, Murain's -representatives drove none at all. They trusted their deliverers—the -men of W.G.—to do the right thing. And the Earthmen, some of them, -were doing the right thing—but for themselves.</p> - -<p>Where the Martian democratic government had once lost to the fascists -through force, it was now losing to friends who were rooking it, -in a perfectly legitimate, businesslike way. The Commission on -Exploration and Assessment had now become known off the record as -A. & E.—assessment and exploitation. The business and industries which -should have made the Martians prosper—which should have given them the -schools and housing they had been robbed of by the Rockheads—these had -their profits skimmed off and sent to Earth. The Martians had their -freedom now, true, but they couldn't eat it or build with it.</p> - -<p>Ylia pulled at Scott's sleeve. They turned down a side street and, at -an old stone house that seemed as ancient as Mars itself, she led him -through an archway and into a court. She knocked at a door, and, when -it opened, took off her ridiculous mask and entered, beckoning Scott to -follow.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They entered a room that was low and wide, furnished with a mixture of -Earth and Mars styles, including some of those chairs which are geared -to Martian dimensions—oversized headrest and, between closely-spaced -arms, a seat that a plump Terrestrial either had to squeeze into, or -avoid.</p> - -<p>Of the three people in the room, Scott recognized two: Kring, Ylia's -father, and Toby Black, a W.G. investigator whose real job was known -to only a few and who posed as a sales manager for a construction -firm. The guise enabled him to be places where the presence of a W.G. -representative would be unwelcome. Here, possibly. The other Martian in -the room looked familiar, but Scott couldn't place him.</p> - -<p>Scott shook hands with Kring and let himself be introduced to Toby, -although they'd had many a drink together in the Press Club bar and in -less respectable places.</p> - -<p>"And this is Mr. Rastol," Kring said of the familiar-looking Martian.</p> - -<p>Then Scott remembered. Two days ago President Murain had decided on a -man to fill the job of commerce minister in the Martian government, a -post vacated through the death of a cabinet member. Murain had offered -the job to Rastol. Scott had no idea what had prompted the offer. He -felt sure that Murain hadn't acted of his own free choice; pressure -must have been brought on him. Apparently it was a concession he felt -it necessary to make—a sort of horse trade with some powerful leader -in Parliament to get an administration bill through. All Scott knew, -now that he remembered, was that Rastol was a Rockhead. Not an overt -one, true. There was no blood on his hands, as far as anyone could -prove. But Rastol had been a power in the totalitarian government -lately voted out. Possibly Murain could find no one else for the job. -Rastol had ability, of course, but he also had a tinge, if not a -definite odor.</p> - -<p>He had been brought to trial, under a W.G. indictment, but had been -acquitted of complicity in any of the really unsavory doings of the -Rockhead regime. Some had said it was lack of evidence, but newsmen -covering the trial had a strong suspicion that several prosecution -witnesses had been given bank accounts. And Rastol went free.</p> - -<p>And now Murain was offering him the big commerce job—one that held -the purse strings of a fair share of the Martian budget. The post -would give Rastol the power to spend, to let contracts, to make loans -and parcel out a tremendous amount of business. That money could -go to help the economy of Mars back on its feet, or it could be -pork-barreled into the coffers of firms whose ties with the Rockheads -had been only nominally broken.</p> - -<p>Rastol's acceptance of the job, not yet forthcoming, and his -confirmation in it by Parliament, would be a kick in the teeth to -Martian democracy. The reason for this off-in-the-corner Landing Day -soiree became a little clearer—although Scott still was unable to -figure out why he'd been invited.</p> - -<p>Scott shook the hand Rastol extended and said something noncommittal. -Most Martians looked almost alike to Earth's eyes, except for their sex -differences, but Rastol was distinctive. He was corpulent, a thing most -Martians were not, and he was hairless, which also was unusual. His -skin was whiter than that of most of his planetmen, and he had no neck -to speak of. If Scott had been a caricaturist, he'd have drawn Rastol -as an egg.</p> - -<p>Ylia had left the room. She came back now with a tray, and served -drinks. Scott took one of the small pottery cups and told himself he -mustn't drink more than two of them. They contained a syrupy blue -liquid with the kick of a rocket-exhaust.</p> - -<p>Kring raised his cup. "To the Republic," he said. They all sipped their -drinks.</p> - -<p>"I've asked you here," Kring said, "for a purpose. I should not have -chosen Landing Day if it had not been important. Some of you have very -generously broken other engagements or left your work—" he bowed to -Scott—"to be here."</p> - -<p>Rastol spoke in a low, resonant voice. "It is an honor to be asked to -your home, Mr. Kring."</p> - -<p>The "mister" was something Earthmen had brought. Mars, before the -Rockheads set up their semi-feudal system, had had no such term of -address.</p> - -<p>Kring bowed again. "I am especially happy that you were able to come, -Mr. Rastol, because what I have to say should be of particular interest -to you." He turned to Toby Black. "You, Mr. Black, are interested in -construction, of course, and Mr. Warren's news service has an interest -in something similar—reconstruction. So we are well met."</p> - -<p>Scott didn't know what this preamble was leading to, but he wished -Kring would get on with it. He did.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Warren," Kring went on, "may also have a news story of some value. -You see, before Mr. Rastol leaves this room tonight, he will have -announced that he cannot accept the post of minister of commerce in the -Murain government."</p> - -<p>Rastol didn't move, except for a narrowing of his eyes. Then he said, -carefully: "Indeed?"</p> - -<p>Kring smiled a little. "Yes," he said. "I think Mr. Rastol will find -that his private affairs are of such a demanding nature that he will be -forced regretfully to decline the honor tendered by President Murain."</p> - -<p>Rastol said evenly: "I hesitate to differ with my gracious host, but it -would seem to me that an individual might be considered to know his own -affairs better than another."</p> - -<p>"I am sure," said Kring, "that no one knows your affairs better than -you, Mr. Rastol."</p> - -<p>Scott looked at Toby Black, who had leaned forward in his chair as if -trying to see the significance of it all. Scott knew that Toby knew as -much about Rastol as anyone, and probably more. Toby was one of half -a dozen men who were permitted to ride the private elevator to the -private office of the director-general of World Government.</p> - -<p>Rastol looked at a timepiece on the wall and rose from his chair. "I am -afraid I must say good night. I had hoped to be better company, but I -have just remembered an appointment."</p> - -<p>"Please sit down, Mr. Rastol," said Kring. "We have much more to -discuss."</p> - -<p>Rastol moved toward the door. Ylia stepped in front of it. She had a -Q-gun in her hand.</p> - -<p>"I am quite proud of my daughter's marksmanship," said Kring. "She is -the equal of any soldier at hitting a target. At short range she never -misses by so much as a hair."</p> - -<p>Rastol sat down.</p> - -<p>He sipped his drink and appeared to relax. "Be good enough to tell -me," he said, "why you think I would be so lacking in a sense of public -duty as to reject an assignment to which my government has called me."</p> - -<p>"The answer is simple," said Kring. "The Murain government is not your -government. Your allegiance is to the totalitarian movement."</p> - -<p>"I think the public record will show the falsehood of that statement," -said Rastol. "The trial to which I was so cruelly subjected proved just -the opposite. You will recall that the verdict was one of acquittal."</p> - -<p>"Only," said Kring, "because some witnesses were bribed—and others -were murdered."</p> - -<p>Rastol smiled thinly. "Your proof?"</p> - -<p>Kring smiled also. "Of that? None, I admit. But we have proof of other -things—things without value in a court of law, perhaps, but which may -persuade you to retire to private life, for your tranquillity of mind."</p> - -<p>"Produce them," said Rastol.</p> - -<p>He was a cool one, Scott had to admit. Then the newsman realized that -Kring was looking at him.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Warren," he said, "if you will be so kind." And he held out his -hand.</p> - -<p>Scott gave him the papers he had brought from the office. He had no -idea what bearing they had on the situation now being unfolded.</p> - -<p>Kring broke the seal on the envelope and opened it. He looked through -the news reports—those which had been used and those which hadn't. -Finally he found what he was looking for.</p> - -<p>"You have heard of the Green Arrow," Kring asked Rastol.</p> - -<p>"Of course. A bandit and outlaw who achieved some notoriety. What of -him?"</p> - -<p>"You may not have heard," said Kring, "that his real name became known. -To myself and some others who cared to ask, after it was no longer a -guarded secret. His name was Acton...."</p> - -<p>Kring looked closely at Rastol. The big Martian gave no flicker of -recognition.</p> - -<p>"A not uncommon name," said Rastol.</p> - -<p>"Acton was the name of your son, was it not?"</p> - -<p>There was silence in the room. Kring's eyes looked steadily into -Rastol's. Ylia stood at the door, her gun no longer pointing at the -guest, but down at her side. Toby Black was stopped with a cigarette -halfway to his lips.</p> - -<p>Scott raised a hand to brush away what he thought might be an insect -on the back of his neck. There was nothing there; it was part of the -tension.</p> - -<p>Kring spoke again. "Was not Acton the name of your son, and did he not -fight against you and the things you stood for?"</p> - -<p>Rastol's eyes went from one to another in the room. He made no other -movement. Even his breathing was not apparent. At length he said:</p> - -<p>"Yes, Acton was my son."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Kring's breath came hard, as if he had been holding it.</p> - -<p>Then Rastol added: "But what of that? Really, gentlemen, this is a -most ridiculous performance. To bring me to this house, to threaten me -with weapons and with words and to produce mysterious papers with the -flourish of a wandering mystic—this is childish. I must ask you to -excuse me. I have an important letter to write President Murain."</p> - -<p>"What will the letter say?"</p> - -<p>"It will say that I accept humbly, yet with pride that I have been -chosen, the position of minister of commerce in the government to which -I owe allegiance and wish to serve to the best of my poor ability."</p> - -<p>"Allegiance!" Kring spat the word. "You speak of allegiance, who have -never known it to anything decent and honorable. You blaspheme the -memory of your son's great deeds when you use the word."</p> - -<p>"Neither my son nor any creature that crawls on the ground has any -bearing on my decision. Your threats and blackmail are unworthy of -you, Mr. Kring. And if you persist in this farce, or seek to use your -information publicly, I shall be forced to make a noisy and patriotic -speech which will look incongruous in my biography but which will have -the stupid public applauding from the galleries. I shall say that as -an older man I believed in gradual change and that no man was happier -than I when Mars became a republic under the aegis of World Government. -I shall say, if I am forced to, that of course I had publicly deplored -the activities of the man called the Green Arrow, but that I was in -good company, for did not Mr. Murain—then not yet President Murain -of the Republic-to-be—also plead for peaceful methods of achieving -freedom, and urge his followers to shun violence? And if someone is so -unfeeling as to mention that Acton was my son, could not my impatience -with his activities have been in reality a father's fears for the life -of the boy he had loved from the cradle? Oh, I shall make them weep, -Mr. Kring, and your petty plan will come to nothing. Furthermore, I -shall demand your resignation as a sub-commissioner of commerce, and I -have little doubt that I shall receive it."</p> - -<p>"You are an excellent man with a speech," said Kring. "That I admit. -But there is more which you pretend not to know."</p> - -<p>"Is there?"</p> - -<p>"Much more. You may or may not choose to recall—Druro."</p> - -<p>Rastol chose to say nothing. Druro had been one of the blackest -marks against the Rockhead regime. It was the name of an infamous -concentration camp, in which thousands of prisoners had died of -malnutrition and overwork and thousands more had been put to death -because of their political views.</p> - -<p>"I can tell you something about Druro," said Toby Black. "I was there -as a guest of your government—the Rockhead government is the one I'm -talking about, Rastol, not the one you claim you're suddenly so fond -of."</p> - -<p>Toby put out his cigarette and leaned forward. His thin face got hard.</p> - -<p>"Kring is a gentleman even when he's dealing with a louse, Rastol, but -I'm no diplomat. I'm just a hardheaded old trader from Earth, and maybe -some people think my language is crude. But I say what I think, and -I don't like you and your kind. Usually I don't mix in politics—my -business is construction. I started when I was a young squirt and -built things with my hands, and they got calloused. Now I sit in a fine -office and scoot around in a fine air-car, and other men do the dirty -work. But that's honest work. The dirty work I can't stomach is your -kind, Rastol, and since I've got the chance to undo some of it, or -maybe prevent some more of it, I asked Kring to let me speak my piece."</p> - -<p>Scott could easily have been persuaded, if he hadn't known better, -that World Government Investigator Toby Black was just that rockribbed -businessman-with-a-conscience that he was pretending to be.</p> - -<p>Toby went on: "The reason I saw Druro the way mighty few people saw it -was that somebody slipped up. Druro was also a factory town and there -was room there for a new plant. God knows you had enough slave labor to -make it damned profitable. So I was invited by your Rockheads to look -over parts of the town so my company could make a bid on building the -plant they wanted. But I saw more than you fascists intended, Rastol. -I'm an old country boy and I get up early. One day I got up earlier -than those gorillas who were supposed to tag around with me to keep my -nose clean. And my nose got good and dirty, Rastol. The stench of Druro -is still in it. I got out and talked to the people in town, and the -people had plenty to tell me about that camp just over the hill. Some -of the people I spoke to had been inside it, and they knew what they -were talking about."</p> - -<p>"An interesting anecdote, Mr. Black," Rastol interrupted, "but I must -confess that I see no relevance."</p> - -<p>Toby lighted a cigarette and spat out the smoke. "The relevance is -coming right up. I heard a lot of different things about Druro from a -lot of different people, but one of the things I heard over and over -again was the same. It was the name of the man whose signature sent -those thousands to their death. I don't have to tell you, Rastol, what -that name was. You sign your letters with it every day."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"You can prove nothing," snapped Rastol, his composure jolted for the -first time. "It would be your word against mine, and why should anyone -believe you?"</p> - -<p>"That's true," said Toby. "There's no proof. After I heard of your -acquittal I got good and mad about it, and I made a special trip to see -if I could find some of those people I'd talked to back then—to get -affidavits, if they wouldn't testify in person, to get new evidence. -But you and your Rockheads did a good job, all right. You practically -wiped out Druro. There wasn't a soul left who would testify against you -or any other fascist."</p> - -<p>"You see? You have no proof."</p> - -<p>"No," said Kring, "no proof that would be good in court. But everyone -in this room now is convinced of your guilt. That must be a terrible -burden on your conscience. If I were you I should welcome this -opportunity to make some slight amend. I appeal to you, Mr. Rastol, to -decline the post of commerce minister."</p> - -<p>Rastol laughed. "You appeal! You beg! This is the weakness of your -system. You yourselves are so weak that your government cannot be -strong. I know now that the threats against me tonight all were -psychological. Even that Q-gun in your daughter's hands. You would -not shoot me. It is against your principles. Fortunately I have no -principles, and after I have become commerce minister there will be -others like me in the cabinet. And then it will not be long before Mars -again has the kind of government a planet like this needs. Now I am -going—and if any of you decides to remember any of this in public I -shall deny it. And then who do you think will be believed?</p> - -<p>"Stand aside, young lady. I am leaving."</p> - -<p>Rastol got up from his chair.</p> - -<p>This wasn't Scott's show, but he spoke up anyway. It looked as if -everything else had failed.</p> - -<p>He said: "I have quite a story here, Rastol. I haven't been taking -notes, but they say I have a stenographic ear."</p> - -<p>Rastol whirled on him. "Use it, and I'll sue you and Galactic News -Service for libel and everything else in the statutes. I'll deny -everything and produce two witnesses for every one of yours. You're -not dealing with an amateur, young man. And now I say good night, you -fools."</p> - -<p>Kring moved to stand beside his daughter. "There is yet more," he said. -"We had hoped to spare you this, although I know now that our concern -for your feelings was misguided."</p> - -<p>"There is no more," said Rastol. "You have bluffed and you have lost." -He whipped his hand through the air. "Stand aside. I am going."</p> - -<p>"Stay," said a new voice.</p> - -<p>Rastol turned slowly. At the end of the room opposite the door some -hangings had parted. Through them from another room had come a tall, -cloaked Martian, a young man. Rastol looked at him under a wrinkled -forehead.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Father," said Acton.</p> - -<p>Rastol peered across the room. His face seemed to come apart. It went -slack, seemed to turn gray.</p> - -<p>"You're dead!" cried Rastol. "This is a trick! A disguise! Turn up the -lights!"</p> - -<p>Acton stepped forward to within a foot of the older man. "Look well," -he said. "Is it a disguise?"</p> - -<p>"But you're dead. I know you're dead. I—"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Father. I should be." Acton's eyes were steady, but without hate. -They looked hurt and pitying. "I was at Druro, and you signed the order -for my execution yourself. It was carried out, you thought, and the -last witness against you was stilled. You thought."</p> - -<p>The young man threw back his cloak. He had no left arm. "They took me -for dead. The Q-rays burned away my arm and I fell with the others. -I was buried among the corpses. But my friends found me later. There -wasn't much life in me, but they nourished it, and I am here."</p> - -<p>"No!" screamed Rastol. "It's not true! It's a lie!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>"No!" screamed Rastol. "It's not true ... it's a lie!"</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He wavered away from his son's gaze and half fell into a chair.</p> - -<p>"You deny it," said Acton. "Come, we'll tell the people. They -will decide. We'll go to the great square and ask them whom they -believe—Rastol or the Green Arrow."</p> - -<p>"No," said Rastol. "No ... no."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Back in the Galactic News Service bureau, Scott Warren came to the last -paragraph of <i>Today on Mars</i>. He had written his quota of words about -Landing Day and the speeches and parades and carnival. He had a story -bigger than any of this, of course, but he couldn't use it. Toby Black -asked him not to; not yet.</p> - -<p>Rastol had declined Acton's challenge to go before the people. There -in Kring's house, under the hard eyes of his son, Rastol had written a -letter to President Murain and signed it.</p> - -<p>The rest would come later. It took time to get the legal wheels in -motion, to prepare a genocide case; but although World Government moved -slowly sometimes, it did move. In two months or three or six, Rastol -would be indicted and tried, and this time there would be no doubt of -the verdict. In the meantime....</p> - -<p>Scott wrote: "Elsewhere on Mars, these things happened: Fire broke out -in Senalla, driving fifty persons from their homes. No one was injured, -but damage to the apartment house block was extensive.... A collision -between two air-cars sent three persons to the hospital in Iopa with -critical injuries.... A sandstorm blowing across the desert 100 miles -northeast of Iopa has cut communications with the town of Ramor.... -And Rastol decided against accepting the post of commerce minister, -which had been offered to him by President Murain. Rastol said he was -honored by the offer, but that the pressure of private affairs made it -impossible for him to accept."</p> - -<p>Scott Warren typed "30" at the end of his copy and sent it off to -Interradio for transmission to Earth. He resigned himself to the -possibility that the night desk in the New York bureau would cut out -his last paragraph to save space.</p> - -<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DATELINE: MARS ***</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 64073-h.htm or 64073-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/0/7/64073/</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'> -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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