vice-captainnow--"
"No. I prefer to see someone else lead, perhaps you or Fomar. I've beenthinking over the situation and it seems to me that I should declaremyself mated to one of you, whichever of you wants to be captain. Then Icould devolve the responsibility."
"Well, I don't want to be captain. Let Fomar do it."
Nasha studied him, tall and blond, striding along beside her in hispressure suit. "I'm rather partial to you," she said. "We might try itfor a time, at least. But do as you like. Look, we're coming tosomething."
They stopped walking, letting Tance catch up. In front of them was somesort of a ruined building. Dorle stared around thoughtfully.
"Do you see? This whole place is a natural bowl, a huge valley. See howthe rock formations rise up on all sides, protecting the floor. Maybesome of the great blast was deflected here."
They wandered around the ruins, picking up rocks and fragments. "I thinkthis was a farm," Tance said, examining a piece of wood. "This was partof a tower windmill."
"Really?" Nasha took the stick and turned it over. "Interesting. Butlet's go; we don't have much time."
"Look," Dorle said suddenly. "Off there, a long way off. Isn't thatsomething?" He pointed.
Nasha sucked in her breath. "The white stones."
"What?"
Nasha looked up at Dorle. "The white stones, the great broken teeth. Wesaw them, the Captain and I, from the control room." She touched Dorle'sarm gently. "That's where they fired from. I didn't think we had landedso close."
"What is it?" Tance said, coming up to them. "I'm almost blind withoutmy glasses. What do you see?"
"The city. Where they fired from."
"Oh." All three of them stood together. "Well, let's go," Tance said."There's no telling what we'll find there." Dorle frowned at him.
"Wait. We don't know what we would be getting into. They must havepatrols. They probably have seen us already, for that matter."
"They probably have seen the ship itself," Tance said. "They probablyknow right now where they can find it, where they can blow it up. Sowhat difference does it make whether we go closer or not?"
"That's true," Nasha said. "If they really want to get us we haven't achance. We have no armaments at all; you know that."
"I have a hand weapon." Dorle nodded. "Well, let's go on, then. Isuppose you're right, Tance."
"But let's stay together," Tance said nervously. "Nasha, you're goingtoo fast."
Nasha looked back. She laughed. "If we expect to get there by nightfallwe must go fast."
* * * * *
They reached the outskirts of the city at about the middle of theafternoon. The sun, cold and yellow, hung above them in the colorlesssky. Dorle stopped at the top of a ridge overlooking the city.
"Well, there it is. What's left of it."
There was not much left. The huge concrete piers which they had noticedwere not piers at all, but the ruined foundations of buildings. They hadbeen baked by the searing heat, baked and charred almost to the ground.Nothing else remained, only this irregular circle of white squares,perhaps four miles in diameter.
Dorle spat in disgust. "More wasted time. A dead skeleton of a city,that's all."
"But it was from here that the firing came," Tance murmured. "Don'tforget that."
"And by someone with a good eye and a great deal of experience," Nashaadded. "Let's go."
They walked into the city between the ruined buildings. No one spoke.They walked in silence, listening to the echo of their footsteps.
"It's macabre," Dorle muttered. "I've seen ruined cities before but theydied of old age, old age and fatigue. This was killed, seared to death.This city didn't die--it was murdered."
"I wonder what the city was called," Nasha said. She turned aside, goingup the remains of a stairway from one of the foundations. "Do you thinkwe might find a signpost? Some kind of plaque?"
She peered into the ruins.
"There's nothing there," Dorle said impatiently. "Come on."
"Wait." Nasha bent down, touching a concrete stone. "There's somethinginscribed on this."
"What is it?" Tance hurried up. He squatted in the dust, running hisgloved fingers over the surface of the stone. "Letters, all right." Hetook a writing stick from the pocket of his pressure suit and copied theinscription on a bit of paper. Dorle glanced over his shoulder. Theinscription was:
FRANKLIN APARTMENTS
"That's this city," Nasha said softly. "That was its name."
Tance put the paper in his pocket and they went on. After a time Dorlesaid, "Nasha, you know, I think we're being watched. But don't lookaround."
The woman stiffened. "Oh? Why do you say that? Did you see something?"
"No. I can feel it, though. Don't you?"
Nasha smiled a little. "I feel nothing, but perhaps I'm more used tobeing stared at." She turned her head slightly. "Oh!"
Dorle reached for his hand weapon. "What is it? What do you see?" Tancehad stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth half open.
"The gun," Nasha said. "It's the gun."
"Look at the size of it. The size of the thing." Dorle unfastened hishand weapon slowly. "That's it, all right."
The gun was huge. Stark and immense it pointed up at the sky, a mass ofsteel and glass, set in a huge slab of concrete. Even as they watchedthe gun moved on its swivel base, whirring underneath. A slim vaneturned with the wind, a network of rods atop a high pole.
"It's alive," Nasha whispered. "It's listening to us, watching us."
The gun moved again, this time clockwise. It was mounted so that itcould make a full circle. The barrel lowered a trifle, then resumed itsoriginal position.
"But who fires it?" Tance said.
Dorle laughed. "No one. No one fires it."
They stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"It fires itself."
They couldn't believe him. Nasha came close to him, frowning, looking upat him. "I don't understand. What do you mean, it fires itself?"
"Watch, I'll show you. Don't move." Dorle picked up a rock from theground. He hesitated a moment and then tossed the rock high in the air.The rock passed in front of the gun. Instantly the great barrel moved,the vanes contracted.
* * * * *
The rock fell to the ground. The gun paused, then resumed its calmswivel, its slow circling.
"You see," Dorle said, "it noticed the rock, as soon as I threw it up inthe air. It's alert to anything that flies or moves above the groundlevel. Probably it detected us as soon as we entered the gravitationalfield of the planet. It probably had a bead on us from the start. Wedon't have a chance. It knows all about the ship. It's just waiting forus to take off again."
"I understand about the rock," Nasha said, nodding. "The gun noticed it,but not us, since we're on the ground, not above. It's only designed tocombat objects in the sky. The ship is safe until it takes off again,then the end will come."
"But what's this gun for?" Tance put in. "There's no one alive here.Everyone is dead."
"It's a machine," Dorle said. "A machine that was made to do a job. Andit's doing the job. How it survived the blast I don't know. On it goes,waiting for the enemy. Probably they came by air in some sort ofprojectiles."
"The enemy," Nasha said. "Their own race. It is hard to believe thatthey really bombed themselves, fired at themselves."
"Well, it's over with. Except right here, where we're standing. This onegun, still alert, ready to kill. It'll go on until it wears out."
"And by that time we'll be dead," Nasha said bitterly.
"There must have been hundreds of guns like this," Dorle murmured. "Theymust have been used to the sight, guns, weapons, uniforms. Probably theyaccepted it as a natural thing, part of their lives, like eating andsleeping. An institution, like the church and the state. Men trained tofight, to lead armies, a regular profession. Honored, respected."
Tance was walking slowly toward the gun, peering nearsightedly up at i
t."Quite complex, isn't it? All those vanes and tubes. I suppose this issome sort of a telescopic sight." His gloved hand touched the end of along tube.
Instantly the gun shifted, the barrel retracting. It swung--
"Don't