Part 2

Boyd Larkin had come to Mars then, a grim, bitter, disappointed and frustrated man fleeing from all memories. He had hoped never to hear of his son again.

But his son had come to him here on Mars.

"I'm taking over," Roy Larkin said. "The fact that you're my old man won't get you anything."

"_You're_ taking over? I thought Docker--"

"Docker works for me."

"What?"

"You heard me." The voice was blunt. It stated a fact. "I listened while he talked to you last night. I wanted to get an estimate of the situation. Of course, we'll take care of you. We'll leave you in charge of the station here."

"But--"

"There are no 'buts' about it. I have made a study of the need for agricultural minerals on Mars. If handled properly, the thing is richer than forty mints. I intend to see that it is handled properly. You could have made a fortune here, if you'd a had good sense." An accusatory note crept into the voice as if the failure to make a fortune when one was to be had was an act that Roy Larkin could neither understand nor forgive.

* * * * *

Boyd Larkin felt a burning inside of him, replacing the gladness he had felt when first he saw this man. There had been no change. There was no possibility of change. "You seem to know quite a lot about Mars."

"I do," Roy Larkin grinned. "I've made a study of the subject. A couple of articles you wrote gave me the idea that the right man could clean up here. Of course, I didn't think that _you_ were the man--"

"There may be difficulties," the father said.

"We expect them. So what?" Roy Larkin gestured at the men with him, a gesture which also included the _Kell_ guns they carried and which included the _Kell_ gun held in the elbow of his left arm. "If these don't do the job, we've got bigger things on the ship."

"I see," Boyd Larkin said. He was regaining some of his lost composure but he was acquiring no liking for the situation.

"We're not looking for trouble but we came prepared for it. I thought you would be a big enough fool to tell us to go to hell if you had the chance. Well, you've got the chance but you either throw in with us or we throw you out--bodily." His manner said he was prepared to back up his words.

Larkin was silent. They could remove him bodily from this place. He could not resist four men. "But what if the Martians refuse to trade with you when you take over?" he said quietly.

"How can they refuse? They've got to have minerals. Without them, they starve."

"They might choose to starve," Boyd Larkin said.

"What?" the younger man gasped. "But that's silly. That's crazy. You don't know what the hell you're talking about. You're trying to pull a fast one."

"They're a strange people," Boyd Larkin said, ignoring his son's outburst. "Sometimes they seem to do crazy things though I have usually found that back of their craziness is a vein of such hard common sense that it is bewildering to us humans."

Roy Larkin was a little uncertain. "They've been dealing with you. They'll deal with us."

"That does not necessarily follow. What you do not understand is that they have a certain test, and that I have passed it."

"A test? Well, what is it. If you can pass it so can we. You haven't got anything that we haven't got."

An involuntary shudder passed over Larkin. "Perhaps. But this test isn't exactly easy." A sound came to his ears. Over the city of Sudal was flooding the sound of temple bells. The shudder came over him again, grew stronger.

His son's eyes were sharp on him. "What the hell are you shaking about?"

"The temple bells--"

"So what?"

"That's the call to the testing. It's an emergency call. It means us."

He saw unease appear momentarily on the face of his son and the men with him, then he saw it shrugged away. "If we have to pass some kind of a test to do business with these fools, all right. We'll pass it."

"I hope," Boyd Larkin whispered. Already the elders had put in their appearance and were coming toward them. They carried with them the long metal rods like the one Malovar carried and which were the sign of their office.

"They come to take us to the place of the testing," Larkin said. He straightened his shoulders. The Martian elders bowed politely and motioned him to precede them.

Neither his son nor the men with him liked the idea. They did not know what was going to happen. They would have preferred to go elsewhere. But Larkin was going and they could hardly let him out-face them. Besides, they had _Kell_ guns. So what danger could they meet that they could not overcome?

IV

The place of the testing was a huge coliseum that had been centuries old when the human race was still in the barbaric stage of its development. It had been designed to hold tens of thousands of spectators and once unquestionably it had held them but the whole population of Sudal and the surrounding territory would now hardly fill the lower tiers. Looking out at the encroaching desert, where pathetic little patches of greenery tried to stem the tide of encroaching desolation, it was easy to see why this stadium could no longer be filled.

Already the Martians were beginning to trickle into the lower seats when the humans arrived at the top of the vast bowl.

"What the hell goes on here?" Roy Larkin kept demanding. "I don't like this."

"You've got your _Kell_ guns, what are you afraid of?" the trader asked.

"I'm not afraid," the younger man angrily answered. "Except for the metal rods the old gooks are carrying, they're not armed. Hell, we're not afraid of them. It's just that I don't know what the hell is supposed to take place."

"You'll find out," Boyd Larkin answered.

In the center of the vast amphitheater was a raised stone altar. In this dry atmosphere, the red stains on it never weathered away. Directly behind the altar was a chair. Malovar was already taking his place in this chair. Leading up to the altar, a double line of elders was forming. Other elders had already made a large circle of living statues around their ruler.

With only the slightest perceptible hesitancy in his stride, Larkin went down the steps of this coliseum. Very vaguely he wondered how many Martians had traveled this path in the centuries gone. There must have been uncounted millions of them. He, personally, had seen most of the inhabitants of Sudal pass this way at one time or another. He had passed this way himself upon his arrival here. He had not fully understood what could happen then, he had been hurt to the bottom of his soul, and he had not cared much what did happen. He had passed the test, then and later. But now--

Malovar's warning of the night before was still ringing in his ears. "My regret will not stay my hand at the time of the testing."

"Where the hell are we supposed to go?" Roy Larkin questioned, as they reached the bottom of the steps. "This looks like a Roman circus, or something."

"Follow me," the trader answered. His step was firm as he trod between the lines of the elders. He knew them, all of them, he had sold minerals to most of them. Now their faces were as immobile as stone. They seemed never to have seen him. At this moment, he was a stranger among them, an alien they did not seem to know.

He walked up in front of the altar, stood facing Malovar.

Sitting in the big throne chair behind the altar, the face of the Martian ruler was a mask far more bleak than the faces of his elders. Now in this moment he wore the regalia of his office, the carved jeweled crown, the diadem of gems suspended from his throat. Either the crown or the diadem would have been worth a fortune back on Earth. Behind him, Larkin heard the humans catch their breath at the sight of these jewels. He knew what they were thinking: a few quick bursts from the _Kell_ guns and this fortune would be theirs.

"Are you prepared for the test?" Malovar's eyes centered on Larkin.

"I am prepared, Sire. But why am I being tested now?"

"Any individual may be tested at any time the welfare of the people in my opinion requires such testing." The Martian words seemed almost to be part of a ritual.

"And on what will your decision be reached?"

"Again, the welfare of my people," Malovar answered.

"I mean--what deeds of mine will be judged here?"

Malovar's face grew bleaker still. "Perhaps nothing you have done but something you may do."

"But you cannot test me now for something I have not yet done, you cannot read the future!" the human protested.

"Perhaps by testing you now I may guide the future," Malovar answered. "But--enough of talk. Kneel!"

Larkin knew he had no further choice. He went down on his knees before the altar. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw one of the elders take Malovar's staff from him, hand him instead the sword. Larkin knew that the blade of that sword was razor sharp. Driven with only moderate force it would cut flesh and bone instantly.

He closed his eyes.

He felt himself grabbed by the shoulder and jerked backward. He faced the raging, frightened eyes of his son. "What the hell's going on here?"

"This is the test," he explained. "You have to go through this test before you can sell minerals to the people of Sudal."

"But what's he going to do?" The younger man gestured toward Malovar who stood erect.

"I do not know. His action is his choice."

"But he is acting and you are acting as if he may chop off your head!"

"That is exactly what he may do, if he so chooses."

"But that's crazy!" Roy Larkin exploded.

"To us, yes. To the Martians, no. This is the way they have of testing the loyalty of individuals to the group. At the time of the annual testing all the inhabitants of this city pass one by one before Malovar."

"And he cuts off the heads of the ones he don't like!" Horror sounded in Roy Larkin's voice.

"I do not think his liking or not liking has anything to do with it," the trader explained. "He is working for the good of his whole people, not his personal good. And he cuts off heads if he chooses. I have seen him lop off a dozen heads in a single hour."

Sweat oozed out of Larkin as the memory came back to him.

"But, damn it, we don't have to go through with this test. We're not Martians--"

"We propose to do business with them. This is the way they test our fitness to do business with them. They make the rules here."

* * * * *

A snarl was in his son's voice. "But we don't have to obey them!"

"What is this discussion?" Malovar spoke softly, in Martian.

"I am explaining to my son what is happening here," Larkin said.

"Your son?" Something very close to surprise showed on the wrinkled, bleak face. "Is _this_ man _your_ son?"

"He is," Larkin answered. There was no apology and no attempt at explanation in his voice. He stated a fact, and if it damned him, then it damned him. The interpretation of that fact he left up to the Martian ruler.

Malovar seemed not to find that interpretation difficult. For an instant, the eyes of the Martian went to the younger Larkin, weighing and testing him. Malovar's face grew bleak indeed as if his eyes saw the surface and what was under the surface and found none of it to his liking. Then his eyes came back to the trader.

"We will continue with the testing," he said.

"I am ready," Larkin answered, moving toward the altar.

"Hey, wait a minute," his son said, seizing his arm.

Larkin shrugged off the grip. "You idiot!" Anger blazed in his voice. "Don't you know what you face here? This test must be accepted, or you will never do business on Mars."

"All right, you old fool!" His son's voice was shrill with anger too, though not the same kind of anger. "Go on and get your stupid head chopped off and see if I care."

"I did not expect you to care," Larkin answered. He laid his head on the altar.

Malovar lifted the long sword.

Over the coliseum the assembled Martians seemed to catch their collective breath and then to stop breathing. The silence became thick, heavy, like a pall of gray mist. In that voiceless instant it seemed to Boyd Larkin that time itself was standing still. What would Malovar do? Larkin did not know, and had never known, the facts on which the ruler based his decision to strike or not to strike.

What did knowing, or not knowing, matter now, in the moment that might see the end of his life?

The hushed silence was broken by a single sharp cry. Larkin opened his eyes. He saw Malovar catch the movement of the sword. He turned his head in the direction from which the cry had come.

Down between the lines of the elders a single Martian was running.

Seekin!

Seekin came to a halt before the altar, bowed before Malovar. His gaze did not go to the human rising to his feet. He looked at Malovar.

"I claim the privilege of taking his place, Sire," Seekin said. "According to the ancient law of the testing, I take his place."

Larkin blinked startled eyes. A glow came up in him. He was hardly aware of it. He had never seen this thing happen before, he did not know it could happen, he did not know that Martian minds worked this way. Surprise was in him.

Surprise seemed to be in Malovar too. Over the coliseum the silence seemed to become heavier as if thousands of Martians were each holding his breath in wonder and in awe.

After the first flash of surprise, Malovar's face became bleak again.

"Do you accept the human's fate as your fate, whatever my decision may be?" the Martian ruler questioned.

Under his brown, Seekin showed a creeping tide of white. He knew what was meant, knew it intimately and well. But his nod was resolute and undaunted.

"Yesterday he gave me valuable minerals in exchange for a valueless jewel. Thus he gave life to me and to my family. And he gave me more than was needed, so that something more might be grown--for someone else. Thus he has fulfilled the highest tenet of our law. Sire--" Seekin bowed low. "--whatever it may be, I accept his fate."

The words were simply spoken. The soft slurred sounds hardly disturbed the quiet air. But they carried a wealth of meaning.

Over the vast throng a sigh arose as if the watching Martians were seeing a miracle. For the first time since he had been on Mars, Boyd Larkin saw a real smile appear on the bleak and bitter face of Malovar. The smile was almost a benediction.

The benediction of that moment was shattered by a furious blast of sound.

_Brrrrp, brrrrp, brrrrp!_

The sound of _Kell_ guns in operation.

V

The elder standing beside Malovar clutched his throat and collapsed, blood spurting from a hole in his throat. Larkin jerked startled eyes toward the source of the sound.

On top of the coliseum was a group of men from the ship. Docker led them. They were firing _Kell_ guns indiscriminately into the Martian crowd.

The brrrrrp-brrrrrp was an almost continuous blast of sound. Following the throb of the guns was the violence of the explosions of the striking missiles. The whole vast arena throbbed to the fury of the sound.

"No!" Larkin screamed.

This was a slaughter of helpless innocents. The Martians were unprotected, incapable of defending themselves. And they had done nothing wrong.

"Stop!" The voice of Malovar was like thunder rolling through the arena. He spoke in Martian but there was no mistaking his meaning. He dropped the sword, took back his metal rod that was part of the regalia of his office, held it erect. In that moment he was like a tribal god ordering the lightning and the thunder.

The answer, coming from above, was a slug that whistled within inches of Malovar's head and exploded behind him.

"For the last time, stop!"

Another slug howled downward.

Then Malovar acted.

Larkin was not quite certain what happened but out from the tip of the metal staff that Malovar held seemed to flash a bolt of blinding radiance. It was not a thunderbolt, it was not electrical, it was probably no force known to Earth scientists.

Looking upward, Larkin expected to see the flashing radiance blast through the group of humans like a smashing thunderbolt, searing and destroying them, leaving in its wake chunks of charred and writhing flesh that had once been men.

No such thing happened. The blinding radiance swirled around the men. It formed a coating around each of them. In a split second each of them was encased in a plastic cocoon that looked like ice, a covering that held them helpless. They still retained their guns but the plastic force covered the guns too. The guns were silent. Either they could not fire into the plastic coat or the men who still grasped them could not move their fingers to press the triggers.

Like statues frozen in motion, the group stood at the top of the coliseum, on the highest row of seats of that vast circling arena.

A cry of rage sounded near Larkin, then was suddenly stilled.

At the sound of the cry near him, Larkin turned, saw that his son and the men with him were likewise encased in plastic envelopes. He saw that his son's eyes were bulging from terror, his throat pulsating from the effort of trying to scream. But no sound was coming forth.

Radiance pouring from the tip of the staff of one of the elders had accomplished this effect.

The torture of that moment must have been a terrible thing for Roy Larkin. To be held helpless by a force that stilled all motion, to want to scream but be unable to hear the blessed sound of your own voice, to see the consequences of your own acts coming home upon your head--this was torture.

Malovar and his elders had not been helpless. They had retained in the metal rods some of the vast forgotten science of old Mars, a science that they rarely used, and rarely needed to use.

Malovar, his face still like thunder, was standing erect and was directing what was to happen next.

* * * * *

There were screams in the coliseum, of wounded and dying Martians, and a vast stir as Martian friends ran to help those who had been injured, and a babble of voices rising in anger. The elders were moving. Some of them were attending to the stricken. Others were directing the removal of Docker and the men with him from the top of the coliseum. Docker and his men were being carried down by Martians. They seemed incapable of movement of their own.

The whole group was brought before Malovar.

The face of the Martian was the face of a tribal god, furious with anger. He made a motion with his hand toward Docker. The Martians carrying the man laid him face down on the altar. Malovar handed his metal staff to the nearest elder, took up the sword.

There was no mistaking the intention of the Martian. He lifted the sword, brought it down. Just before it reached its target, the plastic envelope collapsed as the elder holding the staff made a slight shift with it.

Docker had time to start a scream. The scream ended. A head skittered across the stone, blood spurted.

A moan went over the watching throng.

Larkin watched, appalled. He had seen Martian heads roll here before but somehow this scene was different. Here was Martian justice, swift, sure, and final.

Malovar made another motion with his hand. The nearest human, one of the men with Docker, was lifted, carried to the altar. Larkin saw the man's muscles writhe against the plastic force envelope that held him, writhe unavailingly.

Sunlight glinted on the red blade of the sword as it came down.

Again a moan went up from the audience.

Malovar pointed with his sword--at Roy Larkin. Elders seized the man, lifted him, carried him to the altar.

The sword came up.

"NO!" A single burst of involuntary sound came from the lips of the trader. He leaped forward. "NO!"

Malovar held the sword, looked at him. The Martian looked a little sad.

"I know he is your son, my friend, but he came here to cheat and to rob. Men under his direction have killed."

"But--"

"The laws of my people are explicit," Malovar continued. "Nor will I stay my hand for the sake of friendship at the time of the testing."

"But--" Larkin still protested. Here was a bond, an obligation, that went beyond friendship.

"I am sorry," Malovar said gently. His tone of voice and the expression on his face said he was really sorry. But they also said he had no intention of holding his hand from striking.

Boyd Larkin moved again. He was not quite sure why he did what he did and he was utterly unsure as to what the result would be, but in the face of the rising sword, he lifted his son from the altar.

"I claim your law," he said. "I take his place." He laid himself on the altar.

Over the watching throng there was silence. He sensed rather than saw Malovar lift the sword.

There was a stir of feet near him. A gentle voice spoke.

"I also claim the law. I have bought his life once this day. You may not strike him."

Seekin's voice. Soft and gentle but very firm and very sure. Seekin stood before the altar with uplifted hand. He spoke to Malovar but his eyes were on Larkin.

"You are free, my friend. Our laws protect you now and will protect you until the next time of the testing."

Malovar lowered the sword blade. "Our laws hold," he said. "I may not accept you as a substitute sacrifice. Nor may I accept Seekin. Nor may I accept him--" his eyes sought Roy Larkin. His voice became terrible as he spoke a single word. "--now."

He made a gesture with his hand toward the elder who had taken his metal staff. The elder touched the staff in a certain place. Around Roy Larkin the plastic envelope vanished.

Roy Larkin came to his feet, his fingers clutching the _Kell_ gun, the wild light of terror in his eyes. Looking at him, Boyd Larkin caught his breath. There was such terror and wild fear in this man as he had never seen before, such terror as might send death spurting from the muzzle of the _Kell_ gun in a steady stream.

Larkin saw his son's finger tighten on the trigger, an involuntary movement. Malovar must have seen the movement too, all the Martian elders must have seen it. They must have known the meaning of it, must have understood that they were facing death. Not a Martian moved a muscle.

Roy Larkin apparently had expected them to cringe, to fawn, to beg. When they did nothing, he seemed confused. Wonderingly he stared at them. His gaze came to the face of his father. On his features the confusion grew. His eyes came down to the _Kell_ gun. Something was happening inside of him, what it was no man except he knew or could know. As he seemed to realize he still held the gun, a look of horror appeared on his face. He dropped the weapon. It clattered on the stone floor, the only sound in that vast silence.

Then there was another sound, a sound that resembled the cry of a child gulping a single word--"Daddy." Roy Larkin was saying that single word and he was moving toward his father.

"I've been so terribly wrong," Roy Larkin whispered. "For so many years I've been wrong. I wanted to tell you, but I never could, until now."

Boyd Larkin folded his son into his arms. The hard, bitter driving man that he had known this morning was somehow gone. The man who was in his arms and clutching his shoulders and burying his head against his chest was somehow a little boy who had been lost, bewildered, and alone, and who was no longer lost, who in this moment was growing to the stature of manhood.

Larkin patted the shoulders of this man-boy. His eyes were moist and there was a choke in his throat. Here was something that he had wanted desperately for so many years. Now he had it. His son, his son!

In him somewhere was a feeling not of triumph but of vast achievement. He looked over his son's shoulders at Malovar. The Martian's face was glowing as if he too was tasting this feeling of vast achievement. In this moment Malovar no longer looked like a tribal god demanding vengeance. Malovar looked like a very gentle and kindly old Martian.

"Mine eyes have seen wonders this day," Malovar spoke. "I think at the next time of the testing all of you will be safe from me."

"Do you mean that?" Larkin whispered.