But probably he wouldn't reach Mars. Probably he and Jimmy Baldwin, in the end, would be just a few more bones to pave the road to Mars.
III
A gigantic building, rising to several hundred feet in height, domed, without door or window, stood lonely in the vastness of the red plain that stretched to the far-off black horizon.
The building and nothing more. No other single sign of habitation. No other evidence of intelligent life.
The Martian lilies were everywhere, great fields of them, bright scarlet against the redness of the sand. But in its native soil the Martian lily was a sorry thing, a poor apology for the kind of flower that grew on Earth. Stunted, low-growing, with smaller and less brilliant flowers.
The sand gritted under Scott's boots as he took a slow step forward.
So this was Mars! Here, at the North pole ... the single building ... the only evidence of intelligence on the entire planet. As the ship had circled the planet, cutting down its tremendous speed, he had studied the surface in the telescopic glass and this building had been the only habitation he had seen.
It stood there, made of shimmering metal, glinting in the pale sunlight.
"Bugs," said Jimmy, at Scott's elbow.