The pilot returned the grin. "I'm afraid I've already spent it."
Gunnison turned without comment and entered the ship.
They lifted from twilight into the bright sun-flare and Gunnison looked down into the shadows that lay across the dead face of Mars. He saw the canals and creeks meandering over the old sea bottoms like traceries on fine lace. He saw the city, half modern, the rest incredibly ancient; a weird mixture of the old and the new. Then the city and the sea bottom vanished in a haze as the ship reached up toward the apex of its arc. Gunnison remained by the port. The next thing he would see would be the borders of the dread Ghanati.
Sullen resentment welled up in Gunnison. He had read his history and he knew how things had changed. In the old days back on Terra, men were given freedom to seek and find. Why, once they opened half a planet—a whole hemisphere to those with the courage to move in and take it! Men and women and even children in shoddy old wagons pushed across the prairies of his own Mid-America. No fat bureaucrats called the dance in those fine days.
But now the scheme of things was gall in Gunnison's mouth. New laws promulgated under the Interplanetary Charter said only the government men moved in on new territories; so-called specialists with weapons and armor who put one timid foot in front of another until the area was declared safe and open to colonization. And who also—Gunnison bitterly knew—skimmed off the loose loot for themselves.
The situation was an excuse for any thinking man's indignation. Why, even at the moment there were five sections of the red planet awaiting investigation by the interplanetary government; five lush opportunities wrapped so tight in governmental red tape that years would pass before steps were taken.
And men—fearless adventurers like Gunnison—would be executed for trespassing on these forbidden grounds. Gunnison spat in disgust. Then, as the ship tilted downward for the last leg of the jump, he thought of the Ghanati. His eyes narrowed and he was as close to fear as men like Gunnison ever came.
The Ghanati. Probably the only area on Mars where the government's restrictions were really justified. How much was fact and how much was rumor, no one could say, but the Ghanati—tortuous cragland—was inhabited by a race of ugly throwbacks from which viciousness and ferocity could certainly be expected. A retiring people, they had stood unmolested for a thousand years and had never moved beyond their own boundaries.
A bleak, forbidding land, the Ghanati, wrapped in a silence long considered deadly. But a land rumored to be bursting with unmined gold.