The men from the ship knew only the surface facts about this waiting geometric discovery. Theirs was the eleventh inter-planetary flight, and the previous ten, in the time allowed them for exploration while this planet was still close enough to their own to permit a safe return in their ships, had not spotted the city. But the eleventh expedition had, an hour ago, with just thirteen hours left during which a return flight could be safely started. So far as was known, this was the only city on the planet—the planet without any life at all, save tiny mosses, for a million years or more. And no matter which direction from the city a man moved, he would always be going north.
"Hey, Martin!" Rodney called through his helmet radio. Martin paused. "Wind," Rodney said, coming abreast of him. He glanced toward the black pile, as if sharing Martin's thoughts. "That's all we need, isn't it?"
Martin looked at the semi-transparent figures of wind and dust cavorting in the distance, moving toward them. He grinned a little, adjusting his radio. "Worried?"
Rodney's bony face was without expression. "Gives me the creeps, kind of. I wonder what they were like?"
Wass murmured, "Let us hope they aren't immortal."
Three feet from the edge of the city Martin stopped and stubbed at the sand with the toe of his boot, clearing earth from part of a shining metal band.
Wass watched him, and then shoved aside more sand, several feet away. "It's here, too."
Martin stood up. "Let's try farther on. Rodney, radio the ship, tell them we're going in."
Rodney nodded.
After a time, Wass said, "Here, too. How far do you think it goes?"