The great, shifting dunes of the Martian desert were forty to fifty feet high. Already the valleys between them were filled with purple shadows and the air was turning cold.
The sled dipped and careened; sometimes it plunged into deep sand valleys and whipped around the curved walls of deep blow holes until it was tipped almost at right angles, clinging only by centrifugal force.
Nathan had the impression that Firebird was enjoying it. The treachery of the desert was a challenge to her skillful, daredevil driving.
Soon the sun was down and the pale light of the twin moons was deceptive on the sands. Firebird slowed the plunging flight of the sled and drove cautiously then until near midnight.
"We should be somewhere near the town of Pheme, such as it is," she said. "The last time I saw it, it was almost a ghost town. It may have been completely abandoned by now."
"I've never heard of it," said Nathan.
In a moment Firebird exclaimed, "There it is! How's that for navigation over this desert? Right on the nose."
Nathan laughed at Firebird's exuberance over her accuracy. He knew that it was no small job to follow such an unmarked trail across the sands that shifted constantly and made landmarks impossible.
When he first saw the town it looked like only another group of dunes until he saw some of the silhouettes had angular corners. Too angular. Some of the walls he could see sloped crazily.
As they came near to the town it appeared more evident that it was merely abandoned wreckage. There were no lights at all to betray signs of occupation.