Rivets and Sprockets (8 page)

Everyone turned off his force globe and inhaled deeply. “My!” exclaimed the doctor. “This is positively super! I'm beginning to revise my opinion of the Something. He certainly does well for himself here. Now, let's all consult and decide. We are faced with a color choice.”

“Sir,” said Sprockets, “Ilium tells me they are most purplishly curious to explore the red passage, and they would like to take Rivets with them. I think, sir, the red color leads to machinery. With my special audios I can hear a faint hum coming from that direction.”

“Can you hear anything from the green passage?”

“Sir, there are several peculiar sounds coming from it. I seem to detect water running, and—and the singing of birds.”

“Impossible!”

“That's what it sounds like, sir.”

“Then, by all means, let us explore the green route, while our friends try the red one. But we must be very careful, and keep in constant touch by radio.”

Sprockets watched Rivets trot happily away between Ilium and Leli. It worried him to be separated from his brother, although his instinct button gave no immediate indication of danger.

Dr. Bailey, all eagerness now, was hurrying down the green passage as fast as his long legs could carry him. It sloped sharply and began to spiral, going down, down, down, like a winding stairway.

“If we had roller skates,” said Jim, “this would be a lot easier. Say, I'm hungry!”

Sprockets thought: How
could
he be?—but wisely said nothing.

“I'm famished myself,” the doctor said presently. “Sprockets, where's the lunch basket?”

“In the saucer, sir.”

“Great sniveling puppies! Why didn't you bring it? Are you trying to starve us?” asked the doctor.

“Sir, there was little left in it but three pickles and some chicken bones.” Sprockets glanced accusingly at Jim.

Jim said: “I meant to make some new food with the saucer's atomic transmuter. You know, you put a slice of cake or something in one slot, and a pebble in the other, and the pebble turns into more cake, or whatever you want. Only—”

“Only what?” demanded the doctor. “If you had to be so piggy and eat everything, why didn't you make some new lunch for the rest of us?”

“Because I couldn't find any pebbles! Honest, Daddy, I haven't seen a pebble on Mars. This is the craziest place. Everything is ground down and worn smooth, and there's nothing left but bare rock and dust. This planet must be
awful
old!”

“I'm not interested in the age of the fourth planet! At the moment my only concern is food.” The doctor sat down, exhausted, for they had been hurrying for a half hour. The winding passage seemed endless. “How in the fuming thunderation,” he complained, “do you expect me to face the Something on an empty stomach?”

“Sir,” said Sprockets, touching his nose button again, “I think I detect a faint aroma in the distance that might possibly come from something edible.”

“Praise be!” muttered the doctor, springing to his feet, his exhaustion forgotten.

It was fully a dozen spirals, however, before they reached the end of the winding passage. Here they stopped abruptly, and for a minute no one could utter a word.

Before them opened what seemed to be another world. It had been morning outside—but here it was evening, with the setting sun shining through trees. There were birds singing overhead, and beyond them was a brook that came cascading down over mossy rocks to make a series of blue pools bordered with flowers. All the trees had curious leaves of different colors. Some of them were covered with large blossoms; others were heavy with fruit.

The only living creatures in sight were the bright birds. They sang merrily away, and paid not the slighest attention to the visitors from Earth.

“Incredible!” Dr. Bailey whispered finally. “I—just—don't—believe—it!”

“Sir,” said Sprockets, “my special vision tells me this isn't real. We are in a cave that's been carefully arranged to
look
real. I would deduce—”

Jim gasped, “I betcha that fruit's real!” He made a dash for the nearest tree with fruit on it.

“Don't eat that!” cried his father, as Jim stuffed something into his mouth. “You don't know what it is!”

“Sure I do. U'mmm—yummy! It's a plapple.”

“A
what?
”

“A plapple, Daddy. It couldn't be anything else. It's neither plum nor apple, but it's like both—only better. So it
has
to be a plapple. I'm starved!” He stuffed more fruit into his mouth, and moved eagerly to another tree.

Sprockets blinked at him incredulously. “How
can
you—after what you've eaten? You'll have the worst stomachache on Mars.”

“Aw, it must be past suppertime at home,” Jim protested between bites. “And anyhow, I'm a growing boy. U'mmm! Daddy, you should try
this
kind. It's a figanana.”

“Er, you mean like a fig—
and
a banana?”

“Yes. And it grows already peeled. Wow!”

The doctor, with an uneasy glance around as if to assure himself that no Something was watching, was already reaching for a plapple. Presently he, too, was stuffing himself with plapples and figananas.

It was not until they had finished, and Jim was wading in the brook, that the doctor remembered Ilium and Leli. “My word!” he exclaimed. “Are they all right? I can hear them singing over the radio, but I can't understand—”

“Sir,” said Sprockets, “they've just found out about the lichens. They've located a sort of automatic reaper—it flies out through the air lock, cuts lichens, and brings them to another machine. This other machine takes oxygen from the lichens, and a lot of chemicals that are used here—or were used here once.”

“Eh?
Once
, did you say?”

“Yes, sir. I told Ilium what we'd found, and he was quite excited—especially when I mentioned the make-believe sun and the robot birds.”

“
Robot birds
!”

“Yes, sir,” Sprockets replied solemnly. “All the birds are robot birds. I can tell that without even using my special perceptors. Ilium says it's given him the answer to the riddle of the Martian canals, which have been puzzling the purple people for a million years.”

“Yes? Yes? The answer to the riddle?” The doctor was suddenly trembling with excitement. “What is it, Sprockets?”

“He did not tell me, sir. He said he was sure the answer would be evident when we had explored further.”

“Then let's get going!” the doctor cried impatiently. “What in the world are we waiting for?”

“Your nap, sir. You always take a nap after eating.”

“But I don't want a nap!” the doctor burst out. “Don't you realize how much exploring we have to do?”

“Certainly, sir. Ilium says we must find the power source before we can find the Something, and that might take hours. It's getting dark here, sir, and you've had a long, hard day—and it's nearly Jim's bedtime. I promised Mrs. Bailey I'd see that you both got your rest; she wants you to be wide-eyed and bushy-tailed before you ever get near that Something.”

They were interrupted by Jim, who came running with a small object in his hand. It was a strange red-and-gold bird, cunningly made of metal. “Hey, Daddy, look! Did you know that these birds are
robot
birds?” he asked.

“I've just been made aware of it,” said Dr. Bailey. “And I must caution you to put it back exactly were you found it.”

“Aw, Daddy, I want it! Why can't I keep it?”

“Because it undoubtedly belongs to the Something. Bless me, I hope he doesn't mind the fruit we took.” Dr. Bailey peered uneasily around, and rubbed his eyes when he realized that imitation stars were now glittering where the imitation sun had shone. The singing of the robot birds had quieted, and from them came only drowsy bell-like notes that made the doctor yawn.

“Why, it's night already,” he said. “And we didn't bring a flashlight! I guess we'll have to take our naps, after all. Keep guard, Sprockets. Wake me the instant you see or hear anything suspicious.”

8

They Unravel Riddles

Jim and his father picked a mound of soft, reddish grass under a tree, and lay down to rest. Presently the doctor's long steady snores could be heard above the clatter of the brook. Jim didn't snore, but he muttered and tossed—as naturally he would after eating so many plapples.

Carefully Sprockets circled the glade. Though he discovered much that made him blink, he was relieved when his instinct button found none of it immediately worrisome. Finally he sat down to watch and wait.

He wished the doctor hadn't ordered him to keep guard, for this would have been a good time to recharge. Not that he needed it yet, but something told him that he might not have a chance to do it later.

Over his radio he could hear Ilium and Leli singing. They were eagerly searching for the power source, which lay somewhere in a vast tangle of passages connecting dozens of curious workshops, all automatic. As time passed, Sprockets began to wonder if the purple people ever took naps. They seemed tireless, and skipped about so quickly, that Rivets had trouble keeping up with them.

He was about to call Rivets, and ask if his battery was getting low, when his attention was taken by an odd sound in the distance.

It was a very faint
beep-beep-beep
.

For a moment he thought it might be one of the drowsy robot birds, far on the other side of the glade. The sound came again, louder and closer:
Beep-beep-beep
!

Sprockets jumped up. Before he could call out or take a step, there was a low hum and whirring, and something unseen rushed below the hillock of trees beyond him. From it came a loud, angry
Beep! B-e-e-p! B-E-E-P
! Then, with a quick hum and whir, it was gone.

The racket brought Jim and the doctor to their feet.

Jim was instantly wide awake. “W-what in the walloping doodads was
that?
”

“Great gracious!” muttered the doctor, still a bit foggy. “Who—what—why—”

“I was unable to see it,” said Sprockets. “But something came and went, very loud and fast.”

“Bless me! Could it have been the Something?”

“It was a machine,” said Sprockets. “It hummed and whirred.”

“And it beeped,” said Jim. “It nearly beeped me out of my skin.”

“Then it couldn't have been the Something. This will have to be investigated.”

“I—I'm not investigating any Beeper,” Jim said uneasily. “At least not till I've had some breakfast. What time is it, Sprockets?”

“As nearly as I can calculate,” Sprockets told him, “it's seventeen minutes to six, underground Martian time. It's no longer the same as Martian surface time—which naturally has changed through the years. The imitation sun will be up in fourteen minutes.”

“Impossible!” exclaimed the doctor. “I've hardly slept a minute!” The doctor always said this, even after he had napped for hours. “How do you figure this, anyway?”

“Quite simple, sir. The Martian day is nearly the same length as an Earth day. The imitation sun is made to rise and set exactly like the real sun, and its purpose is to make underground Mars look exactly like surface Mars—I mean, like the surface of Mars used to look.”

“Eh? But why?”

“I'm sure, sir, the reason will be evident as soon as we explore ahead. I've been talking to Ilium and Leli. They think they are nearing the power source, and they are very anxious to hear what we find.”

Dr. Bailey was suddenly wide awake, his nose twitching eagerly. Hurriedly he plucked a handful of plapples, stuck one in his mouth, and started across the glade. Jim did likewise.

The imitation sky was turning pale as they reached a flight of carved stone steps leading down to a path. The glade ended here. But the path and the underground world were just beginning.

Before them stretched a long valley. The brook went tumbling through it, and was soon lost in groves of trees where robot birds were beginning to sing. On either side of the valley were hundreds of small houses, as bright as frosted cakes. They nestled into the hillsides, one above the other, all the way up to the sky—or what seemed to be the sky.

Jim stared at it. “Great crickety crimble!” he whispered in an awed voice. “Now I get it.
This is where the Martians came to live
!”

The doctor nodded. “Of course! They dug the canals when the seas dried up, and when the air was nearly gone, they came underground.”

“B-but, Daddy, that was a long, long,
long
time ago. So long ago that time has rubbed out everything above us that used to be, except the canals. Why does everything down here look so bright and fresh and new? D'you s'pose the Martians are still living here?”

As he spoke, the imitation sun peeped over the hill, and the valley suddenly awoke. Sprinklers came on, watering trees and flowers. Dozens of bottle-shaped machines scooted from openings under the houses and began scurrying about, planting, picking, mending, cleaning, painting, and putting things in order. All had six rubbery wheels, two pincherlike arms, and wiggling snouts that could do anything from root in the ground to spray fresh plastic on the houses. When they wanted to climb, they merely hummed mysteriously and rose into the air like bees.