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canals, slitted nostrils closed, iris of eyescontracted, fluted layers of skin opened and pulled tight, and openedagain convulsively in the reflexes of death.

  There was a slight jar only as the ship settled to the ground, bathed inthe mushrooming flame.

  "A good landing, Lieutenant," Captain Griswold complimented. "A goodlanding, indeed."

  His head came up and he watched the screen to see the landscape reappearthrough the dust and steam.

  "Prepare to disembark in approximately six hours, Lieutenant. The heatshould have subsided sufficiently by then. The ship's officers, theciv--er--scientific party, a complement of men. I will lead the way.You, Lieutenant, will carry the flag and the necessary appurtenances tothe ceremony. We will hold it without delay."

  Berkeley was watching the screen also. He wondered what the effect ofthe landing heat would be on the canals. He wondered why it had beenconsidered necessary to land squarely on the junction; why Man always,as if instinctively, does the most destructive thing he can.

  He shrugged it away. Wherever they landed might have been the wrongplace.

  ----

  Farther along the canals, where the heat had not reached, the Mars racebegan to emerge from their protecting burrows. They had seen the meteorhurtling downward, and it was part of their conditioning to seek theirburrows when any threatening phenomenon occurred.

  Flaming meteors had fallen before, but never in the interlocked racialmind was there memory of one which had fallen directly on a canaljunction. Within the fabric of their instinct, they sensed the fusedsand, the broken clay walls, the water boiling through the broken walls,wasted. They sensed the waters on the other side of the barrier seepingonward, leaving sand unfilled. Within the nerves of their own bodiesthey felt the anticipated pangs of tendril roots searching down into thesand for water, and not finding it.

  The urgency came upon them, all within the region, to remove thismeteor; restore the canals as soon as the heat would permit. They beganto gather, circling the meteor, circling the scorched ground around it.The urgency of getting at it before there was too much water lost drovethem in upon the hot ground.

  The unaccustomed heat held them back. They milled uncertainly, inincreasing numbers, around the meteor.

  ----

  Since Captain Griswold had not asked him to leave the control roomduring landing operations, Berkeley still stood and watched the screen.At the first appearance of the Mars race emerging from the soil, heexclaimed in great excitement:

  "There they are! There they are, Captain!"

  Griswold came over and stood beside him, watching the screen. His eyeswidened.

  "Horrible," he muttered in revulsion. The gorge arose in his throat andstopped his speech for a moment. But history took possession of himagain. "I suppose we will get accustomed to their appearance in time,"he conceded.

  "They're the builders, Captain. Wonderful!" Berkeley exulted. "Thoseshovel-shaped forelimbs--they're the builders!"

  "Perhaps," Griswold agreed. "But in the way a mole or gopher--still, ifthey were intelligent enough to be trained for mining operations--butthen you certainly cannot call these things intelligent, Mr. Berkeley."

  "How do we know, Captain?"

  But the Captain was looking about vainly for buildings, for factorysmoke, for highways.

  "Lieutenant Atkinson!" he called.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Send an immediate order throughout the ship. The Mars things are not tobe molested." He glanced at Berkeley as he gave the order, and thenglanced away. "Double the complement of men on the landing party and seethat they are fully armed." Then back to Berkeley, "A good leader guardsagainst every contingency. But there will be no indiscriminateslaughter. You may be assured of that. I am as anxious as you thatMan--"

  "Thank you, Captain," Berkeley answered. "And the planting of the flag?The taking possession?"

  "Well, now, Mr. Berkeley, what shall we do, now that we have seensome--things? Go away? Leave an entire planet of iron ore to be claimedlater by Eastern Alliance? The enemy is not far behind us in theirtechnology, Mr. Berkeley."

  He warmed to his theme, his head came up, his shoulders back.

  "Suppose these things are intelligent. Suppose they do have feelings ofone kind or another. What would happen to them if the Eastern Alliancelaid claim to this planet? Under us, at least, they will haveprotection. We will set aside reservations where they may live in peace.Obviously they live in burrows in the ground; I see no buildings. Theirtotal food supply must be these miserable plants. What a miserableexistence they have now!

  "We will change that. We will provide them with adequate food, the foodto fill their empty stomachs--if they have stomachs. We will clothetheir repulsive nakedness. If they have enough sense to learn, we willgive them the pride of self-employment in our mines and factories. Wewould be less than human, Mr. Berkeley, if we did not acknowledge ourduty."

  The light of noble intention shone in his face. He was swept away withhis own eloquence.

  "If," he finished, "we take care of the duty, the destiny will take careof itself!"

  That was very good. He hoped they would have the grace to quote him onthat. It was a fine summing up of his entire character.

  Berkeley smiled a rueful smile. There was no stopping it. It was not amatter of not planting the flag, not taking possession. The captain wasright. If not the Western Alliance, then certainly the Eastern Alliance.His quarrel was not with the captain nor with the duty, but with thedestiny. The issue was not to be decided now. It had already beendecided--decided when the first apeman had crept into the tree nest ofanother and stolen his mate.

  Man takes. Whether it be by barbaric rapine, or reluctant acceptance ofduty through carefully contrived diplomacy, Man takes.

  Berkeley turned and made his way out of the control room.

  ----

  Outside, the soil shifted in its contortions of cooling. The windwhispered dryly over the red landscape, sending up little swirls ofdust, eternally shifting it from one place to another. The soil was lesshot, and as it cooled, the Mars race pressed inward. Theirs was theurgency to get at this meteor as quickly as possible, remove it, startthe water flowing once more.

  "Observation reports ground cool enough for landing!" The magic wordsseemed to sing into the control cabin.

  "Summon all landing party," Captain Griswold commanded immediately.

  The signal bells rang throughout the ship. The bell in the supercargocabin rang also. With the other scientists, Berkeley dressed in hisprotecting suit, fitted the clear glassite oxygen helmet over his head,fastened it. Together with the rest, he stood at the designated airlockto await the captain's coming.

  And the captain did not keep them waiting. At precisely the rightmoment, with only a flicker of a side glance at the photographicequipment, the captain strode ahead of his officers to the airlock. Thesealing doors of the corridor behind them closed, shutting off theentire party, making the corridor itself into a great airlock.

  There was a long sigh, and the great beams of the locks movedponderously against their weight. There was the rush of air from thecorridor as the heavier pressure rushed out through the opening locks,to equalize with the thin air of Mars. With the air rushed outwardfungus spores, virus, microbes; most of them to perish under the alienconditions, but some to survive--and thrive.

  The red light above the lock was blinking on-off-on-off. The officers,the scientists, the armed men, watched the light intently. It blinkedoff for the last time. The locks were open. The great ramp settled tothe ground.

  ----

  In ordered, military file, the captain at their head, the landing partypassed down the corridor, through the locks, out upon the ramp beneaththe blue-black sky; and down to the red soil. Captain Griswold was thefirst man to set foot on Mars, June 14, 2018. The photographers weresecond.

  Now the Mars race was moving cl
oser to the ship, but the ground wasstill too hot for their unprotected feet. The pressing need for removingthe meteor possessed them. The movement of the men disembarking from theship was to them no more than another unintelligible aspect of thisincredible meteor.

  The sound of a bugle pierced the thin air, picked up by the loudspeakerfrom the ship, reverberating through their helmets. The landing partyformed a semi-circle at the foot of the ramp.

  Captain Griswold, his face as rigidly set as the marble statuary of himto follow, reached out and took the flag from Lieutenant Atkinson. Heplanted it firmly, without false motion, in the framework one of the menhad set upon the baked ground to receive it.

  He pointed to the north, the south, the east, the west. He brought hishands together, palms downward, arms fully out-stretched in front ofhim. He spread his arms wide open and down, then back together and up;completing a circle which encompassed all the