Planet Of No Return

Nothing else happened. Brion heard his heart hammering loudly as he leaned forward and looked in. The tank was empty of life. Instruments glowed in the half-darkness; somewhere a servo motor hummed and then was still. Festoons of ammunition rose up to the guns beside him. They were armed and ready to fire. Then why hadn’t they fired at him?

Enough! He was suddenly angry at himself for this stupidity. What was he doing here — risking his life without reason? He had passed the war machine safely. All he should have done was continue on his way, to get as far away from the thing as he could. He kicked out at the steel side with disgust at himself, then jumped down and ran steadily up the valley, never looking back.

This was one more puzzle to add to the rest of the puzzles that seemed to make up this deadly world. And none of these puzzles would be solved unless he discovered the origin of the army that had passed them. He ran on.

He was still moving when darkness fell, but he kept running steadily, the ground clearly visible by starlight. It was a merciless grind even for him, and long before the night was over he stopped for a rest. Then another one. Fatigue was slowing him when he reached a narrow side canyon. He got down on his knees to examine the ground carefully, but were no track marks leading from it. The canyon should provide a safe place to rest. He walked into it, until he was well out of sight of the valley below, then found shelter between two large boulders and was instantly asleep.

Sometime later a disturbance drew him from his deep sleep. The stars shown brightly above, stretching from horizon to horizon. He could hear nothing from the valley — but far distant the sound of jet engines was clearly audible, dying slowly away. It had nothing to do with him. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again the sky was grey with dawn.

He was tired and chill, his muscles sore. The water was icy in his mouth and he resisted the. urge to drink more than a few carefully rationed sips. And he was hungry. He had expected these reactions so he determinedly forced his attention away from such weaknesses. The job still had to be done. Once he started moving he would warm up; thirst and hunger could be lived with. He must press on.

When the valley began to widen out he stayed close to the eastern wall, moving through the shadow. This might provide him some protection if he should meet more of the machines. The valley began to grow level, becoming wider at the same time, the surface growing harder as he went. Changing from packed soil and rock to something harder and smoother. He bent to examine it.

It was solidified molten rock. Not rounded and lumpy as it would have been had it been formed by natural volcanic action, but smooth and level. It had been melted by fusion guns, then levelled into place.

The surface of the valley was artificial.

The sun was higher in the sky now and was clear of the shadowing ridge. It lit up the entire valley floor, revealing its artificially smooth and flattened surface. Brion walked over it cautiously, examining the rocky walls on both sides at the same time. They were completely smooth and solid, without openings of any kind, even at the valley end.

Nothing. The rock walls were ancient, natural. This was a dead end. A box valley that began here and extended down to the plains. A rock-walled slice through the mountains with only the single exit.

Yet he knew that a mighty mechanical army had poured out of this valley. He had seen it himself and backtracked it to this spot. How could there be nothing here? It was impossible.

He walked slowly over to the rock wall and reached up and touched it, then beat against it with the hilt of his knife in frustrated rage. It was solid. This just could not be possible. Yet it was.

When he turned about to look back down the valley he saw the dark column for the first time. It was less than four feet high and stood about ten yards out from the rear wall. He walked slowly towards it, around it — then reached out and touched it. It was metal, an alloy of some kind, slightly worn by time, with its surface lightly tarnished. It had no markings, could have no function that he was aware of. He could scratch it with the tip of his knife; it left a bright line when he pulled it across the rounded top. As he put the knife carefully back into the sheath he felt his anger and frustration rising.

“What is it?” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “What is the meaning of all this?”

His words echoed and bounced from the rocky walls and died away until the valley was still again.

16: Secret of the Black Column

In a rage of impotent fury, Brion kicked out at the dark column. This produced only a dull thud and a sharp pain in his foot.