The Crystal Crypt - 1

THE CRYSTAL CRYPT
By PHILIP K. DICK

_Stark terror ruled the Inner-Flight ship on that last Mars-Terra
run. For the black-clad Leiters were on the prowl ... and the grim
red planet was not far behind._

"Attention, Inner-Flight ship! Attention! You are ordered to land at the
Control Station on Deimos for inspection. Attention! You are to land at
once!"
The metallic rasp of the speaker echoed through the corridors of the
great ship. The passengers glanced at each other uneasily, murmuring and
peering out the port windows at the small speck below, the dot of rock
that was the Martian checkpoint, Deimos.
"What's up?" an anxious passenger asked one of the pilots, hurrying
through the ship to check the escape lock.
"We have to land. Keep seated." The pilot went on.
"Land? But why?" They all looked at each other. Hovering above the
bulging Inner-Flight ship were three slender Martian pursuit craft,
poised and alert for any emergency. As the Inner-Flight ship prepared to
land the pursuit ships dropped lower, carefully maintaining themselves a
short distance away.
"There's something going on," a woman passenger said nervously. "Lord, I
thought we were finally through with those Martians. Now what?"
"I don't blame them for giving us one last going over," a heavy-set
business man said to his companion. "After all, we're the last ship
leaving Mars for Terra. We're damn lucky they let us go at all."
"You think there really will be war?" A young man said to the girl
sitting in the seat next to him. "Those Martians won't dare fight, not
with our weapons and ability to produce. We could take care of Mars in a
month. It's all talk."
The girl glanced at him. "Don't be so sure. Mars is desperate. They'll
fight tooth and nail. I've been on Mars three years." She shuddered.
"Thank goodness I'm getting away. If--"
"Prepare to land!" the pilot's voice came. The ship began to settle
slowly, dropping down toward the tiny emergency field on the seldom
visited moon. Down, down the ship dropped. There was a grinding sound, a
sickening jolt. Then silence.
"We've landed," the heavy-set business man said. "They better not do
anything to us! Terra will rip them apart if they violate one Space
Article."
"Please keep your seats," the pilot's voice came. "No one is to leave
the ship, according to the Martian authorities. We are to remain here."
A restless stir filled the ship. Some of the passengers began to read
uneasily, others stared out at the deserted field, nervous and on edge,
watching the three Martian pursuit ships land and disgorge groups of
armed men.
The Martian soldiers were crossing the field quickly, moving toward
them, running double time.
This Inner-Flight spaceship was the last passenger vessel to leave Mars
for Terra. All other ships had long since left, returning to safety
before the outbreak of hostilities. The passengers were the very last to
go, the final group of Terrans to leave the grim red planet, business
men, expatriates, tourists, any and all Terrans who had not already gone
home.
"What do you suppose they want?" the young man said to the girl. "It's
hard to figure Martians out, isn't it? First they give the ship
clearance, let us take off, and now they radio us to set down again. By
the way, my name's Thacher, Bob Thacher. Since we're going to be here
awhile--"
[Illustration]
* * * * *
The port lock opened. Talking ceased abruptly, as everyone turned. A
black-clad Martian official, a Province Leiter, stood framed against the
bleak sunlight, staring around the ship. Behind him a handful of Martian
soldiers stood waiting, their guns ready.
"This will not take long," the Leiter said, stepping into the ship, the
soldiers following him. "You will be allowed to continue your trip
shortly."
An audible sigh of relief went through the passengers.
"Look at him," the girl whispered to Thacher. "How I hate those black
uniforms!"
"He's just a Provincial Leiter," Thacher said. "Don't worry."
The Leiter stood for a moment, his hands on his hips, looking around at
them without expression. "I have ordered your ship grounded so that an
inspection can be made of all persons aboard," he said. "You Terrans are
the last to leave our planet. Most of you are ordinary and harmless-- I
am not interested in you. I am interested in finding three saboteurs,
three Terrans, two men and a woman, who have committed an incredible act
of destruction and violence. They are said to have fled to this ship."
Murmurs of surprise and indignation broke out on all sides. The Leiter
motioned the soldiers to follow him up the aisle.
"Two hours ago a Martian city was destroyed. Nothing remains, only a
depression in the sand where the city was. The city and all its people
have completely vanished. An entire city destroyed in a second! Mars
will never rest until the saboteurs are captured. And we know they are
aboard this ship."
"It's impossible," the heavy-set business man said. "There aren't any
saboteurs here."
"We'll begin with you," the Leiter said to him, stepping up beside the
man's seat. One of the soldiers passed the Leiter a square metal box.
"This will soon tell us if you're speaking the truth. Stand up. Get on
your feet."
The man rose slowly, flushing. "See here--"
"Are you involved in the destruction of the city? Answer!"
The man swallowed angrily. "I know nothing about any destruction of any
city. And furthermore--"
"He is telling the truth," the metal box said tonelessly.
"Next person." The Leiter moved down the aisle.
A thin, bald-headed man stood up nervously. "No, sir," he said. "I don't
know a thing about it."
"He is telling the truth," the box affirmed.
"Next person! Stand up!"
One person after another stood, answered, and sat down again in relief.
At last there were only a few people left who had not been questioned.
The Leiter paused, studying them intently.
"Only five left. The three must be among you. We have narrowed it down."
His hand moved to his belt. Something flashed, a rod of pale fire. He
raised the rod, pointing it steadily at the five people. "All right, the
first one of you. What do you know about this destruction? Are you
involved with the destruction of our city?"
"No, not at all," the man murmured.
"Yes, he's telling the truth," the box intoned.
"Next!"
"Nothing-- I know nothing. I had nothing to do with it."
"True," the box said.
The ship was silent. Three people remained, a middle-aged man and his
wife and their son, a boy of about twelve. They stood in the corner,
staring white-faced at the Leiter, at the rod in his dark fingers.
"It must be you," the Leiter grated, moving toward them. The Martian
soldiers raised their guns. "It _must_ be you. You there, the boy. What
do you know about the destruction of our city? Answer!"
The boy shook his head. "Nothing," he whispered.
The box was silent for a moment. "He is telling the truth," it said
reluctantly.
"Next!"
"Nothing," the woman muttered. "Nothing."
"The truth."
"Next!"
"I had nothing to do with blowing up your city," the man said. "You're
wasting your time."
"It is the truth," the box said.
For a long time the Leiter stood, toying with his rod. At last he pushed
it back in his belt and signalled the soldiers toward the exit lock.
"You may proceed on your trip," he said. He walked after the soldiers.
At the hatch he stopped, looking back at the passengers, his face grim.
"You may go-- But Mars will not allow her enemies to escape. The three
saboteurs will be caught, I promise you." He rubbed his dark jaw
thoughtfully. "It is strange. I was certain they were on this ship."
Again he looked coldly around at the Terrans.
"Perhaps I was wrong. All right, proceed! But remember: the three will
be caught, even if it takes endless years. Mars will catch them and
punish them! I swear it!"
* * * * *
For a long time no one spoke. The ship lumbered through space again, its
jets firing evenly, calmly, moving the passengers toward their own
planet, toward home. Behind them Deimos and the red ball that was Mars
dropped farther and farther away each moment, disappearing and fading
into the distance.
A sigh of relief passed through the passengers. "What a lot of hot air
that was," one grumbled.
"Barbarians!" a woman said.
A few of them stood up, moving out into the aisle, toward the lounge and
the cocktail bar. Beside Thacher the girl got to her feet, pulling her
jacket around her shoulders.
"Pardon me," she said, stepping past him.
"Going to the bar?" Thacher said. "Mind if I come along?"
"I suppose not."
They followed the others into the lounge, walking together up the aisle.
"You know," Thacher said, "I don't even know your name, yet."
"My name is Mara Gordon."
"Mara? That's a nice name. What part of Terra are you from? North
America? New York?"
"I've been in New York," Mara said. "New York is very lovely." She was
slender and pretty, with a cloud of dark hair tumbling down her neck,
against her leather jacket.
They entered the lounge and stood undecided.
"Let's sit at a table," Mara said, looking around at the people at the
bar, mostly men. "Perhaps that table over there."
"But someone's there already," Thacher said. The heavy-set business man
had sat down at the table and deposited his sample case on the floor.
"Do we want to sit with _him_?"
"Oh, it's all right," Mara said, crossing to the table. "May we sit
here?" she said to the man.
The man looked up, half-rising. "It's a pleasure," he murmured. He
studied Thacher intently. "However, a friend of mine will be joining me
in a moment."
"I'm sure there's room enough for us all," Mara said. She seated herself
and Thacher helped her with her chair. He sat down, too, glancing up
suddenly at Mara and the business man. They were looking at each other
almost as if something had passed between them. The man was middle-aged,
with a florid face and tired, grey eyes. His hands were mottled with the
veins showing thickly. At the moment he was tapping nervously.
"My name's Thacher," Thacher said to him, holding out his hand. "Bob
Thacher. Since we're going to be together for a while we might as well
get to know each other."
The man studied him. Slowly his hand came out. "Why not? My name's
Erickson. Ralf Erickson."
"Erickson?" Thacher smiled. "You look like a commercial man, to me." He
nodded toward the sample case on the floor. "Am I right?"
The man named Erickson started to answer, but at that moment there was a
stir. A thin man of about thirty had come up to the table, his eyes
bright, staring down at them warmly. "Well, we're on our way," he said
to Erickson.
"Hello, Mara." He pulled out a chair and sat down quickly, folding his
hands on the table before him. He noticed Thacher and drew back a
little. "Pardon me," he murmured.
"Bob Thacher is my name," Thacher said. "I hope I'm not intruding
here." He glanced around at the three of them, Mara, alert, watching him
intently, heavy-set Erickson, his face blank, and this person. "Say, do
you three know each other?" he asked suddenly.
There was silence.
The robot attendant slid over soundlessly, poised to take their orders.
Erickson roused himself. "Let's see," he murmured. "What will we have?
Mara?"
"Whiskey and water."
"You, Jan?"
The bright slim man smiled. "The same."
"Thacher?"
"Gin and tonic."
"Whiskey and water for me, also," Erickson said. The robot attendant
went off. It returned at once with the drinks, setting them on the table.
Each took his own. "Well," Erickson said, holding his glass up. "To our
mutual success."
* * * * *
All drank, Thacher and the three of them, heavy-set Erickson, Mara, her
eyes nervous and alert, Jan, who had just come. Again a look passed
between Mara and Erickson, a look so swift that he would not have caught
it had he not been looking directly at her.
"What line do you represent, Mr. Erickson?" Thacher asked.
Erickson glanced at him, then down at the sample case on the floor. He
grunted. "Well, as you can see, I'm a salesman."
Thacher smiled. "I knew it! You get so you can always spot a salesman
right off by his sample case. A salesman always has to carry something
to show. What are you in, sir?"
Erickson paused. He licked his thick lips, his eyes blank and lidded,
like a toad's. At last he rubbed his mouth with his hand and reached
down, lifting up the sample case. He set it on the table in front of
him.
"Well?" he said. "Perhaps we might even show Mr. Thacher."
They all stared down at the sample case. It seemed to be an ordinary
leather case, with a metal handle and a snap lock. "I'm getting
curious," Thacher said. "What's in there? You're all so tense. Diamonds?
Stolen jewels?"
Jan laughed harshly, mirthlessly. "Erick, put it down. We're not far
enough away, yet."
"Nonsense," Erick rumbled. "We're away, Jan."
"Please," Mara whispered. "Wait, Erick."
"Wait? Why? What for? You're so accustomed to--"
"Erick," Mara said. She nodded toward Thacher. "We don't know him,
Erick. Please!"
"He's a Terran, isn't he?" Erickson said. "All Terrans are together in
these times." He fumbled suddenly at the catch lock on the case. "Yes,
Mr. Thacher. I'm a salesman. We're all salesmen, the three of us."
"Then you do know each other."
"Yes." Erickson nodded. His two companions sat rigidly, staring down.
"Yes, we do. Here, I'll show you our line."
He opened the case. From it he took a letter-knife, a pencil sharpener,
a glass globe paperweight, a box of thumb tacks, a stapler, some clips,
a plastic ashtray, and some things Thacher could not identify. He placed
the objects in a row in front of him on the table top. Then he closed
the sample case.
"I gather you're in office supplies," Thacher said. He touched the
letter-knife with his finger. "Nice quality steel. Looks like Swedish
steel, to me."
Erickson nodded, looking into Thacher's face. "Not really an impressive
business, is it? Office supplies. Ashtrays, paper clips." He smiled.
"Oh--" Thacher shrugged. "Why not? They're a necessity in modern
business. The only thing I wonder--"
"What's that?"
"Well, I wonder how you'd ever find enough customers on Mars to make it
worth your while." He paused, examining the glass paperweight. He lifted
it up, holding it to the light, staring at the scene within until
Erickson took it out of his hand and put it back in the sample case.
"And another thing. If you three know each other, why did you sit apart
when you got on?"
They looked at him quickly.
"And why didn't you speak to each other until we left Deimos?" He leaned
toward Erickson, smiling at him. "Two men and a woman. Three of you.
Sitting apart in the ship. Not speaking, not until the check-station
was past. I find myself thinking over what the Martian said. Three
saboteurs. A woman and two men."
Erickson put the things back in the sample case. He was smiling, but his
face had gone chalk white. Mara stared down, playing with a drop of
water on the edge of her glass. Jan clenched his hands together
nervously, blinking rapidly.
"You three are the ones the Leiter was after," Thacher said softly. "You
are the destroyers, the saboteurs. But their lie detector-- Why didn't
it trap you? How did you get by that? And now you're safe, outside the
check-station." He grinned, staring around at them. "I'll be damned! And
I really thought you were a salesman, Erickson. You really fooled me."
Erickson relaxed a little. "Well, Mr. Thacher, it's in a good cause. I'm
sure you have no love for Mars, either. No Terran does. And I see you're
leaving with the rest of us."
"True," Thacher said. "You must certainly have an interesting account to
give, the three of you." He looked around the table.
"We still have an hour or so of travel. Sometimes it gets dull, this
Mars-Terra run. Nothing to see, nothing to do but sit and drink in the
lounge." He raised his eyes slowly. "Any chance you'd like to spin a
story to keep us awake?"
Jan and Mara looked at Erickson. "Go on," Jan said. "He knows who we
are. Tell him the rest of the story."
"You might as well," Mara said.
Jan let out a sigh suddenly, a sigh of relief. "Let's put the cards on
the table, get this weight off us. I'm tired of sneaking around,
slipping--"
"Sure," Erickson said expansively. "Why not?" He settled back in his
chair, unbuttoning his vest. "Certainly, Mr. Thacher. I'll be glad to
spin you a story. And I'm sure it will be interesting enough to keep you
awake."
* * * * *
They ran through the groves of dead trees, leaping across the sun-baked
Martian soil, running silently together. They went up a little rise,
across a narrow ridge. Suddenly Erick stopped, throwing himself down
flat on the ground. The others did the same, pressing themselves against
the soil, gasping for breath.
"Be silent," Erick muttered. He raised himself a little. "No noise.
There'll be Leiters nearby, from now on. We don't dare take any
chances."
Between the three people lying in the grove of dead trees and the City
was a barren, level waste of desert, over a mile of blasted sand. No
trees or bushes marred the smooth, parched surface. Only an occasional
wind, a dry wind eddying and twisting, blew the sand up into little
rills. A faint odor came to them, a bitter smell of heat and sand,
carried by the wind.
Erick pointed. "Look. The City-- There it is."
They stared, still breathing deeply from their race through the trees.
The City was close, closer than they had ever seen it before. Never had
they gotten so close to it in times past. Terrans were never allowed
near the great Martian cities, the centers of Martian life. Even in
ordinary times, when there was no threat of approaching war, the
Martians shrewdly kept all Terrans away from their citadels, partly from
fear, partly from a deep, innate sense of hostility toward the
white-skinned visitors whose commercial ventures had earned them the
respect, and the dislike, of the whole system.
"How does it look to you?" Erick said.
The City was huge, much larger than they had imagined from the drawings
and models they had studied so carefully back in New York, in the War
Ministry Office. Huge it was, huge and stark, black towers rising up
against the sky, incredibly thin columns of ancient metal, columns that
had stood wind and sun for centuries. Around the City was a wall of
stone, red stone, immense bricks that had been lugged there and fitted
into place by slaves of the early Martian dynasties, under the whiplash
of the first great Kings of Mars.
An ancient, sun-baked City, a City set in the middle of a wasted plain,
beyond groves of dead trees, a City seldom seen by Terrans--but a City
studied on maps and charts in every War Office on Terra. A City that
contained, for all its ancient stone and archaic towers, the ruling
group of all Mars, the Council of Senior Leiters, black-clad men who
governed and ruled with an iron hand.
The Senior Leiters, twelve fanatic and devoted men, black priests, but
priests with flashing rods of fire, lie detectors, rocket ships,
intra-space cannon, many more things the Terran Senate could only
conjecture about. The Senior Leiters and their subordinate Province
Leiters-- Erick and the two behind him suppressed a shudder.
"We've got to be careful," Erick said again. "We'll be passing among
them, soon. If they guess who we are, or what we're here for--"
He snapped open the case he carried, glancing inside for a second. Then
he closed it again, grasping the handle firmly. "Let's go," he said. He
stood up slowly. "You two come up beside me. I want to make sure you
look the way you should."
* * * * *
Mara and Jan stepped quickly ahead. Erick studied them critically as the
three of them walked slowly down the slope, onto the plain, toward the
towering black spires of the City.
"Jan," Erick said. "Take hold of her hand! Remember, you're going to
marry her; she's your bride. And Martian peasants think a lot of their
brides."
Jan was dressed in the short trousers and coat of the Martian farmer, a
knotted rope tied around his waist, a hat on his head to keep off the
sun. His skin was dark, colored by dye until it was almost bronze.
"You look fine," Erick said to him. He glanced at Mara. Her black hair
was tied in a knot, looped through a hollowed-out yuke bone. Her face
was dark, too, dark and lined with colored ceremonial pigment, green and
orange stripes across her cheeks. Earrings were strung through her ears.
On her feet were tiny slippers of perruh hide, laced around her ankles,
and she wore long translucent Martian trousers with a bright sash tied
around her waist. Between her small breasts a chain of stone beads
rested, good-luck charms for the coming marriage.
"All right," Erick said. He, himself, wore the flowing grey robe of a
Martian priest, dirty robes that were supposed to remain on him all his
life, to be buried around him when he died. "I think we'll get past the
guards. There should be heavy morning traffic on the road."
They walked on, the hard sand crunching under their feet. Against the
horizon they could see specks moving, other persons going toward the
City, farmers and peasants and merchants, bringing their crops and goods
to market.
"See the cart!" Mara exclaimed.
They were nearing a narrow road, two ruts worn into the sand. A Martian
hufa was pulling the cart, its great sides wet with perspiration, its
tongue hanging out. The cart was piled high with bales of cloth, rough
country cloth, hand dipped. A bent farmer urged the hufa on.
"And there." She pointed, smiling.
A group of merchants riding small animals were moving along behind the
cart, Martians in long robes, their faces hidden by sand masks. On each
animal was a pack, carefully tied on with rope. And beyond the
merchants, plodding dully along, were peasants and farmers in an endless
procession, some riding carts or animals, but mostly on foot.
Mara and Jan and Erick joined the line of people, melting in behind the
merchants. No one noticed them; no one looked up or gave any sign. The
march continued as before. Neither Jan nor Mara said anything to each
other. They walked a little behind Erick, who paced with a certain
dignity, a certain bearing becoming his position.
Once he slowed down, pointing up at the sky. "Look," he murmured, in the
Martian hill dialect. "See that?"
Two black dots circled lazily. Martian patrol craft, the military on the
outlook for any sign of unusual activity. War was almost ready to break
out with Terra. Any day, almost any moment.
"We'll be just in time," Erick said. "Tomorrow will be too late. The
last ship will have left Mars."
"I hope nothing stops us," Mara said. "I want to get back home when
we're through."
* * * * *
Half an hour passed. They neared the City, the wall growing as they
walked, rising higher and higher until it seemed to blot out the sky
itself. A vast wall, a wall of eternal stone that had felt the wind and
sun for centuries. A group of Martian soldiers were standing at the
entrance, the single passage-gate hewn into the rock, leading to the
City. As each person went through the soldiers examined him, poking his
garments, looking into his load.
Erick tensed. The line had slowed almost to a halt. "It'll be our turn,
soon," he murmured. "Be prepared."
"Let's hope no Leiters come around," Jan said. "The soldiers aren't so
bad."
Mara was staring up at the wall and the towers beyond. Under their feet
the ground trembled, vibrating and shaking. She could see tongues of
flame rising from the towers, from the deep underground factories and
forges of the City. The air was thick and dense with particles of soot.
Mara rubbed her mouth, coughing.
"Here they come," Erick said softly.
The merchants had been examined and allowed to pass through the dark
gate, the entrance through the wall into the City. They and their silent
animals had already disappeared inside. The leader of the group of
soldiers was beckoning impatiently to Erick, waving him on.
"Come along!" he said. "Hurry up there, old man."
Erick advanced slowly, his arms wrapped around his body, looking down at
the ground.
"Who are you and what's your business here?" the soldier demanded, his
hands on his hips, his gun hanging idly at his waist. Most of the
soldiers were lounging lazily, leaning against the wall, some even
squatting in the shade. Flies crawled on the face of one who had fallen
asleep, his gun on the ground beside him.
"My business?" Erick murmured. "I am a village priest."
"Why do you want to enter the City?"
"I must bring these two people before the magistrate to marry them." He
indicated Mara and Jan, standing a little behind him. "That is the Law
the Leiters have made."
The soldier laughed. He circled around Erick. "What do you have in that
bag you carry?"
"Laundry. We stay the night."
"What village are you from?"
"Kranos."
"Kranos?" The soldier looked to a companion. "Ever heard of Kranos?"
"A backward pig sty. I saw it once on a hunting trip."
The leader of the soldiers nodded to Jan and Mara. The two of them
advanced, their hands clasped, standing close together. One of the
soldiers put his hand on Mara's bare shoulder, turning her around.
"Nice little wife you're getting," he said. "Good and firm-looking." He
winked, grinning lewdly.
Jan glanced at him in sullen resentment. The soldiers guffawed. "All
right," the leader said to Erick. "You people can pass."
Erick took a small purse from his robes and gave the soldier a coin.
Then the three of them went into the dark tunnel that was the entrance,
passing through the wall of stone, into the City beyond.
They were within the City!
"Now," Erick whispered. "Hurry."
Around them the City roared and cracked, the sound of a thousand vents
and machines, shaking the stones under their feet. Erick led Mara and
Jan into a corner, by a row of brick warehouses. People were everywhere,
hurrying back and forth, shouting above the din, merchants, peddlers,
soldiers, street women. Erick bent down and opened the case he carried.
From the case he quickly took three small coils of fine metal, intricate
meshed wires and vanes worked together into a small cone. Jan took one
and Mara took one. Erick put the remaining cone into his robe and
snapped the case shut again.
"Now remember, the coils must be buried in such a way that the line runs
through the center of the City. We must trisect the main section, where
the largest concentration of buildings is. Remember the maps! Watch the
alleys and streets carefully. Talk to no one if you can help it. Each of
you has enough Martian money to buy your way out of trouble. Watch
especially for cut-purses, and for heaven's sake, don't get lost."
* * * * *
Erick broke off. Two black-clad Leiters were coming along the inside of
the wall, strolling together with their hands behind their backs. They
noticed the three who stood in the corner by the warehouses and stopped.
"Go," Erick muttered. "And be back here at sundown." He smiled grimly.
"Or never come back."
Each went off a different way, walking quickly without looking back. The
Leiters watched them go. "The little bride was quite lovely," one