Free 2 - Blades of Mars by Edward P. Bradbury

or
decorating the dome.
                   The dome was not made of the same durable
synthetic material as the rest of the place. I put my eye to a crack and looked
out over a seemingly endless expanse of black desert, shining now, like
crystal, in the sun. The dome seemed half buried and was probably all but
invisible from outside.
                   A piece of the material came away in my hand.
It was in an advanced stage of corrosion and would soon collapse altogether. It
was transparent - evidently designed to admit light into the chamber of the
fountain. Probably the place had been the central hall for relaxing when the
Yaksha had been sane and human. The dome had not been planned for 182 any
purely functional purpose so much as for decoration. This must be why it would
soon collapse. When it did the sand would come in, the fountain would be
blocked, and I did not think the inhabitants of the underground city would have
the intelligence to clear the sand away - or, for that matter, repair the dome.
                   Repairs had been made earlier in the roof, but
I guessed by more intelligent ancestors of the present dwellers.
                   I returned to the ground, an idea slowly
taking shape in my mind.
                   At its base the dome was some thirty feet
across - ample space for a large object to pass through.
                   'Why are you looking so thoughtful, my
friend?' asked Hool Haji.
                   'I think I know a way of escape,' I said.
                   ‘From this place? We
need only retrace our steps.’
                   ‘Or break through the roof, for that matter,'
I said, pointing upwards. 'It is very flimsy - eroded from the outside by the
sand. But I meant escape from our main predicament - escape from the desert.'
                   'Have you found a map somewhere?'
                   'No, but I have found many other things. All
the artifacts of a great scientific culture - strong, airtight fabric, cord - gas
containers. I hope they still contain gas and that it is the kind I need.'
                   Hool Haji was completely mystified.
                   I smiled. The others were now looking at me as
if I had followed Bac Pun's example and was losing
control of my mind.
                   'It was the dome gave me the idea, for some
reason,' I said. 'It struck me that if we had a - flying ship we could cross
the desert in no time.'
                   ‘A flying ship! I
have heard of such things - some Southern races still possess a few, I
believe.' It was Jil Deera who spoke now. 'Have you found one?'
                   'No.' I shook my head, still thinking deeply.
                   'Then why speak of such a thing?' Vas Oola
spoke somewhat sharply.
                   'Because I think we could make one,' I said.
                   'Make one?' Hool Haji smiled. 'We have not the
knowledge of the old races. It would be impossible.'
                   'I have some little technical knowledge,' I
said, 'though not as much as was once possessed, evidently, by this vanished
race. I had not thought of building an aircraft of so advanced a kind as
theirs.'
                   'Then what?'
                   ‘A primitive aircraft could be built, I
think.'
                   The three blue men regarded me in silence -
still a trifle suspicious.
                   There was no word for the kind of aircraft I
had in mind - no Martian word. I used the English derivation from the French.
                   'It would be called a balloon,’ I said.
                   I began to sketch in the sand, explaining the
principle of the balloon.
                   'We should have to make a gas-bag from the
material we found back there,' I said. 'There will be