Free The Old Man of the Stars by John Burke Page A

the atmosphere of another planet that had once, according to Matthew’s memory and its interpretation of the charts, received a small group of Earthmen and their wives.
    There was silence in the ship as it sank through cloud. No one dared to be optimistic.
    The white veil parted, and they were moving with ponderous grace above a twisting river. The sharp crests of mountains reached up into the sky as though to trap the spaceship. The river cut its way down a valley and came out eventually on a plain of a dull red colour.
    Clifford said: “A town—at the end of the valley.”
    They nosed down towards it. Red towers thrust up in noble patterns. In one area there had been a great deal of destruction, but the larger part of the town was intact. And above its roofs and pinnacles, darting to and fro like agitated bees, were swift helicars not unlike those that Matthew remembered.
    â€œThis is somewhere that hasn’t been wiped out,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s try making radio contact.”
    He sent out a signal of greeting. There was no response from the speaker on the panel. Again the message went out; and this time a spluttering and crackling burst from the speaker against their eardrums. It meant nothing. It was no more than blurred stuttering, with no resemblance to language or to any signalling system that Matthew knew.
    â€œMust be vastly different equipment,” he said. “Let’s leave it open, though. We can set the transmitter to repeat, and maybe after a while they’ll be able to adjust their sets to match up with ours.”
    The speaker continued to crackle as the ship made a slow circle and settled not far from the riverbank.
    The bobbing, scurrying flyers above the town all seemed to converge on some special focal point, and then they disappeared.
    Nothing moved outside, yet Matthew had a sense of being watched—of thousands of eyes watching the ship.
    â€œThey’ve emptied the streets,” said Clifford. “We’d better get out and make friendly overtures before they all start screaming with fear like our last little acquaintance.”
    The chummering in the speaker swelled and grew more and more confused, as though on some adjoining wavelength messages were being hurriedly passed to and fro.
    â€œAtmosphere check?” said Clifford, pushing himself out of his chair.
    â€œSafe,” said Matthew. “Slight surplus of oxygen. Don’t get light-headed.”
    He followed Clifford along the corridor. Bellhouse emerged from the engine-room and said abruptly:
    â€œLet me go. You and Clifford were first last time. You never know what risks there are: we ought to take it in turn,”
    Matthew hesitated. Then he saw Clifford’s eager face. His heart warmed to the younger man. The sense of adventure was still strong in Clifford. He wanted to be the first to set foot on this planet.
    Matthew said: “I think we’ll let Clifford make the preliminary exit. He’s all set to go.”
    Clifford flashed him a smile of gratitude, and stepped into the airlock. Both doors opened wide, and there was a rush of sweet-smelling air that seemed to penetrate to the depths of the ship.
    Matthew, framed in the opening, watched Clifford walk away from the ship and then turn back to wave.
    As he did so, a helicar came streaking out from the city. It made a swift circle above the ship, and then darted back as though afraid of being snatched out of the sky if it lingered.
    Clifford stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the towers and blocks of buildings that lay spread out before him.
    Behind Matthew, Alida spoke urgently.
    â€œLook—those things coming out of the town.... Call him back.”
    A group of helicars had formed above the roofline, and were skimming towards the ship.
    â€œOfficial welcome delegation,” said Matthew uncertainly.
    Clifford looked up, and spread his arms to indicate friendship.
    Matthew