THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN
By BRYCE WALTON
Illustrated by BOB HAYES
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
First one up this tallest summit in the Solar
System was a rotten egg ... a very rotten egg!
Bruce heard their feet on the gravel outside and got up reluctantly toopen the door for them. He'd been reading some of Byron's poems he'dsneaked aboard the ship; after that he had been on the point of dozingoff, and now one of those strangely realistic dreams would have to bepostponed for a while. Funny, those dreams. There were faces in them ofhuman beings, or of ghosts, and other forms that weren't human at all,but seemed real and alive—except that they were also just parts of alast unconscious desire to escape death. Maybe that was it.
"'Oh that my young life were a lasting dream, my spirit not awakeningtill the beam of an eternity should bring the 'morrow," Bruce said. Hesmiled without feeling much of anything and added, "Thanks, Mr. Poe."
Jacobs and Anhauser stood outside. The icy wind cut through and intoBruce, but he didn't seem to notice. Anhauser's bulk loomed even largerin the special cold-resisting suiting. Jacobs' thin face frowned slylyat Bruce.
"Come on in, boys, and get warm," Bruce invited.
"Hey, poet, you're still here!" Anhauser said, looking astonished.
"We thought you'd be running off somewhere," Jacobs said.
Bruce reached for the suit on its hook, started climbing into it."Where?" he asked. "Mars looks alike wherever you go. Where did youthink I'd be running to?"
"Any place just so it was away from here and us," Anhauser said.
"I don't have to do that. You are going away from me. That takes careof that, doesn't it?"
"Ah, come on, get the hell out of there," Jacobs said. He pulled therevolver from its holster and pointed it at Bruce. "We got to get somesleep. We're starting up that mountain at five in the morning."
"I know," Bruce said. "I'll be glad to see you climb the mountain."
Outside, in the weird light of the double moons, Bruce looked up at thegigantic overhang of the mountain. It was unbelievable. The mountaindidn't seem to belong here. He'd thought so when they'd first hit Marseight months back and discovered the other four rockets that had nevergot back to Earth—all lying side by side under the mountain's shadow,like little white chalk marks on a tallyboard.
They'd estimated its height at over 45,000 feet, which was a lot higherthan any mountain on Earth. Yet Mars was much older, geologically. Theentire face of the planet was smoothed into soft, undulating red hillsby erosion. And there in the middle of barren nothingness rose that oneincredible mountain. On certain nights when the stars were right, ithad seemed to Bruce as though it were pointing an accusing finger atEarth—or a warning one.
With Jacobs and Anhauser and the remainder of the crew of the ship,Mars V, seven judges sat in a semi-circle and Bruce stood there infront of them for the inquest.
In the middle of the half-moon of inquisition, with his long legsstretched out and his hands folded on his belly, sat Captain Terrence.His uniform was black. On his arm was the silver fist insignia of theConqueror Corps. Marsha Rennels sat on the extreme right and now therewas no emotion at all on her trim, neat face.
He remembered her