Drenched in the crimson light of the sun behind us, it was a crimson
world that lay beneath us, a lurid world whose mountains, plains
and valleys were all of the same blood-like hue as the light that
fell upon them, whose very lakes and rivers gave back to the sky the
scarlet tinge that pervaded all things here. And as our cruiser swept
lower we saw, too, that the redness of the planet beneath was no
mere illusion of the crimson sunlight but inherent in itself, since
all of the vegetation below, grassy plains and tangled shrubs and
stunted, unfamiliar trees, were of that same red tinge that was the
color-keynote of this world.
Strange and weird as it appeared, though, there seemed no sign of life
on the broad plains and barren hills beneath us, and abruptly Sarto
Sen headed the ship across the planet's face, speeding low over its
surface while we scanned intently the panorama that unrolled beneath
us. For minutes our straining scrutiny was unrewarded; and then, far
ahead, a colossal shape loomed vaguely through the dusky crimson light,
taking form, as we sped on toward it, as a tremendous, soaring tower.
And involuntarily we gasped as our eyes took in the hugeness of its
dimensions. It consisted of four slender black columns, each less
than fifty feet in thickness, which rose from the ground at points a
half-mile separated, four mighty pillars which slanted up into the
crimson sunlight for fully ten thousand feet, meeting and merging at
that distance above the ground and combining to support a circular
platform two hundred feet in diameter. Our ship was hovering a few
thousand feet above this platform, and on it we could see the shapes of
what appeared to be machines, and other shapes that moved about them,
though whether these last were human or not could not be distinguished
from our height. And then, as my gaze fell toward the mighty tower's
base, my cry brought the eyes of the others to follow my pointing
finger. For gathered beneath and around the tower and extending away
into the surrounding country were the massed buildings of a city. Low
and flat-roofed and utterly strange in appearance were those buildings,
and the narrow streets that pierced their huddled masses were all of
the same smooth blackness as the tower itself--black, deep black, the
roofs and streets and walls, laced with crimson parks and gardens that
lay against their blackness like splashes of blood. And looming over
all, its four tremendous columns rearing themselves above the streets
and roofs and gardens like the limbs of a bestriding giant, the mighty
tower soared into the crimson sunlight.
Sarto Sen flung an arm down toward the tower's platform, beneath us,
and toward the shapes that moved on that platform. "Inhabited!" he
cried. "You see? And that means that Alto's change in course was--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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