 Adventures in Time and Space, told in Future Tense. Dimension. Tonight, transcribed from Ray Bradbury's collection, The Martian Chronicles, we present, and the moon be still as bright. The first three expeditions to Mars left Earth in a mushroom of flame, arc through the atmosphere and finally dwindled to tiny specks in the big eye of Mount Palomar Telescope, and then were lost to sight forever. The prearranged landing signals flashed back to Earth, and then the radios went dead, one after the other ships had disappeared and were never heard from again. But still the rockets came. The fourth expedition emerged from the silent gulfs of space, an angle down toward the floating red disk of Mars, down into an orbit as the order came to land. Stand by for deceleration. Deceleration, Iser. Skid's down. Skid's down, sir. Engine room. Engine room, aye. Landing procedure, fire one, three and five. Aye, sir. The last blast of the bowjets broke red against the blue desert sands, and the ship slid to a halt at the edge of a vast city that reflected the icy glare of the moonlight. For a while, all was still. All right, Park Hill, open the airlock. Aye, sir. Fresh air. How about a fire, Captain Waller? It's freezing. Later, we've got work to do. Smell that air. You could get drunk on it. Say, there's an idea. Why don't we break out a bottle and celebrate? Biggs, there'll be no drinking done till we're secured. But we're landed, Captain. Three other expeditions landed and disappeared within 24 hours. We're not relaxing security till we find out what happened to them. Maybe Martians? Exactly, Park Hill. Splendor, you're an archaeologist. How old would you say those buildings are? Somebody built these cities? I can't tell till I study them all closely. It's a kind of engineering we couldn't duplicate on Earth. Those thin, reed-like towers and the stone filligree wouldn't stand up under Earth pressure. Beautiful, aren't they? I'm not interested in the architecture now. I want to make sure there's nothing there that might be dangerous. Mr. Hathaway. Yes, sir. I want you to take a reconnaissance party into the city and find out what's there. The cities all look dead from the air, sir. They look dead, but I want to make sure. Mr. Splendor, you better go with Hathaway. Yes, sir. Don't waste any time gathering relics, either. You can make an archaeological study later. Right now, I want a security report. Biggs? Yes, sir. We'll set up camp right here. No man is to go more than 50 feet from the rocket. And there will be no celebration till Hathaway and his party report back. No, sir. It's just that we've been cooped up in there. Bless all, Biggs. We've landed safely. We're not safe yet. Not until we know what we're up against here. We'll maintain full security till Hathaway gets back. In the sea bottoms, the wind stirred along faint vapors and from a mountain's great stone visages looked upon the silvery rocket and the small fire. The sky was black overhead as the two racing moons threw knife-edge double shadows on the desert. All right, come and get it, chow. Jackie. Sawdust, smothered in cold lamb fat. Good. I thought it was something I couldn't eat. Hey, you guys, pipe down. Captain. Mr. Hathaway's back. Captain. Captain Wildin. Over here, Mr. Hathaway. Well? Most of the city is dead, sir. Spender says it's been dead a good many thousand years. But we found one part about a mile over. What about it? People were living in it last week, sir. People? Martians. I see. Where are they now? Dead. Thousands of bodies, thousands of bodies. Hadn't been dead more than 10 days. What did they die of? You won't believe it. What killed them? Chicken pox. Chicken pox? Yes, I made tests. It worked differently on Martians than on Earth people. Burned them black and dried them out to brittle flakes. But where could they get chicken pox? From Earth, sir. And the other rockets did get through. Yes, sir. I don't know what the Martians did to them, but I sure know what they did to the Martians. Gave them chicken pox and wiped them out. They just didn't have any resistance to an Earth disease. There aren't any of them left? There won't be any. When a thing like that starts spreading, sir, there's no stopping it anywhere. It's a thousand to one. It's killed them all. This planet is through. Incredible. Think of it, Captain. A dirty, silly child's disease like chicken pox. It isn't right. Spender, take it easy. No, it's like saying the Greeks died of mumps or the proud Roman Empire collapsed because of athlete's foot. We didn't even give them a decent excuse for dying. We just gave them chicken pox. Spender, get hold of yourself. We didn't see those bodies, Captain. It must have been a shark, I suppose. You need a rest, a little relaxation. Martians are dead. There's nothing you can do about it now. Hey, you hear that? The Martians are all dead. Well, come on. Let's break out a bottle and open up. How about it, Captain? Well, all right, man. Oh, that's fine. Pathway seat of the security guard. Yes, sir. Good Lord, do they have to do that now? It's been a tough trip. It's only natural they'd want to celebrate a little. Celebrate because the world died because a rotten little virus from Earth wiped out a whole civilization. Well, they're not thinking of that. Isn't it time later to throw old beer cans into the canals? A civilization died here. It's like butchering a pig in a church yard. Spender, you think too much. We're lucky to get to Mars without catching a meteor in our bulkheads. Let it go at that. Save on Mars. The first safe on Save on Mars. We've got to celebrate. Many bottles were opened and drunk. The voices got louder. The Earth laughs and shouts echoing across the empty Martian sands. There was a time in New York when I ran into that blonde. Boy, what a blonde. Listen. The first thing she said. Spender. Listen to the wind over his ears. Cool and whispering. He felt the land getting cooler. The stars drew closer, very clear. The air smelled clean and new. He looked at the cool ice of the white Martian buildings over there on the empty sea lands. What a woman. What a woman. Hey, what do we do with these empty bottles? Save them. There's a two-set deposit. Throw them away. Wait. How about that building? Do the one for a buck. I can hit one right through that window. You're right. Here goes. Oh, Zai. I got my buck. Doubling that on the next shot? Put that bottle down, fix. Oh, Zai. Mr. Spender. Stop smashing those windows. What's the difference? The planet's ours now. I guess I can do anything with it that I want. Drop that bottle. I'll knock your teeth out. Just watch me. I want your big head up. Spender, what is this? I hit him. He's crazy, Captain. He just walked up and slugged me. Beggs wasn't doing nothing. All right, let go of him. You men, go back to your party. Spender, come with me. Yes, sir. Spender, suppose you explained. What was the idea? Oh, the noise, the drunken parole. I guess I was ashamed of the spectacle the whole crew was making. Who is there respectful? What's happened? Their sense of what's right. Men are tired. It's been a long trip. You've got a different way of seeing things. I'm seeing things all right. I'm seeing how we'll ruin Mars. We'll rip it up, rip the skin off the way we've already ruined Earth. We Earthmen have a talent for ruining big, beautiful things. Is that why you hit Beggs? Yes, I couldn't stand the idea of them watching us make fools of ourselves. Them? The Martians. The Martians? All dead. There'll be no way here. Doesn't an old thing always know when a new thing comes? We've come a long way to smash their windows and spit in their wine. Now, maybe you're right. I'm finding you $50 for that fight. Now, suck in your chin. We'll go back there and play happy. The whole party moved out into the moonlight across the desert. They made their way into the dreaming dead city. The light of the racing twin moons glinted on the barrel of a pistol, the long blade of a machete, the round, gurgling shape of a raised bottle. Their shadows under them were double shadows on the ice-blue sand. They were waiting, waiting for something to stir in the dead city, something to rise, some ancient ancestral shape to come galloping across the vacant sea bottom on an ancient, armored steed of impossible lineage of unbelievable derivation. Look at it, Captain. Down those avenues in the mist, you can almost see them. The mine's eye populated the dead city. Each window was given a person who leaned from it and waved slowly, as if under some timeless water, at some moving form in the fathoms of space below the moon-silvered towers. There were faint murmurs of sound, and odd animals scurrying across the gray-red sands. The wind blew in from the dead sea bottom and brushed through the silvery wire filigree of the towers. The strange music drifted down to the double-shadowed streets of thin, haunted music that played as it had played through the uncounted years of time. Nobody moved. The moon's held and froze them. The wind beat slowly around them. Hey, out there! You people in the city! Thanks. I just wanted to make a little noise. They built this city thousands of years ago. And now where are they? How did they die? Who cares? They're dead. It's good enough for me. Lord Byron. What? Lord Byron, an old 19th-century poet. He wrote a poem that fits this city. It might have been written by the last Martian. So we'll go no more o' roving so late into the night, though the heart be still as loving and the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears the sheath and the soul outwears its breast, and the heart must pause to breathe and love itself must rest. Though the night was made for loving and the day returns too soon, yet we'll go no more o' roving by the light of the moon. Without a word, the earthmen stood in the center of the city. It was a clear night. There was not a sound except the music of the wind. At their feet lay a tile court worked into the shapes of ancient animals and images. They stood there, silvered by the double moons beneath the crystal towers of Mars. Then bigs were sick, and the sour stench of liquor filled the cool air. The men of earth had come to Mars. And Spender turned and walked away into the city, alone in the moonlight, never once stopping to look back. That you, Hathaway? Yes, sir. My trick on watch, what, sir? What time is it? 0400. Any orders, sir? No, I'll stay on watch. You turn in. Aren't you sleeping, sir? I'll wait for Spender. He didn't come in? No. He's crazy. Walking away into the shadows, he didn't even look back. Spender's a strange man. He's crazy, sir. How's the rest of the crew? Sleeping it off. Bigs had DTs, but he's calmed down now. You can go back below, Hathaway. I'll take your watch. Captain Wilder, do you think Spender will be coming in before morning? I don't know. You know, sir, I don't think he's ever coming back. That's the way I feel about him, sir. He'll never come back. It was a morning that might have been a Monday, or a Tuesday, or any day on Mars. Bigs was on the canal rim, his feet hung down in the cool water soaking while he took the sun in his face. What are you doing back here, Bigs? Didn't you go out with the search party? Yeah, I come back. I got a blister. Sure, sure. What do you mean? Look, look, Cherokee, you see that? Anyway, I had enough search in four days hunting for that screwball, Spender. Didn't find him yet, huh? Eh, good riddance. Oh, my feet, I'm gonna soak him good. If I was Wilder, I wouldn't worry about that nut, Spender. Let him go. He's a crackpot anyway. Little foggy upstairs, I guess. Why don't you take your feet out of that canal, Bigs? I gotta make coffee out of that water. Coffee? You call that stuff coffee? I had a motorcycle once that dripped grease that tasted better than that... Wait a minute, Bigs. Look over there. Where? By that bush. There's someone there. Hey. It's him. Hey, Spender! Spender? He's coming over. Why didn't he stay lost, a crazy jerk? Hi, Spender. Long time, no see. Hello, Cherokee. I've been exploring some ruins. You and the ruins? You're like a dog in a bone yard. What's the matter? Where you been? Up in the hills. What would you say if I told you I found a Martian? Where? Never mind. Let me ask you a question. How would you feel if you were a Martian and people came to your land and started to tear it up? I know how I'd feel. I've got Cherokee blood in me. My grandfather told me lots of things about the way they kicked the Indians around in the Oklahoma territory. There's any Martian around. I'm all for him. How about you, Bigs? They're all dead. A good thing, too. Well, I found a Martian. Up in a dead town in the hills. I've been reading their books. They're easy to understand. I've learned their language. Then I found this Martian. He said, give me your boots, and I did. He said, give me your uniform, and I gave him my uniform. I'm the craziest, Spender. Hey, Cherokee, he's crazy. And the Martian said, give me your gun, and I gave him my gun. And then he said, come along and watch what happens. And the Martian walked down into camp and he's here now. I don't see no Martian. I'm the last Martian. What? Bigs, I'm going to kill you. Cut it out. What kind of a lousy joke is that? Stand up and take it. Hey, put that gun away, Spender. Hey, cut it, Spender. No. Put that gun away. Yeah, joking. You're kidding, huh? He's dead. Killed him. You can come with me, Cherokee. You know how the Martians would feel. You can be in this with me. You killed him. You just killed him. He deserved it. You're crazy. Well, maybe I am. But you can come with me. Come with you? For what? Go on, go on. Get out of here. You're a crazy murderer. All of them. I thought you'd understand. I thought you'd remember what happened to your own people. You get out of here. You're a crazy murderer. Spender. They're both dead, Captain Wilder. Who's missing? Only Spender. It must have been him, sir. Why didn't he come and talk to me? Why didn't he... He should have talked to me. Now, he shot his brains out. That's what I had done. He took them by surprise. There's no sign of a struggle. Hathaway, break out the arms locker. Issue pistols, rifles, and grenades. Yes, sir. You better get the Bible out of the navigation chest. We'll have to bury these two. Parkill. Hi, sir. You start digging a grave. How about Spender? We'll have to go up in the hills and find him. Just let me get him with my bare hands. Crazy murderer and lousy. That's enough, Parkill. The man is sick. He must be. Sick, my eye. Now, grab a shovel. Start digging. Spender saw the thin dust rising in the valley, and he knew the pursuit was beginning. The sun burned farther up the sky, and the blue sand drifted lazily across the sea bottom below. He sat beside a quiet pool, ten thousand years old, and held a silver book. Through the house played the strange wind music of ancient Mars, and he heard voices whisper in his mind. Earth, man, earth, man, earth, man, earth, man, earth, man. I hear you. I've always heard you even down there on earth. Run, run, run, run, run, run. And I want on what they use. Run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run. They have what for to see them tear down your temples and put up hot dog stands? They've seen me. They know I'm up here. There's Wily here. Got to write my sights. Funny, he hasn't ordered me to use grenades. He could lob one right up here and blow me to bits. And maybe the captain thinks I'm too nice to be blown to bits. He wants my death to be clean. Yeah, just one bullet hole in me, nothing messy. And why? Because he understands me. He's the only one in the crew who ever did. Well, at least I can do the same for him. Just one bullet in his heart, a nice clean cap. All I have to do is pull the trigger and then... It's no use. I can't do it to him. Fander! Fander, can you hear me, Spander? Yeah, I hear you, Captain. What do you want? Talk. Truce. All right, come on up. Leave your gun down there and keep your hands up. Spander, are you there? Over here. Mind if I sit down? Cigarette? Thanks. Light? Yeah, got my own. It's warm. It is. You comfortable up here in the hills? Quite. How long do you think you can hold out? About 12 minutes worth. Why didn't you kill all of us this morning when you had the chance? You could have... I know. I got sick after I started killing people. I realized they were just fools and I shouldn't be killing them. It was too late, so I came up here where I could get angry again. Why did you do it? Because I've seen what... I've seen that what these Martians had was just as good as anything we'll ever hope to have. They stopped what we should have stopped a hundred years ago. They knew how to combine science and art and religion. They knew how to live with dignity and peace. And for that reason you started shooting people? When I was a kid, my folks took me to visit Mexico City. I'll always remember the way my father acted, loud and big. My mother didn't like the people because they were dark and didn't wash enough. I didn't see my mother and my father coming to Mars and acting the same way. Anything that's strange is no good to us. We aren't fit to take over this planet. But kill two men. What could I do? It's me against the whole earth. Isn't it enough they've ruined one planet and now they want to ruin this one? I'll kill you all off, Wilder. That'll delay the next rocket five years. And I'll kill them too. I'm lucky I'll live to be sixty. I'll meet every expedition that lands on Mars. I'll be very friendly. I'll explain that our rocket blew up one day. And I'll kill them off. I'll save Mars for half a century. And by then maybe the earth people will give up. You got it all planned. Yes. Yet you're outnumbered. We already have you surrounded. In an hour you'll be dead. I've found an underground passage that'll take me back into the hills, Wilder. I'll go back there and then I'll pick you off one by one. We'll see. It's a nice town you got here, Spender. Beautiful. I'd like to live here. You can. Join me. You're not like them. I'll show you what a good life these people had. I'll play you an old reel of Martian music that must be at least fifty thousand years old. A kind of music you've never heard in your life. That sounds wonderful. But I can't stay with you. Sorry, Spender. I'm sorry if this is happening. I guess you'd better go back now so you can start your attack. I guess so. Captain, I won't kill you. When it's all over, you'll still be alive. Then maybe you'll change your mind. No. There's too much earth blood in me. I may even agree with you about all this. But that doesn't change what I've got to do. You won't stay. No. This is your last chance, Spender. You're sick. Come along with me quietly. Now, look. One last thing. If you win, do me a favor. Try to see that they don't tear this planet apart. Right. If it helps, just think of me as a very crazy fellow who went berserk one summer day. It'll be easier on you that way. I'll think it over. So long, Spender. Bye, Captain. Good luck. All right. We'll go after him now. Half the way you take the ride, I'll lead on the left. You have to kill him. He won't come down. I'll get a clean shot if you can. Get it over with. Now blow his bloody brains out. No, Park Hill. Through the heart. You heard what I said. Through the heart. Now let's go get him. They spread out again, walking and then running on the hot hillside places where there would be sudden cool grottoes that smelled of moss and sudden open blasting places that smelled of sun on stone. The men ran and ducked and ran and squatted in the shadows. Captain Wilder hugged the rock worn by the sun. He gasped for the air was thin and not meant for running. Spender lay at the top of the hill and a gap in the rocks showed the white of his shirt against the shadows. Wilder looked at the towers of the little clean Martian village like sharply carved chess pieces lying in the afternoon. He saw the rocks and the interval between where Spender's chest was revealed. Go on, Spender. Get out. You've only got a few seconds to escape. Get out to the caves and come back later. Go now, Spender, or I've got to end it. I've got to think I'm right and pull the trigger. Go now. Get out. I'll get him. Slug him ahead. I'll blow his bloody... No, Park Hill. Put down that gun. I've got to do this myself. They buried him in that ancient valley town where the music of the wind played on through the days and the nights. They laid him in an ancient silver sarcophagus with waxes and wines which were 10,000 years old, his hands folded on his chest. The last they saw of him was his peaceful face in the cold silver light of the racing twin moons. The captain found the poem in Spender's pocket and he read it before he shot the marble door. So we'll go no more of roving so late into the night though the heart be still as loving and the moon be still as bright though the night was made for loving and the day returns too soon. Yet we'll go no more of roving by the light of the moon. The next afternoon, Park Hill did some target practice in one of the dead cities, shooting out the crystal windows and blowing the tops off the fragile towers. Captain Wilder caught Park Hill and nearly knocked his teeth out. All of you regular listeners to Dimension X will be interested to know that our show is changing its day and time of broadcast over this station. Starting early in November, we'll be back at the new time. We suggest you watch your local newspaper and be sure to join us in about four weeks for a new series of adventures into the unknown world of tomorrow. The world of... Dimension X. Dimension X is transcribed and the moon be still as bright. Adapted for radio by Ernest Connoy from the original story by Ray Bradbury. Featured in the cast where Alexander Scurby is spender, Wendell Holmes is Captain Wilder and your host and narrator for the story, Norman Rose. Music by Albert Berman, engineer Bill Chambers. Dimension X is directed by Edward King. This is Robert Warren speaking. Enjoy the life of Riley with William Bendix next Friday on NBC.