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"You won't believe it"

"What killed them?"

Hathaway said simply, "Chicken pox"

"My God, no!"

"Yes I s to the Martians it never did to Earth Men Their metabolism reacted differently, I suppose Burnt them black and dried them out to brittle flakes But it's chicken pox, nevertheless So York and Captain Williah to Mars, all three expeditions God knohat happened to them But we at least knohat they unintentionally did to the Martians"

"You saw no other life?"

"Chances are a few of the Martians, if they were sh, I'll lay you h"

Spender turned and went to sit at the fire, looking into it Chicken pox, God, chicken pox, think of it! A race builds itself for a million years, refines itself, erects cities like those out there, does everything it can to give itself respect and beauty, and then it dies Part of it dies slowly, in its own tinity But the rest! Does the rest of Mars die of a disease with a fine na name or a majestic name? No, in the name of all that's holy, it has to be chicken pox, a child's disease, a disease that doesn't even kill children on Earth! It's not right and it's not fair It's like saying the Greeks died of mumps, or the proud Romans died on their beautiful hills of athlete's foot! If only we'd given the Martians tie their death robes, lie down, look fit, and think up so like chicken pox It doesn't fit the architecture; it doesn't fit this entire world!

"All right, Hathaway, get yourself some food"

"Thank you, Captain"

And as quickly as that it was forgotten Thethemselves

Spender did not take his eyes off them He left his food on his plate under his hands He felt the land getting colder The stars drew closer, very clear

When anyone talked too loudly the captain would reply in a low voice that made them talk quietly from imitation

The air s tis in it he couldn't identify: flowers, chemistries, dusts, winds

"Then there was that tiot that blonde, what's her nas "That was it!"