Chapter 17
I had no idea how far we were from the spaceship. But it certainly wasn't more than a ninety-minute run if I held the machine at top speed. But battles can be won or lost in considerably less time, and there was a battle being fought in the Solis Lacus area.
They were outside the ship—Axel, Joel and Spartan. I heard them shouting in their helmet radios. I couldn't hear the sound of firing, but Spartan—unwilling to relinquish his authority even though he was a prisoner—was shouting orders. "Get that group to the left, Axel! About nine o'clock—"
Axel must have the rifle, I thought.
Dr. Warner Joel was hysterical. His voice choked sobs. He prayed. He swore. He moaned.
Axel mumbled incoherently. For all I knew he might have been talking in Swedish. Maybe he was—I don't know. He was born in Minnesota of Swedish parents and might have learned it in his childhood. Ordinarily, he spoke good English, except that occasionally his phrasing took on a foreign flavor, a throwback to something he'd learned from his parents and neighbors.
Joel was sobbing. "My gun's empty! They're still coming."
Then he laughed hysterically.
"Look at them run! The fools didn't know my gun wasn't loaded!"
Apparently the radar eyes of the Martians could distinguish objects as small as a .45 automatic.
Gail sat tense as she listened to the sounds of battle. Her lips pressed tight, her eyes staring straight ahead.
And then we saw the brownish green depression to our right. We had reached Solis Lacus Major, and the spaceship was not far north and only about a dozen miles west.
Even minutes seemed like hours as we sped along. The Martian voices were plain now and we could still hear our three companions talking. At least, none had been baked in his spacesuit yet. As long as they kept the Martians from forming into long lines their spacesuits would protect them.
Then Gail screamed and pointed. To our left we saw the spire of the spaceship.
Swerving, I saw hordes of Martians closing in from the south. To the north were more of them. I was steering the Mars-car into the jaws of a trap that would close on us the minute we entered.
But not to enter the trap meant surer death. There was a chance for us if we could reach the ship.
Those Martians from the south were chanting: "Ha-ha! Ha-ha!"
It was the same group that had pursued me near Pnyx. Although they had shied at approaching the ruined city, they apparently had traveled all night, going around it, and now were helping to encircle the spaceship.
I stopped the car and fastened on my helmet. "Put yours on too, Gail," I said.
She did and when she was finished, I said: "Take the controls of the car. Try to break through any Martians that are in your path and reach the causeway. Pay no attention to me." I got out of my seat and went to the locks. My rifle was there and I picked it up. I ejected shells from the magazine and filled it with explosive bullets.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, her eyes wide with fear.
"I'm going topside," I said. "I'll fasten myself to the top of the car with my spacesuit belt. Then I'll raise a little hell with these men from Mars." I tapped the gun for emphasis. She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. It had to be done. She might hate it, just as I did, but it was the only thing to do. I couldn't shoot Martians from inside this four-wheeled boxcar.
She waited till I called to her that I was securely fastened, then she started forward.
Ahead I could see the Martians. They had encircled the ship at a distance of about a quarter of a mile. I could tell that Axel was on the north side, where the largest group of Martians was assembling for a frontal assault. I could see explosive bullets from his rifle tearing gaping holes in the ranks. But they were preparing to charge onto the causeway.
Joel and Spartan were stationed on either side, the three of them forming a triangle. They had only pistols and were not firing because the range was too great. I couldn't tell which was which, but I saw their figures standing behind heaps of rocks which they used as breastworks. Apparently the moat, shallow and makeshift as it was, presented an obstacle to the Martians because the sides were difficult for the four-footed creatures to descend and to climb.
The Martians were starting to move toward the causeway when they first perceived our car rolling toward them. The line wavered, hesitated and then started to wheel to face the earthling reinforcements.
"Drake!" I was startled by Spartan's voice over the helmet radio.
"Yes?" I said, omitting the sir.
"I want you to know that whatever our differences were in the past, they are forgotten for the moment. We are all earthmen. We are being attacked by an entirely different form of life. I remain your enemy, and you have reason to hate me as much as any human being alive. But what matters is that the earth and the scientists of our planet are waiting for us to bring back information about Mars. Therefore we must survive. We will fight together now. What happens afterwards is something different."
"That's damned white of you, Spartan," I said. "But I had this all figured out and you have no more choice in the matter than I."
"Dam-white, dam-white. Ha-ha! Ha-ha!" chirped Martian voices in my ear. Looking to the south I saw the plain crowded with the creatures, galloping arm in arm, their trunklike limbs waving. The group from Pnyx had joined the attack and was assaulting the ship from the rear.
Warner Joel screamed and I knew he was facing them all alone.
The Martian horde was coming at full speed.
Joel stood up, holding an automatic pistol as they came within range. I saw flame jet from the muzzle. A Martian in the middle of the line stumbled and fell. Instantly the men on either side joined arms.
I raised my rifle and leveled it at the attackers. The jouncing of the car made it hard to aim and I held my fire for an instant too long.
A lightning-like bolt swept from the end of the line toward Joel who was firing wildly and hitting nothing. A scream rang out in my helmet.
I watched with horror as his spacesuit turned cherry red and actually melted in front of my eyes.
Then I fired.
The explosive shell blasted two Martians in the line. I fired again, splitting one half of the broken line into quarters. A third shot split the other half. One great thing about these explosive bullets, you didn't have to hit a target dead center. The fourth shot didn't even hit a Martian, but the ground at his feet, and he went the way of all cyanogenic plant men.
The Martians at the causeway were now getting ready to give me some of the medicine that had ended the career of Warner Joel. But I swung my gun in their direction and blasted again.
Before I could fire once more, Axel, who apparently had stopped to reload his rifle, began to bombard them from the rear.
The Martians couldn't stand being blasted from two directions at once. The line broke and they dashed to the north.
My car swept to the entrance of the causeway and across. Axel's helmeted figure rose from behind his barricade of rocks. He didn't even take time to wave, but I saw his eyes, full of deep appreciation because I'd arrived at a most critical time.
Then he dashed to the spot where the remains of Warner Joel lay steaming.
The Martians who had killed Joel were pouring across the moat at the rear of the spaceship.
"Watch the front, Bill!" Axel cried as he leveled his rifle.
There was nothing to watch. The Martians had been routed.
I fumbled with my belt and unfastened myself while Axel aimed his gun at the Pnyx Martians. His semi-automatic fire was sending geysers of poisonous Martian flesh out of the ditch when I jumped off the car.
The bass-chirps of the Martian voices were screaming panic now. It wasn't necessary to know their language to realize all the fight was gone from their hearts—or whatever they used for a heart—as Axel pumped explosive shots into their midst.
Part of them was trying to scale the back wall of the ditch. Others were stampeding, like cattle, in all directions. Those that came my way were halted by the causeway and now I opened fire on these.
Gail had emerged from the car and now she stood without cover at the edge of the moat, shooting at the Martians with her pistol.
"Get back, Gail!" I screamed.
A single Martian sent a flash of flame toward her. It sparked off her helmet. Then she realized she was exposed and jumped behind the barricade Axel had used.
Axel's gun had stopped firing now and he was starting to reload. I shifted my aim, pouring the rest of my magazine into the group nearest him. They had no way of knowing it was not his gun. Even their radar senses could not follow the path of a bullet.
It was a massacre, but the kind of slaughter that saved lives.
The panic of the Martians in the moat communicated itself to those on the desert. Instead of joining hands to try again to overwhelm us, they broke their ranks and fled as the straggling remains of their allies from the south scrambled out of the pit around the spaceship and fled in all directions.
"After them!" cried Spartan, who still believed he was our commander.
But I paid no attention to him. Following a routed and disordered enemy and cutting him to pieces may be a sound military precept, but we were no army and we were outnumbered hundreds to one. It would have been plain stupidity to pursue.
Axel's gun was reloaded now and he emptied it again at the retreating foe. Each bullet, whether it hit a Martian or a rock or the desert sand, increased the terror of the retreating host.
Then his gun was empty.
To my surprise I saw Axel half turn. Then his knees seemed to give way and he fell to the ground, clutching his side.
Turning my head, I saw Spartan with an automatic in his hand, starting to level his gun at me. There was an ugly grin on his lips. He had shot Axel.
As he fired, I dodged behind the barricade, on the opposite side of which Gail crouched. She had not heard the shots, of course, and had not seen Axel fall. I shouted, "Gail! Come here! Around on this side!"
She couldn't understand me. She was puzzled, thought I was crazy, because her side was safe from Martians.
I raised my rifle and aimed at Spartan as he came running toward Gail.
I pulled the trigger, but it didn't fire. The rifle was empty. I'd sent my last bullet after the retreating Martians.
As I tried to jerk my unused pistol from its holster, Spartan reached Gail with a single thirty-foot bound. He swept her from behind the barricade and held her as a shield as he turned the gun on me.
I couldn't use my pistol without hitting Gail.
A bullet struck the ramp to the spaceship, just beside Spartan's head, knocking a piece of metal against his arm. He didn't hear the shot, but he felt the splinter strike. He turned his head. Axel was lying on the ground, still clutching his side with his left hand, but holding his pistol in his right.
Spartan lifted his gun to fire at Axel, and I, taking advantage of the instant in which he turned to defend himself, leaped.
Martian gravity, being what it is, permits a man to make prodigious jumps. I sailed like a man in slow motion over the rocks and I struck Spartan, still clutching Gail, in a football tackle, bowling them over.
I grabbed his gun, twisted it from his hand.
Gail struggled and wriggled out of his arms.
But the gravity that had aided me, now worked against me. Somehow, Spartan managed to throw himself upward and I was literally bumped into the air. He rolled out from under and dived for the gun.
I came down, grabbed his foot and pulled him away, but he twisted free.
We were both encased in spacesuits and it would have taken a battering ram to hurt either of us. Fists were useless, even though Spartan didn't realize this. Nor did I until I felt him hit me. The blow, I scarcely felt, but the force behind it sent me staggering back.
I struck the rocks and bounded, like a boxer off the ropes in an arena, back at him. I tried to wrap my arms around him, to hold him securely, but he was a big man, in splendid physical condition, even though he was a few years older than I. We clinched, struggling to throw each other off balance, flailing helplessly with our fists.
Suddenly I stepped back. Spartan, crazy with anger and rage, swung his fist toward me. I didn't try to dodge or block. I knew the fist wouldn't hurt me. As it struck me I grabbed his arm with both hands. I hung on as he tried to wrench free. Then I pulled back and started to turn.
His weight, without the spacesuit, would have been in the neighborhood of 180 pounds, perhaps more. The spacesuit weighed at least twenty pounds. But all two hundred pounds of him was a mere eighty pounds on Mars.
As I swung, his feet left the ground—and on Mars you don't drop very fast. His feet stayed off the ground as I heaved and turned and then let loose.
His body sailed in an arc, over the rocks, and thudded in the moat, onto a heap of Martians, not all of them dead. A number of them must have had enough consciousness left to respond to contact with an earthling's body.
As I sprang to the edge of the moat, I saw Spartan's spacesuit turn a cherry red. Then it glowed white. Little rivulets of metal poured over the Martian bodies, but still that current—it must have been thousands of volts—kept surging through.
I heard a long, drawn-out scream. Then Dr. Spartan was dead.
Chapter 18
Gail screamed as she came running to the edge of the moat. I seized the pistol which she held in her hand—later I learned it was Spartan's own gun that she picked up off the ground. I fired into the mass of bodies.
It was too late. I killed the Martians but there was nothing I could do to save Spartan. Turning, I rushed to Axel's side. He was weak, but still alive. "Punctured spacesuit," he murmured, nodding to his left hand which clutched the garment. I understood. Axel's suit had been punctured by Spartan's bullet, but he had closed the hole with his hand. Fortunately the bullet had lodged in Axel's body and had not pierced the suit on the other side.
"Hang on!" I said.
I picked him up. He groaned as I lifted him and carried him up the ramp and into the ship. Inside, Gail and I stripped the suit away from the wound. The bullet had struck a rib in the suit, glanced to a rib bone and then lodged in the muscles of his shoulders. It was a nasty wound, made by a flattened bullet, but it was not the kind of an injury that would prove to be fatal. We applied antiseptics and removed the bullet.
While Axel rested, I took the digging machinery which we had used to construct the moat and covered Spartan's and Joel's remains and the bodies of dead Martians. I found many large rubies and sapphires—unusual stones, but not six billion dollars' worth. Whatever profit came from the trip would be in scientific knowledge.
Gail and I erected a small cairn over the spot where Spartan lay. It was not to Spartan alone, but to four men, including Willy Zinder, who had died in order that our trip to Mars might succeed. I objected to Spartan's being listed as a hero, but Gail said, "It's not really him, Bill Drake. It's what he stood for."
"Murder, egotism, selfishness?"
"He was a human being," she replied. "The monument is to humanity. There are good human beings, bad ones and the strong."
"It's hard to swallow," I said. "But including him doesn't detract from the others."
People, I decided, shouldn't be judged by specific, isolated acts, but by the sum of their contributions. Besides, not many folks will go to Mars to see the cairn—at least, not for a long, long time—even if the Martians leave it standing.
We didn't stay long on Mars because we didn't know for sure if we'd put a big enough scare into the Martians to keep them away permanently. Besides, as I told Axel, "They might bring the bomb next time."
We never learned if Mars still had the bomb. They'd had it once, but they were now decadent, far below what they had been in ages probably long before the first ape man came down from a tree to walk on his hind legs. Those cities were evidence of past glories. But except for the barges on Chalus, we saw no means of locomotion. They must have had tools, but we never saw them. And the only art we saw was a statue in a ruined city. Had man come to Mars a million years ago, who knows what might have been here to greet him?
I found a small animal on Mars before we left. It was hiding in the vegetation on Lacus canal and proved that there were other forms of mobile life besides the Martians. The creature was rabbit-size and had the same general construction as a Martian. The hump was poorly developed, however. The animal died and since it was poisonous, as were all Martian beings, we did not try to bring it back for examination. However, I made a thorough study of the chemical content of its tissues and took several photographs of its dissected organs. Earth scientists can do a lot with very little evidence.
In spite of our harrowing experiences with the Martians we had a treasure of scientific data, material that could never have been obtained by telescope. And we hoped that someday a basis of communication with Mars could be established—after the soreness of the wounds had gone away—and perhaps the two planets could understand their differences.
Getting Axel back aboard the Jehad was not as much of a task as we had expected. After we blasted to the Jehad's orbit, we slid him across space between the rocket and the plasma ship without hurting him. After all, what is there in space to hurt anyone?
Axel computed our route home on the electronic calculator, and we blasted off exactly twenty-one months from the day we left the earth.
"How about our duty shifts on the way home?" Gail asked as we were at last in space again.
"Whatever you say, my dear," I told her.
"Me? I'm not in charge."
"Axel's injured," I said, "and you're my wife. That makes you top banana."
"You fool!" she laughed. "But it'll be nicer going home than it was going away."
"Yes," said Axel. "There is enough water for all, Miss Loring."
"I wasn't thinking of the water. And you can either call me Gail or Mrs. Drake from now on. I'll never be Miss Loring again."
Axel threw back his head and laughed. "I was sure it would happen this way," he said.
The End
A Destroyer From Another Planet—Bent On Mastery Of The World
ENCOUNTER
By J. Hunter Holly
Author of THE GREEN PLANET
It came plummeting out of the sky—a soundless, streaking, purple glow, moving faster and faster until it ripped at the trees, crashed through them and struck sickeningly against a hill. Momentarily it flared brightly, then went out.
It was not long after that the murders began—strange, inexplicable deaths, all the victims found with their heads crushed as if their skulls had exploded outward.
The trail of victims lead from Arkansas to Tennessee, to Kentucky, Illinois and Michigan—sixteen unrelated people who had only one thing in common: All of their brains were withered, as if sucked dry of their contents....
And somewhere wandered an evil stranger from another planet, his personality expanding, his brain power increasing, preparing for the inevitable encounter that could make him master of the world!
A Science Fiction Thriller From
MONARCH BOOKS, INC.
Available at all newsstands and bookstores 35¢
If you are unable to secure this book at your local dealer, you may obtain a copy by sending 35¢ plus 5¢ for handling to Monarch Books, Inc., Mail Order Division, Capital Building, Derby, Connecticut.
Now—You Can Read These Famous
MONARCH AMERICANA
BOOKS
Save Money On Good Books! Use the coupon below worth 5¢ toward purchase of any MONARCH Americana Book listed if sent with 30¢ for the book ordered to:
MONARCH BOOKS, INC., Mail Order Department
Division Street, Derby, Connecticut
MA300 KING OF THE HAREM HEAVEN by Anthony Sterling 35¢
The true story of a daring charlatan who ran a virgin love cult in
America.
MA301 SHE WOULDN'T SURRENDER by James Kendricks 35¢
The wild days and nights of Belle Boyd—pretty, tempestuous and
dangerous Confederate Spy.
MA302 LUCKY LUCIANO by Ovid Demaris 35¢
The true story of the notorious gangland czar, vice king and dope
peddler—and his untouchable friends.
MA303 OUTLAW QUEEN by Glenn Shirley 35¢
Petticoat Terror of the Western plains—that was Belle Starr, rebel
spy, outlaw and bandit.
SPECIAL BONUS: Save 7 coupons and redeem them for a free book of your choice. Choose from titles listed.
THIS OFFER IS NULL AND VOID IN ANY STATE OR OTHER JURISDICTION OR WHERE BY LAW OR REGULATION NOW OR HEREAFTER IN EFFECT, THE REDEMPTION OR ISSUANCE THEREOF IS EITHER PROHIBITED, TAXED, LICENSED OR IN ANY OTHER WAY RESTRICTED. THIS PREMIUM OFFER MAY BE MODIFIED OR WITHDRAWN WITHOUT NOTICE AND BOOKS SUBSTITUTED WHENEVER WE DEEM IT NECESSARY.
(Cash value not exceeding 1/10th of 1¢)]
MA304 THE WICKED, WICKED WOMEN by James Kendricks 35¢
Loves and hatreds of the women who followed the Erie Canal, in the days
of Buffalo's Canal Street and the "Big Ditch."
MA305 BLOOD-AND-GUTS PATTON by Jack Pearl 35¢
The swashbuckling life story of America's most daring and controversial
general.
MA306 BREAKTHROUGH by Franklin M. Davis, Jr. 35¢
The epic story of the Battle of the Bulge, the greatest pitched battle
in America's history.
MA307 THE LINDBERGH KIDNAPPING CASE by Ovid Demaris 35¢
The true story of the crime that shocked the world and touched off
history's greatest manhunt.
MA308 THE SAM HOUSTON STORY by Dean Owen 35¢
The swashbuckling account of the man whose daring exploits altered the
course of Texan history.
MA309 THE APACHE WARS by John Conway 35¢
Exciting true saga of the bloody conflict between the white men and the
Apache Indians on the Southwest frontier.
MA310 HAREM ISLAND by Anthony Sterling 35¢
Astounding true story of a self-proclaimed saint who made religion a
business and turned sin into a virtue.
MA311 THE DILLINGER STORY by Ovid Demaris 35¢
Here is the dramatic story of Dillinger—gangster, bank robber, killer
and Public Enemy No. 1!
MA312 THE KENNEDY CABINET by Deane and David Heller 35¢
With foreword by The Honorable A. S. Mike Monroney, U. S. Senator from
Oklahoma. Dramatic profiles of our Cabinet department heads and their
jobs.
MA313 "BABY FACE" NELSON by Steve Thurman 35¢
Thrilling account of the crime career of one of America's most
notorious modern-day badmen.
MA314 AMERICA'S WAR HEROES by Jay Scott 35¢
Dramatic tales of courageous service men whose exploits won them The
Congressional Medal of Honor.
MONARCH BOOKS, INC. MA1
Mail Order Department
Division Street
Derby, Connecticut
Please send me the books checked. I enclose cash, check, money order (check appropriate box) in the amount of .........., plus .......... coupons to cover the purchase of .... books
Name .....................................................
Address ..................................................
City ........................ Zone ...... State ..........
Check here if you would like to receive a copy of our latest complete catalogue.
A Savagely Realistic Novel of Treachery and Torture in a Jap Prisoner-of-War Camp
BAMBOO CAMP #10
By Franklin M. Davis, Jr.
Author of BREAKTHROUGH
Bamboo Camp #10 was reserved for Americans captured in the Burmese Campaign. It was run by the dregs of the Japanese Army and serviced by slave girls imported from Bangkok.
This is the story of one of its prisoners—Lieutenant Harley Frazier—the torments he endured at the hands of his lust-crazed captors, his life-and-death struggle with his sadistic CO, and the betrayal of his escape plans by his own fellow countrymen!
Until a native girl, brought in to pleasure the camp guards, turned to Frazier for help, and unexpectedly provided the means for a daring breakout.
A New Bestselling War Novel From
MONARCH BOOKS, INC.
Available at all newsstands and bookstores 35¢
If you are unable to secure this book at your local dealer, you may obtain a copy by sending 35¢ plus 5¢ for handling to Monarch Books, Inc., Mail Order Department, Capital Building, Derby, Connecticut.
OTHER SIGNIFICANT MONARCH BOOKS
MS7 FORGET ABOUT CALORIES by Leland H. O'Brian
(A Monarch Select Book) 35¢
MS6 THE NAKED RISE OF COMMUNISM by Frank L. Kluckhohn
(A Monarch Select Book) 75¢
MS5 PLANNED PARENTHOOD by Henry De Forrest, M.D.
(A Monarch Select Book) 50¢
A study of safe and practical approaches to birth control.
MS4 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE by Gary Gordon 50¢
MS3 AMERICA: LISTEN! by Frank L. Kluckhohn 50¢
MS2 THE BERLIN CRISIS by Deane and David Heller 50¢
K61 ELEANOR ROOSEVELT by George Johnson 35¢
K60 PRINCESS GRACE KELLY by Robert Newman 35¢
K59 POPE JOHN XXIII: PASTORAL PRINCE by Randall Garrett 50¢
K57 RICHARD NIXON by George Johnson 35¢
K56 SIR WINSTON CHURCHILL by Edgar Black 50¢
K54 JACQUELINE KENNEDY by Deane and David Heller 35¢
The fascinating story of America's glamorous First Lady.
MB528 MEDICAL PROBLEMS OF WOMEN by Martin James M.D.
(A Monarch Select Book) 50¢
MB512 FOLK AND MODERN MEDICINE by Don James 50¢
MB509 THE BOOK OF MIRACLES by Zsolt Aradi 50¢
MB504 GO WITH GOD by Jim Bishop 50¢
A treasury of the great prayers of all faiths and all times.
MA321 TARAWA by Tom Bailey 50¢
MA319 U. S. MARINES IN ACTION by T. R. Fehrenbach 50¢
MA317 THE BATTLE OF ANZIO by T. R. Fehrenbach 50¢
MA315 GENERAL DOUGLAS MacARTHUR by Jack Pearl 35¢
MA312 THE KENNEDY CABINET by Deane and David Heller 35¢
MA307 THE LINDBERGH KIDNAPING CASE by Ovid Demaris 35¢
MA306 BREAKTHROUGH by Franklin M. Davis, Jr. 35¢
The epic tale of the Battle of the Bulge.
MA305 BLOOD-AND-GUTS PATTON by Jack Pearl 35¢
Available at all newsstands and bookstores
If you are unable to secure these books at your local dealer, you may obtain copies by sending the retail price plus 5¢ for handling each title to Monarch Books, Inc., Mail Order Department, Capital Building, Division Street, Derby, Connecticut.
THE RED PLANET
AUTHOR'S PROFILE
A Kansan by birth, Russ Winterbotham took a pre-med course at the University of Kansas and eventually got a B.A. degree. He has spent most of his lifetime in the newspaper writing and publishing fields except for a brief period of acting as a gunsmith helper and as a clerk in a variety store.
The author's son-in-law is a member of the team developing the plasma space motor which is planned to carry men to Mars within the next 10 years. He is the author of 10 adult novels, more than 60 juvenile book and several hundred short stories and newspaper articles.