"You speak Terran," Rex said, surprise in his words.
"A source of amazement to you, no doubt. You who consider us a mob of
imbeciles cringing up here in the ice floes."
"Whoever you are, I'm afraid you're in trouble. We aren't used to being
hauled around like criminals."
"Then it's time you got used to it."
"Who are you?"
"I am Pandek, ruler of all Martians. Down on your knees!"
Rex and Jean were hurled roughly to the floor. Rex lowered his head and
whispered to Jean, "Take it easy. We've got to feel our way and wait
this out." To Pandek, he said, "Is this the way you're in the habit of
receiving ambassadors from friendly nations?"
"Friendly? That from you who have kicked and despised us for hundreds
of years?" Pandek's rage was heightening with each word. "You and your
arrogant army of invaders? You who treated us with the patronizing
kindness you reserve for amiable dogs?"
"We came in friendship--"
"--with armed space ships at your back--uninvited--unwelcome--smiling
like the hypocrites you are!"
"Those entrusted with government on Terra would be happy to hear that
you are willing to come forth and negotiate," Rex said.
Pandek arose from his throne, his brown face mottled with rage.
"Negotiate for what is already ours? Put our stamp of approval on your
conquest of our planet?"
Rex saw that further words were useless. He stood silent until the
ruler's anger subsided. Then he asked, "What do you plan to do with us?"
"Kill you--as we will kill every Terran on our world."
* * * * *
He eyed Rex for signs of fear. When they did not appear he seemed
mildly disappointed. When he spoke again it was in a quieter tone. "But
first I would have you see a little of what Martian science is like. I
would have you know how far ahead of the Terran bunglers our scientists
were even a thousand years ago. I would have you know by what power
Mars will again come into its own."
"I would like to see the work of your scientists." Conceit was
obviously one of this ruler's weaknesses, Rex decided. He hoped others
would reveal themselves.
"Very well, Terran. You shall see a part of the miracle concerning
which you Terrans have wondered for years; the miracle by which your
stolen lands below the polar circle have been watered and kept lush."
"The ice cliffs?"
"Yes. I cannot show you the process whereby the rains and the snows are
created and drawn to the pole each season--how these great cliffs of
ice are built over the winter months. But I can reveal to you the most
spectacular part of the process--the melting of the ice cliffs."
In spite of their predicament, Rex was vitally interested. Jean, also.
He glanced at her and saw the intent look on her face.
Pandek picked up a device at his elbow--obviously some sort of a
telephone and spoke into it. His words were low and indistinguishable.
But the results were almost instantaneous.
A far-away hum was heard, greatening in volume as from the release of
sudden power. A faint blue light appeared, glowing the ice at the base
of the cliffs. The color shot up through the ice mass--clear blue--as
new colors were added to that at the base. Red, yellow, purple,
crimson--so bright they seemed to sear Rex's eyes. Then they too
started climbing up through the solid ice.
A deep rumbling was heard. Pandek said, "Your Terran scientists have
not even begun to realize the power of nuclear fission. Two thousand
years ago our scientists were ages ahead of them."
Pandek said more, but his words were drowned in thunder from the
crashing of ice cliffs beyond the great window. Huge cataracts were
even now pouring down the walls of melting ice. Both Rex and Jean stood
awed at the sight of such vast and instantaneous destruction.
Pandek smiled his cold smile. The thunder subsided somewhat and Pandek
said, "I see you are impressed. I would welcome your comments." He was
enjoying himself.
The display had astounded Rex but the expression on his face remained
cold. "I imagine you were responsible for sending the body of Professor
Spencer back to Terra."
* * * * *
Pandek paused at Rex's quick change of subject. "Yes, a fitting
reminder to the Terrans that we aren't animals to be gaped at."
"On the contrary--an indication that you _are_ animals."
Pandek half-rose from the throne.
"You'll die a little more horribly than I'd planned for that remark."
"Perhaps I will but the fact remains that you're mad to think you can
stand against Terra. Your scientific know-how is admittedly great, but
it is not geared for war."
"You think not?"
"I'm certain of it. I'm also sure of another thing."
"What else are you sure of?"
"That you have no scientists."
"Then how--?"
"You had them--ages ago--and they built well--so well that their work
has survived to this day. What you have here was built by geniuses for
fools to operate. I'm certain all you do is press switches and reap the
benefits of work done by long-dead brains in another age."
The darkening of Pandek's face told Rex his words had cut deep. In a
way, he felt sorry for the Martian. A hate-filled, envy-charged man
seeking to vent his rage in mad ways.
If carried to their ultimate, his acts could only lead to the
destruction of his people at the hands of the Terrans. But this made
the situation no less perilous for Rex and Jean and other Terrans on
Mars.
"You hold a Terran citizen," he said. "The daughter of Professor
Spencer. Is she still alive?"
Pandek was again enjoying himself. "Oh, very much so." His smile held
some hidden meaning as he said, "A trifle embarrassed perhaps--at the
moment--but alive and healthy."
"I demand you return her to her own people."
"You demand? I admire your courage--"
"What do you plan to do with her?"
Pandek's Martian eyes grew speculative. "She fits into my plans as
does the young woman at your side. A new day will dawn upon Mars soon,
a reversion to the old days when Mars was a virile, fighting planet.
Then, there was less science and more emotion. The masses were whipped
to a fighting frenzy by supplications to the old gods." Pandek grinned
wickedly. "Human sacrifices were a part of those supplications. Nothing
stirs the people like the public sacrifice of a beautiful female with
all its pomp and splendor. It stirs them deeply."
"The thought of it stirs _you_ deeply, you mean. You're mad. You're a
dangerous maniac. I can only hope your own people put you down in time."
With a howl of rage, Pandek leaped from his throne. He drew a short
ornamental sword from his belt and swung it viciously against the side
of Rex's head. Rex went down like an ox felled for slaughter.
Jean screamed....
* * * * *
The rough-skinned Martian who subdued Tommy Wilks, pressed him against
the wall of the tunnel and used Tommy's own flashlight for purposes
of inspection. He growled a few unintelligible words and seemed to be
debating a problem.
Tommy watched him silently, warily, without fear. He had ceased
struggling because it was useless but his mind was alert.
He had no way of knowing the Martian was in a quandary. He had been
sent to check the tunnel entrance in the stone hutch on the Wilks farm.
But he had come upon Tommy halfway to his objective. Should he take
Tommy to his superiors, or finish his original mission? It was indeed a
problem.
The Martian was not too bright. Also, he was lazy. The capturing of
this Terran changed things, he told himself. He would take the boy to
the terminal. Then perhaps something would happen so he would not have
to take the long walk back through the tunnel. Perhaps he would be
honored for his capture and another would be sent to the hutch.
This hope brightened him as he took Tommy roughly by the arm and hauled
him toward the railhead. Tommy was not a difficult prisoner. They moved
swiftly. But the boy was breathing heavily when he was pushed into one
of the cars and the Martian took the controls.
Tommy rested, awaiting his chance. He had by no means given up hope.
It was just a matter of the Martian easing up on his arm. At least
that would be the first step. Tommy was glad the Martian had been
contemptuous and not tied him up.
The car rolled smoothly along its tracks; faster than the one used
to transport Rex and Jean because the Martian transporting Tommy had
always liked speed. He liked it so well he opened the car to its
greatest capacity and at one point had to release Tommy's arm in order
to put both hands on the throttle.
Tommy struck instantly without thought as to the outcome--only with
hope. And his hopes were fulfilled. He hurled himself against the
Martian with both fists extended. They hit hard brown hide just below
the Martian's right shoulder and sent him off balance. The Martian
snatched at Tommy while trying to regain his equilibrium and learned
the folly of attempting two things at once.
But too late. He teetered, howled dismally, and pitched in front of the
racing car. It hit him with a dull thud, killing him instantly. But his
dead bulk also wreaked a kind of vengeance on the car, lifting it from
its tracks and sending it skidding along on its side.
Tommy had been thrown clear and as he hit the wall of the tunnel he
knew he was done for. Every bone in his body snapped. Every ounce of
his flesh crackled with pain. He fell to the tracks and lay dying.
But the process was slower than he anticipated. A full minute passed
and he had not yet expired. This puzzled him. How could you live with
all this pain? With every bone broken? It just didn't make sense. Tommy
waited.
But death proved remarkably stubborn. It refused to drop its black
mantle over his tortured body. Finally Tommy moved an arm--a foot--a
leg. Odd. They all worked. He got to his feet. He conceded that maybe
the agony was not as great as it had first seemed. Now that he could
breathe again, things were better. There was only one bad place,
really; a vicious bloody abrasion along his right forearm.
The lights of a platform loomed ahead. Tommy crawled over the car and
stepped gingerly around the body of the dead Martian. Then he hurried
forward and climbed on the deserted platform.
Here the light was better and he examined his arm. It was an angry,
bloody mass but the blood was oozing out rather than flowing. No deep
wound had been suffered but it hurt like fury. He could not bear to
have anything touch it so he put his arm out at an awkward angle and
left it there while he looked around, wondering what this place was and
also how hard you had to get hit and how much it had to hurt before you
got killed.
* * * * *
His ponderings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. In the face
of this, there was nothing to do, he decided, but pick a direction and
run. Back up the tracks? No. While the lights from the overhead bulbs
were dim, they would still reveal him at quite a distance. The platform
had two exits. The running footsteps were approaching along one of
these. That left the other. Tommy plunged into it and ran.
He ran a long way and his surroundings changed swiftly. The rail
platform had been crude and uninspiring but now he was fleeing along a
beautiful marble corridor.
He stopped for breath, backed into a partially secluded niche and
admired his surroundings. Was this the kind of place the Martians lived
in? It certainly didn't fit into his preconceived notions of a place
where backward ice people would dwell.
As his breathing lessened, a tantalizing sound asserted itself upon his
ears. An odd, singing sound, both pleasant and mysterious. He wondered
where it came from.
He peeked out into the corridor and found it deserted.
The singing sound. As he walked back along the corridor, it diminished.
He turned and retraced his steps. The sound greatened until he came to
an archway in one wall of the corridor. The sound obviously emanated
from that direction. The archway was supported by gleaming marble
pillars and as Tommy passed between them, the singing sound rose to a
crescendo that vibrated deliciously against his nerve centers.
Then he saw it. A beautiful, domed room that gave a first impression
of being a public bath of some sort. But there was no water, only
brilliant, breathtaking color; all the gorgeous colors of the rainbow
dancing down from the ceiling in beams of crystal clarity. There was
sound and color--and something else; a subtle something that made Tommy
very happy; excitedly happy in a way he had never before experienced.
He moved forward, completely engrossed in his new surroundings.
He moved in under the shower of color and a feeling of ecstatic
exhilaration went through him. It was wonderful.
Then he froze. Not twenty feet away stood two Martians clad in rich
metal harness and holding long golden spears. Guards. Sudden fear
swept Tommy. The Martians were staring straight at him.
Desperately, he signalled to his frozen muscles; _Let's get out of
here._ But they failed to respond. The guards stared at him. He stared
back.
Nothing happened.
Why, they're asleep, Tommy thought in amazement. They're standing there
sound asleep with their eyes wide open holding their spears. That's
crazy. Why don't they fall down?
Tommy wanted to run. But he couldn't. The curiosity of the very young
not only barred retreat, but pushed him slowly forward until he was
standing beside one of the guards.
The Martian had not moved a muscle. His chest neither rose nor fell.
Completely fascinated, Tommy extended his hand. He touched the face of
the guard. It was rough and cool. The guard did not move, Tommy laid a
hand against the golden harness. Nothing happened. He had not intended
to push, but he did. He pushed so hard the guard tilted over on one
stiff leg. Appalled, Tommy leaped back.
The guard kept on tilting until he fell on his side with a great crash
of ringing metal.
* * * * *
Tommy darted back through the color rays and out of the strange room
so fast that he was far down the marble hall before his mind told him
he was running.
He kept on running. Then he stopped as suddenly as he had started. He
looked down at his wounded arm. He glanced quickly up and down the
corridor, then ducked again in a wall niche where he gave his whole
attention to his arm.
Had he dreamed all this? The horrible Martian in the tunnel? The car
crash? The color room? He must have dreamed it. The proof was there
before him. A smooth, unblemished forearm where there had been a huge
bloody bruise but a few moments before! He rubbed the arm--tested it.
There was not the faintest sign of a wound.
He looked around in bewilderment, peeked both ways and moved out again
into the corridor.
His luck had held for a long time but now it failed him as sudden
footsteps sounded in a traversing passage just ahead. They were coming
swiftly. Tommy looked around in desperation.
This appeared to be the end but it was not. Fate seemed indeed to be
toying with him--moving him around like a mobile chessman. At the last
moment it showed him a doorway he had overlooked. The door was unlocked
and he went through it as fast as he could while still closing it
softly behind him.
Inside, the light was very dim. Tommy listened at the door as the sound
of footsteps diminished. He smiled--quite proud of his ability to take
care of himself under these circumstances. He would certainly have a
lot to put in his diary when he got home.
_If_ he got home.
Tommy drove this last thought from his mind. He would make it. He was
doing all right. Whereupon fate slapped him and sharply for his conceit
by turning him and dropping him down a flight of stairs he'd been too
busy watching the door to notice.
The fall hurt but Tommy was no longer frightened. He knew that so long
as he had survived the car crash no violence of this type could even
dent him.
He got to his feet and danced around for a while, holding a barked
shin, then straightened as a new sound smote his ears. Someone was
sobbing.
A woman. A woman crying.
It did not take Tommy long to trace the sound. He was in a narrower,
lower corridor now; one not as fine as the big one upstairs. As
Tommy moved forward, the sobbing told him he was going in the right
direction. He opened a door.
Inside the small room was a narrow, high-legged bed--more of a table,
Tommy thought, but he gave it no attention. He was held spellbound by
what lay upon the table.
A girl with wrists and ankles bound down. She had long chestnut hair
that hung down over the edge of the table. She was helpless. And she
was completely nude....
* * * * *
Rex got up from the floor to which he had been viciously hurled by
three Martian guards. He and Jean were in a cell. As the barred door
clanged shut, he turned to help Jean as best he could. "Are you hurt?"
"I--I guess not." She tried to smile. "Only my dignity."
"I got us into a pretty bad mess."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I don't know who's else it was."
Jean strained at her bonds. "They could have at least taken these
things off our wrists."
"We can do it ourselves."
"That guard out there--he's leering in. Maybe we'd better wait until he
leaves."
"Maybe he won't leave. Anyhow--I don't think they care whether we take
them off or not."
They stood back to back while Rex worked on the thongs binding Jean.
The knots were stubborn but they finally gave, the guard outside
watching the process with amusement.
Jean got Rex's wrist free quickly and they sat down on the edge of the
single bunk and rubbed their wrists. "Well," Jean said, "where do we go
from here?"
"To wherever they execute their prisoners, I imagine."
"But we're still alive. Aren't we supposed to keep the chin up like
they do in books?"
He took her suddenly in his arms.
"You're a brave girl."
She pressed close to him. "I'd rather hear you say I'm an attractive
girl."