"Give us water, or we perish!" But the Conclave
of Nations denied the Red Planet's frantic plea.
So began the Reign of Terror ... a Martian judgement
that plunged the Earth into hideous chaos.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1940.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The Master Conclave of the Sectional Governors of the World State was
in its first day of session. The Speaker, about to call for a motion
of adjournment, rose, looked about the packed tiers of seats as if
searching for someone. Relief came to his face--and was replaced by
annoyance as the huge, double doors swung open.
A being, resplendent in colorful uniform, of human shape but twelve
feet tall, entered.
In the resigned silence that followed, the doorman announced,
"Olduk, the Martian ambassador!"
All eyes followed the massive, wrinkled old form as it made its way
slowly through the aisles.
The Speaker bit his lip. He said, "The Conclave welcomes you, Olduk. We
had feared that you would not be present."
Olduk paused and bowed. He said, in his guttural, unnatural tones,
"Olduk thanks you."
"You wished to speak before the assembly?"
"Yes, please. The rostrum may I use?"
"Yes," said the Speaker, "the rostrum you may use."
A titter of laughter spread through the tiered seats.
Olduk paid none or small attention, even to the whisperings of two
secretaries that his receptive, large ears picked up.
"Why does he keep up with this farce?" one asked. "Every year he gets
up on the rostrum, and makes a speech, asking, as usual, for water.
He's been denied exactly ten times."
"He'll get it in the neck this time," Olduk heard the other say
knowingly. "The Spanish and Japanese Sectional Governors have had
several bills thrown out this session, and they're spoiling for an
argument. And whatever they say, they'll be speaking for the world."
Olduk--called jokingly the Old Duck--wended his way between the aisles
toward the rostrum, drawing his cape about him. The cape was not an
affectation. He realized that as a Martian he possessed several unhuman
appendages which human beings did not care to look upon.
He faced the session, his wrinkled old face expressionless, though his
double-lidded eyes conveyed the seriousness with which he faced his
problem.
"Honorable Speaker," he said, bowing to the Speaker. "Honorable fellow
delegates," he added, and bowed low. "I drink to you." He seized a
beaker of water in a horny hand, and drained it in a single gulp.
He set the beaker down. His reddish eyes swept the assembly.
He said, "I am ever thankful you me to speak allow. Think, I will tell
you what I wish, fellow delegates.
"Difficult me to talk this language, though here I have lived on
Earth twenty years, making friends with Earthmen. I am not as I was
in leaving Mars. I am changed with sundry operations, that I may live
here well. Thus my voice is hard to speak, and harder still to learn
difficult language. Laughing I will not like, please?"
He paused. His abnormally receptive ears again picked up the
whisperings of the two secretaries.
"He's said exactly the same thing the past five sessions."
Olduk said in his impersonal voice:
"Before I make my plea for the water my planet needs, let me tell a
myth that I read with enjoyment. It is the story of Tantalus, fellow
delegates. Tantalus was placed by the gods in a river of purest water;
when he wished to drink, recede the water would. So his thirst for ages
tortured him.
"Poor Tantalus," said Olduk.
He seized the refilled beaker, and drained it at a single gulp.
"Shall Mars be Tantalus? Or shall Earth be Tantalus?"
"Mars is Tantalus," a whisper floated from the gallery.
The laughter came again, a little insolently this time.
* * * * *
The Japanese Sectional governor rose, and said, sucking in his breath,
"Why does not the thirsty Olduk speak, instead of drinking all the
Speaker's water?"
This time the laughter was more open. The speaker rapped with his
gavel, and order was restored.
Olduk said, "There is more water on Earth than five billion Olduks
could drink.
"But I will speak, as I have spoken years in and years over.
"I shall review the history of things. Forty-five years ago great
swarms of Martians descended on Earth and engaged in war. They wished
to conquer Earth. Fortunately succeeded not. There became a hatred
between the two peoples. This hatred has endured, without reason."
"Without reason?" said the Japanese governor.
"Doubtless," said Olduk, "you have neglected to follow history, of own
people and of what occurred before Martians made war. Not until after
the war did Martians know that Earthmen could be peaceful. Before the
war, Earthmen slaughtered great numbers of Martians. So Martians did
not feel bad when they wished to slaughter numbers of Earthmen."
"There was the second war," sarcastically.
"The second war the war of water, as the first. Earth no good for us,
see? Wished water only. The second war we fought because Earth would
not sell us water any price at; so we would conquer her and levy water
tribute. Fortunately did not succeed. Try more friendly means, which is
why I, Olduk and seven of associates, changed by operations from real
Martians, are here."
Olduk paused. He resumed carefully, cocking his massive head to one
side.
"Come to Earth, I and seven. Give Earth scientific secrets. Learn Earth
language and customs. Prove friendliness for water."
The Spanish governor rose, cleared his throat. "Bribes!" he said loudly.
"Bribes?" said Olduk.
"Bribes! Gentlemen, Olduk has made his plea for ten years, and for ten
years, in the best interests of the World State, we have refused him.
Why? Because if you sell the Martians water, their population will
increase to the point where they are able to conquer Earth. Remember
that it was our numbers and not our science that won out over the
Martians in the two wars.
"This question has been an annoyance! From now on, I vote no on the
subject, and move to have this question off our hands for good.
Furthermore, I move that the Act which gave the Martians the right to
sit on the Master Conclave be stricken out of the World Constitution!"
Olduk said, "My people will die--" when every member of the Conclave
rose and shouted out his agreement with the Spanish governor.
Olduk drew his cape tighter around his twelve-foot body.
He said, "Then I have been refused forever. But I have no feelings of
enmity. Allow me fully to explain situation once more, so that you may
possibly feel sorry for my people. We are million in number--ideal,
yes? Not canned like sardines on Earth, yes? Million enough,
fortunately. But without water, in century, none. See? Our birth rate
falls.
"But no, my people do not suffer of thirst. There become less people
to drink. But it is cruel of Earth to kill a race because they hate.
Therefore, all read story of Tantalus--interesting, see?
"Poor Tantalus," in his expressively expressionless voice. "Poor
Tantalus. Many persons of Earth would not like to be Tantalus, thus
receive justice reserved for poets."
Olduk walked over to the Speaker and said something to him. The Speaker
frowned, and then resignedly signaled an orderly.
"A gallon of water for Mr. Olduk."
The session erupted with a wave of general laughter.
The water was brought. Olduk placed the beaker to his thin lips, tossed
the contents off.
He swept the assembly with his eyes.
His left arm--or what appeared to be a left arm, so covered with the
cape was it--fumbled at his right wrist.