Bommelsmeth’s huge hand gripped Don by the shoulder. In the darkness he had taken it for a table-leg or chair-leg. For a fraction of an instant both were too amazed to move. Then Don thrust with his sword at the same instant as Bommelsmeth, letting go, struck downward with some heavy object.
Both blows were stopped by the table. Don’s sword struck the underside, and Bommelsmeth’s club, or whatever it was, struck a leg.
Both leaped backward.
Don dared not turn on his headlamp. If he did Bommelsmeth would almost certainly see him first, and throw something. And a heavy object thrown by the giant Martian would mean curtains for the Earthling if it struck him.
He heard Wimpolo knocking on the door and calling. She had heard the noise, but dared not use a threadray pistol on the door for fear of hitting Don as well.
Don made sure that the table-top was above him, and called out, “Go the other way!” Something hit the top of the table with splintering violence. He thrust where he judged that the giant was. He felt a slight resistance to his sword, and felt blood on the point. But a glancing blow on the shoulder made him dizzy.
He thought he heard Bommelsmeth open a door. He heard Vans calling. A door opened behind him. He staggered out.
“Bommelsmeth’s in there,” he gasped. “I heard him open a cupboard. I think he got a ray machine of some sort out.” A dozen men entered. The cabin was flooded with light.
It was empty.
THE cupboard door was open, and blood was on the floor. Another door gave onto a passage. There was blood on the floor of the passage. Outside a splash sounded.
“He’s got away,” Vans decided. “Start up the engines before the other subs turn their rays on us.”
The sub churned out to sea. Don played the big deathray in the control tower over the water in the hope of catching Bommelsmeth with it. But as they were getting clear of the harbor a sub that had lain near them in the dock suddenly swiveled a large threadray projector towards them. For an instant or so it was touch and go, but Don, at the ray controls, silenced it.
Now the other subs were turning to attack. Bommelsmeth had plainly got out of the water and was directing them. Rays blazed. The big sub had the advantage that it was away from the lights and moving, while the others were stationary and well lit.
Don thought he had sunk several of them, but could never be sure. The big sub reached deep water and submerged. An hour they ran under water, then were able to breathe freely again. They had got away.
“I’ll end Bommelsmeth’s capers for ever,” Don said. In the deep sea, far from sight of land, he set the big threadray projector working. It was aimed upward, at an angle. Up above terrific clouds of smoke arose as the cohesion-neutralizing ray turned stone into gas or fluid and then let it turn back into dust again. Tremendous masses of stone, no longer supported, fell into the sea with such splashes that the sub was nearly overwhelmed. A gigantic hole was being opened in the roof of Bommelsmeth’s undersea cavern.
For minutes this went on, until the smoke and dust filled the air like dense fog. No longer could Don see what he was doing, but only continued to operate his ray blindly. Other subs were hunting them. They could detect the vibrations of their engines. But so dense were the clouds of stone dust now that they were perfectly safe from being found.
At long last a thunderous roar of falling water was heard. A way had been cut through the cavern roof right to the ocean above. The main Martian ocean was thundering through, falling into the inner sea like a mighty cascade. Not too soon was it, for the sub’s supply of water was getting low.
Don turned off his ray. The tumultuous waters themselves would soon tear the hole larger. They heard mighty splashes as great masses of rock fell, and each time the thunder of entering water sounded louder.
They submerged to get away from the surface, which raged like a great storm. It was nearly two hours before the sea was calm enough to let them come up. Water now filled the great cavern nearly to the roof, but still there was a strong current downwards from the hole.
THEY set the sub against the current, seeing their way by television. Only by the most hazardous skill was it possible to nose a way out and up, to where they could fill their lungs with fresh air on the surface of the main underground Martian ocean.
Wimpolo called the people together to hear an important pronouncement.
“People of Mars, and loyal subjects of my father, I thank you all for your support during the dangerous times we have just passed through. Now let me show you your future overlord, the man who was really responsible for saving us from the evil designs of Bommelsmeth. My future husband, your future Emperor and overlord, the little man, Donald Hargreaves of Earth!” She raised him to the level of their eyes, sitting on the palm of her hand. They thundered applause.
“Power to Prince Donald!” they shouted.
Vans Holors was sitting with Olla on his knee when he heard the news. At once the surprised Olla was bundled off. Vans raced out.
“Hey, king!” he called. “King Donald!”
“Not yet, Vans,” Don said, smiling up at the huge figure. “What is it?”
“I want a fight!”
“Eh!” said Don, when he had got over the shock. “You can’t win the throne of all Mars by fighting, same as you won the rule over those ape-men.”
“It’s not that,” explained the wrestling champion, embarrassed. “I don’t want to fight you. There’s a big bum who calls himself wrestling champion of Mars. If I could meet him I know I could tear him in pieces. But he’s yellow. He takes on second raters only, dodging me. Now if you could fix that for me, king, I’d be eternally grateful to you.”
And the most powerful man in two worlds fixed his eye on the little Earthling, pleadingly.
[1] Because of its great range, its continuous action, its instantaneous effect and its ease of aiming which was due to the fact that it was visible, the ray from one of those boxes had more power than a hundred machine-guns. Its effect was to paralyze the nerves.
[2] Both Don Hargreaves and Professor Winterton can never leave Mars, because the atmosphere of the planet, which contains krypton rather than nitrogen, is its most important constituent, in addition to oxygen. This has conditioned their bloodstream so that returning to Earth would be fatal. A condition would be caused that would produce bubbles in the bloodstream.
This is similar to the “bends” which divers get if they come up out of the water too quickly. Nitrogen is dissolved into the blood under pressure, and when the pressure is removed suddenly it is given up again, forming bubbles. The krypton on Mars behaves in the same way. Krypton is a gaseous element (also found in Earth’s atmosphere, in a minute proportion of one part in twenty million) and appears to be very similar to argon, helium, etc. Its molecules are made up of single atoms, and its atomic weight is 82.9. Krypton samples have been liquefied and even solidified. The solid melted at -169° C. and the liquid boiled at -152° C. Its critical temperature (i.e., the highest temperature at which it can be liquefied) is -62.5° C.
[3] The zekolo has many octopuslike arms within an oysterlike shell. While at rest only the tips of its many lobsterlike pincers are visible. But in action they can be thrust out to great length. Its duty was to guard its mistress as a faithful dog would do. In the underground world of Mars with its many dangerous animals such protection was very necessary, and as a fighting animal the zekolo had no equal either on Earth or in Mars. Those clashing pincers would have cut a tiger into pieces in a few seconds, while the tiger’s claws scratched harmlessly on tough shell and leathery arms.
[4] Although this thread-beam of Bommelsmeth’s appeared to set stones, metals and all solid substances on fire, this was not actually its effect. It was not until long afterward, when Usulor’s scientists had an opportunity to examine a ray producer that the means of its operation was discovered. No heat and no burning was involved. Where it touched, the ray neutralized the force of cohesion that holds the atoms of solid matter together
. Those atoms then flowed apart in the form of gas. Passing out of the influence of the ray, they solidified again as fine dust, producing the effect of clouds of smoke. Thus the thread-ray could cut its way like a knife through any armaments whatever.
THE Imperial Palace, Mars.
Dear Festus:
“So you’re getting bombs chucked at you, huh? I thought Earth was a dull place, and all the excitement was in Mars. Seems I was wrong.
“Thanks for copy of Amazing Stories with an account of that affair of Sommaly in it, which I see you have given the ridiculous title of ‘Warlords of Mars’. I’ve had trouble enough, keeping the mag out of sight of Princess Wimpolo. I mean to say, I know I said that Wimps was not beautiful, judged by the standards of Earth, but I didn’t mean she was such a fright as the picture shows her.
“Tell dear old Rap from me that if he hears of a number of strangely dressed men, all ten feet tall, walking through the streets of Chicago with queer boxes in their hands, he must get down the fire-escape pronto. Because they will be Wimpolo’s guards after him with rayguns.
“Thank the readers for me for the interest they take in us. Tell them that Wimpo is a jolly girl and the bravest I’ve ever known, even if she is a trifle outsize. And, anyway, what other Earthling can boast nearly half a ton of wife, all in one piece? Because that is what I shall have, very soon. Another thing, too, why satisfy yourself with these dull news agency reports of events in Mars? Why not hand them on as I tell them to you?
“You know what happened up to the time of my last letter. I came to Mars as a clerk in the employ of a mining company, but mutiny broke out among the miners. With Elsa Thorwaldsen, daughter of the manager, I ran away, and met one of the gigantic people of Mars, who live in caverns underground. The Martians gave me one of their deathray boxes, whose beams produce fields of force in which human nerves will not work. They also gave me a zekolo, a sort of Martian watchdog which looks like an octopus with the shell of an oyster and the pincers of a crab. Against death rays and zekolo the mutineers with their guns had no chance at all. Mutiny over, old man Thorwaldsen and his daughter turned nasty, and I went back to the Martians. Once in the deeper caverns of Mars there is no return, because of certain chemical changes that take place in one’s blood.
“I found that the few Earthlings here, being small and agile among the gigantic, slow, lumbering Martians, were great favorites at the court of King Usulor, overlord of Mars; and Wimpolo, his daughter, soon adopted me as her special favorite. But I think the privileges accorded to Earthlings must have caused a lot of jealousy, because soon after that two nasty wars broke out, each one led by minor kings who wanted Usulor’s position of overlord of the planet, Kings Sommalu and Bommelsmeth.
“Sommalu was easily dealt with, the chief trouble he caused being due to the recklessness of the Princess, who went spying in the enemy’s country unattended. What a wigging her father gave her! I shivered in my shoes for fear that I would cop it too for not telling him of what she intended to do.
“Bommelsmeth did better. He had an army of ape-men, and actually succeeded in kidnaping Wimpolo out of the middle of her father’s palace. But Wimpolo escaped with the help of Vans Holors, a Martian who is now wrestling champion of the planet. Bommelsmeth’s own ape-men were turned against him, and Bommelsmeth’s secret undersea hideout was flooded and wrecked.
“Immediately after that the princess made a public announcement. The scientists, she said, urged that to bring fresh virility to the Martian stock every Martian lady who could, should marry an Earthling. She, herself, set the example. And she had chosen for her husband me, Don Hargreaves. Everybody knows how brave I was and what I have done for Mars. That made me next in succession to the throne of Usulor, overlord of all Mars.
“So you see, Festus, even up to then I had not done so badly for excitement since I went spook-hunting with Elsa Thorwaldsen, in a Martian traffic tunnel that her father’s men had accidently broken into. I’ll bet you, with nothing but a few bombs falling around your house and dog-fights taking place in the air over your head, are green with jealousy.
“BUT we hadn’t finished with Bommelsmeth and that’s what I wanted to tell you. When we flooded his undersea cavern we thought that was the end of him, but it is easy to see now that his submarines could still get out through the locks, and the big cavern probably communicated with others above sea-level. Even on Earth we have caverns that run under the sea, and in conditions of lesser gravity, rock formations amazing to us readily become possible.
“The trouble started when Princess Wimpolo caught a cold. You could not see anything remarkable in that, but in Mars it was incredible. The first lady in all Mars, receiving a daily dose of twenty-six different vitamins, was supposed to be completely protected against all sickness and ailments whatever, apart from the results of overeating. (And can she eat! But never mind that.)
“The sneezes of that half-ton lady, Festus, would nearly blow your house down. I was standing in front of her in one of her spasms, and it lifted me six feet in the air. That may seem a lot to you, but you must always remember that the gravity of Mars is much less than that of Earth. She sent for her doctor and she stormed at him. He had been on the job only a month, the former doctor having failed to cure a headache of hers (A-tishoo! I carefully kept beside her). And look at the results of his administrations! A-tishoo!”
* * *
WHILE she was talking I felt a tickling at the back of my own throat. I badly wanted to sneeze myself. But I controlled it. The eye of the new doctor was on me, very cold. I felt sure that he didn’t like me.
The doctor was apologetic. All the resources of Martian science would be enlisted in service of the Princess, but he feared that a new germ was abroad in Mars. Other ladies besides the Princess were suffering from the same trouble, most of them ladies who had taken Earthlings into their households.
He glared at me as he said this, making sure that I did not miss it. I knew what he meant. He was suggesting that we Earthlings had brought a new disease to Mars.
“Possibly the Earth scientists may be able to help us,” he finished. Just then I sneezed myself. The Doctor leered triumphantly. Wimpolo looked at me thoughtfully.
“Run along now, Don,” she said. “I’m not well. I’ll send for you when I’m better.”
I had been dismissed from the presence of the Princess. But if I really was infecting her it was better for me to leave her, for a time. However, I had only gone a little while when I was called for on the palace television system. This time it was old man Usulor himself, the big shot of Mars, who wanted me. As I went along I was wobbling at the knees pretty lively. Abrupt and frosty old King Usulor seldom took much notice of Earthlings. He put up with us because the Court ladies were so fond of us. He had never said whether or not he approved of my betrothal to the Princess. If I hadn’t made myself useful in the troubles with Sommalu and Bommelsmeth I think he would have forbidden it.
As soon as I saw King Usulor I knew I was in for a stormy passage. Princess Wimpolo’s new doctor was beside him, and old Usulor was glowering the way he does when he is all ready to explode.
“What’s the meaning of this, Hargreaves?” he barked at me.
I nearly said, “What are your doctors doing if they can’t tell you?” but what I said was, “Does Your Majesty mean the Princess?”
“Who else?” he snarled. “You are hardly ever out of her sight.”
Suddenly he sneezed. Then I knew why he was in such a bad temper. He had caught cold too. And I was being blamed for it.
“It’s not my fault,” I said.
“What?” he stormed. “The doctor here tells me it is your Earthly disease of—of—”
“Influenza,” supplied the doctor. “It’s no influenza,” I said.
“What?”
“It has come on too quickly to be influenza. An hour ago I was all right. Now I feel ill,” I said.
A strange weakness had come on me suddenly so that I could hardly stand
up. The Martian doctor stepped forward.
“He is really ill. Your Majesty.”
“Take him,” growled Usulor. “Put him in quarantine. Don’t let him infect any more of my people.”
“And meanwhile,” added the doctor, “find out exactly what he is suffering from and how to cure it.”
I knew I was falling into a trap.
“I want to choose my own doctor,” I tried to say, “and I want Professor Winterton.”
NO notice was taken of me. A blanket soaked with antiseptics was thrown over me, and I was carried out on a stretcher. As I was jolted painfully down a long corridor, the doctor came behind us and I heard him chuckle, three or four times, as though at some rich joke.
We came to a room that was fitted out as a laboratory. There was a bed here, a bed surrounded by a glass screen. I was placed in the bed, and the doctor came and grinned at me.
“So,” he said. “The little man was going to marry the first lady in Mars and be ruler of our planet, was he? Ha, ha! And then he woke up.”
He stopped and picked up a tiny glass dart that seemed to be stuck in my side.
“Not bad, eh? The Paralyzing Drug gradually deprives the muscles of the power of movement. I shot it into you while you stood beside the Princess about an hour ago. Her sneezes drowned the slight noise. And so rapidly did the drug paralyze the nerves around your wound that they had no time even to transmit the sensation of pain. You did not know you had been struck. And didn’t I judge it beautifully? I calculated your body-weight, the lapse of time, everything. The drug took effect while you actually stood in front of the King. Beautiful!”
I did not reply. The paralysis had taken hold of my tongue now. I could not speak.
“And my assistants among the doctors,” he went on, “have given many people drugs, that stimulate the mucous membranes of their noses into discharging violently to give them headaches and to deprive their muscles of strength. Presently King Bommelsmeth will raise the cry, “Rid Mars of Earthlings and their Influenzal People will rally to him. It will mean the end of your friends inside and outside of Mars.”
The Complete Saga of Don Hargreaves Page 14
