Vans came up, annoyed. The dummy’s head was stuck up, nose under but eyes staring across the mirror-smooth surface. A leg-stroke brought Vans alongside.
“Make me get wet, would you?” he growled, giving the dummy a box on the ears.
The blow would have stunned any Martian or broken any Earthling’s neck. Vans took a leisurely leg-stroke to where he judged that the body would come up again.
The dummy popped up, settled down, rose again and bobbed about until it was still. Its eyes were still open. It still looked alive, although one side of its head was dented like an empty can. Vans stared. No blood came from the wound, no flesh showed, only metal.
Vans shuddered. He brought his fist straight down on the top of the head of this horrible thing that could not be killed.
This time the dummy did not disappear. Its foot had become entangled in Vans’ clothing.
Just then the distant operator, realizing that his dummy was getting damaged, threw a switch. A small motor began to hum, a small popeller began to buzz in the rear end of the dummy, and the dummy, towing Vans behind it, set out to sea at some sixty knots.
Thousands of Martians, watching, confidently, this struggle between their wrestling champion and the Earthling who had tried to assassinate their Princess, gasped amazedly as the Earthling began all at once to swim out to sea, going faster than any living creature had ever swam before and dragging their helpless champ with him.
My reputation as an agile, swift and dangerous person increased a whole heap.
BUT Vans knew now that it was not a man but a machine that held him. The dummy was not using its limbs to swim with, but a hidden propeller. Vans felt the urge of the water. He understood why he had been unable to kill the creature.
Vans, however, had come close to killing the dummy. His blow on the top of the thing’s head had put one television eye out of action and damaged the other. The operator was now getting only a partial and obstructed view in his television panel. He did not know that Vans was there still, being towed along. The machine’s reduced speed he put down to the damage to the motor inside it.
Buffeted by the surge of water, Vans struggled to get a better grip on the machine and find some way of stopping it. The speed and the waves beat him. It was luck for Vans that he, like all Martians, was a powerful swimmer.
The machine took a sudden dive. Vans was dragged down, a light from the dummy’s head showing the way dimly. Into a hole in the rock wall it dived. Vans saw he was in an underwater cavern.
The cavern opened out. He came up and was able to breathe. There was a sloping beach on his right about a quarter of a mile long. On it was a group of small houses. High up the beach about a hundred or so people sat with their backs to the high cliff. They were curiously still. There were men and women, both Earthlings and Martians.
Now or never, thought Vans, I must break loose from this thing. He now knew how the head of the robot was attached to its body and tried to wrench it off.
The robot’s body filled with water. With a gurgling of bubbles it sank. Vans disengaged himself, and swam cautiously for the shore.
More lights were being switched on the beach. Vans could see now, with a queer jump of his heart, that the people who sat and leaned against the cliff had no faces; only blank spheres of metal. They were more robots like the one that had dragged him to their home. Not yet had they been given the semblances of human faces.
Two Martians came out of the nearest hut and walked to the edge of the unrippled water. Vans hid carefully behind a rock.
“Not a trace,” said one.
“It sank, I reckon,” said the other.
“I don’t wonder. Did you see the smashes that wrestler fellow gave? Amazing that it got as far as this.”
“Now see here, Torkwiss, never tell anybody about that.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t you see how mad the chief would be if he knew? Such a colossal mess of our first experiment with a robot. Nearly lost the dummy.”
“If it had been cooked and thrown in the sea we’d have lost it then, all right.”
That wouldn’t have mattered. The robot would have gone and none of Usulor’s people would have known there was a robot. But if that wrestler fellow had busted the machine and it had been captured, then the chief’s plans would have been given away. Bad enough to have them coming to open the coffin and having to make the thing bust loose. Nearly killed the Princess dame first. Bad luck we didn’t get her, but to have given away the secret of the robots would have made the chief foaming mad. He might have ordered that we be kept here forever. You know that it is impossible to escape from here except by the help of a robot. No Martian could hold his breath long enough to get through the long tunnel that runs under the sea.”
“What are we going to do then?”
“I am going to get another robot to fish out the Hargreaves dummy. Then we must patch it up quick. And say it was never injured. Get me?”
“I get you.”
CHAPTER IV
Transformation
AS Van Holors watched in the secret cavern, the two Martians went back to their hut. Presently came a low whine of machinery and two dummies with blank metal spheres for heads rose jerkily from their places and walked into the water. Presently they were in deep water, then they turned themselves over on their faces, their headlamps shining down while they searched the bed of the lagoon. That was unsuccessful. The dummies turned upsidedown, like ducks searching for food in a pond. Their legs, from the knees upward, stuck straight up out of the water. In slow, widening circles the legs roamed about the water.
Vans judged that it was time to attack. Keeping carefully in darkness, he walked toward the side of the huts. He tripped against an unseen wire. At once a brilliant light shone forth, and the two dummies rose to their feet and lurched toward him.
Vans ran for it. He gained the hiding of a rocky crevice without having the searchlight shine on him, but at the cost of making some noise.
Three more Martians came out of the huts, walking toward where the two dummies were slowly revolving their blank heads and lights at the unseen wire.
“Nothing to be seen,” said one.
“A snake, I reckon,” said another.
“A snake would glide under the wire.”
“Huh! What would you say it was, wise guy?”
“The lost dummy.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m not. That dummy’s motor was still running when the television control went wrong. It may be still walking about. The other two dummies can’t find it.”
“What’ll happen to it?”
“It’ll just keep walking until it smashes itself up. Remember that dummy that got out of control last week?”
“Or until it gets stuck in the mud,” said another, looking at the trail of mud and weeds left by one of the dummies that had taken part in the unsuccessful search.
Another Martian came out of that hut.
“What are you three doing there? Haven’t you anything better to do? That dummy’s got to be found. Back to your controls. Get every dummy that’s in working order on the search.”
“Luce says the dummy is still walking around, boss.”
“Rot, that wrestler fellow bashed it two heavy clouts on the head. I hope he broke his fingers. The dummy was just able to limp back before it broke down. A wonder that it got as far as it did.”
They went back to their huts. One by one the dummies jerked to their feet and strode down to the water. Vans slipped into the water, too. He had an idea.
* * *
HERE, I regret to say I have to report an unpleasant piece of scandal. A Martian lady sat upon the lap of a Martian gentleman. No harm in that, but this particular lady was Olla, wife of Vans Holors.
So the court decided that the big boob is dead, and you get his money?” the man said, with a grin.
“Yes, about time, too. The big grizzly bear. I still have the bruises from the great hug he gave m
e when he won the championship.”
“He did save the Princess,” remarked the man, feeling that there was something to be said in the dead champ’s favor, after all.
“Yes, left me a widow just to save that cat! Shows how little he thought of me!”
“Never mind, duckie,” he said, patting her. “Won’t we have a good time on his money!”
“You bet we will!” she squealed with delight.
I fear that honest, simple Vans has one weakness. He can’t handle women.
“NOW,” explained Bommelsmeth, like a lecturer. “You know that my evolution reversing ray acts not only on the chromosomes of the germlike cells, which carry inheritance, but are so intense that all the cells of the body are affected. All those cells, hair cells, skin cells, muscle cells, forget their highly evolved complicated processes, relapsing into simpler forms. As an athlete grows old and loses his speed and strength. But now I have speeded up my processes enormously. Processes that take nature millions of years to carry out I could accomplish in a few weeks. Now I take only a few minutes.
“And I can speed up evolution, as well as reverse it. So far, however, I have had no useful results, only queer freaks. I think it’s because I have used the ray on Martians only, up to now. I haven’t tried it on an Earthling yet. Our natural evolution has stopped, and it can’t be started again suddenly. Try to start it too abruptly and it loses direction. I’ll show you. Bring in the prisoners.”
The Martians were dragged in, their arms tied behind them. I saw that they were soldiers of Usulor’s army. They glowered at Bommelsmeth. They were tied to the wall, and the evolution speeding-ray aimed fully at them.
At the sight of the hideous machine they cried out and tried to break loose. Bommelsmeth laughed, and switched on his ray.
Minutes passed, and only heavy breathing was to be heard as the four Martians tried to break their bonds. Soon their struggle stopped. Instead of rage and despair a blank amazement spread over their faces.
Slowly, yet not so slowly that they could not be watched, the most incredible changes were taking place. Hair was sprouting on smooth skin. Hair was changing to fur, into feathers, into scales, heads were changing in size and shape. Arms, legs, and bodies were getting longer or shorter.
Evolution, kicked violently into action after its sleep of ages, was running wild. It was producing incomprehensible, horrible changes in those four men.
The beam was a circle of pale yellow around them. The actual ray, I knew, was invisible, the yellow light being added for safety. Without it, Bommelsmeth’s men or even Bommelsmeth himself might accidently walk into the beam.
The clothing of the four Martians and their bonds crumbled into dust as the ray worked its will on cloth, leather, fur and rubber. But no longer were there four men. Four strange creatures, one a great bird, one a sort of crocodile, one a sort of octopus, and one something like a kangaroo, stared at me.
Bommelsmeth flicked off the switch.
“You see,” he said. “Four more failures. All right men, clear up the mess.”
A sweeping deathray ended the horror, stretching the four monstrosities motionless. They were dragged away.
“Now,” said Bommelsmeth, “we’ll give the Earthling a dose.” I was lifted and placed where the unfortunate Martians had stood, tied to the wall. Bommelsmeth flicked his switch. The pale yellow beam impinged around me.
CHAPTER V
Vans in Action
KING USULOR, overlord of all Mars, puffed great clouds of Martian tobacco. He was satisfied with himself. He had lopped off the head of the Princess’ doctor. It amused him that all the other doctors whose clients had got the Earth sickness had bolted at once to a distant country. Good riddance! As a proof of the wisdom of Usulor all the colds had got better at once, his own, the Princess’, and everybody else’s. No more giant sneezes boomed through the palace, blowing down pictures and breaking crockery.
The only fly in the ointment, from Usulor’s point of view, was the fact that Don Hargreaves had got away. The most thorough search with trained Zekolos failed to discover any trace of the treacherous Earthling’s body. He had offered rewards for the finding of Don.
Usulor frowned as the door of his private room opened and somebody came in unannounced. But his frown faded when he saw that it was Wimpolo, his daughter.
“Must you barge in on me like this,” he protested. “Couldn’t you call me on the television?”
“And you have switched the television off,” she snapped.
“Well, I didn’t want to be disturbed.” Wimpolo coughed.
“Dad,” she said, sharply, “I wish you wouldn’t smoke this vile tobacco!”
“Why not, Wimpolo? I like it. I gave an Earthling a mouthful of it once. Ha, ha! The tiny creature was unconscious for two hours.”
“You’re cruel,” she snapped.
He stared at her.
“You know,” he said, thoughtfully, “sometimes I think a good spanking would do you good.”
“What?”
“You heard, I’ve spoiled you. I’ve let you do as you like. I let you bring these Earthlings right into Mars and into my court, I knew all along it was a risk. But you and the other ladies took a fancy to these tiny men and women who can jump nearly twice as high as our heads. You even announced that you were going to marry one of them, and the scientists backed you up. I said nothing, but I see now that I was foolish. The right sort of husband for you would be Vans Holors, the wrestling champion. He’d keep you in order. And he’d make a good king, too.”
Wimpolo gave a most unladylike snort.
“The big boob! All brawn and no brains! Have you seen the way that cat, Olla, twists him round her little finger?”
“Yes, yes, that’s right. AH the same, Wimpolo, the big brainless boob saved your life when your darling Don tried to bum a hole through you.”
“That wasn’t Don,” she barked, angrily.
“What!” shouted Usulor. “Am I mad? Is all my court mad? Are all my guards mad? Are thousands upon thousands of the Martian public mad? All those who were watching in their television sets, too? We all saw him. Who do you say it was? Some other Earthling, disguised? If so, it was the best disguise ever heard of. And in any case every other Earthling in Mars is ruled out. I checked on them, just to make sure. Every Earthling who was not actually present at the time has an unbreakable alibi.”
“Some of the ladies who have charge of Earthlings would say anything to save their pets,” Wimpolo said.
THE darling girl would have done anything to get the notice making me an outlaw withdrawn. And, as she said, some of the Martian ladies were very fond of their pet Earthlings, just as Earth ladies are fond of their pet pekes.
Usulor snorted.
“Do you think I accepted the word of the ladies? They speak as their feelings guide them. No. I asked the husbands of those ladies. Wimpolo, little one, you’ve got to face it, no matter how much it hurts. It was your Don who tried to murder you. I say he isn’t safe. When I think you are in danger remember that I am still your father and still the ruler of Mars. I’ve got all the other Earthlings under lock and key, and as soon as Don is found, or his body, I shall start the trial. Of all of them. They will be charged with being a danger to Mars.”
“With the verdict already decided against them,” she stormed, “and a sentence of death awaiting them all.”
“It is scientifically impossible to return them to Earth,” he said. “Execution is therefore the only way.”
“You are a brute and a bully,” she screamed, and rushed out.
He stared after her.
“I ought to spank her,” he muttered. “Can’t think why I don’t.”
IN THE undersea cavern Vans Holors slipped into the water without a sound. Dozens of robots, or remote control dummies, were swimming about slowly. Their feet stuck up out of water, and the searchlights on their heads lit up the muddy, weedy bed of the lagoon most oddly. Once or twice a dummy hooted excitedly, but e
ach time it proved to be only a fish, crustacean or snake on the ocean bed that had been taken for a metal man partly concealed by mud and weeds.
Vans was in no danger of being seen from the shore. But he was in danger of being seen by one of those pairs of television eyes. He paddled cautiously about.
Presently one of the dummies wandered away from the rest, searching in shallow water. Vans crept up to it. Seizing its heels he forced it down sharply. The head was buried in mud.
“Another dummy out of order,” thought Vans.
He dived. Other dummies were coming up. In a few seconds he had pulled the body of the dummy away from the buried head. The body filled with water and sank. Vans pulled out the head and swam away with it to a hidden alcove.
Vans had got himself somewhat muddy, but that only helped his plans. He tore the machinery out of the metal head. It left a metal sphere that with some difficulty he managed to fix over his own head. The holes where the television eyes had been, enabled him to see out.
Slipping back into the water, he swam around. Then, walking in a way as like the jerky, marching step of the dummies as he could manage, he went ashore. He didn’t trouble to find the gap in the wire. He just walked through it, tearing it down. Luckily it was not barbed. Then he went on around the huts and round behind them.
He heard somebody shout, “Zolweis, your dummy is out of order walking round on its own.”
“Where?” shouted Zolweis, running out.
“It’s gone behind the huts.”
Zolweis went after Vans with a large spanner. He lifted Vans’ coat. Then he gasped when instead of a metal plate with nuts he saw white flesh. Before he recovered from his surprise Vans’ fist broke his neck. The wrestling champ had a short way with people who tried to assassinate Princess Wimpolo.
“Now you are out of order,” said Vans.
The Complete Saga of Don Hargreaves Page 16
