short-haired onefollowed me," he said.
Longtree felt the chill blue of fear creep along his spine, butimmediate anger at himself changed it conveniently to purple, and he wascertain Channeljumper hadn't noticed. When he had controlled himself, hesaid, "Well, it doesn't matter. I've got to get on with my symphony.That last note--"
"He's here," Channeljumper announced.
"What?"
Channeljumper pointed eagerly, and Longtree's eyes followed thedirection to where the alien stood at the top of a nearby dune staringat them. Longtree could feel his skin automatically turning red withcaution, blending with the sand while the ever-trusting Channeljumperremained bright orange.
"Good gosh," the alien exclaimed. "Not only do they look like modifiedgrasshoppers, they change color too!"
"What'd he say?" Longtree demanded.
"How should I know?" Channeljumper said. "It's in another language."
"And its voice," Longtree exclaimed, almost disbelieving it. "Low. Lowerthan even our drums' rumble."
"And they talk in squeaks yet!" the alien told himself aloud.
Longtree regarded the alien carefully. As Channeljumper had said, thecreature was short and had close-cropped hair on its head. The legs werebrief and pudgy, and Longtree felt a shade of pity for the creature whocould obviously not get around as well as they. It was undoubtedlyintelligent--the space rocket testified to that--and the fact that thecreature's skin color stayed a peaceful pink-orange helped assureLongtree the alien's mission was friendly.
The alien raised a short arm and stepped slowly forward. "I come inpeace," he said in the language they could not understand. "My wife andI are probably the only humans left alive. When we left Earth, most ofthe population had been wiped out by atomics. I think we were the onlyones to get away."
Longtree felt his redness subside to orange, as he wondered idly whatthe alien had said. Except for a natural curiosity, he didn't reallycare, for he remembered suddenly the symphony he had to finish bytomorrow if he were to marry Redsand. But there was the element ofpoliteness to consider, so he nudged Channeljumper.
"Don't just stand there, say something!"
Channeljumper flustered and turned several colors in rapid succession.He stammered, "Er--ah--welcome to our planet, O visitor from space," andmotioned the alien to sit down.
"That's not very creative," Longtree accused.
"What's the difference," Channeljumper pointed out, "when he doesn'tunderstand us anyway."
"You guys don't really look like grasshoppers," the man from Earthapologized, coming forward; "it's just the long legs that fooled me fromup there. Boy, am I glad to find somebody intelligent on Mars; from theair we couldn't see any cities or anything, and we were afraid theplanet didn't have any life. I wish we could understand each other,though."
Longtree smiled pleasantly and wished the creature would go away so hecould search for the last note to his symphony. He picked up hisblowstring so the alien wouldn't sit on it.
"Play for him," Channeljumper suggested, seating himself by segments."Just the last part to see how he reacts. Music is universal, you know."
Longtree was going to do just that thing, for despite Channeljumper'swarning that he must compose every single note by himself, he felt analien viewpoint might be helpful.
He started playing. Channeljumper sat dreaming, glowing radiantly, butthe alien seemed somewhat perturbed by the music and fidgeted nervously.Could it be, Longtree wondered, that the incredible beauty of hiscomposition might not translate acceptably to alien ears? He dismissedthe thought as unlikely.
"Er--that's a bit high, isn't it?" the creature said, shaking his head.
Lost in the sweeping melodies, neither Longtree nor Channeljumper paidany attention to the meaningless syllables. Longtree played on,oblivious to all else, soaring toward the great screaming crescendo thatwould culminate with the missing note.
Vaguely, he became aware that the creature had gotten up, and he turneda small part of his attention to the action. Longtree smiled inwardly,pleased, and turned yellow with pride to think even a man from anotherplanet should so appreciate his symphony that he got up and danced astrange dance and even sang to the music.
The alien held onto his ears and leaped erratically, singing, "No, no,stop it. It's too high. My head's bursting!"
Channeljumper too seemed pleased by this show of appreciation, thoughneither of them understood the words, and Longtree swept into the finalnotes of the rising crescendo with a gusto he had not previouslydisplayed. He stopped where he had always stopped--and the final notecame!
It startled the Martians. Then the realization swept over them in gladtides of color. The symphony was complete now, with that final aliensound. Longtree could win both the festival prize and Redsand with it.The last note was a soft popping sound that had come from the creaturefrom another planet. They looked to see him sagging to the ground, hishead soft and pulpy.
"My symphony's complete," Longtree exclaimed jubilantly, a brilliantyellow now.
But Channeljumper's yellow happiness was tinged with green. "A pity," hesaid, "the creature had to give its life in exchange for the note."
"I believe it really wanted to," Longtree said, turning solemn. "Did yousee how it danced to the music, as though in the throes of ecstasy, andit didn't change color once! It must have died happy to know it gaveitself to a good cause."
"You could probably get by with claiming to use the creature as anauxiliary instrument," mused Channeljumper, practical once more, "andeliminate any claim that he might have assisted you. But what about theFestival? This one looks as though he doesn't have another note in him."
"There's the other one," Longtree reminded, "the one with long hair. Wecan save that one until tomorrow."
"Of course," Channeljumper agreed, standing up. "I'll go get it, and youcan keep it safe here in your hole until tomorrow night."
"You're a good friend, Channeljumper," Longtree began, but the other wasalready bounding out of sight over a sand dune.
Blissfully he raised the blowstring into position and played the openingnotes to his symphony. The alien lay unmoving with its head in a stickypuddle, but Longtree took no notice. He didn't even consider that afterthe Festival he would never be able to play his symphony again in allits glorious completeness. His spinal column tingled pleasantly, and hisskin turned the golden yellow of unbearable happiness.
The music was beautiful.
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ September 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
I Like Martian Music Page 2
