by Don Wilcox
“It was judge Mobar,” said Donna, “and your aim was perfect. Don’t you remember what you did to him?”
“Did I—did I change his color?”
“His color and his shape,”. said Donna.
The facts began to dawn on Joe. A few minutes later he was standing on the cliff before one of the largest crowds of horned Martians ever assembled. Londeenoko stood beside him, addressing the crowd.
“I have the honor to present our guest from another planet, Joe Banker. He is the man who exposed the criminal who called himself Judge Mobar.”
“Who, me?” Joe blushed with pleasure.
“As a token of our appreciation, we present you with the trophies of your good deed.”
Londeenoko motioned to two attendants. They marched forward, bearing the gifts. Londeenoko took the head-and-shoulder harness containing the artificial horns.
“Here is the apparatus which the Black Cometeer used to disguise himself as one of us. There were several sets of these, used by his helpers. But this is the one he wore—the one which fell apart when Joe Banker fired a ray gun over his left ear.”
“Who, me?” Joe began to grin.
“And this,” said Londeenoko, taking from the hands of the other attendant a rubber mask, marked with bright green squares, “is the false face which the Black Cometeer wore, with the official markings of a judge. The slit across the, left temple is the result of the most excellent marksmanship on the part of Joe Banker.”
“That’s me.” Joe smiled all over his face. He stole a glance at Donna. She was flushed with pleasure.
“These were the devices,” Londeenoko went on “by which a desperado from Mercury carried out his acts of cruelty. When hundreds of you spearmen joined in a vast Ring of Death, he and his gang had no trouble in slipping through, pretending they were helping with the search. And yet, at that very moment, their ship, the Black Comet, was hidden only a short distance away, filled with stolen horns. That ship—”
Londeenoko drew a deep breath. His numerous grandchildren in the crowd he noted, were watching him anxiously.
“That ship is to be left in my care, I am proud to say. I am sure my niece Donna will gladly teach me to operate it.”
A chorus of shouts greeted this announcement. But from a certain undercurrent of whispers, Joe knew that it wouldn’t be long before the old gentleman’s grandchildren would take possession of the infamous Black Comet.
Before Londeenoko completed his speech, Joe learned new and startling things about the Mercury desperado. A few years earlier the Black Cometeer had undertaken his first piracy. Soon after his first visit to the apple forest, he had learned the value of the Martian’s horns as a commercial product.
“He intended to raise crops of horns on Mercury,” Londeenoko charged. “And for this purpose he kidnapped several newly married couples from our forest and took them back to Mars. He confessed this crime yesterday before he died from the numerous horn-punctures.”
An audible hiss came up from the crowd.
“But I also learned, from his deathbed. confession, that his kidnapping scheme turned out badly. The children who were born on Mercury to these horned couples did not have horns.”
“Why not?” Joe blurted. He almost jumped out of his shoes. Then his face went red, for everyone was staring at him, and they were amused. He began to back away.
At this moment the scientist walked forward, and Londeenoko beckoned to him.
“Here, my people, is the famous scientist of Venus, who may be able to explain the mystery of our horns.”
After being duly presented and received, the handsome amber-eyed scientist began to shuffle through his papers. Something was missing. The last page of his conclusion on the horn theory was gone.
He looked around at the circle of guests assembled here above the crowd, and his penetrating gaze froze upon Uncle Keller.
Uncle, according to his habit, was totaling his expenses.
“What do you have there?” the scientist said.
“Huh?” said Uncle. “This is just an old scrap of paper I picked up with some foreign writin’ on it. I was figurin’, up a bill—”
“My document! Please!”
Uncle gave up the valued paper without any fuss. He felt a glow of importance, as the scientist began reading. Beside him, Axloff, sitting with Donna’s sister, gave him a smile and a wink.
“. . . and so, in view of the evidence,” Axotello read, “one must conclude that all human infants possess the capacity to grow horns. If the environmental factors are favorable during infancy, the horns will develop. If not—”
“What on Earth is he saying?” Joe whispered.
“Nothing on Earth.” Donna replied.
The scientist held up the paper and gestured toward it as he commented.
“In other words, my friends of Apple Forest, the children born in this region will develop horns, whether the parents have horns or not. And children born in other lands do not develop horns, whether their parents have horns or not.
“Londeenoko has just told you of the horned couples who were kidnapped and taken to Mercury, whose children, born there, remain hornless. Let me add an illustration of my own:
“When my wife and I arrived on this planet for the first time, she was expecting a child within a few days. After the child was born, we discovered that it was developing horns, like any native of this realm. The shock led to my wife’s death. I too was stunned. But now I understand that it was a natural and inevitable development. This apple-falling environment produces horns. And my son, Axloff, living among you, has been proud to possess his eleven horns.
“My theory is not complete,” Axotello concluded. “I am not yet ready to prove that it is the result of a blue-apple diet for nursing mothers, I cannot prove that the perpetual sound of falling apples upon infant eardrums may not have an effect. I shall gladly devote my remaining days to the perfection of these theories. . .”
Before the scientist had finished, the people of apple land were glowing with a collective pride. They were the only people in the world whom nature had blessed with beautiful horns. They applauded the hornless scientist for assurance.
Londeenoko now turned to Joe, and asked him to stand again before the crowd.
“Joe Banker, rumor has it that you came to our land to make a public presentation of a gift.”
Joe, filled with a, chestful of importance, gestured to Donna.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor, in behalf of the Chamber of Commerce of Bellrap, U.S.A., the Earth, to present—wait a minute! Uncle Keller!”
“Huh?”
“Where did we put that silver loving, cup?”
“We? Don’t ask me about that. I ain’t seen it since the day of the Bellrap Parade.”
Joe snapped his fingers. “By George and by Joe, I just now remembered where I left it. I was crawling over a feed rack in your barn, Uncle, and here was this space ship all lighted up. I laid the cup down and forgot to pick it up. I left it there in the hay.”
“Well, by crackies!” Uncle Keller chuckled. “I’ll bet the old hens is layin’ eggs in it every day.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Joe called out, “the presentation of Donna Londeen’s gift must be postponed, owing to a technical difficulty. I’ll have to wait until I get back to the Earth—if I ever do—and I sure hope I do!”
The meeting ended, a few minutes later, and Joe turned to look for Donna. Where was she? Not with Axotello or Axloff. Not with her sister. Had she gone down to some of her friends in the crowd, or returned to her space ship alone?
He was detained by throngs of villagers who wanted to meet him as a friend and a hero. They were shaking his hands eagerly, and smiling at him. As soon as possible he broke away and hurried back to the ship.
Donna had left a note for him with one of the four guards stationed at the airlocks.
“Dear Joe: I did not know you were so anxious to go back to the Earth. I had hoped. . . but please t
ake my ship and go. Never mind the silver cup. I will always remember that you meant well. Donna.”
CHAPTER XXVI
“She’ll always remember,” he exclaimed. Then, to the guard.
“Where is she? Which way did she go?”
“She has given you your order,” the guard snapped. “She said you knew enough about the ship to run it. Get in and go.”
The guard started to usher him in.
“Stop it! I’m not going!”
“Yes, you are!” The big guard glared down at him. Two others lowered their heads to press their horns against his ribs, forced him into the air locks.
He was on the verge of swinging his fists. “By George, you won’t get away with this. I’m not going—”
“She said you were eager to return,” the big guard growled.
“But not without her,” Joe snapped. “When I go it’ll be on a honeymoon, and I’m gonna tell her so. Now let me out or I’ll—”
“Joe! It was the soft voice of Donna, calling from inside the ship.
“Donna! What’s the gag?”
“Joe, I only wanted to hear that—that word—honeymoon.”
For a moment Joe was speechless. He began to smile. Donna came to him, took his hand in both of hers. With a nod, she dismissed the guards. They sauntered away, chuckling.
“You still want to marry me, Joe—horns and all?”
“I love your horns,” he breathed. “I can hardly wait till you march in the Easter parade back home in Bellrap. You’ll be the queen of them all.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her. He was still holding her when they heard limping steps approaching from somewhere outside the ship.
“It’s Uncle Keller,” said Joe. He’ll be here in a minute.”
“Joe, when we are married—”
“Yes, Donna?”
“We will have children?”
“Yes, dear.”
“I wonder—shall they be born on Earth, or here in the Apple Forest?”
Joe smiled and shook her by the shoulders and then by the shoulder-horns. “Maybe some of each, dear. We’ll discuss that later.”
Uncle Keller, limping up the steps into the ship, seemed to be in a great hurry.
“Donna! Joe! Can you taxi me back to Earth for a couple o’ weeks? I gotta lotta work to attend to.”
“What kind of work?” said Joe.
“Orders to fill. I’m in business. Gonna bring civilization to this apple forest! Won’t Bellrap be proud of me?”
“And your wife, too,” said Donna. “What is this new business?”
“Corncob pipes. I already got seventeen hundred orders.”
MARCH OF THE MERCURY MEN
First published in Amazing Stories, August 1946
Fearsome indeed was the spectacle as the Mercury Men began their march—because it seemed that nothing could resist their cruel progress.
CHAPTER I
At first sounded like the slow, measured chuffing of a lazy A. freight train, but Bruce Devoe knew that a freight train here in the swampy jungles of Mercury was out of the question.
“It’s the crunching of jaws,” Mary repeated, “the jaws of a mighty animal devouring his food.”
Bruce would have liked to think that his bride was joking. His protective instincts had been dulled by civilization. It wasn’t his nature to be afraid of anything. If there was danger, their stranded space ship, only a hundred yards away, would offer protection.
“We’d better run for it,” Mary said. Then she caught Bruce’s arm. “Listen! How many are there?”
“More than one,” Bruce muttered, as they hurried along. “I wish we could see.”
The forest of mammoth toadstools and fleshy plants was everywhere around them. Vision was limited to a few yards, at best.
“We’re not lost, are we, Bruce?” Her voice trembled slightly, then she managed to laugh at the irony of her question.
“Lost is a mild word for it, dear. From the hour that crackpot Major Vickering told us to take the long way around this planet we’ve been heading for our doom. And I’d promised you this would be the happiest honeymoon in the world.”
Mary smiled up at him courageously. “I could never imagine a more interesting one—if—”
“If we get back, yes.” Bruce’s worried tone gave way to a chuckle that was more in keeping with his normal disposition. “Darn it, we’ve got to get back, or we’ll run up a whale of a bill on that rented space ship.”
They dodged around a clump of massive plants expecting to see the metallic hull of the stranded ship. Instead there was only the edge of yellow swamp, not at all inviting. They changed their course. The sounds of the slowly approaching animals were coming closer.
“It must be this way,” Bruce said. “I seem to remember that big orchid-color mushroom. So the swampy mud-hole our ship grounded in must be—”
“Stop, Bruce!” Mary cried. “The beast!”
“Beast?” Bruce gulped. “Oh—and what a beast!”
In the first moment of seeing one of the great Mercury beetles there wasn’t much the Earth folks could do but stand and stare. Afterward Bruce remembered making a mental comparison of the animal’s size with a five-ton truck. He also thought of a new football with a gleaming tan surface, enlarged a thousand times.
Crunch . . . crunch . . . crunch.
“Bigger than an elephant,” Mary whispered. “He hasn’t seen us yet. What shall we do?”
“Try to figure out what he’ll do,” Bruce said. “He seems to be quite contented with those blueberries.”
“Maybe we’re too small to be noticed—but no!” Mary’s optimism on that score faded with her second thought. The berries were only as large as melons. “Our heads would probably tempt him just as much!”
“We’d be the first berries he ever ate that hollered,” said Bruce. “Okay, honey, on your tiptoes. We’ll backtrack a few steps. I’ve got my gun ready.”
“Two more on your left, Bruce.”
“Two more?” Bruce glanced around, and the sight that met his eyes was enough to freeze him in his tracks. “Triplets! As the politician said to the nurse, I demand a recount.”
“The recount,” said Mary, “totals five. See, back through those big red stalks—”
They might have shot and killed one, as Bruce afterward observed; and they might have taken a chance on two or three. But with at least five of these strange monsters approaching them, the most they could hope for was to be passed unseen. It didn’t become an Earth man with one ray-gun to start a one-man war against creatures whose vulnerability was unknown. Not to mention potentialities of speed and manner of attack.
The beetles, in spite of their apparent clumsiness, were coming along at a pace faster than a man’s walk. There was a sort of cowpath along the edge of the swamp, worn wide to accommodate all species of elephantsized creatures.
Off to the right of the path Bruce noticed something that offered an opportunity for protection. It was some kind of skeleton, a massive frame somewhat smaller than that of the approaching beasts.
“It looks like a man,” said Mary, all out of breath.
“There might be room inside the skull. There’d be less chance of being seen . . . No, we can’t get in handily. This roof of ribs will have to do.”
They huddled together within the calcareous old barrel, which had doubtless lain here for many a season. They held their breath. The big animals idled along. One of them came right toward the skeleton as if to step on it, but at the last moment passed around to the side. The skeleton trembled from the jolt of the footsteps. The dust of rotting bones showered down lightly upon the two persons within.
“Safe?” Mary smiled up at Bruce. His arms were tight around her.
“We’ll find the ship now,” he said. He couldn’t help glancing back with great curiosity at the skeleton. “What an oddity that old boy must have been. Do you suppose the species is extinct?”
“All I know is that the guide boo
ks for Mercury don’t begin to tell what’s up here,” said Mary.
“Most tourists never venture beyond the space ports. Neither would we, if it hadn’t been for that amazing Major Vickering. I still don’t see how he was able to stow away in our ship. Your father said he had had everything checked thoroughly when he rented it for us . . . Well, there she sits, way down yonder, fin-deep in the mud.”
“With the worst kind of motor trouble,” said Mary.
Bruce might have commented that as long as he was the sole mechanic, any kind of mechanical difficulty was the worst. Space ships were out of his line, and at present he had no notion what had brought this machine down to its perilous landing. He could already imagine himself raking through the drawers for an instruction manual and then wondering what to do with it.
“Sure, we’ll analyze the grief and climb right out of it,” he said with an exaggerated show of confidence. “Just put your trust in Bruce Devoe, keep your seat and here we go!”
“I do trust you, Bruce, and I love you,” said Mary. “But frankly, I’ll be surprised if—”
“Don’t I look like a mechanical genius?”
“But you can’t be all kinds at once, I’m sure,” Mary declared. “And you were certainly a genius at salesman ship to get my father’s consent.”
They both laughed at this, for it was a well-known fact that selling anything to her hard-boiled father, J. K. Johnson, the porcelain king, was a major achievement.
“All right, I’m not a natural engineer,” Bruce admitted. “I’ll need some time to figure things out.”
He went on to observe that nothing really got him down except surprises. That was his nature. As long as he could make plans and carry them out uninterruptedly he could take the world in his stride,
“But these devilish upsets, like discovering a stowaway in our honeymoon ship—”
“I’m still glad you forced him and his parachute out when we got to this planet,” said Mary. “I wonder where he landed. It couldn’t be far from here. Because, you remember? Almost immediately the motor—”
