The Martian Pendant

by Patrick Taylor

  Diana mulled that over as they all looked to her for an answer. “A judge could do it, and would, providing the Mafia doesn’t get to him first. We’ll need a Colonial magistrate, not a provincial, to issue it. I’m flying Kindred to Dar today for the purpose of presenting our National Park recommendations. He’s on our side, and will be helpful in expediting that process, and the injunction. Now you chaps get out of my tent. I have to dress.”

  * * *

  Diana and the Minister flew to Dar-es-Salaam, arriving at noon. After they had taken a taxi into town, Kindred called the British magistrate’s office and obtained an appointment for that afternoon. They had lunch at a little Indian café, the air redolent with the aromatic spices used in their curries. She loved those fragrances, and the ingredients of the dishes they were served, but the chilies were hot enough to make the tears well up.

  “By Jove,” she exclaimed, wiping her eyes, “I know Indians thrive on this fare, but does one initially unaccustomed to these hot spices in fact ever come to tolerate them?”

  Kindred, watching in amusement, replied, “I’ve been here for ten years, and some of the spices still affect me the same way. My reaction hasn’t changed one bit. We in the Foreign Service look upon it as just another element in that old concept, ‘The white man’s burden.’ But they say the various spices are full of vitamins, making us better able to survive the tropics.”

  With her face flushed from eating the burning spices, Diana chuckled, “I prefer my vitamins in capsule form from the chemist, thanks. And tell me, how does one say ‘No heat’ in Hindi?”

  After lunch, it was a short stroll to the Colonial offices, in the typical European design for the tropics, bred of the previous century. Built by the Germans, little but the decorations had been altered by the British when they took over. Her first thought, as they were ushered into the magistrate’s presence, was that their personnel hadn’t changed, either.

  The Minister of Justice, sitting behind his massive desk, seemed the stereotypical British colonial official, with his flushed face, sparse white hair augmented by a large, drooping mustache, and even to the “Harrumph” on clearing his throat. He stood, stiffly offering his hand to Kindred, peering curiously at Diana. He looked like something out of a Hollywood movie. That invoked her concern that he would be too hidebound to accommodate them. This worry was immediately dispelled when he addressed her.

  “So you’re the fabulous lady of whom Kindred has told me! Please sit down. I understand there is something of a legal paper you’ve in mind. You must tell me the story. What I’ve heard thus far has been interesting indeed.”

  Diana looked at Kindred, who nodded, and then recounted briefly that while the technological and anthropological goals of the dig had been reached, they were concerned that the remaining alien material would fall into the wrong hands if nothing further were done. The concept of creating a National Park was presented as the best way to preserve the alien spaceship and the surrounding natural environment for posterity.

  After some minutes asking questions and wiping his forehead and his watery blue eyes, the Minister of Justice merely sat there, nodding affirmatively several times.

  “Does that mean, Your Grace,” she asked, “that you’ll give us an injunction against the Italian strip miners?”

  “Quite,” he nodded again. “But it will just be a piece of paper, however officially issued. Shan’t the real problem be how to enforce it? Just now, with all the unrest along the border, the necessary forces can’t be spared for such a possible minor police action. And, I warrant, the provincial police, if enlisted, would be a menace equal to the Italians.”

  With a glance seeking Kindred’s support, she replied, “Sir, we have our own security forces that are more than sufficient.”

  The magistrate seemed shocked at that. “They’re a private force, hired by your sponsors, and have no legal standing in Tanganyika other than to defend your encampment. Why, they are really only mercenaries, and could behave as lawlessly as did the vigilantes of the old American West.”

  Diana reflected on that last remark. Hadn’t the Crown itself used mercenary troops quite freely in the past? She thought of the Hessian troops in the Revolutionary War, and the Gurkhas in Malaya and elsewhere, but thought better about bringing that up.

  Kindred, on a first-name basis with his fellow Minister, came to her aid. “You know, Percy, all you need to do, as is done in America, is to deputize their security men and Diana here, let us say, for six months. That should allow sufficient time for the final official establishment of National Park status for the valley, protecting the archaeological site and its environs from further depredation. I think we all know what is at stake here. If this protection is not accomplished, the Mafia will prevail, and the alien technology will fall into the hands of the highest bidder, likely the Communists.”

  The Minister of Justice looked shocked, and then in an incredulous voice exclaimed, “But this has never been done before!”

  At that point, Diana could no longer contain herself. Ignoring protocol, she jumped from her chair, and glaring across the desk, brusquely said, “With all due respect, neither has anything like this ever been found on earth. Nor has technology of this type ever been of more importance for the cause of world peace than now. Think what could be the fate of the free world if these secrets fall into the wrong hands!” Then, with her voice faltering, often a woman’s last resort, she tearfully pleaded, “Please give us the powers of deputy security personnel. I promise, you’ll not regret it.”

  That did it. Some men just can’t stand to see a woman cry. Calling for his secretary, the necessary papers were drawn up, copies given to Diana and Kindred, and the originals filed. The Minister stood up and came around his desk, extending his hand to her.

  “By Jove, Kindred’s description didn’t do you justice, young lady. You’re far more impressive than I was led to believe. Don’t hesitate to contact this office at any time should the need arise, anything at all.”

  The Slaughter

  After landing back at the camp, Diana sought out Chet, filling him in on their new status, and the need to arrest the Italian workers and disable their machinery. Pleased with the decision, Chet commented, “Even without our wearin’ badges, they better not offer any resistance, because Tommy guns will always trump Berettas. Ah’ll round up my Pinkertons, and at dawn we’ll take ’em!”

  That afternoon, the continuing quest by the half-dozen Italians with their bulldozers ripped open the limestone formation that contained the underground river as it coursed south of the dig. They were elated by the discovery, yielding as it did abundant water for their operation. Some found relief from the dust and the heat by bathing in the rapidly filling hollow their excavation had created. The evening meal became a celebration for them, marked by the unusual consumption of quantities of Sicilian vino rosso.

  The night was inky black, the myriad stars above casting no appreciable light. It was getting late; Diana and Dan sat outside with Chet, making final plans for the morning.

  By a strange coincidence, she said, “I still think that before we leave this place for good, we should take care of that killer crocodile, don’t you chaps agree?”

  At that moment, the silence was sundered by a chorus of screams from the Italian camp, followed by scattered pistol shots and the throaty roar of enraged beasts.

  “Bloody hell,” she exclaimed, “those sounds are the same as that crocodile made when I encountered it in the ship, and when it seized Krueger! Somehow, that beast must have escaped the underground system somewhere else. We’ve been keeping the water level so low with our pumping at the dig that it wouldn’t be able to climb out there.”

  Dan offered, “Unless the pumps have failed. But maybe those Mafia surrogates have blundered into its lair during their mining operation. Either way, that monster hasn’t eaten in a week, and it has to be ravenous!”

  “Listen!” Chet almost shouted. “Those are pistol shots, not somethin’
that’d do much ta such a monstrous reptile. And it sounds ta me that there are more than one of ’em!”

  Diana sprang into action. “Come on, we’ve got to help! They may not be our friends, but they’re still human beings! Chet, gather your men, and tell them to bring their BARs. Tommy guns, with their lead slugs, indeed won’t have much penetrating power against crocodile hide. And bring the anti-tank rifle. It will surely stop a man-eater in its tracks! As many as able shall ride our D-8 Cat, the one with the floodlights.”

  By the time they reached the rival camp, spotlighted in the stark beam of the big dozer’s lights, the scene was a gory shambles. Nothing alive, or recognizable as human, could be found in the shredded tents. Bloody tracks led south. Following that sickening trail soon led them to the large pool, which was still filling, the water stained a bloody red.

  As Chet directed his men to train their guns on the shore of the gouged-out pond, he said, “It looks like we’ve lost ’em. It’ll be a couple of weeks at least before they’re hungry enough ta be able ta lure ’em out again with bait.”

  That brought a quick response from Diana. “We don’t have that much time. We’re due to leave in two weeks to meet our ship. It has all been arranged.”

  Hearing that, Dan interjected, “But we can’t just leave those crocs to come out any time they want. We’ll have to bulldoze the system over here and at the ship, and trap them for good.”

  She thought for a moment, and then replied, “The watercourse will have to be diverted, and we don’t know in fact where this underground river goes to the south. One thing remains certain, Danny. The crocs pose a threat to everyone in this area. I have a plan. While Chet and his men surround this opening, we shall flush them out, using the opening next to the ship.”

  “That’s interesting,” he responded, “But just how do you plan to do that?”

  “Simple, we’ll use dynamite!”

  They had difficulty convincing Max, who was chiefly concerned with damage to the ship. “Nonsense,” she protested, “Mere high explosives won’t be a problem for the Martian technology. It may even help remove some of the concretions, but it will certainly drive those beasts out of their refuge, where the Pinkertons will be able to dispatch them.”

  Ballard rigged the charges at the opening on the port side of the hulk. “Let’s hope their lair is near the ship. If it’s south of the opening the Italians created, this will merely drive them farther away. What about blocking the subterranean channel at their new pool, then diverting the river here, and flushing them out by going in after them?”

  She was not to be deterred. “It would be quite a task to divert the river, and routing them from their dens would be fraught with danger. I have no doubt they’re near the ship. Their dozers opened the underground system only a few hundred yards from the hulk. And don’t forget, their proximity to our dig guarantees they will be anticipating where their next meal is coming from.”

  Diana’s plan was carried off without a hitch, and with the dynamite placed in the depths, the shock of the huge explosion, transmitted through the water, flushed the whole system. As the water boiled up near the Italian camp, not one, but three of the killer crocodiles, stunned by the pressure wave, were washed onto the shore, where they were shot one by one, through the brain with a BAR.

  A jubilant Chet shouted through his walkie-talkie to Max, who was at the ship. “Fer some reason, the water level here is droppin’. And now we have more prizes. Instead of the Mafia, it’ll be museums after our specimens!”

  Diana peered into the yawning pit created by the explosion. “I say, the water is gone! It appears that we’ve killed two birds with our one stone. The river has somehow been diverted.” Calling over to Ballard, who was still holding his ears, she shouted, “Jon, I think you’ve made your idea of exploring the caves of this underground watercourse viable. But even without exploring what appears to be a chain of limestone caves, we must not forget to fill that pond before we pull out. It’s rather unnatural for crocodiles to inhabit an underground river. Despite my aversion to eliminating local wildlife, I for one would rather not leave any chance of there being more of those man-eaters. Think of the danger to visitors who will be coming to the new National Park.”

  The exploration of the slightly winding underground system took place two days later, as Diana, accompanied by Dan and Chet, all three armed with hunting rifles, cautiously entered the cavern next to the hulk. No sign of life was found, aside from blind cavefish and tiny shrimp like those inhabiting the water in the ship, now mostly dead. In the light of their electric lanterns playing in the shadows, they could see the jumbled piles of a once-delicate lacework of ancient crystalline limestone. Broken-off stalactites, previously projecting down from the vault overhead, colored in breathtaking pastels of green and pink, littered the cavern floor.

  Diana had brought along a camera with a flash attachment and several bulbs and took shots of the highlights. Along the way were pools of clear, cold water. They saw no side channels, and no bones. The only evidence of a human presence was Dragunov’s pistol, which Dan found. The lack of any sign of crocodilian eggs or baby crocs was puzzling.

  It was more than three hours before they could see light ahead of them. Soon, they emerged, cold and hungry, through the opening where the huge reptiles had been shot. Max and the others were busy inspecting the dead monsters, each more than 20 feet in length. While they answered the many questions about what they had seen, the trio hungrily attacked the box lunches the cook had furnished.

  Pointing to the three carcasses, Diana observed, “From what we saw, it seems certain that these huge beasts have not been reproducing in this underground system, and therefore we needn’t be concerned about any young maturing to take their places as man-eaters. I think we may now begin our preparations to ship our discoveries home.” Turning to Chet, she said, “You spoke about these crocodiles becoming museum specimens. Don’t you think, considering what their last meal here was, that they should simply be buried, without preparing them for the taxidermist?”

  Max disagreed. “These are fabulous treasures. They could bring thousands of dollars at home, and we could all use the money.”

  Dan objected, disdainfully looking at Max. “Don’t you have a shred of decency? Those bulging bellies hold six human beings. Are you willing to gut the reptiles for preservation, and then bury what’s left of their last meal?”

  A compromise was reached. The crocs’ great heads and jaws, severed with a chainsaw, were set out to dry, and the scaly bodies, encasing the remains of their victims, were buried where they lay, in the now-empty pond, under a covering of bulldozed rock and earth.

  At supper that evening, no one had much of an appetite. The conversation mostly concerned the terrible fate of their Mafiosi rivals. Dan was trying to comfort Diana, who was feeling very depressed.

  “I agree with you, darling, it was an awful fate. But look at the bright side of their disaster...”

  Cutting him off in mid-sentence, she tearfully scolded him, “Please, Danny, not another lame jest. I can’t take anything more just now.”

  “You have to let me finish, sweetheart. I was about to say that now, all the fragments of the second ship will remain in our hands.”

  With that, she perked up immediately. Wiping her tears, and resting her head on his shoulder, she replied, “Danny, I rather like the sound of what you just told me. Please say that again.”

  SEVENTEEN

  The Voyage

  Losing no time, the access road was quickly repaired by the bulldozers. They formed a caravan, leaving half the security force to guard the dig and the oil crew. Transporting the engine and the augmented fragments, the many specimens and most of the camp’s equipment to the docks at Dar took several days. As they supervised loading the cargo into the holds of the newly arrived freighter, the American Traveler, Diana debated whether to return to the U.S. as the ship's passenger, accompanying the discoveries they had found, or to fly. She wouldn’t be ab
le to take much with her on an airliner, perhaps only her photos, although she’d get back much sooner.

  But a month more in transit didn’t seem as important as leaving the discovery of the century to find its way to America without her. She could use that extra month to complete the preliminary paper she planned to present on the fossil bones, virtually identical to those of modern humans. For that reason, she packed a complete skeleton into her steamer trunk for study, and tearfully said her goodbyes to Dan.

  The rainy season had just begun when the ship cast off, heading north for the Red Sea and the Suez Canal. Piracy in the Indian Ocean and off the Horn of Africa was, in those days, almost unheard of, and the crew, engaged in their duties running the ship, paid little attention to the boat traffic they passed. Many fishing vessels were encountered, usually accompanied by friendly shouts and waves from the fishermen. She planned to walk or jog twice each day for more than an hour during the voyage, and on the first day out participated in the cordial exchange. She was struck as much by the perfect white teeth revealed in the black faces smiling up from below as the fishermen were by her pale skin and golden hair.

  On one of her afternoon circuits of the deck, she noticed a motor-driven craft trailing the ship. As she went to the stern, ready to exchange greetings, she was shocked to see grappling hooks already affixed to the railing there. Her warning scream was stifled by a rough hand covering her mouth, and a punch to the solar plexus that reduced her to a helpless lump, flat on the deck, struggling for breath. She looked up at an inscrutable olive-skinned face as she was quickly bound and gagged.

  It was then that the rest of the attackers boarded and fanned out to subdue the unsuspecting crew. Their efficiency was such that there was no bloodshed, and as she lay on the aft deck, she saw the entire ship’s complement forced to clamber over the rail. From what could be heard, a cargo net draped over the side helped them descend into one of the hijacker’s motor launches. The crew was lucky. There would have been neither a cargo net nor a waiting launch had their captors been Mafiosi.