The Great Martian War

by Scott Washburn

  “What do you think they are?” asked Pepe. They’d both asked that question many times. Neither had an answer.

  “We need to ride over there and find out!”

  “Your father won’t let you.” It was true, she’d asked him a half-dozen times about it and he always said no. He’d seen the flashes, but he still said no.

  “Yeah…” She leaned against a fence rail and tapped her fingers in frustration. Another flash. “But…”

  “What?”

  “Ma and Pa are going into Quemado tomorrow. They’re leaving early and won’t be back until late. If we hurried, we could get over there and get back before them!”

  “It’s a long ride,” pointed out Pepe. “I’ve never been that far.”

  “Neither have I. But if we follow Largo Creek, it will take us up to that high meadow. From there we can cut over to Dead Horse Canyon. That ought to take us around the Mesa and right down to the San Augustin Plains. That’s got to be where those flashes are coming from!”

  “Your pa will be angry.”

  “Only if he finds out!” They both laughed at that and then set to work. Even though they would only be gone for a day, they would need food and water and other supplies. They had to get two horses ready to go and they had to do it without anyone knowing they were doing it. Rebecca felt a vague sense of guilt about disobeying her father, but she could see no real harm in what she was doing, and something in the back of her head was telling her that this was important. If they didn’t find anything, then they’d come home and no one would be the wiser. And if they did find something… well, she’d deal with that when it happened.

  It took them the whole afternoon to get everything ready and it was actually a lot of fun doing it all secretly. For some reason, it made her feel very grown up and wickedly rebellious. Her parents wanted to send her two thousand miles to the east to have her finish growing up, but she could do it right here!

  She said very little at dinner for fear of giving something away and her parents didn’t appear to notice anything, although her grandmother gave her a few odd looks. She went to bed early, but hardly slept at all. Everyone was up before dawn; her parents wanted to get an early start. Breakfast was eaten, the buckboard was brought out, and a horse harnessed to it. Goodbyes were said and her parents drove away. Rebecca was already wearing the clothes she planned to use that day so, leaving the breakfast dishes to Rosita and Grandma, she snuck out to the stables.

  Pepe was waiting for her. He had Ninny and another horse named Star saddled and all the stuff they’d agree to take already packed. They led the horses out, checked to see no one was watching, and then climbed into the saddles and trotted off into the growing dawn.

  At first they made good time. Riding along the creek bed was easy and the ranch was soon out of sight. But then the land began to rise sharply and the going was slower. Even so, they reached the high meadow by mid-morning and stopped to let the horses rest. She’d been up here dozens of times, but had never gone any farther south. The land got rougher and dryer in that direction.

  “I think if we go that way, we’ll hit Dead Horse Canyon,” she said, pointing.

  After a while they got moving again. It was a beautiful day with a brisk breeze blowing. A few more weeks and it would start getting cold at these high altitudes, but right now it was marvelous. As they left the meadow, the spruce and ponderosa pines closed in around them and they had to search for a passable route. They reached several dead ends and had to double back. Rebecca was getting worried about how much time they were wasting. They weren’t even at the halfway point of the trip and it was nearly noon. But finally they found a narrow path that seemed to be leading in the right direction. Her father had a few maps of the region and she’d studied them often. Another hour and they were definitely in the canyon, with Slaughter Mesa rearing up to their left. It ought to lead them right where they wanted to go. They stopped and ate lunch. While they sat there, Pepe kept looking around with a worried expression on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s so quiet. Except for the wind. No animals making noise at all.”

  She realized that he was right. Even the horses seemed uneasy. When they got ready to move again, she took the rifle out of its saddle holster. It was a Henry that her grandfather had brought back from the war. She’d always liked this one because of its pretty brass frame. She’d learned to shoot when she was six; she checked the action and put it back. “Come on, another hour and we’ll be there. We’ll look around and then head back.”

  “We will be lucky to make it home before dark.”

  “So let’s move!”

  They quickened their pace as much as the ground would allow and in a shorter time than she’d expected, they rounded a bend and the flat, dusty plain of San Augustin stretched out below them. It was a sandy depression about five miles north to south and four times that east to west. Higher elevations surrounded it. The eastern end was invisible from where they were. The land was worthless for farming or grazing and as far as Rebecca knew no one lived in the area. They both shaded their eyes and scanned the plain. Whatever had been making those flashes had to be here somewhere.

  “What is that?” asked Pepe, pointing.

  “Where?”

  “That dark patch on the ground.”

  Rebecca leaned over to look down the boy’s arm. Sure enough, there was a circular splotch of dark earth in the midst of the lighter plain. It looked like another streak of dark soil led off for a distance toward the west before stopping. It was at least four or five miles away.

  “Maybe… maybe that’s where the shooting star came down.”

  “There were four of them; do you see any more?”

  They strained their eyes and thought they could make out another one farther east. Then, a flash of light, like sunlight reflecting off metal, flickered for a few moments beyond the first patch and they saw another bit of darkness there. Try as they might, they couldn’t spot a fourth. As they continued to watch, a cloud of smoke or mist surged up from the nearest dark patch and then suddenly lit up briefly.

  “That’s what’s been causing those flashes!” cried Rebecca.

  “But what are they?” asked Pepe.

  “I don’t know. We should get closer.”

  “Maybe we should go back.”

  “Not until we get a better look. Come on!” She led the reluctant Pepe further down the canyon. They lost sight of the plain for a while as they worked their way through some very narrow spots where the canyon’s sides loomed up over them. But then they came to a place where they could see out again. The nearest dark patch was just a couple of miles away, although being lower down, they couldn’t spot the other patches at all. But the near patch was much more distinct now; it looked as though earth had been piled up in a ring surrounding a hole in the ground.

  “Look! There’s something moving there!” cried Pepe. Sure enough, something appeared to be moving on the edge of the ring. It was still too far to see clearly, but it must have been pretty large, much bigger than a man. After a moment, it disappeared below the lip of the ring.

  “What was it?” asked Rebecca.

  “Can’t see it now! I’m going to climb up and see if I can spot it!” There was a tall rock outcrop thirty feet high to their right. Pepe jumped off Star, threw the reins to Rebecca, and began scrambling up the rocks.

  “Pepe, wait!” She was suddenly very nervous. Whatever was going on here, it wasn’t right. The horses began to jerk about and whinny. “Pepe! We should go!” But the boy kept climbing. He reached the top and stood up. And froze.

  “Can you see anything?” she called.

  Pepe didn’t move.

  “Pepe!”

  Something huge loomed up just beyond him. Rebecca couldn’t begin to describe it. Part of it was blocked by the stone outcropping, but the rest towered at least twenty feet higher than Pepe. It had a head of sorts and arms, thuds and crunching rocks hinted at legs. A singl
e baleful red eye glowed in the middle of the head. And it was made of metal, all metal. A thin snake-like arm darted out and wrapped itself around Pepe. Only then did the boy react. He screamed as he was lifted into the air.

  “Pepe!” shrieked Rebecca.

  She fumbled for the rifle, but the horses were going mad. Ninny turned and fled back up the canyon, Star was right behind. She twisted to look back and gasped. The thing was chasing her! Three metal legs were propelling it after her; Pepe was still caught in its grasp, his legs kicking madly.

  Every thought except to escape left her mind. Blind panic seized her and she urged Ninny on, though he needed no urging. Just ahead the canyon narrowed; if she could just make it past, she would be safe! The thing couldn’t fit through the gap! She reached it! They were through!

  From behind her an enormous noise shook the air: “Ulla! Ulla! Ulla!” It was like some colossal horn. She dared to look back. Star was just galloping through the gap when suddenly the horse was engulfed in flames. He gave off one hideous shriek before being consumed. A blast of scorching air swirled around her. She buried her face in Ninny’s mane and rode on.

  * * * * *

  Cycle 597,843.2, Landing Site 32

  The machine sucked the last bit of nourishment from the prey-creature. The empty husk was disposed of and the nourishment was conveyed through a system of filters before being delivered to Qetjnegartis. It drank deeply, filling its food sacs. The technique was different from normal and unsettling somehow, but it greatly lessened the chance of infection from the pathogens which teemed on this world. If the scientists were right, its body ought to last many times longer than those who came in the first expedition. Still, sooner or later this body would succumb. But it was growing a replacement. The new bud was already large enough to be visible along its flank. The bud could either become a replacement body for Qetjnegartis or an actual offspring, a new being. It would not be necessary to decide which for some time. If its body was still healthy, then it would be an offspring. If not, a replacement. An offspring would be best, of course, since it would quickly be able to contribute to the efforts here. But only time would tell which it would be.

  Finished feeding, it turned its attention to more serious matters. One of the creatures had escaped and it must be assumed it would alert its fellows to their presence here. How quickly they might react was unknown. The landing site was far from any major habitations, nor were any of the crude transport systems the prey used nearby. It might be many rotations before any response arrived. They still had time to prepare, but they had to be ready to move on short notice. Several of the landing groups on the first continent had already been forced to engage in battle. But this had been expected. Under ideal conditions, all groups would wait until the planned time before attacking, but it was always understood that the ideal was unlikely to be met and each group must respond to the local circumstances.

  Qetjnegartis took hold of the command interface and reviewed the status of its own group. All twelve of the battle machines had been assembled and were ready. There should have been fifteen, but with the loss of Lander Four, they had but twelve. Four constructors had also been assembled. Initial probes could find no significant metal deposits in the immediate vicinity. This was unfortunate, but not unexpected. But it did rule out building a permanent holdfast in this location. They would have to move to find a better area.

  Under the plan, it was too soon to move. So in the meanwhile, the constructors would salvage the landers themselves and begin constructing additional machines to be ready for the new offspring.

  But the time to move was fast approaching. The conquest of this world would soon begin.

  * * * * *

  November, 1908, Washington, D.C.

  Leonard Wood could not help thinking about just how strange a day this was. It was Election Day of what was certainly the most important presidential election since 1864 and the President was ignoring it completely. Aides were coming in periodically with results and predictions and Roosevelt just waved them away. His attention was completely focused on the maps and stacks of reports that he and his top military advisors were poring over.

  “New Mexico for sure…”

  “What about that report from Idaho?”

  “There’s only the one sighting from that. No confirmation…”

  “Two reports from the Mexicans…”

  “A possible sighting in Alberta…”

  The low babble had been going on for hours—days, really. Ever since first the report of Martians in Kazakhstan, more sightings had been coming in from all over the world. Asia, Africa, the Middle East, Australia, and South America. Only a fraction of the sightings had been confirmed, but that fraction was enough to prove that the Martians had landed. As feared, they were coming down in out-of-the-way locations, apparently all over the planet. So far, Europe was the only area with no sightings at all.

  After an agonizing delay, reports had finally started coming in from American territory. The official spotting network had been terribly thin west of the Mississippi, but sighting were now being received from local sheriffs and ordinary citizens. They were confusing, sometimes contradictory, and lacking in important details, but they could not be ignored.

  “Mr. President.” A naval officer, an expert in navigation, stood up from the map he’d been working on with protractors and calipers for nearly an hour.

  “Yes? What have you got?” Roosevelt moved to stand beside him.

  “Sir, the New Mexico sighting seems very solid. We have independent sightings of the falling cylinders from six different locations; three in New Mexico and three in Arizona which the cylinders passed over. By using their descriptions, I’ve managed to lay out approximate courses and they all seem to converge in this area here.” He moved his hand over a portion of the map of the southwest. “This region of western New Mexico between Socorro and the border with Arizona.”

  “That’s really desolate country,” said another officer. “Hardly a town or a road within fifty miles.”

  “Well, we need to get someone out there to take a look!” said the President. “What troops do have in the area?”

  “I’ll check, sir.”

  “Theodore? Theodore?” Wood looked up to see Elihu Root come into the room. The Secretary of State looked tired, but he was smiling. He pushed through the crowd to Roosevelt’s side. “Theodore? You’ve won Ohio. You are re-elected, Mr. President.”

  The news brought a round of applause and congratulations from the others in the room, but Roosevelt seemed unaffected.

  “That’s fine, that’s fine, bully. Write up some sort of message for me will you, Root? Now what can we get to this spot, gentlemen?”

  Root shook his head and moved away. One of the staff officers pointed to the map, to a spot well north of the area the naval officer had denoted. “Fort Wingate, sir. It’s the nearest post. One squadron of the 5th Cavalry’s there. But it’s on the railroad so we can get more there in less than a week.”

  “Good! Good! Send everything you can! Let’s get moving, gentlemen!”

  Chapter Four

  November, 1908, Quemado Lake, New Mexico Territory

  Rebecca Harding could hear voices.

  “Well good God, Katherine, something surely happened!”

  “It was that filthy boy she’s always hanging around with. He tricked her with wild tales, just so he could steal that horse!”

  “Oh come now! What about the burns on the back of her head—and on her horse? Where did those come from?”

  “I don’t know. But don’t tell me you believe her story? She was hysterical! Probably so ashamed that she let the boy trick her that she made up the story out of guilt.”

  “And then burned her hair off? I could hardly believe her doing that to herself, but she would never hurt that horse of hers! No, something really happened and I’m going to tell the sheriff.”

  “And make us the laughing stock of the whole valley?”

  “Katherin
e! You’ve heard the stories, read the newspapers! What if this is the Martians?”

  “Out here? In the middle of nowhere? Why on Earth would they come here…?”

  The voices faded away and Rebecca slowly became aware that she was lying on something soft. A faint clicking noise, rhythmic and persistent, was coming from her left. She cracked open an eye.

  “Ah, waking up, Honey?” It was her grandmother. The clicking noise had been her knitting needles. The woman set them aside and came over to her. “How are you feeling, dear?”

  “How… how did I get here?”

  “Ninny brought you home. Smart critter that one. Can you tell me what happened?”

  She tried to think back. What had happened? She was going to try to find the shooting stars. Her and… “Pepe!” she cried. “It got Pepe!”

  “Calm down, Dearie!” soothed her grandmother.

  “It got Pepe!”

  “Gently, gently, what got Pepe?”

  “That… that thing!” She looked around wildly. She was in her bedroom. Somehow she’d gotten away, gotten back here. She couldn’t remember anything after… after…

  “What thing? What got Pepe?”

  “It… it… I don’t know!” she sobbed. “It was huge! Taller than the barn…than the windmill! It was all metal with a red eye in its head! It had arms like snakes and one of them grabbed Pepe! Grandma! We have to save him!” She tried to sit up in the bed, but there was pain in her head and she felt dizzy. Her grandmother gently forced her to lie back down.

  “Take it easy. You have a nasty burn on the back of your head, Becca. How did that happen?”

  “After… after it got Pepe, I… the horses bolted. But the thing was chasing me! I made it through a narrow point and it couldn’t follow… but then everything was on fire… Star burned up! Oh, Grandma, Star burned up! And then… and then… I don’t remember any more!” She was crying uncontrollably now and her grandmother stroked her brow until she settled down. Then the woman got up and left the room. Rebecca could hear the voices again.