The Great Martian War

by Scott Washburn

  “Damn, that’s scary. How’d it come to this? Were we that arrogant? That overconfident?”

  “I don’t know. We did hurt them. We destroyed one of their machines with the artillery. But then they suckered us into chasing them and they turned on us and destroyed the guns before they could fire again. Maybe if we’d just stayed put, let them come to us…”

  “They’re not stupid, Andrew.”

  “No, they saw what we were doing and adapted to it. If we’d stayed put, they’d probably have tried to flank us or something. Still, they aren’t invulnerable. Our weapons can kill them. We just need to adjust our tactics to match the situation. And there are a whole lot more of us than there are of them! We just need to bring our numbers to bear. We can still beat them.”

  “Right! And we need more aircraft! If I’d still been around during the battle, I could have warned you of their trap. I need to get back and into another flier!”

  Andrew stared at the man in wonder. “You’d actually do that? Get into one of those contraptions again? Even after what happened?”

  “Of course! This wasn’t my first crash, you know! Now that I know what those heat rays can do, I’ll stay well clear next time!”

  “Tom, you’re crazy—but I’m glad we’ve got you. Now all we need to do is…”

  “Major! Major!” Andrew jumped as McGill crashed through the door into the shack. White jerked awake with a grunt. “Major! Beasley’s back and he says there’s somethin’ coming!”

  Andrew leapt up and hurried out. Beasley was another one of the scouts that had been sent out, and now he was back, on a lathered horse. “What did you see?” he demanded.

  “At least five of the things, sir!” gasped the man.

  “Coming this way?” He looked around him and the only way out of the canyon was into the mine.

  “Uh, no, I don’t think so, sir. They’re following the railroad—or where the railroad used to run—but, sir, there’s something else with them!”

  “What?”

  “I couldn’t get very close, but it looked like a bunch of people!”

  “People? With the Martians?”

  “That’s what it looked like, sir. Maybe… maybe you can see more with your field glasses, sir. They’re not movin’ very fast. Probably be a half hour before they’re even with the road leadin’ up to this place.”

  “Well,” said Andrew. “Then let’s go have a look. Sergeant, get me a horse, will you?”

  “Sir, do you think it’s a good idea to…?”

  “We were sent out here to learn what we could about the Martians, Sergeant. I want to see what this is all about. But we’ll be careful.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mind if I come along?” It was White, looking fully awake now.

  Andrew hesitated. Did he want the civilian with him? What if he panicked and gave away their position? Still, the man had an eye for detail. Maybe he could dictate any observations he made to him. “All right, let’s go.”

  He, White, and McGill mounted up and then followed Beasley back the way he had just come. They went along the road and then out into the more open spaces. Beasley led them to a little rise where they dismounted and cautiously walked up to a spot where they could see out to the north.

  “There, sir. Do you see them?” said Beasley, pointing.

  Andrew could see them; five Martian tripods, just as he’d said. They were four or five miles away at least and there did seem to be something moving along with them. Andrew took out his field glasses and focused on them. It was hard to see clearly, but there was definitely something there. Maybe they were people…

  “I want a closer look.”

  “Sir…” said McGill.

  “If we head down that way, into that big rock pile, we’ll have some good cover and they should pass right by us, no more than a mile away. Now let’s go, before they get closer.”

  His two men clearly didn’t like the idea, but Andrew was determined to get a close look at what was going on. People? With the Martians? What did that mean? They mounted up again and moved quickly down the slopes, being careful to keep higher ground between them and the Martians, until they reached the cluster of rocks he had seen earlier. They tied their horses in a sheltered spot and then worked their way through the rocks until they found a place where they could see without exposing themselves. Andrew edged forward until he could spot the Martians. They were much easier to see now, although a fold in the ground blocked everything except the upper parts of the Martian machines. Whatever had been moving with them could not be seen from here. But they were moving west, slowly, and if they kept going as they were, he’d get a good look at them and whatever was with them as they went by.

  They waited. The Martians got closer. Andrew suddenly felt very exposed, but it was too late to pull out now. Then, finally, the Martians moved past the ground that obstructed the view and Andrew saw what was moving along with the tripods.

  “Damn,” he hissed.

  “What is it?” asked White.

  “People. Soldiers. Prisoners, I guess.”

  “Prisoners?” gasped Beasley much too loudly. “I thought they just killed everyone!”

  “Our men, for sure, sir?” asked McGill.

  “Quiet, both of you. Yeah, I can see the uniforms. Too far to make out any faces, but—Damn!”

  “What?”

  “One… One of the men fell and he couldn’t get up and… and they just burned him.” Andrew’s eyes were glued to his field glasses and he couldn’t look away. There appeared to be several hundred men in the group and they were being herded along like cattle. The five Martian machines ringed them in, waving their long, thin tentacles at them. Any man lagging was given a nudge, but if they fell and didn’t get up… Many of the men were being helped by their comrades.

  “What would they want prisoners for, sir?” asked Beasley. “What are they gonna do with them?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “There were some rumors,” said White. “From the first invasion in England, I mean. One man claimed that…”

  “I’ve seen the reports!” snapped Andrew. “It was dismissed as the ravings of a madman!”

  “But there were other…”

  “Mister White, shut up!” He looked back and fixed the newspaperman in his gaze. Then he flicked his eyes toward Beasley. The soldier was clearly close to panic. He was pretty close to panic himself. He had read the reports, and they were conclusive.

  White blinked, caught on, nodded, and then shut up.

  “So what do we do, sir?” asked McGill. “Those are our ‘mates.” There was a strange expression, an anger, on the man’s face that Andrew had never seen before.

  “We’re not exactly in shape to mount a rescue, Sergeant.”

  “No, but we gotta do something… sir.”

  “Yes we do.” He thought for a moment and then nodded his head. “The Martians are clearly taking them somewhere. We need to find out where that is. It’s important. And if we know where our men are being held, maybe we can come get them when the army regroups. So as for what we are going to do… We’re going to follow them.”

  * * * * *

  Cycle597,843.5, East of Holdfast 32-1

  This is highly inefficient, reflected Qetjnegartis. The prey-animals were moving in the desired direction, but at a terribly slow pace. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no way to speed them up. Their legs were only a tiny fraction of the length of those on the fighting machines, and they could only move so fast in this miserable gravity. And while that made them very easy to catch, once caught, you were left with the problem of getting them where you wanted them. Qetjnegartis was coming to regret giving the order to start harvesting in the aftermath of the battle.

  At the time, it had seemed a reasonable decision. Sustenance was needed and much was close at hand. The areas around the new holdfast were nearly barren, with all the prey-creatures destroyed or fled. It did not seem wise to pass up such an opportunity. So its s
ubordinates had encircled a large group of fleeing prey, and using warning blasts of the heat rays, herded them into a compact group. The bipedal prey seemed to comprehend what was wanted of them, and it took only a few demonstrations of the penalty for refusing to comply to get them all moving in the proper direction. The four-legged ones were not so quickly trained and nearly all tried to flee. Many were destroyed before Qetjnegartis ordered a stop to that. The creatures were no threat and might be harvested at some later time.

  So the prey had been herded toward the holdfast. At first they had moved at a reasonable pace, but this had gradually slowed as the creatures became fatigued. Finally, after nightfall, the entire lot of them had fallen to the ground as a group and refused to move, even after several had been destroyed as a warning. Clearly, the things were incapable of moving farther without rest. Several of Qetjnegartis’ subordinates had urged that the entire group be destroyed so they could keep moving, but it had refused that course of action. There was no immediate urgency. The enemy army had been destroyed and it was unlikely that any new threats would arise for some time. Besides, despite the inconvenience, it was finding a certain fascination in observing the actions and reactions of these creatures.

  The first expedition had had no opportunity for any detailed study of them. This time they would have to make the effort to learn about them so that they could be better controlled—or better destroyed if necessary. Qetjnegartis did agree, however, that all ten war machines were not needed for this task. It sent five back to the holdfast with orders to scour the entire area and make sure it was secure. Interestingly, some of the prey-creatures seemed to take this lessening of the guard as an opportunity to escape. None had succeeded and the others gave up the attempts. Apparently they did have some limited ability to reason.

  The next day they continued, allowing the creatures brief stops for rest. Again, with the coming of darkness, the prey refused to move further. And again Qetjnegartis’ subordinates made their frustration known. “Commander, each of us can carry three or four of the creatures. Let us do that and destroy the rest. This world is teaming with them; we will have ample opportunities to collect more. This is a serious waste of time.”

  “I disagree,” countered Qetjnegartis. “The area around the holdfast will soon become deserted of prey as they learn to avoid it. With the arrival of our new buds, much sustenance will be needed. And we must begin a detailed study of these creatures as soon as practicable. Many samples will be needed. In any case, these are my orders.”

  The others obeyed, of course. The genetic links of descent were unbroken, and obedience was automatic. Still, a wise leader took the opinions of others into its calculations. “But, we can make use of this waiting time. I fully agree that the methods we are using are inefficient. In the future we will need new machines, better suited to this task. Let us spend this time to consider what changes will be needed to best meet our future needs.”

  * * * * *

  February, 1909, New Mexico Territory

  Becca Harding had no idea where they were. They’d left the town of Ramah three days earlier and had ridden northwest, just as Sergeant Dolfen had said they would. But this was a part of New Mexico completely strange to her. Fortunately, the way had been fairly easy. A road of sorts followed a long narrow valley between the tall mountains to the east and a lower set of hills to the west. Pine trees covered the lower slopes of both and provided concealment, firewood, and a break from the chill winds. It was still very cold, although something in the air spoke of the coming spring.

  But what sort of a spring was this going to be? Any normal spring would see her helping with the plantings, and much more fun: helping with the new foals that would be born. Of course, this spring would have been different in any case. She’d have been fretting about her mother’s plot to send her to that school back east and trying to figure out how to foil it. But there wouldn’t be any planting this spring, no new foals; and even the removal of the threat of school couldn’t lighten her heart. Her whole world had been destroyed, burned up. Gone.

  What was she going to do? The sergeant had talked of getting her back to her aunt and uncle in Santa Fe and she supposed it was inevitable that she would end up there. They weren’t going to let a young girl go wandering around in the middle of a war. War. That’s what this was now, wasn’t it? When she’d been very young there had still been some troubles with the Indians in the region and there had been a few raids and some fighting. But nobody called it a war. A few years later there had been a war with Spain, but that was so far away and so brief than few people paid it any real mind. And then there had been the Civil War. That was a real war! Her grandfather told many stories about it, even though this far west there hadn’t been much more than a few skirmishes, although her grandfather made them sound like great battles.

  But now, here, where she lived, there was a real war. Not a skirmish, not a raid; an invasion. The Martians were destroying everything, killing everyone, and there didn’t seem to be any way to stop them. Sergeant Dolfen had been very excited by the sound of the cannons the other day and felt sure that the army had stopped the Martians or at least hurt them badly. How he could tell that just by some distant noise, she didn’t know. Becca was far less confident. She had seen the horrible Martian machines close up—far closer than any of these soldiers—and she couldn’t see how anything could stop them. She supposed they would be stopped eventually. This was America, after all, and any problem could be solved! But how long would it take? How much fighting? How many more people were going to get killed? What could she do to help?

  That was the question she’d been asking herself. How could she help beat the Martians? She desperately wanted to help beat the Martians! She was sensible enough to realize that she wasn’t going to be able to personally wreck their machines and kill the things driving them, but there must be all sorts of people needed to help and support the men who actually would do the wrecking and killing, such as cooks and laundresses and nurses. Could she be one of them? Would they let her? She was very certain that her oh-so-proper aunt in Santa Fe would not let her do any such thing! She still might even send her off to that school in Connecticut! So what could she do?

  As they jogged along the road, she pondered the problem. There were sixteen of them in the party now; the eight soldiers, Mrs. Gordon and her boy, Mr. Kershaw, four new people from Ramah, three men and a woman who had decided to join them—and Becca. They had managed to find enough horses for all of them and even two extras to carry supplies. Becca rode Ninny, of course; the animal seemed to have recovered completely from his ordeal. She was still thinking about her problems when they reached a spot where the sergeant decided they would camp for the night. As always, they put the fire in a place where the light would not carry far, and they huddled around to cook their meals.

  “Okay, tomorrow we will be getting pretty close to Fort Wingate and Gallup,” announced Dolfen. “No telling what we might find there, so we’re gonna have to be real careful. Hopefully some of our people will be there, but that still means we gotta be careful. I know we don’t look anything like a Martian, but if they’ve been through here, our men are going to have jittery trigger fingers. Wouldn’t do to get shot by our own side!”

  This left everyone very thoughtful and there wasn’t much talk before they all turned in. The next morning they had their breakfast and got moving again. The easy path through the long valley soon ended in a jumble of rocks and hills. The mountains off to their right petered out here, sloping down toward the flatter ground, but there still were foothills and outliers that thrust to the west. They spent most of the morning climbing up and over them. Just before noon, they caught a view of the flat lands stretching north and west. The sergeant stopped there a while, trying to catch a view of the town of Gallup, but it was hazy and too far to see anything, even with the scope from Becca’s rifle. They started down the other side and stopped for lunch in a little canyon.

  “So what do you think,
Sarge?” asked Private Urbaniak. “Should we head for the fort, or the town? The town’s farther, but the ground’s a lot easier.” From what Becca had been able to understand from earlier conversations, Gallup was down on the flat, but Fort Wingate was up in the foothills farther to the east. An area of rough ground lay between it and where they were now. They would have to go over or around that if they were going to go to the fort.

  Sergeant Dolfen was silent for a while and then said: “I think we’re gonna split the difference. Head north to the railway. Once we get there, we can get a look at both the fort and the town and see which looks better. If the fort’s okay, we’ll go there first and report in. But it’s still another twenty miles at least. We won’t get there today.” This brought some moans of disappointment from the civilians. Another night out in the cold.

  They were just getting up from around their tiny cook fire when the man on guard gave a strangled shout: “Hey! Hey! Look out!”

  Becca sprang up, but it was already far too late. One of the Martian machines was coming around the end of the canyon, not a hundred feet away! She stood frozen for an instant and then turned to run.

  But there was nowhere to go.

  The sides of the canyon were too steep and the Martian was at the lower end. The upper end was where the horses were, but they were already bucking in terror and dragging their picket pins out of the ground. Anyone trying to go that way would risk being trampled. But that was still better than being burned up! They all ran in that direction, but a moment later Becca heard that horrible sound, the sound of the Martian heat ray.

  She expected to die. She expected one instant of unbearable agony and then oblivion as she was burned to nothing. Just like Star, just like her mother and grandmother. Then she felt the heat, she saw a dazzling light from in front of her…

  But she didn’t die.

  The heat ray passed over her head and struck the ground between the people and the horses. It swept in a line from one wall of the canyon to the other, burning a glowing trench in the ground. Then it swept back again, coming a bit closer as it did. Ninny and all the other horses broke free and galloped off, screaming as terrified horses do. She heard gunfire, shouts, and human screams from behind her, but she just stared at the vanishing horses and waited for death.