The Chronological Man: The Martian Emperor

by Andrew Mayne

  “Don’t shoot!” shouted Smith, but it was too late.

  The four policemen unloaded a barrage of bullets at the forms towering in front of them. Hideous to look at, their muscles and veins were clearly visible. Bulging eyeballs stared back at them.

  The circular glass surrounding them shattered and amber fluid poured onto the floor. The bodies fell to the ground in a puddle of broken glass and thick fluid.

  “They’re human,” said Smith as he bolted out of the elevator to look down at the fallen forms.

  Roosevelt gave the policemen a disgusted look and then stepped out of the elevator.

  “Human?” said the captain. He’d stepped one foot out but kept a wary eye on the chamber.

  Red and blue veins crisscrossed milky white tissue over red muscle fibers. The men had to pinch their noses at the smell.

  “They are, or rather they were, specimens. Those are skinned humans. Look at the anatomy,” said Smith.

  “Ghastly,” said the captain.

  “No different than what you’d find at a medical college.” Smith looked up at the rest of the chamber.

  The floor and ceiling were covered in gleaming metal.

  “Remarkable,” said Roosevelt. He stood before a giant glass window that overlooked the city. All four sides of the room had portals that allowed a full view of the island and the surrounding areas.

  In the middle of the room sat a golden throne, too large for any earth man. A domed ceiling overhead depicted a stellarium with a bright red Mars in the center and a coterie of planets and moons surrounding it.

  Smith stepped over to a large telescope in front of the throne. He peered through and could see Central Park vividly in the dark.

  “Very impressive optics,” said Smith. “The lenses are among the finest I’ve ever seen.”

  “Is one of these the mayor?” asked the captain as he looked down at a body. He had a look of disgust on his face.

  Smith walked back over to the bodies. He passed by a peculiar control panel and other equipment.

  “I don’t think so. It takes quite a while to flay a body this precisely. And I think the mayor was a little more stout than these men.”

  “Who are they?” asked the captain.

  “I don’t know. Props from a medical college? Abductees? It depends upon your opinion of the events. ” Smith stepped over the broken glass to look at the rest of the chamber. The overhead lights were made from a tube-shaped filament light and gave off a bluish cast.

  “Looks like we found the other entrance,” said Roosevelt. He walked toward a spiral staircase almost hidden in the corner. He drew his gun and walked up it. Three policemen followed behind.

  Smith glanced down at a control panel. A row of colored lights blinked back at him. Several switches and the strange Martian script filled the center.

  Roosevelt walked back down the steps and holstered his revolver. “There’s a mooring hook on the roof. No sign of our friends or the mayor.”

  Smith stroked his chin and took in the chamber. It looked like something from the cover of a dime novel. Alien, yet familiar. The throne in the middle was like a command chair from where some Martian commander could plot the demise of the surrounding city.

  “An odd place for a hideout,” said the captain.

  “On the contrary,” replied Roosevelt. “It’s perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?”

  “Perfect for a hunter. This is what we call a high-hide. The highest.”

  “Hunting what?” The captain looked back over his shoulder at the three horrifying bodies. “Humans?”

  “Research,” said Smith. “Like a bird watcher is more like it. They sit here and watch. Make their notes.” He nodded to the bodies. “And collect their specimens.”

  “Smith.” Roosevelt was kneeling by the throne. “The seat is still warm.”

  “He must have made his escape when we activated the elevator,” said the captain.

  “I think we would have seen the airship,” replied Smith. Something didn’t sit right with him. He knelt down to look at the throne. There was a dark smudge on the side of the cushion. He wiped a finger across it and smelled it. “Oil. Machine oil.”

  Behind him a policeman reached out to touch the control panel. Smith caught him out of the corner of his eye but was too late.

  “Don’t touch!” shouted Smith.

  Sparks began to fly from the control board.

  “Run! To the elevator!” Smith grabbed the nearest policeman by the collar. Roosevelt pushed the other men back to the shaft.

  “It’s only a few, OH LORD!” screamed the captain as green fire began to erupt from everywhere.

  They piled back into the elevator as the secret base filled with the ghastly flames. Roosevelt slammed the door shut as Smith threw the switch to descend. The motor whined from above. As the cage dropped, Smith and Roosevelt exchanged concerned glances. Both were worried what would happen if the flames reached the motor.

  Bits of debris landed on the roof of the elevator. Green flames licked around the metal cage as the entire chamber became an inferno. The metal cable that kept them from plummeting into the foundation beneath them made strained sounds as it was heated. The carriage rocked when a metal girder rattled off the edge.

  Roosevelt pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it.

  “How can you smoke at a time like this?” asked the captain. His eyes were aimed up at the falling flames.

  “Hell, if I’m going to die, it’s going to be doing something I enjoy. And since none of you are of the female persuasion, it’s the cigar.”

  “At this point the fall would probably just pulverize our legs. If we could avoid cardiac arrest, we’d live. As invalids of course,” replied Smith.

  “Don’t ruin my cigar, Schmitty.”

  The elevator reached the foundation and slammed into the concrete. The policeman shoved open the inner gate and ran toward the outside of the building. Smith and Roosevelt hurried after them.

  April and the deputy mayor were staring up at the green flames on top of the building.

  “Are you OK?” she asked as Smith ran to her side.

  “Booby-trapped.” Smith craned his neck to see the flames engulfing the secret lair. What was still left collapsed and plummeted to the bottom of the building like a bright green meteor.

  The police captain whispered something into the deputy mayor’s ear.

  “What did you find?” asked April.

  “I don’t know,” replied Smith. “I know what I’m supposed to think. I’m just not sure anymore. I know it’s a charade. But I just can’t tell what kind.”

  The captain stepped in front of Smith. “Maybe this will help you decide.” Two of his men grabbed him by the arms and forced handcuffs on his wrists.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” demanded Roosevelt in the deputy mayor’s face.

  The deputy mayor did his best to stand up to him. “We’re in a state of emergency. Your colleague seems a little bit too clever. A little bit too eager to help. He leads us here just in time to see it destroyed.”

  Roosevelt’s hand reached toward his revolver. “You have no authority!”

  “I have emergency authority. Take your hand away from your gun or I’ll have you arrested, too. And the lady. I don’t care what the president thinks,” said Chesterfield. “For now, we want your friend in custody under suspicion of being a Martian spy.”

  Six policemen surrounded Roosevelt and April. Smith shook his head. “We’ll sort this out, Teddy.” He was led away.

  “I’ll have you sprung in the hour!” shouted Roosevelt.

  “Watch over Miss Malone, please.” The policeman pushed Smith out of sight through the fence and toward a wagon.

  April turned to Roosevelt. She lowered her voice so the policemen still blocking them couldn’t hear. “We have to do something.”

  “I’m going to march right down to the police station this moment. I’ll raise a mob to spring him if I have to.” />
  The officers gave Smith a rude shove and he fell into the back of the wagon. His head hit the floor with a crack. “I’m willing to go willingly,” he shouted at them as they closed the door.

  “You’re not their problem anymore,” said a low voice from the back of the wagon.

  Smith looked up and saw the face of the man in the black overcoat from earlier that evening. Three other men stared down at him with malice in their eyes.

  “You’re our problem now, specimen. Search him for any more tricks,” said Contral.

  Three pairs of hands slapped and punched at Smith as they rifled through his pockets and ripped off his clothes.

  “I must pro ….” He was cut short by a boot heel to his face, knocking him unconscious.

  Roosevelt and Mayor

  Deputy Mayor Chesterfield caught his knees under his desk to prevent his chair from tipping over as Roosevelt jabbed his finger into his chest again. The man’s face was inches from his own, the glowing cigar stub threatening to scar his cheek. He tried pleading with the man, but it was like waving a red flag in the face of a bull.

  “Please! Please!” shouted Chesterfield between gaps in Roosevelt’s tirade when he stopped to blow cigar smoke in his face.

  The sound of footsteps came from the stairs as people rushed to find out the cause of the commotion. Chesterfield looked to the door for rescue, only to see Miss Malone slam it shut and slide a bench in front of it – all while looking angelic.

  “Police custody?” hollered Roosevelt. “We went to the precinct station and five others. None of them have seen our man. Why?”

  “I don’t really .…”

  “You don’t really? You don’t really know why you’re such an incompetent fool? I'd try to file a missing person’s report, but the last known whereabouts was with your men.”

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “He’s busy!” shouted Roosevelt. He clenched a fist and waved it in front of Chesterfield’s face.

  “You wouldn’t dare in front of a lady.” The frightened man’s eyes darted over to April.

  April advanced toward Chesterfield’s desk. “You hold him, Mr. Roosevelt, and I’ll close my eyes as I pummel him so I won’t have to witness it.”

  Her green eyes were on fire. She’d never struck someone in anger in her life, but April felt like she’d saved up for that moment. She’d stood quietly while the men hauled Smith away. Guilt forced her into a most unladylike behavior.

  She rolled up a sleeve of her blouse, clenched a fist and brought it back to strike the man.

  Chesterfield’s heart sank as he realized the woman was prepared to strike him. It was one thing to have the tyro Roosevelt in your face, another to see a proper young woman driven to such rage.

  “I’ll tell you everything!”

  April kept her fist tightly balled. “Hold back and you’ll walk out of here a cripple.”

  Roosevelt glanced at the woman from the corner of his eye. There was a trace of admiration and shock.

  “Everything! Everything! There’s a man named Ebelin Contral. He’s on some health commission Croker set up. It’s somehow related to the military.”

  “Which branch?”

  “I don’t know. Or maybe it’s just some military men. A committee or something. Edison’s men, too.”

  “Those thugs?” asked Roosevelt.

  Chesterfield nodded. “Croker called me. Told me to let them take Smith away.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. Croker doesn’t either. He just said let Contral handle the man.”

  “Why?”

  Chesterfield shook his head.

  “Croker doesn’t know? Yet this man works for him?”

  “No. His position was bought.”

  “By whom?”

  “I don’t know. Ask Croker.”

  “I would but his men have him hidden in case of another kidnapping. Otherwise I’d be strangling him right now.” Roosevelt pulled his finger out of Chesterfield’s face.

  Chesterfield breathed a sigh of relief. April walked over to the other side of his desk. He panicked and his knees slipped. He fell over backward in his chair. Roosevelt and April rushed to help him up as the door was crashed open by a police lieutenant and a sergeant.

  “Are you all right?” asked the lieutenant.

  Chesterfield felt Roosevelt’s vise-like grip on his right arm and April’s nails on his left.

  “I’m quite fine,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  “Just having a bit of a laugh,” said Roosevelt. “Chester, here, folded over.” He guided him back into his chair.

  The lieutenant looked down at the bench still blocking the door.

  “Help me move this back?” asked April. Her smile made him blush.

  The lieutenant and the sergeant pushed the bench back against the wall and then left after Chesterfield waved them off.

  Roosevelt motioned for April to have a seat and then sat down after her.

  “How do I find him?” he asked.

  “I’ll send word to Croker’s people. That’s the best I can do.”

  Roosevelt slammed his fist on the desk. “That’s the least you can do! I want you to put out a bulletin on this Contral.”

  “I don’t know if I can ….”

  “Could you do it if there’s a threat on his life?”

  “Are you?”

  “I’m saying nothing.” Roosevelt pulled his coat open to reveal the butt of his pistol. “In the morning I can get a writ from the U.S. marshals and charge you with obstruction.”

  Chesterfield was about to protest but kept his mouth shut. He knew Roosevelt could do that and more.

  “I’ll do everything I can. But please understand, these are trying times. Your friend,” he tried to make eye contact with April, “he’s aroused a lot of suspicion. Especially after the mayor was abducted.”

  “So you start kidnapping citizens? How is that helpful?”

  “We thought he might be connected.” He pushed a telegram on his desk toward Roosevelt. “This came in on all the wires before we went to Park Row. No one is supposed to know.”

  Roosevelt read the paper and then handed it to April. “What does it mean? All it say is, ‘Mars will retaliate for inaction’?”

  “It came over every official telegraph. London, Paris. All of them. Every embassy. According to the demands, we were supposed to raise the Martian flag by now. That’s … that’s why we had Smith picked up.”

  “Damn fool. And where is he now to help shed light on that?”

  Chesterfield shook his head. “I’ll make inquiries. I’ll find out.”

  Roosevelt jabbed his finger back in Chesterfield’s face. “You do that.” He turned to April. “Miss Malone? The hour is late.” April stood up and headed to the door with Roosevelt.

  Outside, they stood on the sidewalk and looked at the people milling about in front of City Hall.

  “I must admit, Miss Malone, I didn’t know you had the blood of a tigress.”

  April said nothing. She was too embarrassed to reveal that she’d actually acted out the scene from a play she’d rehearsed. She’d hoped that Chesterfield had never seen it and realized her bluff.

  “We need to find Smith,” she said. “Soon.”

  “I know, Miss Malone. I’m prepared to tear this city apart brick by brick to do so. Unless we can get Croker to talk, which I doubt, I don’t know what tack to use. Our man could be sequestered anywhere in this city.”

  “Yes. But perhaps there’s another way,” said April.

  “How do you mean?”

  “This Contral character, I’ve met men like him before. He’s a person who collects oddities. He must have them squirreled away somewhere.”

  “Yes, but where?”

  “Perhaps what we need is bait to lead us to the nest?”

  “Make him lead us to him?”

  April nodded. “Follow the men in black coats and I think we can find Smith.”

  “All rig
ht, Miss Malone. Please return to the rail car and get some rest. I’ll make what arrangements I can.” Roosevelt saw the stubborn look in her face. “Please, just a few hours at least.”

  Mars Attacks!

  Pasqual Maspons was out for his morning walk when he saw it happen. He liked to take strolls just as the sun came up and watch the sun glimmer off the Place de la Concorde. He was standing no more than ten feet from where Marie Antoinette and King Louie XVI lost their heads when he noticed a particularly bright flash of light.

  He squinted his eyes and had to use his ears to determine the direction. The sound of stone falling on the pavement came from the direction of the obelisk, the so-called Cleopatra’s Needle that stood proudly in the middle of the square.

  When he looked up, the tip of the point was gone. The sound he had heard was the stones being blown apart at the top. His first impulse told him it had been a lightning strike. But there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. From every corner of the square people came running to see what had happened.

  A gendarme stood over the gold-leafed pieces and held his arms out to keep anyone from getting closer. He looked at Pasqual, as if to imply he was somehow responsible. The Frenchman shrugged and continued on his walk, not wanting to be bothered by the commotion of the growing crowd.

  At that very moment, Alfie Chapman, aid to Lord Nigel, was walking his master’s two terriers along the Victoria Embankment on the River Thames. The sun was still over the horizon and the sky was dark blue with faint stars still twinkling. A barge moved slowly in the channel to his left. The smaller dog began to bark and had to be restrained as she yanked at the leash.

  As he pulled on the leash, Alfie saw a flash of green light streak down from the sky and hit the top of the Egyptian obelisk that stood along the embankment. There was an explosion, and the tip blew apart in a hundred stone fragments. The dogs let out yelps as pebbles pelted them.

  Bits of broken stone fell to the ground beneath the needle and between the two sphinxes that guarded it. The top was pulverized.

  His immediate thought was the urgent message Lord Nigel had received in the night. It was something to do with the American Martian nonsense. Some prankster had managed to send a message without the consent of the post office to all of the government offices in London. Simultaneous messages had been received in Paris and New York. Was this related?