by Andrew Mayne
Smith realized his biggest flaw had been his own arrogance. All of the miracles he’d seen were things he could have accomplished. But Smith had thought no man as clever as himself. He tried to find proof of the hoax when what he should have done is look for the man behind it. A man a lot like himself.
But Smith feared he was too late. Chasing down acid-burn victims and hidden palaces had given this man the time to lay out all the pieces on the board. This was the end game and Smith still didn’t know the rules. In a day, the Martian Emperor would have his gold and the satisfaction of having cowered the world before him. Worst of all, he would have bested Smith.
“Have you given up, my friend?” rumbled Felix’s deep voice from the adjoining cell. “I haven’t heard you toying with that lock in some time.”
“I’ve mostly made splinters of my tools. No, I was thinking. Thinking what a fool I’ve been to get trapped in here. Thinking of my arrogance.”
“Oui, it was my vice that got me here, as well. A man such as me had developed a kind of bravado to wear as armor in the world. But at night when no one is around, I find a bottle and release my emotions. That is when I am weak. That was when this miserable man came for me. Had I a clearer head, I would have given him a scrape. My friends on the boardwalk may have come to my rescue. Now I am in here. Trapped like the beast people see me for.”
“But you’re not. You’re a man as clever as any other.”
“Perhaps, but we two clever men are trapped like the other animals in this menagerie. To be dissected under the knife. Just as our poor friend in the other cage.”
“About him, is he a rhino?”
“Oui. By what means of deduction have you deduced that?”
“By the smell, clearly an herbivore. By the sound of his toes on the stones, an ungulate. By the echo they make, a large one. By the sound of the bars when his horn strikes them, one horn. Thus my deduction.”
“Very clever. All of that from your other senses. Anything else?”
“Yes. I believe he’s a white rhino of a very particularly ivory-colored variety.”
“And you can tell this from those clues?” asked Felix.
“No. I can deduce this from the fact that he’s being held in captivity. Any other rhinoceros wouldn’t likely be worth Mr. Contral’s attention. People like him have a fixation on things that are pure white or possess one horn. They think them magical.”
“I’ve named him Brutus. He’s a quite docile creature. It’s a pity he’s going to meet the same fate as us.”
Smith sat up and pulled at the bars. “There’s still hope.”
“That is what keeps me alive. I pray my friends will find me,” said Felix.
“And mine too.”
The Prince of Saturn
The police sergeant pulled his club from his belt and threaded his way into the thick crowd. “What’s all this about?” he demanded to a man in a camel hair coat.
“Look, you fool,” said the man as he pointed up.
The sergeant deliberated giving the man a cuff on the ear but decided that someone who felt comfortable enough to talk down to a sergeant like him was probably not a man to use force on without real provocation. He followed the line from the man’s finger to the top of the World Building. “Mother of god!”
Police whistles screeched and fire bells clanged for several blocks around. All eyes were on the strange figure climbing up the side of the building. Green skinned, with a large round head, two antenna stuck out on either side. A long silver cape hung from his shoulders. He perched on a ledge and a metallic voice shouted out to the crowd below.
“CITIZENS OF THE WORLD! I AM THE PRINCE OF SATURN! I’VE COME TO AID YOU IN THIS TIME OF DESPAIR! FEAR NOT!”
The figure reached up to the next ledge and continued climbing the building.
At the top floor, Joseph Pulitzer opened up his window and peered down after his secretary came running into his office to tell him of the commotion.
“Get a photographer down there!” he shouted. “Better yet, get another on the roof. Let’s get some photos the Post won’t be able to match!”
His secretary ran off to tell the city room to dispatch their photographers.
“Slow news day got you down?” came a female voice from his office door.
“Have you seen this?” Pulitzer was still staring at the man climbing toward his office.
Nellie Bly walked over to the window and looked down. “My. Another one?”
“This city appears to be crawling with alien visitors. Maybe we should call over to Blackwell Island and see if they’ve opened the doors on the asylum?”
The strange man had reached another ledge.
“What happens when he gets up here?” Nellie asked.
“You interview him, of course.”
“No trip to the nuthouse?”
Pulitzer looked away from the window at his prize investigative reporter. “Not until we get our exclusive.” He yelled out to his secretary. “I want a photographer in here.”
“Want a photo of you shaking hands?” asked Nellie.
“Better yet, I want the Saturn Prince curtsying to you as he asks for your hand in marriage before he whisks you off to his planet to be married.”
“I don’t know if that’s a laughing matter anymore. I hear Harrison is going to offer up the gold.”
“Between you, me and the wall, Miss Bly, I just had a man from the government here to tell me they’re going to put the Martian flag on the building. Meanwhile, two Navy men were scoping out the roof. I suspect for a Howitzer.”
“War with the Martians?” said Nellie. “I still find it all hard to believe.” She watched as the Saturn Prince climbed another level. “Just a bigger folly than this acrobat.”
“Maybe so. But I hear the powers that be are more frightened than they let on. Unlike the green man below us, these Martians, hoaxers or not, may be a serious threat. Still no sign of the mayor.”
“Probably cowering in some basement saloon,” said Bly. “Looks like our man is almost here.” She stepped back from the ledge.
A green-gloved hand slipped over the edge of the window. With a flip of a cape, the Saturn Prince bounded onto the ledge. Cheers came from the crowd below.
“GREETING EARTHLINGS! I AM THE PRINCE OF SATURN!”
Pulitzer motioned to a photographer waiting at the doorway. The man ran in with his box camera and snapped a photograph of the green man triumphantly standing in the window.
“So what circus are you from?” asked Nellie. “Do you have a handbill?”
“I AM HERE TO BRING A MESSAGE! DO NOT BE FOOLED BY THESE MARTIANS!”
“Trust us, nobody here his fooled,” replied Pulitzer. He tried to see the face inside the helmet but the visor was too narrow.
“I MUST NOW TRANSMIT MYSELF ELSEWHERE.”
The Saturn Prince reached a hand up to his chest and twisted a knob. There was a loud bang and a puff of smoke. Pulitzer’s first reaction was that a bomb had gone off. He stepped in front of Nellie, but it was over. A dissipating cloud of smoke was where the man had just been standing.
“Oh my! He jumped!” Nellie ran to the window and looked over the edge. Pulitzer leaned next to her. The Saturn Prince had vanished. The crowd below looked back up at him.
“Search the roof!” shouted Pulitzer as he craned his neck to see if the Saturn Prince had climbed above them.
A photographer’s head looked over the ledge and shouted down. “Nobody up here but me and the Navy men.”
Pulitzer pulled himself back into his office. Nellie was leaning on his desk, staring at the window frame and trying to imagine where the Saturn Prince had gone. The two of them exchanged glances.
“These are strange times, Miss Bly. Strange times.”
Four hundred feet below, an excited man in a black bowler and overcoat ran to the nearest telegraph office to send a dispatch to his superior.
Falling Star
The police and fire brigade standing in f
ront of City Hall had their eyes peeled on the sky around the building, watchful for any attackers from the air. When the explosion went off behind them, half the men threw themselves to the ground.
It wasn’t a large explosion. It was more light and smoke than concussion. It was the kind of thing a stage magician would do to direct an audience’s attention – which is exactly what it did. As the police and firemen got to their feet, they saw the men and women around the nearby cable car station pointing to the top of City Hall.
A green man with two antennas on his helmet and a silver cape stood on top of the dome, adjusting a dial on his chest. A metallic voice echoed across the streets.
"GREETINGS EARTHLINGS! I AM THE SATURN PRINCE AND BRING YOU A MESSAGE OF PEACE!”
The arrival of the mysterious figure would have been met with measured skepticism if it hadn’t already been for the current Martian panic and the news that only moments ago a figure matching that description had been seen uptown, balancing on the ledge of the tallest (finished) building in the world, only to vanish in a puff of smoke – or “transmit” as reports now coming out of Pulitzer’s own office had said.
Carriages came to a stop. Men and women leaped off moving streetcars and pushed themselves toward the sidewalk to get a glance of this new character in the strange drama that was engulfing the city and the world.
“DO NOT BE AFRAID OF THESE MARTIANS! STAND TALL! DO NOT BE FOOLED!” Shouted the Saturn Prince from his amplifier.
Two policemen, already standing guard on the top of the building, rushed to the pedestals at the base of the dome and tried to climb up. The Saturn Prince grabbed the flagpole above the statue at the top and swung around in an acrobatic arc above their heads.
“It’s like our gravity is nothing to him!” shouted a man to the crowd.
“TOGETHER THROUGH VALOR AND REASON WE CAN STAND UP TO THESE MARTIAN TYRANTS!”
One of the policeman managed to get a foot over the ledge. He started to pull himself up over the top of the pedestal. The Saturn Prince did another spin and then came to his feet. One hand held the flagpole as he leaned to the side. Below him the policeman began to slip. The crowd let out a gasp as they calculated the trajectory to the ground below.
A silver-gloved hand shot out from the Saturn Prince, and he grabbed the policeman by the collar. He helped him onto the ledge. The policeman tried to catch his breath and turned white when he looked over the side and saw how far he almost fell.
The crowd roared their approval. The Saturn Prince held out his arm and took a bow.
“LET US STAND TOGETHER!”
He reached out to the policeman to help him to his feet. The policeman carefully stood up, grasping the flagpole with his right hand. His left went to his belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. The second policeman tried to grab the Saturn Prince by his ankles.
The crowd booed. The Saturn Prince did a backflip on the narrow dome and landed on the pedestal behind the second man. He tapped him on the shoulder and then leaped to the roof of the building before he could turn around. The crowd laughed and let out a cheer.
Twelve firemen came running onto the roof from the other direction. The Saturn Prince jumped to the outer ledge and faced them. His silver cape flapped in the wind. The firemen formed a half-circle and stepped closer. They stretched out their arms to grab him. The Saturn Prince held out his hands
“I BRING YOU A MESSAGE OF PEACE!”
The firemen stepped closer. The crowed screamed as the Saturn Prince leaped into the air and off the ledge. The firemen looked shocked. They stared over the edge at the crowd below.
Laughter erupted when the audience at the street level realized the firemen couldn’t see that the Saturn Prince was now holding onto the ledge below the roof, having only feigned his leap of death. He dropped to the next ledge and ran to the opposite side of the building along the narrow passage. A man tried to grab him from a window, only to have his hat taken off and tossed to the street by the passing Saturn Prince.
When he reached the far end of the building, the firemen all ran back down into the top floor. The Saturn Prince grabbed a balustrade and climbed back onto the roof and ran toward the dome for another assault.
The two policemen ran toward him, as if to tackle him to the ground. They tripped and fell to the tar paper roof when the Saturn Prince did a somersault over their heads. He scrambled back up the dome and took his position by the statue of Lady Justice holding her scales. He gave her a kiss on the cheek to the crowd’s approval.
A police captain standing on the sidewalk had enough. He pulled his revolver from his holster and took aim. The shot struck the statue’s scale and sent down a cascade of white marble.
The crowd booed the man and overran the barricades to wrestle him to the ground. The Saturn Prince touched a dial on his chest and was gone in an explosion of smoke.
At the back end of the hall, three men in black coats and bowlers were trying to figure out how to get to the roof when the Saturn Prince landed on top of their carriage with a thud.
“TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER!”
The Saturn Prince did a flip and landed on the ground before them. Six hands grabbed him and stopped him from touching the dial on his chest, lest he vanish again. They pulled him into the carriage and ripped the device from his chest. He struggled, but it was to no avail. Boots and fists hit his green body. The sinister men exchanged proud looks as they finally captured an extraterrestrial.
April Malone pocketed the spyglass she’d been observing the men in black coats with from the second floor of the cable car building.
“Did they capture him?” asked Roosevelt.
“Yes. It looks like they’re being a bit rough with him.”
“He can handle it. Trust me. Let’s see if we can find out where they’re taking him.”
Alien Autopsy
Contral looked down at the Saturn Prince strapped to the gurney. His uniform was made from a thick oilskin, canvas-like cloth. His head was concealed by a helmet with two antenna on either side. Contral’s assistant, Henley, reached underneath and pulled it off.
The helmet made a hissing noise and the green man gasped for air. His head came off the gurney and then collapsed as he passed out in a violent spasm.
Contral panicked. “What did you do?”
“You told me to pull the helmet off!”
“I didn’t tell you to rip off his air supply!” Contral reached a hand down to feel the man’s neck. His pulse was faint.
“But he looks human,” said Henley.
“How many green men have you met?” asked Contral. “Perhaps his skin is some kind of plant-like organ?”
Henley shrugged and examined the hissing helmet. “Should I put this back on him?”
“No. I think he’s still breathing. Our thin atmosphere should keep him unconscious.”
Henley looked down at his own fingertips. They were green. He held them up for Contral to see.
“Our atmosphere is like acid to him. He’s disintegrating,” explained Contral.
“That or it’s paint,” said Henley.
“What are you trying to say?” Contral looked back at the body.
“I think he’s a fake. An escapee from the nuthouse.”
“A maniac with a teleportation device?” Contral was so delighted with his find, he was still thinking of the possibilities. “Imagine what we could do with that technology.” He had private visions of teleporting in and out of bank vaults with pockets filled with gold.
“If it’s real.”
Contral shook his head. “You have a primitive mind. Our Saturn Prince comes from a race even more advanced than the Martians. He uses teleportation to transmit himself between worlds, while the Martians use crude craft.”
“How do we know it’s not a bunch of hocus pocus?”
“Let’s have a look at the contraption then.” Contral felt the pulse of the alien again.
“Leave him here?”
“No. Let’s put him into a
cage, just in case his alien physiology brings him back to consciousness.” Contral felt the fabric of the suit. “Strip him, in case he has any more devices.”
Henley found a zipper and removed the alien’s outer garb. “You have to admit, other than being green, he looks very human.”
“Yes, but obviously an advanced race.”
“What makes you say that?” To Henley he just looked like any other man. Young, maybe in his early twenties at most. Stocky build, a little on the short side.
“Well, he’s circumcised to begin with,” said Contral.
Henley gave him a funny look. “You’re an odd man, boss.”
“Wheel him into a cage.” Contral took the helmet and suit and walked into the other room.
Henley unlocked the door to the menagerie and pushed the gurney through. He had to walk past the body of the Saturn Prince to pull him inside. For a brief moment, he thought he felt something touch him. When he turned around, the man was still strapped into the gurney. He pushed him into the dank hallway.
“What mad science is zis?” Felix called out to Henley in his low voice. “Your insane friend plans to dye us like Easter eggs now?”
“Shut up, beast,” said Henley as he pushed the cart by.
Smith looked up from the back of his cage at the body as it came into view. “You have to be kidding me. Seriously, that’s a man and not an alien.”
Henley stopped the gurney and walked up to the bars. “Still feeling brave?”
Smith contemplated making another lunge at the man. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the green man on the gurney raise a finger to his lips and wink. Just a quick as it happened, his hand went back to his side and was somehow still fastened into the straps.
