by Andrew Mayne
The stack of bars began to vanish.
Smith pulled a pair of spyglasses from under his seat. Even under magnification, the green discs didn’t have any details he could make out.
“My word. Are there any Martians left on Mars?” asked Roosevelt.
“I bet you a nickel that there’s something bogus about them,” said Smith.
“How do you propose we find out?”
Smith craned his head to the side of the cockpit at a glowing disc directly above the dirigible. “How about taking a pop at one with your gun if I bring you high enough?”
“And if they use their death ray to turn us into cindering skeletons? How do I collect?”
Smith yanked the stick back and brought the craft into a climb. The street below them grew smaller as they passed the top of the buildings. The propellers whined as they pulled them higher.
Roosevelt adjusted the sight on his rifle. “I’ll shoot when I’m in range. I’d appreciate it if you took us out of reach as quickly as possible when you hear the gun fire.”
“What if you miss?”
Roosevelt kicked the back of Smith’s seat. “Quiet.”
The disc grew closer but didn’t appear much larger. The dirigible reached an almost level height. Roosevelt squeezed the trigger. The rifle let out a loud retort. The cabin of the dirigible jerked backward from the force. Smith resisted the urge to look backward to see if Roosevelt’s arm was still attached to his shoulder. He thrust the dirigible into a downward dive. The propellers howled as they tried to push them away.
A loud thud came from above and the whole craft shook.
“The fiends are firing upon us!” shouted Roosevelt. He slammed another bullet into the breach.
Smith straightened the craft out. “Hold on. I think we’re fine. I think that was debris.”
Smith gave the stick a small shake. Something slid across the top of the air sack and then fell in front of the front window. A large ruptured balloon with a green lantern attached to it plummeted to the ground below.
Roosevelt watched as it smashed into the intersection they’d been hovering over just a few minutes before. “A decoy. Those fakers.”
“I’m going to take us to street level and get a better look at the park.”
“What about the soldiers?” asked Roosevelt.
“I think they’re still looking up. At least I hope so.”
Saucers Attack
Smith slowly drove the dirigible down 68th Street. Roosevelt peered past his shoulder with a set of spyglasses. He could see the flying craft hovering over the fountain in the middle of the park.
“It appears like the gold bars are evaporating.”
“Evaporating?” Smith was confused. In his mind the craft would land on top or near the fountain and Martians would load the bars inside and then take off again. Everything they’d done so far fit within his idea of what was possible – a mixture of advanced technology like his own and trickery. But evaporating? He had no idea how to actually transmit solid matter like that. It was so far beyond even his imagination.
“Some form of electrolysis?” asked Roosevelt. He was also trying to make sense of what was taking place.
“I don’t know. Up until now, I’ve thought these were just clever tricksters.”
“The beam just turned off. The gold is gone,” said Roosevelt.
The green glowing craft hovered in place and then shot up into the sky at an incredible rate. Machine guns and cannons began to fire from the rooftops. Trace bullets tried to follow the craft. Then it vanished.
“It’s gone!” said Roosevelt.
“No. I think they just turned out the lights.” Smith pulled the stick back and sent the dirigible into a steep climb. “I’m sure it’s up there.”
The city fell away beneath them. Roosevelt peered over the edge of the window to see if they were going to be fired upon by the men on the rooftops.
Smith aimed their ship toward the middle of the park where he estimated the craft would be by now. A searchlight illuminated the cabin.
“That’s not good,” muttered Roosevelt.
A rifle followed by a Gatling gun fired.
“How bulletproof is this damn thing?”
“It only took you one shot to bring me down,” said Smith.
“Then good thing I’m not shooting at us.”
More searchlights scanned the sky around them. For a brief moment, a large saucer-shaped craft appeared to be illuminated in front of them.
“There they are!” shout Roosevelt.
“Let me try to force them down,” said Smith.
He aimed his craft toward the top of the other. A dark shape grew larger. Smith pulled back at the last moment and brought his dirigible over the top of the other ship. The bottom of the cabin scraped over it.
“Ha! It’s cloth like ours! Cleverly disguised to look like a metal craft. But no different. I imagine the propellers are enclosed and air ducts control its flight.”
“Let’s have a technical discussion later on, Schmitty.” Roosevelt tried to aim his rifle at the other craft.
“Right, of course.” Smith slammed the stick forward and pushed his craft down, on top of the other ship. “I think we took them by surprise!” He turned to grin.
There was a loud pop as a bullet shot a hole in the floor of the cabin.
“Damnation!” Roosevelt swung open the window and aimed at the bulk of the ship under them. “Enough of the light petting. I’m bringing this marauder down!”
He squeezed the trigger and his gun roared. A hole ripped into the top of the other ship. He waited for it to rip all the way apart and fall away beneath them.
“It’s not sinking!” said Roosevelt.
“I think they have more chambers.”
“You mean they built a better craft than you?” Roosevelt pulled back the rifle chamber and ejected the spent cartridge. He leaned out the window again and aimed at a different part of the craft and fired. A new tear appeared in the skin. The disc began to drop.
Smith jerked his head to the right. A Martian popped out of a hole in the center of the disc and fired a pistol at them. Smith and Roosevelt ducked as the windshield shattered. The Martian lifted a grappling hook from inside the craft and threw it over the arm of Smith’s right propeller. Their dirigible shook as they were pulled down by the rapidly descending Martian craft.
The Martian ducked back down. On an impulse, Smith leaped through the broken window and onto the top of the Martian craft. The skin gave way to his feet and he felt himself sinking and then sliding. His fingers grabbed the material to try to stop his fall.
“You damn fool!” Roosevelt climbed into Smith’s chair and watched.
Smith ignored him and tried to pull himself up. The slick smooth surface made it difficult to grasp. He dug his fingernails in and pulled as hard as he could. His head and chest slid over the edge of the entrance to the center of the craft. He dove inside and fell to the floor.
The Martian had the front of his helmet pressed onto a periscope. He didn’t notice Smith over the sound of his own roaring engine.
The cabin wasn’t much larger than Smith’s. The controls were quite similar to his own. In fact, he realized, they could have been copies. There was no gold to be found. The craft had lifted too fast before to have it on board. None of it added up.
He pulled himself to his feet and looked for a weapon. He assumed the pistol was still tucked into the Martian’s belt. The Martian turned around and faced Smith. The two of them froze.
The Martian was Smith’s height. He knew right away this was just a costume. The other man reached for the pistol. Smith kicked at the man’s wrist and sent him backward. The helmet cracked against the periscope and stunned the man inside.
The Martian pulled his gun free and pointed it toward Smith. The Martian ripped off the shattered helmet and revealed a very human face. A face Smith recognized.
“I know you!” said Smith.
The man was silent. He
pulled back the hammer on the gun.
The unmasked Martian pointed the gun at Smith’s forehead. “You knew me, Smith. You knew me.”
Fire Truck
April had watched the green craft shoot into the sky. Somewhere in the back of her mind a connection clicked. She looked over at the fire crew that had hooked up their hose to the hydrant. A motor sputtered as it turned a pump. Two firemen stood close guard. They all had thick mustaches and looked indistinguishable. A third sat on the bench on the front with reins in hand as if he were ready to command the horses to race off.
What were they pumping? In a flash, she realized that the acids Smith had said could be used to produce the hydrogen gas for the Martian dirigibles could also be used to make a special mixture known as Aqua Regia – an acid used to dissolve gold. The firemen were pumping the gold away!
Somehow the so-called Martian Emperor had rigged the fountain to fill with acid beforehand. The firemen themselves could have done it weeks earlier disguised as a work crew. She looked at the hundreds of policemen and soldiers standing around the fountain. How better to get the gold away than to pump it away beneath their feet through lead pipes while they stared at the sky?
The fake firemen put on thick rubber gloves and detached the firehose from the large tank. They poured a bucket of liquid over the nozzle and then tossed it to the ground. The two men hopped onto the pump wagon. April realized they were about to get away.
She ran from the roof to the ladder and climbed down. The fireman piloting the carriage called to the horses and started driving them away from the park. The crowd ignored them and gasped as they saw two aircraft falling from the sky.
Search lights on top of the surrounding buildings illuminated the dirigibles as they descended. April momentarily forgot about the pump truck as she looked up. Smith and Roosevelt were falling!
The cabin shook violently as it crashed into the park below. Smith was thrown into the Martian Emperor and smashed the side of his own head on the wall of the cabin. The lights went out for a moment, and he could feel the other man shove past him. Something struck him on the side of the head, and he blacked out for what felt like a brief moment.
There was a loud crash as his own dirigible fell on top of the other craft. Smith tried to find his way out of the cabin in the darkness. Somewhere he could hear Roosevelt cursing.
He saw a faint light coming from a small tube. Smith climbed into it and pulled himself vertically along a series of rungs. He fell onto the half-deflated air bag of the fake Martian aircraft and slid down into the grass of the park. A crowd of policemen and citizens had gathered around to gawk at the crashed vehicles.
Smith pulled himself to his feet. “Where is he?” He looked at the faces of the people. They didn’t understand who he meant. Smith realized that without his helmet, the Martian Emperor could have escaped right among them. His suit would have looked like a fireman’s overalls in the commotion.
There was a loud thud as Roosevelt jumped from the cabin above and landed on the air bag behind Smith. “Did you get the fiend?”
Smith surveyed the faces of the crowd. “He’s out there, somewhere.”
A panting official pushed his way to the front of the bystanders. “Where’s the gold?” He turned to Roosevelt. “Where’s the gold?”
“It’s not here,” said Smith. He motioned to the craft. “Look for yourself.” He turned his eyes to the sky. The green dots were beginning to drift away in the wind. He shook his head.
“Smith!” came a female shout from the crowd.
Smith pushed his way through the policemen and officials. Some of them half-heartedly tried to grab him to ask questions. He swatted away their hands and tried to find April.
He saw her silky dark hair and pushed a man out of the way. He pulled her into his arms.
“You fools,” she said. “Of all the stupid things.”
“We lost the gold.” His voice was defeated.
April pulled herself away and shook her head. “No. They took it into a firetruck. They’re trying to make it down 5th right now!”
Smith turned to the path that led to the street. He called over his shoulder as he broke out into a run. “Teddy! We can still get them!”
Roosevelt slid to the grass and chased after Smith. He held his rifle over the crowd and shouted at them to keep clear. They moved aside and let him past. Over by a shrub, he saw Felix and Houdini watching Brutus as he devoured the greenery. “I’m commandeering your rhinoceros!”
Smith ran into the street and saw the pump truck racing away. He tried to catch up with them but wasn’t fast enough. He looked for a horse but there was none to be found. He was about to curse himself when he heard the sound of galloping thunder behind him. Smith did a double take.
“Get on!” shouted Roosevelt from atop Brutus.
Brutus Maximus
Smith tried to hold on to Roosevelt as he charged the rhino toward the pump wagon. “Couldn’t you find something a little more domestic?”
“What’s the matter with Brutus?”
Smith struggled to keep his balance. The animal was building momentum as it headed down 5th Avenue. It seemed to be drawn by the sound of the bell on the fire wagon and understood where it was supposed to go.
People ran to the sidewalks as they saw the enormous beast charging down the middle of the street. Carriages came to a stop. A frightened horse jumped into a flower bed.
Smith could see the Martin Emperor on the back of the wagon, looking back at them. His face was so familiar, yet he couldn’t quite place it. The man turned and moved to the front of the wagon.
He shouted to Roosevelt, “That’s the Martian Emperor.”
“Which one?”
A different fireman climbed to the back of the wagon and stared them down.
Roosevelt aimed his rifle over the rhino’s bucking snout. “I got the shot.”
“No!” shouted Smith. “Don’t kill him. And if you hit the tank, we’ll all be covered in acid! They used it to dissolve the gold. It’ll be spilled out over the street.”
“I don’t know how much longer Brutus can hold out.”
Almost as if he sensed the challenge, the rhinoceros let out a burst of speed and brought them near the back of the wagon. When they were just a few feet away, a fireman pulled an ax from a hook and swung it at the beast’s head. The blade grazed overtop the horn. The animal sensed the blow and tossed its massive head into the back side of the wagon, sending it off its left wheels momentarily.
The motion tossed Smith into the air. He slid down the back of the creature. He squeezed his thighs around the waist and was bucked forward. He collided with Roosevelt.
“Mind yourself!” said Roosevelt.
The fireman reached the ax back to swing again. Roosevelt twisted his rifle around and swung the stock at the other man. It collided with the ax.
The wagon driver pulled the reins to the right and drove them over a sidewalk and down another road. Brutus tried to follow but had to dodge out of the way of a lamp post. His momentum carried him across the street.
“Watch out!” Roosevelt saw they were headed for a fenced-up alley.
The rhinoceros burst through the planks. A heavy beam just above the animal’s head slammed into Roosevelt’s chest. He flew backward into Smith. The two men collapsed to the ground in a pile on top of the splintered wood.
Brutus came to a stop in the narrow alley and stomped open a crate filled with produce. He started to chomp several heads of lettuce.
Smith and Roosevelt climbed to their feet. Sore and bruised, neither one had broken any bones. They looked down the street but the fire wagon was gone.
“Did you see his face?” asked Smith.
“The Martian Emperor? I don’t think so.”
Roosevelt kicked a wooden plank. “We’ve lost them now. In minutes, they could be anywhere.”
“But they’re not headed just anywhere. They took the gold the way they did because they knew their real airship wo
uldn’t be able to maneuver with that much weight. They’re headed toward their hideout.”
“We’ve searched the factories and buildings for a dynamo or any place they could launch their craft and make their chemicals. Nothing. It’s as if it’s invisible like their fortress,” said Roosevelt.
Smith’s eyes lit up. “Wait! We’ve been so stupid. I know where they’re headed! I know where their dynamo is and all the rest. Of all the stupid things. It’s so obvious.”
“What?” asked Roosevelt. “What’s so obvious?”
“They’re headed to Phobos!”
Roosevelt shook his head. “Have you gone mad from all the bumps?”
“No. Those men who were burned by the acid. The men on the firetruck. There’s a reason nobody around here knows anything about them. There’s a reason we haven’t found their lair. We’ve had the city checked?”
“Even the outer cities and New Jersey. Nothing.”
“But we were looking for a factory or a big building?” asked Smith.
“Yes?”
“But we didn’t look for one that moved! Phobos is the name of their ship! Maybe not the name it’s registered under. But I’m sure that’s what they meant. Those men are foreign sailors. The Martian Emperor’s real secret whereabouts is a ship docked somewhere on Manhattan!”
“I’ve got to notify the Navy immediately and form some kind of blockade!”
Smith nodded and Roosevelt ran off to find the military officials so they could semaphore the ships in the harbor.
Brutus broke open another crate and started eating some sprouts. Smith wasn’t sure if he should try using the rhinoceros as a steed. The animal seemed content to stay in the alley and devour the produce.
