“But wouldn’t you always say to yourself, ‘this body has the brain of a hormad? It is not Vor Daj; it is just a thing that grew in a Vat.’”
“No,” she replied. “I do not think that it would make any difference. I do not think that it would be difficult for me to convince myself that the brain and the body belonged together, just as, on the contrary, it has been difficult to conceive that the brain which animates the body of Tor-dur-bar originated in a vat of slimy, animal tissue.”
“If Ras Thavas should find me a handsome body,” I said, jokingly, “then Vor Daj would have a rival, I can assure you.”
She shot me a quizzical look. “I do not think so,” she said.
I wondered just what she meant by that and why she looked at me so peculiarly. It was not likely that she had guessed the truth, since it was inconceivable that any man would have permitted his brain to be transferred to the body of a hormad. Could she have meant that Vor Daj could have no successful rival?
It was night when we approached the Great Toonolian Marshes. The great fleet sailed majestically over the City of Phundahl; the lighted city gleamed through the darkness below us, but no patrol boat ventured aloft to question us. Our ships were all lighted and must have been visible for a long time before we passed over the city; but Phundahl, weak in ships, would challenge no strange fleet the size of ours. I could well imagine that the Jed of Phundahl breathed more easily as we vanished into the eastern night.
chapter XXX
THE END OF TWO WORLDS
THE DESOLATE WASTES of the Great Toonolian Marshes over which we passed that night took on a strange, weird beauty and added mystery in the darkness. Their waters reflected the myriad stars which the thin air of Mars reveals; and the passing moons were reflected back from the still lagoons or touched the rocky islets with a soft radiance that transformed them into isles of enchantment. Occasionally, we saw the campfires of savages, and faintly to our ears rose the chanting of barbaric songs and the booming of drums muffled by distance; all punctuated by the scream or bellow of some savage thing.
“The last of the great oceans,” said John Carter, who had joined me at the rail. “Its eventual passing will doubtless mark the passing of a world, and Mars will hurtle on through all eternity peopled by not even a memory of its past grandeur.”
“It saddens me to think of it,” I said.
“And me, too,” he replied.
“But you could return to Earth,” I reminded him.
He smiled. “I do not think that either of us need worry about the end of Mars; at least, not for another million years, perhaps.”
I laughed. “Somehow, when you spoke of it, it seemed as though the end were very near,” I said.
“Comparatively speaking, it is,” he replied. “Here we have only a shallow marshland to remind us of the mighty oceans which once rolled across the major portion of Barsoom. On Earth, the waters cover three quarters of the globe, reaching a depth of over five miles; yet, eventually the same fate will overtake that planet. The mountains will wash down into the seas; the seas will evaporate; and some day all that will be left to mark their great oceans will be another Toonolian Marsh in some barren waste where the great Pacific Ocean rolls today.”
“You make me sad,” I said.
“Well, let’s not worry about it, then,” he laughed. “We have much more important matters to consider than the end of the two worlds. The fate of a friend transcends that of a planet. What shall you do if your body cannot be recovered?”
“I shall never return to Helium with this body,” I replied.
“I cannot blame you. We shall have to find you another body.”
“No,” I said. “I have given the matter a great deal of thought, and I have come to a final decision. If my own body has been destroyed, I shall destroy this body, too, and the brain with it. There are far more desirable bodies than mine, of course; and yet I am so attached to it that I should not care to live in the body of another.”
“Do not decide too hastily, Vor Daj.”
“Tor-dur-bar, my Prince,” I corrected.
“Why carry on the masquerade longer?” he demanded.
“Because she does not know,” I said.
He nodded. “You think it might make a difference with her?” he asked.
“I am afraid that she could never forget this inhuman face and body, and that she might always wonder if the brain, too, were not the brain of a hormad, even though it reposed in the skull of Vor Daj. No one knows but you and Ras Thavas and I, my prince. I beg of you that you will never divulge the truth to Janai.”
“As you wish,” he said; “though I am quite sure that you are making a mistake. If she cares for you, it will make no difference to her; if she does not care for you, it will make no difference to you.”
“No,” I said. “I want to forget Tor-dur-bar, myself, and I certainly want her to forget him.”
“That she will never do,” he said, “for, from what she has told me, she entertains a very strong affection for Tor-dur-bar. He is Vor Daj’s most dangerous rival.”
“Don’t,” I begged. “The very idea is repulsive.”
“It is the character that makes the man,” said John Carter, “not the clay which is its abode.”
“No, my friend,” I replied, “no amount of philosophizing could make Tor-dur-bar a suitable mate for any red woman, least of all, Janai.”
“Perhaps you are right,” he agreed; “but after the great sacrifice that you have made for her, I feel that you deserve a better reward than death by your own hand.”
“Well,” I replied, “tomorrow will probably decide the matter for us; and already I see the first streak of dawn above the horizon.”
He thought in silence for a few moments, and then he said, “Perhaps the least of the difficulties which may confront us will be reaching 3–17 and the body of Vor Daj. What concerns me more than that is the likelihood that the entire Laboratory Building may be filled with the mass from Vat Room No. 4, in which event it will be practically impossible to reach Ras Thavas’s laboratory which contains the necessary paraphernalia for the delicate operation of returning your brain to your own body.”
“I anticipated that,” I replied; “and on my way out of Morbus, I took everything that was necessary to 3–17.”
“Good!” he exclaimed. “My mind is greatly relieved. Ras Thavas and I have both been deeply concerned by what amounted to his practical certainty that we should never be able to reach his laboratory. He believes that it is going to be necessary to destroy Morbus before we can check the growth from Vat No. 4.”
It was daylight when we approached Morbus. The ships, with the exception of the Ruzaar, which carried us, were dispatched to circle the island to discover how far the mass from Vat Room No. 4 had spread.
The Ruzaar, dropping to within a few yards of the ground, approached the little island where lay the tunnel leading to 3–17; and, as we approached it, a sight of horror met our eyes. A wriggling, writhing mass of tissue had spread across the water from the main island of Morbus and now completely covered the little island. Hideous heads looked up at us screaming defiance; hands stretched forth futilely to clutch us.
I searched for the mouth of the tunnel; but it was not visible, being entirely covered by the writhing mass. My heart sank, for I felt certain that the mass must have entered the tunnel and found its way to 3–17; for I was sure that it would enter any opening and follow the line of least resistance until it met some impassable barrier.
However, I clung desperately to the hope that I had covered the mouth of the tunnel sufficiently well to have prevented the mass from starting down it. But even so, how could we hope to reach the tunnel through that hideous cordon of horror?
John Carter stood by the rail with several members of his staff. Janai, Ras Thavas, and I were close beside him. He was gazing down with evident horror upon Ras Thavas’s creation. Presently he issued instructions to the members of his staff, and two of them left to
put them into effect. Then we waited, no one speaking, silenced by the horror surging beneath us, screaming, mouthing, gesticulating.
Janai was standing close to me, and presently she grasped my arm. It was the first time that she had ever voluntarily touched me. “How horrible!” she whispered. “It cannot be possible that Vor Daj’s body still exists, for that horrid mass must have spread everywhere through the buildings as well as out beyond the walls of the City.”
I shook my head. I had nothing to say. She pressed my arm tightly. “Tor-dur-bar, promise me that you will do nothing rash if the body of Vor Daj is lost.”
“Let’s not even think of it,” I said.
“But we must think of it; and you must promise me.”
I shook my head. “You are asking too much,” I said. “There can be no happiness for me as long as I retain the body of a hormad.” I realized then that I had given myself away, but she did not seem to notice it, but just stood in silence looking down upon the awful thing beneath us.
The Ruzaar was rising now, and it continued to do so until it had gained an altitude of five or six hundred feet. Then it remained stationary again, hanging directly over that part of the little islet where the cave mouth lay. Presently an incendiary bomb fell, and the mass writhed and screamed as it burst, spreading its flaming contents in all directions.
I shall not dwell upon the horror of it, but bomb after bomb was dropped until only a mass of charred and smoking flesh lay within a radius of a hundred feet of the cave opening. Then the Ruzaar dropped closer to the ground, and I was lowered by landing tackle; and following me came Ras Thavas and two hundred warriors, the latter armed with swords and flaming torches with which they immediately attacked the mass that was already creeping back to cover the ground that it had lost.
My heart was in my mouth as I fell to work to remove the earth and stones with which I had blocked the entrance to the tunnel; but as I worked, I saw no sign that it had been pierced, and presently it lay open before me and I could have shouted with joy, for the mouth of the tunnel was empty.
I cannot describe my feelings as I again traversed that long tunnel back to 3–17. Was my body still there? Was it safe and whole? I conjured all sorts of terrible things that might have happened to it during my long absence. I almost ran through the black tunnel in my haste to learn the truth, and at last with trembling hands I raised the cover of the trap that led from the tunnel up into the chamber. A moment later, I stood in 3–17.
Lying as I had left it was the body of Vor Daj.
Ras Thavas soon joined me; and I could see that he, too, breathed a sigh of relief as he discovered the body and paraphernalia intact.
Without waiting for instructions from Ras Thavas, I stretched myself upon the ersite slab beside my own body; and presently Ras Thavas was bending over me. I felt a slight incision and a little pain, and then consciousness left me.
chapter XXXI
ADVENTURE’S END
I OPENED MY EYES. Ras Thavas was leaning over me. Beside me lay the body of the hormad, Tor-dur-bar. I know that then the tears came to my eyes, tears of such relief and happiness and joy as I had never experienced before in my life, not so much because I had regained my own body but because now I might lay it at the feet of Janai.
“Come, my son,” said Ras Thavas. “We have been here a long time. The mass is writhing and screaming in the corridor beyond the door. Let us hope that it has not succeeded in recovering the ground that it lost at the other end of the tunnel.”
“Very well,” I said, “let us return at once.” I stepped from the table and stood again erect upon my own feet. I was just a little stiff, and Ras Thavas noticed it.
“That will pass in a moment,” he said. “You have been dead a long time.” And he smiled.
I stood for a moment looking down upon the uncouth body of Tor-dur-bar. “It served you well,” said Ras Thavas.
“Yes,” I assented, “and the best reward that I can offer it is eternal oblivion. We shall leave it here, buried forever in the pits beneath the building where it first felt life. I leave it, Ras Thavas, without a pang of regret.”
“It had great strength, and, from what I understand, a good sword arm,” commented the Master Mind of Mars.
“Yet I still think that I can endure life without it,” I said.
“Vanity, vanity!” exclaimed Ras Thavas. “You, a warrior, would give up enormous strength and an incomparable sword arm for a handsome face.”
I saw that he was laughing at me; but the whole world might laugh if it wished, just as long as I had my own body back again.
We hastened back through the tunnel, and when we finally emerged onto the islet again, warriors were still fighting back the insistent growth. Four times the detachment had been relieved since we had descended from the Ruzaar. It had been early morning when we arrived, and now the sun was just about to dip below the far horizon, yet to me it seemed but the matter of a few moments since I had descended from the Ruzaar.
We were quickly hoisted aboard again where we were fairly smothered with congratulations.
John Carter placed a hand upon my shoulder. “I could not have been more concerned over the fate of a son of mine than I have been over yours,” he said.
That was all that he said, but it meant more to me than volumes spoken by another. Presently he noted my eyes wandering about the deck, and a smile touched his lips. “Where is she?” I asked.
“She could not stand the strain of waiting,” he said, “and she has gone to her cabin to lie down. You had better go and tell her yourself.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said; and a few moments later I was knocking at the door of Janai’s cabin.
“Who knocks?” she asked.
“Vor Daj,” I replied, and then without waiting for an invitation I pushed open the door and entered.
She rose and came toward me, her eyes wide with questioning. “It is really you?” she asked.
“It is I,” I assured her, and I crossed toward her. I wanted to take her in my arms and tell her that I loved her; but she seemed to anticipate what I had in mind, for she stopped me with a gesture.
“Wait,” she said. “Do you realize that I scarcely know Vor Daj?”
I had not thought of that, but it was true. She knew Tor-dur-bar far better. “Answer me one question.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“How did Teeaytan-ov die?” she demanded.
It was a strange question. What had that to do with Janai or with me? “Why, he died in the corridor leading to 3–17, struck down by one of the hormad warriors while we were escaping from the Laboratory Building,” I replied.
Her white teeth flashed in a sudden smile. “Now what were you going to say to me when I stopped you?”
“I was going to tell you that I loved you,” I replied, “and ask you if there was any hope that you might return my love.”
“I scarcely knew Vor Daj,” she said; “it was Tor-dur-bar that I learned to love; but now I know the truth that for some time I have guessed, and I realize the sacrifice that you were willing to make for me.” She came and put her dear arms about my neck, and for the first time I felt the lips of the woman I loved on mine.
For ten days the great fleet cruised high above Morbus, dropping bombs upon the city and the island and the great mass that had started to spread out in all directions to engulf a world; nor would John Carter leave until the last vestige of the horror had been entirely exterminated. At last the bows of the great battleships were turned toward Helium; and with only a brief stop at Phundahl to return Pandar to his native city we cruised on toward home, and for Janai and me, a happiness that we had passed together through horrors to achieve.
As the great towers of the twin cities appeared in the distance, Janai and I were standing together in the bow of the Ruzaar. “I wish you would tell me,” I said, “why you asked me that time how Teeaytan-ov died. You knew as well as I.”
“Stupid!” she exclaimed, laughing. “Tor-du
r-bar, Pandar, and I were the only survivors of that fight who were with the fleet when we returned to Morbus. Of these three, you could have seen only Tor-dur-bar before you saw me. Therefore, when you answered me correctly, I knew that Tor-dur-bar’s brain had been transferred to your skull. That was all that I wanted to know, for it was the brain that gave the character and fineness to Tor-dur-bar that I had learned to love; and I do not care, Vor Daj, whose brain it was originally. If you do not care to tell me, I shall never ask; but I suspect that it was your own and that you had it transferred to the head of Tor-dur-bar so that you might better protect me from Ay-mad.”
“It is my own brain,” I said.
“Was, you mean,” she laughed; “it is mine now.”
Part 1
THE ANCIENT DEAD
chapter I
NO MATTER how instinctively gregarious one may be there are times when one longs for solitude. I like people. I like to be with my family, my friends, my fighting men; and probably just because I am so keen for companionship, I am at times equally keen to be alone. It is at such times that I can best resolve the knotty problems of government in times of war or peace. It is then that I can meditate upon all the various aspects of a full life such as I lead; and, being human, I have plenty of mistakes upon which to meditate that I may fortify myself against their recommission.
When I feel that strange urge for solitude coming over me, it is my usual custom to take a one man flier and range the dead sea bottoms and the other uninhabited wildernesses of this dying planet; for there indeed is solitude. There are vast areas on Mars where no human foot has ever trod, and other vast areas that for thousands of years have known only the giant green men, the wandering nomads of the ocher deserts.
Sometimes I am away for weeks on these glorious adventures in solitude. Because of them, I probably know more of the geography and topography of Mars than any other living man; for they and my other adventurous excursions upon the planet have carried me from the Lost Sea of Korus, in the Valley Dor at the frozen South to Okar, land of the black bearded Yellow Men of the frozen North, and from Kaol to Bantoom; and yet there are many parts of Barsoom that I have not visited, which will not seem so strange when there is taken into consideration the fact that although the area of Mars is like more than one fourth that of Earth its land area is almost eight million square miles greater. That is because Barsoom has no large bodies of surface water, its largest known ocean being entirely subterranean. Also, I think you will admit, fifty-six million square miles is a lot of territory to know thoroughly.
The Collected John Carter of Mars (Volume 3) Page 43
