The Martian War (30 page)

Wells held onto Jane. There was nothing to do but wait and endure. Even in the howling gale, Huxley was intrigued and took meteorological notes on the back of one of the rolled maps. Mercifully, after less than an hour of the loud howling and scraping, the dry hurricane passed, racing away like a stampede in the night.

Wells finally said aloud, “I believe we can be confident now that our tracks have been erased.”

* * *

The next morning, as wan sunlight crept through the sheer-walled canyons, they set off again, picking their way southward. Huxley and Jane had spent hours scrutinizing the maps. Now, the professor directed Wells into convoluted channels that led toward the pole. With mechanical strides, the young man guided the tripod across a landscape that had been scrubbed clean by the high winds and rough dust.

As Wells lumbered down the bottom of the gorge, hoping their peace and safety would last, he suddenly saw the three pursuing tripods reappear out of a side canyon. Seeing the hijacked war machine, the Martians charged forward, bellowing a triumphant
“Ulla!”

“They are certainly persistent,” Huxley said. “I would have hoped the rebellious Selenites were giving the Martians too many other things to do.”

Jane looked in frustration at the command apparatus they had taken with them in the battle tripod, sure they were out of range of the silver collars. She groaned, touching the device as she saw their chances slipping away. “We’re all isolated here. If only the Selenites could defend us now, distract the Martians.”

The heat rays blasted at them again, blackening the canyon walls. Wells dodged from side to side, staggering and wobbling, as Jane tried to fire their weapon back at the attackers. He ducked their tripod into tangential canyons to elude the pursuit. But the Martians were much more adept at running in their three-legged war machines, and Wells was trapped inside the confining canyons, racing down unknown channels. If he made a single mistake and ran into a closed gorge, the three hunters could disintegrate them.

Wells was astonished when the Selenites appeared, just as Jane had commanded.

Drone work crews had been dispatched all up and down
the canal network, monitoring substations and maintaining the machinery that distributed fresh water across the Martian landscape. Now, sudden swarms of the white-skinned Selenites surged out of side canyons and over the rim, working together as if with a unified mind. They would die to defend the humans who carried the talisman of the Grand Lunar. Groups of drones lifted boulders in the low gravity and tossed huge stones into the paths of the enemy tripods, battering them from the cliffs above.

“I will personally thank the Grand Lunar next time we get to the Moon,” Wells said.

Under the sudden attack, the three Martian hunters reeled and turned their heat rays upon the unexpected rebels. The incinerating beams vaporized many valiant Selenite allies, but the delay and confusion gave Wells a chance to surge ahead.

Jane touched her collar, perplexed. “The Selenites are sending me a message! It’s so faint it’s nearly incomprehensible, but I think they have figured out how to communicate with me, just barely. H.G., they want you to get us out of the canyons as soon as you possibly can. Up over the rim and out into the open. They’ll help us.”

He hesitated, aware that on the plains above he would have less chance of hiding or finding shelter.

“H.G., hurry!”

He scrambled up a sloping boulder-strewn path on which he found purchase for the machine’s three legs. As he gained elevation, the pursuing Martians blasted aimlessly with their heat rays along the walls of the canyon.

When the Selenites saw that the three humans had climbed high enough for safety, they transmitted chittering messages to
other lunar slaves upstream at the head of the canyons. Those drones began their sabotage work.

Responding, Jane delivered her commands for them to defend the humans. Continuing their precise mayhem, the Selenites destroyed a primary pumping station in the canal distribution network. The ruined grand canal diverted a surging wave, and all the water poured into the narrow canyons, funneled forward and picking up force.

Wells and Jane stood together, gazing out the turret’s low windows. From their higher vantage, they watched a furious wall of water gush through the canyons and sweep aside the three pursuing tripods, as if they were mere feathers in a cyclone. The giant metal contraptions crashed into each other and into the rocky walls, slammed about like toys, until they were dashed to bits.

Sadly, as the Martian war machines were knocked helter-skelter, hundreds of the Selenites were also sacrificed—just to give the three humans time to escape. Wells felt weak watching the destruction. He clasped Jane’s hand.

“An excellent solution to our predicament,” Huxley said. “Now we have a bit of breathing room. It should be safe enough for us on top of the plateau now.”

The tripod climbed out of the canyons, and the Martian morning spread out before them with a greenish sky and rusty-red landscape that extended to the horizon.

“Somehow,” Jane said, deeply disturbed, “we must find a way to show our appreciation to these Selenites. They have saved our lives. They fought to the death for us, for me.”

* * *

They traveled due south all day, homing in on the ice cap. Remembering how many Martian fighting machines and slave-master walkers kept the Selenite work crews in line, Wells knew they would be in for a fight as soon as they arrived. But the cavorite sphere—their only means of returning to Earth—had been hauled inside a hangar at the vast ice quarry. No matter how dangerous it might seem, they had to go there.

When they arrived at the ice quarry and water excavation industries, they found total destruction.

Only days ago, they had seen the enormous Martian labor pits here at the polar cap, the diligent work that created fresh water. Since then, a complete holocaust had taken place. All of the sophisticated Martian works had been utterly ruined.

Wells cried, “The uprising took place here, too!”

Jane stared, nodding slowly. “I told them to protect us, to help us get away. The Selenites knew we were coming here, and so they rebelled against their slave masters. They destroyed all the Martian walkers and tripods and took over the whole antarctic facility, just to make the way clear for us.”

“Have they risen up everywhere? Sacrificing themselves to destroy all Martians in all cities?” Wells wondered.

Jane looked at him aghast, thinking of the appalling bloodshed. “No! At least … I hope not.”

Huxley pursed his lips. “It seems that thanks to you, Miss Robbins, Mars itself is at war.”

FROM THE JOURNAL OF DR. MOREAU

Looking at the tripod structure of the Martian weapon, Lowell was appalled. “Not only has that creature ruined my motorcar, it’s stolen my telescope’s clock drive! And part of the cradle for the Clark refractor!”

Thunder cracked again, and I had to shield my eyes against the rain. Seeing us approach, the Martian scrambled to its controls with amazing nimbleness in its ungainly body. Lowell glared indignantly up at the towering machine. “Come down from there!”

The Martian turned the camera-like lens device on its segmented arm, and I looked up into the dangerous eye of the ray weapon. Before Lowell could bellow again, I
knocked him out of the way, and we both went sprawling in the mud just as a burst of sparks and heat sprayed out, vaporizing the rain and baking the mud into brick.

The Martian fired its heat ray again, but the stress and vibration had knocked the uncompleted armature loose, spoiling its aim. Instead, the heat ray set alight two of the tall pines, which crackled and snapped like torches in the storm. Despite all the care we had lavished upon it, the creature meant to incinerate us, like a child burning ants with a magnifying lens.

I grabbed Lowell’s arm, and we began to run. As the thunder continued to boom and the cloudburst reached its climax around us, the Martian raised its heat ray high, hoping for a better aim. I was certain we were doomed.

But the metal tripod itself was already taller than the observatory structure, which made the three-legged machine the highest thing atop Mars Hill. When the Martian raised the heat ray, its articulated arm acted as an irresistible lightning rod. Like the spear of Zeus, a blinding blue-white bolt lanced down to strike the Martian’s contraption, sending sparks and cinders flying.

The resulting thunderclap knocked me flat, and I blinked dazzling colors from my light-blinded eyes. I could not find Lowell and assumed he had scrambled off into the night.

On the blackened tripod structure, the Martian stirred like a stunned insect, amazingly still alive. It dangled by two tentacles, then dropped partway before catching itself. Its body was smoking, burned—defenseless. I knew we had to act. Unable to see Lowell in the darkness and the rain, I decided to take care of matters myself.

By the time I reached the ruined tripod, the Martian had already dropped to the wet ground and scuttled away through puddles, seeking shelter. Then I saw it move, battering down the door of the empty observatory dome before it scrambled inside. I didn’t know where it expected to run here. Perhaps it was dying, or just going to ground so that it could heal.

I followed the thing cautiously, not wishing to be killed in the same manner as Douglass. I stepped through the door quietly. The interior walls were made of carefully lapped pine boards, and I could smell the sap and resin. The rain had already made everything dank and damp. The floor of poured cement bore only the ruins of the cradle for the giant Clark refractor; in constructing its tripod, our Martian had taken many of the telescope’s support components. I could discern little in the dimness, but my dazzled eyes were adjusting after the lightning flash that had ruined the battle tripod.

I heard something heavy moving within the shadows, dragging itself along with wet scraping sounds. Then with a skitter and a clatter, the Martian found a metal ladder that led up to the tracks on which iron wheels and heavy cranks could turn the great dome. During a night of observing, astronomers would be able to swivel the dome’s opening to view any desired section of sky.

Apparently the work crew had abandoned their jobs without bothering to close the dome, for the dome itself was open. A slit of cloudy sky shone down. Though the storm had come up unexpectedly, Lowell would be furious if his observatory was damaged.

I saw the bloated creature finish clambering up the ladder before it scuttled along the tracks of the dome. It moved with a drunken sluggishness, having been injured by the lightning strike. The crawling thing made its way to the opening through which only lightning and rain could be seen. Perhaps it wanted to see the stars or Mars one last time … .

I put my hands on my hips. Now that the creature had no place else to run, I demanded, “Why? Why are you doing this? Have we not helped you? Did I not save your life?”

Holding on with its tentacles, the Martian glared down at me with wide, round eyes like signal lamps on a train. It simply heaved, as if trying to withstand the pain.

I shouted again, “I know you can talk. Explain yourself.”

You have helped our Martian cause.

In a horrific succession of images transmitted by its superior brain, it confirmed my worst fear: the impending invasion. The Martians’ intent was total domination of Earth. Now I understood more fully what Lowell and I had seen in the crystal egg.

Our cylinders will launch soon. Mars will conquer the human race, as we did the Moon. Weak and juicy humans will be our workers, our food.

I could not argue, for I knew that what the creature described was true. No army on Earth could stand against the Martian invasion force. No military, no battleship, no weapon would be great enough to withstand this onslaught.

Your civilization, your
science,
is too primitive to stop us.

Suddenly, Lowell appeared in the doorway. “No—but I can stop you.”

A glint of flickering lightning through the dome
showed me that he carried a shotgun—the same one he had confiscated from the unruly worker the night before. He raised the weapon and, in the instant the next flash of lightning showed him his target, he fired. Inside the enclosed dome, the gun’s boom was louder than any thunder.

The shotgun blast smashed into the Martian, driving it against the wall and splattering dark fluids along the lapped wooden boards. Calmly, without hesitation, Lowell loaded a second shell into the barrel and fired again, pulverizing the enormous brain that had concocted such terrible plans, snuffing out the intellect that meant only to crush humanity.

The dying Martian held on for just an instant more before finally releasing its grip with rubbery tentacles. It slowly slid, then dropped to the cement floor of the observatory, where it twitched and shuddered. The creature bled from numerous ruptures and gashes torn by the shotgun blasts. Already injured and weakened by the terrible lightning strike, it squirmed briefly and then died, curled up like a giant spider.

“I did that not in the name of science, Moreau.” Lowell turned to me. “But in the name of humanity.”

* * *

The proof is abundant, and I will not waste time and effort convincing a skeptical public of the truth of my story. However, with the coming opposition of planets the Martian invasion is imminent, and the greatest question now in my mind is how to proceed.

In what possible manner can human beings prepare for
this attack from the red planet? When the cylinders come raining down, how will we defend ourselves? It is not a matter for one man to decide, but for all the leaders and greatest scientific minds of Earth.

I believe that human resolve and ingenuity is sufficient to meet even this challenge, but all countries and governments must be united immediately, no longer concerned about a war between lands and ideologies, but a war of the worlds. Even if the human race is not ultimately victorious against this interplanetary threat, I am confident that we can at least put up a valiant fight.