Author: Kirk Straughen
Synopsis: Professor John Radlin and his niece, the soul survivors of a devastated Earth, flee to Mars. Here, they encounter the planet's indigenous Iron Age inhabitance. The moment is one nascent with fruitful possibilities. However, the professor, an outwardly respectable man has secret desires that are anything but positive. Will the Martians fall prey to his schemes of conquest? Will his unsuspecting niece become the victim of his unnatural lusts? And then there is the remnant of the enigmatic Old Ones, an ancient species that once dominated Mars who lurk in their secret hiding places plotting their terrible rebirth.
Preface
All indications are that Mars is a lifeless world. But if there is life, its highest form, more than likely, would probably be subsurface bacteria. By contrast, what we do know for certain is that the Cold War never turned hot. This story presents an alternative history of Earth and Mars for the reader’s entertainment.
**********
Kothon watched the peculiar object descend to the sand of the Red Desert, puzzled but unafraid. The young Martian was a fine example of his people in mind and body. He was tall and lithe of build with the common characteristics of his kind - high cheekbones and large emerald green eyes. An aquiline nose added a patrician touch to his refined features, with full lips and a firm chin completing them. His skin was as black as onyx, as was the short fur upon his head. He could have passed for a human male, albeit an exotic one.
His garment was a simple loincloth. Sandals of tough leather clad his feet. An iron circlet studded with large garnets was his only ornament. His weapons consisted of an oval shield of hardened ouni leather, a short thrusting spear of iron, and a 17 inch dagger constructed of the same material.
Kothon, who was the grandson of Jaran, Poskor (king) of Achmanari, had been three days in the arid wilderness tracking a dread mantor - that fearsome predator of the Martian wilds. Most mantors avoided settled areas, but the one he was trailing was a rogue male that had been attacking his people’s livestock. It had already slain a dozen of the timid ouni. If any more were killed, the supply of eggs would be dangerously diminished. The young Martian had considered it his duty to protect his people from the threat, and this was the motivation for his dangerous undertaking. But now his search had been interrupted by this unknown thing descending from the sky, the loud humming of which had drawn his inquisitive gaze.
The strange silvery object, which was as large as a one-bedroom cottage, took the form of a cube with a single hemisphere covering a sizable portion of each of its faces. It slowly touched down upon the sands, coming to rest on four telescopic legs that had been extended from its underside. It was about half a zyo from the low stony hill where Kothon stood. The young Martian hunkered down and decided to await developments as he peered curiously but cautiously around a large boulder, intent on ascertaining the nature of the bizarre metallic manifestation, potent with mystery, which might pose a threat greater than the most bloodthirsty mantor.
**********
Catherine looked through the periscope of the space-cube. She turned the device slowly in a circle and shuddered at the harsh sight of the Red Desert. The arid wilderness was sparsely relieved here and there by strange cactus-like growths - tall, lobed columns, dark purple in color, that were covered in bone-white spines. They, along with scattered copses of gnarled, thorny trees with lavender leaves resembling pine needles, were the only forms of life that seemed to be present on this desolate planet. How would she and her uncle survive on this alien world? Had their escape to Mars simply delayed the inevitable? Would they soon be as dead as the rest of humanity?
The young woman, barely 18, turned to her widowed uncle, the only other occupant of the space-cube. Catherine’s parents had tragically died in an airplane crash four years ago, and her wealthy uncle had cared for her ever since in the capacity of her legal guardian.
The scientist, a portly bearded man of 52, was hunched over the ship’s instruments, analyzing the Martian atmosphere. Professor John Radlin was the inventor of the interplanetary vessel. It had been a private self-funded project, for his antigravity engine was deemed crank science by his fellow physicists who had refused to back his research application. Fortuitously, the ship had been completed and was ready for its trial flight when the Cuban Missile Crises, starting on 16th October 1962, had gone from bad to worse, culminating in all-out atomic war.
The bombs were falling when they had hurriedly taken off. Both had escaped the doomed Earth with little more than the clothes they wore. Indeed, Catherine was clad in nothing more than her flimsy nightdress. She shuddered at the narrowness of their escape: The glare and roar from a distant atomic explosion, a direct hit on the capital, had woken both. The conflagration had lit up the night - a terrifying herald to the nuclear apocalypse. It had been indelibly burned into her memory, along with the mad dash from their palatial home in Waterford, Virginia, to her uncle’s workshop at the rear of his Gothic Revival mansion.
Radlin turned from the instruments, his voice breaking through Catherine’s bleak memories. “The atmosphere is thinner than we’re accustomed to, but breathable,” he announced with a relieved smile. “Astronomers were fairly certain that it was capable of sustaining human life. But I had to make sure. Hopefully, those cactus-like plants that we saw when coming down are edible. They also indicate the presence of some water. Then there are also the so-called ‘canals’ and their strange feathery, lavender-colored vegetation. I’m growing more confident we can survive here.”
“This world is so bleak,” despondently replied Catherine as she turned from the periscope. “Uncle John, isn’t there any way we can return to Earth?”
“Not any time soon,” replied the professor, firmly. “Too much radiation. It could be centuries before that dies down. Besides, the space-cube’s power cells have almost been completely depleted by our six-hour flight to Mars. If only I’d had more time to prepare,” he concluded dejectedly.
Catherine hugged him affectionately. “Don’t blame yourself,” she replied. “We’re still alive. I really shouldn’t complain.” She shuddered. “Pity humanity. The green Earth has become a vast graveyard. In a way, I’m glad my parents didn’t live to see it.”
Radlin returned his niece’s embrace, comforting her. Catherine bore a striking resemblance to Maralyn, his wife, who had passed away two years ago. Maralyn had been about the same age when they had met at university. An all-American girl with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and hourglass figure. The professor felt the press of his niece’s full and firm breasts through the flimsy nightdress that she wore, and he felt the stirring of his loins at the enticing contact. He had been sexually attracted to his niece for a number of years, but Maralyn’s presence when she had been alive, and the fear of the law had held his abnormal desires in check. Now they were alone on Mars, quite possibly the last survivors of the human race. There were no police, no courts, no jails. He was completely free to indulge his unnatural passions. At the moment, however, other things required his immediate attention.
The professor quickly turned back to the instrument board before his arousal became obvious.
“I have some more work to do,” he announced, his voice slightly breathless from desire. “I’ll equalize the internal atmospheric pressure with that of Mars. Then you can go outside and have a look around. It should be safe provided you stay near the ship. I’ll leave the hatch open and the ladder down. Come inside right away at the slightest sign of danger.”
**********
The space-cube’s hatch opened, and Kothon saw a figure emerge. He was amazed. He hadn’t expected the weird object to be occupied, nor the strange nature of its denizen. The being was very pale. The growth on its head, unlike his fur, was exceptionally long and wavy, and as light as its pale skin. The pink garment that it wore was diaphanous and fell to mid-thigh. As the figure moved out of the shadow of the cube, sunlight penetrated its translucent clothes, outlining full breasts, a slim waist, and flaring hips The young Martian recognized these feminine attributes, not radically different from a woman of his people.
Many questions crowded his astonished mind, ones that could not be immediately answered. He stilled his thoughts. She was too far away for him to touch her mind with his, and so Kothon focused his keen vision on the young woman as she approached the hill where he hid. He saw her move behind an outcrop, squat, and lift her strange garment, evidently intent on relieving herself. Then a subtle movement adjacent to the formation drew Kothon’s eye. He stiffened in horror at the sight. The mantor he had been tracking crouched among the rocks, almost completely hidden by its active camouflage. Its feral eyes, savage with hunger, were focused on the unsuspecting girl as it prepared to spring upon her in a deadly whirl of rending teeth and tearing claws.
**********
Catherine nervously looked around as she urinated. Concerned that her uncle might see her, she had sought privacy behind the hill’s outcrop, which was some distance from the ship. As the young woman turned her head, she also glimpsed the movement of the savage mantor as it charged. The beast had dropped its active camouflage and was now visible in all its frightening form. The hairless body was similar to a mastiff in size and proportion. The head, though, was reptilian in appearance. Its back bore a hump like that of a dromedary, and served the same physiological function.
Catherine screamed shrilly. She fell back, one arm upflung in futile defense against the savage horror, its massive jaws frighteningly agape. It was almost upon her when a spear thudded into its scaly hide. Now it was the mantor’s turn to scream. The creature collapsed and writhed in agony on the stony earth. Its snapping jaws latched onto the spear’s shaft and tore the weapon from its bleeding flesh.
Catherine scrambled to her feet as a dark figure bounded down the slope, swiftly leaping from rock to rock with all the sureness of feline agility. The girl was ridden by wild terror. She turned to flee only to trip upon a rock. The beast got up as she went down. Again, it came at her. She cried in fear. Then the bounding figure leaped onto its back. The iron dagger in its hand plunged. The mantor screamed. Blood spurted. The black figure struck again. The beast howled. It rolled, flinging off its tenacious assailant. Kothon got to a knee. The creature charged him. He thrust his dagger like a rapier. The mantor slammed into it, bowling him over. Both went down in a spray of blood. The beast coughed gore, gave a final shudder, and then lay still in death.
Kothon, battered and bruised but otherwise uninjured, crawled from beneath the carcass’s pinning weight and slowly got to his feet. Assured that his savage protagonist was dead, the young Martian turned his attention to the strange female. She lay some feet away, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. Her short and flimsy attire had ridden up around her hips, removing all doubt as to her gender. One full, firm breast lay exposed where the nightdress had slipped from her shoulder, the pink nipple and areola stiffening at the touch of the cold Martian air.
Kothon touched her mind and found it clouded by a morass of wild fear. He was quite shocked by the thought-images that he perceived. She saw him as a savage, believed his coloration was a sign of inferiority, and was afraid he might rape and devour her. The young Martian had never encountered racial prejudice before. He knew he was neither a savage nor a rapist. Except for eating eggs, Martins were largely vegetarians. The thought of consuming the flesh of a kindred being was sickening. How a seemingly intelligent person could reach these bizarre conclusions based solely on appearance was completely baffling to him.
A shout drew Kothon’s gaze from the jittery girl. Another figure had emerged from the fantastical metallic object and was running towards him. The man, as pale as the strange girl, pointed something in his hand at Kothon. The roar of the gun shattered the desert quiet, and the young and unsuspecting Martian tumbled to the ground.
Radlin stumbled to a halt beside his niece, breathing hard from his frantic exertions in the planet’s thin air. “Are you hurt?” he managed to gasp.
“No,” shakily replied Catherine as she hurriedly covered herself. “You got here in time. God knows what that … that thing would have done to me if you hadn’t. Is it dead?”
Radlin knelt and examined Kothon. “No, just unconscious,” he replied. “My bullet struck the iron circlet it’s wearing, knocking it out.”
The professor turned to his niece. “This changes everything,” he excitedly explained, his mind awash with thoughts of conquest. “We don’t have to eke out a harsh existence in this desolate wilderness. This creature is obviously a member of a primitive tribe. We can befuddle their simple minds with our science. The space-cube and my automatic will make us look like sorcerers, perhaps even gods. With this advantage, we can lord it over them, make them serve us. Our lives will be a lot easier and our chances of survival much higher.
“But we must learn their language first,” he continued. “I’ll make this creature our captive. Catherine, you were hoping to become an English teacher, so I’m assigning you this task. Don’t look so frightened. I’ll give you the automatic. You know how to use it. The language lessons can start as soon as the creature recovers.”
**********
Four weeks had passed since the encounter. Catherine was amazed at how fast Kothon had progressed in learning English, a fact that created disturbing doubts concerning her belief in his assumed inferiority. Apart from a few minor mistakes, he could almost speak the language as fluently as she. By contrast, Catherine was still struggling with the basics of his tongue, called poku, whose complex grammar made extensive use of prefixes and suffixes determined by a requirement for subject-verb agreement. Indeed, after just one lesson from the young Martian, she felt like her brain was going to explode.
Of course, what she didn’t know was that Kothon’s mental powers enabled him to achieve what no human could ever do. At night, when she and her uncle were asleep, he used his psychic abilities to deeply probe their minds and gain greater insight into their language and plans. Normally, this was forbidden by his culture - no one could enter another person’s mind to this extent without their consent. But Kothon sensed the threat these humans posed to his people, and so had no qualms about his invasion of their privacy.
By now, he had a thorough understanding of the sickening plot to dominate his people. There were only two of them, but the humans’ more advanced weapons and technology posed a serious threat. Kothon knew of the Conquistadors from his mental probing, and how they had defeated the mighty Aztec Empire. Radlin hoped to emulate the Spaniards’ achievements, and he possessed the ruthlessness to do so. The young Martian, however, felt that the professor’s plan was one of arrogant overreach based on unfounded assumptions concerning his people’s assumed inferiority, and was unlikely to succeed given the limited ammunition for the gun. Kothon was confident that his people could stop them, but feared many might die in the process.
Given that this was likely, Kothon knew he had to end the threat before it reached his home, but he also knew that brute force was not the answer. The young Martian, deprived of weapons, realized he had to use cunning to overcome the advantage their science gave them. And so he laid his plans. He bowed down before them, making them think he believed them to be gods. He gathered food for them and tapped drinking water from the naru, which they called cacti. It was humiliating, but he knew he had to stroke their egos and lull them into complacency until the day came when he could act. There would be no return to the degrading slavery of the past. His remote ancestors had experienced that under the brutal reign of the Old Ones - that ancient race which had once dominated Mars in remote antiquity.
It was early morning. Kothon had just risen to his hands and knees from his sleeping place beneath the space-cube, when the hatch opened and Radlin called to him.
“Yes, divine master,” he answered as he crawled from beneath the ship, nearly choking on these debasing words.
“Your English is now good enough for you to act as a translator,” continued the professor as Kothon stood and bowed. “It’s time you took us to your people so they may worship us as you do. It is not fitting that gods live in the wilderness. We must have a temple where we can reside and be properly idolized.”
“Of course, divine master,” replied Kothon, inwardly smiling, for the day when he could act had at last arrived. “I will gladly show you the way.”
“Then gather your things and come aboard. We will depart at once.” Then to Catherine in a whisper: “We’ll have these ignorant savages eating out of our hands in no time.”
**********
Two hours later, the space-cube settled on the Martian soil about a hundred yards from one of the mighty fissures, which were natural geological features misidentified by early astronomers as ‘canals’ when viewed from Earth. The hatch of the space-cube opened. Its ladder rattled down in the thin, dry air, and the trio exited the vehicle.
“So, this is where your people live?” asked Radlin, giving Kothon a suspicious look as he placed his hand on the automatic at his hip. “If so, then where are the buildings you described.”
“We live in the bottom of these fissures, divine master,” lied Kothon. “Conditions are much better below, not as harsh as the arid desert. See how the nasuro trees rise up from the depths of the abyss, and how their translucent lavender foliage lock together in overlapping masses that roof the chasm. The climate beneath this vault of leaves is probably more like the one you are accustomed to than the arid landscape surrounding us.”
“The chasms must be very deep,” said Catherine. “How do we get down? We have no mountaineering gear.”
“There is a natural pathway, divine mistress” replied Kothon, truthfully. “With care, it can be traversed safely. I will show you the way. Will the god and goddess please follow me?”
They set off towards the chasm, and after several minutes, arrived at the towering monolith which had served as the landmark that had guided Kothon to their destination. Catherine gazed upon the obelisk. Strange hieroglyphics crawled across its surface - twisting forms that evoked the thought of surreal serpents born of a drug-induced nightmare.
Kothon saw Catherine shudder at the sight, but did not delight in her discomfort. He regretted that she must die, for he sensed the beginnings of a change in the young woman. She was no longer so sure he was her inferior, and was uneasy about her uncle’s plans. If he had more time, then perhaps he could cure her of her prejudices. But sadly, there was no time. Radlin was the driving force, and he wore his bias like armor against the threatening logic of reason. No, he must protect his people from this man by leading him to his death, and Kothon knew it would look suspicious if he suggested Catherine not accompany them.
“This obelisk,” explained Kothon to his companions, hiding his inner turmoil at the thought of Catherine’s death, ”indicates the beginning of the pathway leading down into the abyss. Please follow me.”
They began their descent, pushing through the thick mass of lavender leaves and then down the narrow trail. Soon, they were in shadowed dimness, the sunlight filtered by the feathery foliage of the nasuro trees arching over them. The tall, slender trunks, glinting as if lacquered, reminded Catherine of bamboo, while the fluffy fronds resembled to some degree the flower-heads of pampas grass.
As they descended, Radlin’s suspicions began to grow. The trail was very rough in places and dangerously narrow. There were no obvious signs of use. If it led to a Martian settlement, then why was it in such poor condition? Surely, the natives would have improved it, or were their intellects so dull that they had not thought of doing so? Radlin’s eyes narrowed. You could never completely trust a savage. They might lack intelligence, but they were cunning and treacherous. He placed his hand on his automatic. It was then that a crumbling section of the path gave way beneath Catherine’s foot.
The girl slipped, tumbled over the narrow edge with a cry of utter terror. Kothon’s reactions were lightning-fast and instinctive. His darting hand swiftly caught her arm as she fell, but her weight dragged him down. He hit the stony ground, slid towards the edge. His other hand desperately clawed at the rock. Kothon tottered on the edge, the wildly screaming girl dangling beneath him, threatening to pull him to his doom. The young Martian caught a knob of rock, arresting his fatal slide. His grip secure, he hauled Catherine up to safety with a surge of strength that belied his slim physique. As he did so, the girl’s flimsy nightgown caught on the stone and ripped. It fluttered into the dark abyss as Kothon pulled her fully onto the narrow trail.
In her terror, Catherine clung to Kothon, his skin color quite forgotten. “It’s all right,” he soothed as he held her comfortingly, bitterly regretting that his saving her was but a temporary reprieve. "You’re safe now. I apologize for the poor condition of the trail,” he smoothly lied. “Rarely do my people venture onto the surface, and hence its dilapidated condition.”
The near-fatal incident had happened so quickly that Radlin didn’t have time to react. But now, with the sight of his completely naked niece in the arms of a savage, her full white breasts pressed tightly against his dark skin, feelings of jealous rage came upon the Earthman.
Radlin drew his automatic. “Let go of her, you dirty savage,” he dangerously growled.
Catherine, somewhat recovered from her harrowing ordeal, looked at him, shocked. “Uncle John,” she gasped. “Kothon just saved my life. Rather than pointing a gun at him, you should instead be thanking him and offering me your shirt. Can’t you see the state I’m in?” she concluded as she hastily covered her generous breasts with folded arms.
Radlin scowled, annoyed by the rebuke and the fact that his niece had defended the savage. The professor muttered something under his breath. He holstered his sidearm, removed his shirt, and sullenly handed it to her with poor grace. Catherine quickly donned the garment, and then the trio continued their journey. The arduous descent proved a challenge to all, and after about two hours of taxing struggle, they reached the bottom of the mighty chasm without further incident.
Catherine leaned heavily against the slender trunk of a nasuro tree, her sweat-soaked shirt clinging uncomfortably to her shapely figure. The girl looked around the strange jungle-like environment in which she found herself, a startling contrast to the desert of the surface. It was a twilight world, the dim light filtering down from high above, tinted lavender by the translucent leaves. All around was a dense undergrowth of black plants possessing enormous crinkly heart-shaped leaves with serrated edges and ruby veins.
These plants bore panicles whose white blooms were star-shaped in form and filled the air with their potent, all-pervasive scent. Radlin stumbled, suddenly dizzy. Could it be the strange perfume? It was certainly quite powerful. A thud made him turn. He gasped. Catherine had fallen and lay unconscious on the loamy soil. The professor stiffened in shock. Then the terrible truth dawned on him. The treacherous savage had led them into a trap. Intense drowsiness came upon the Earthman. The professor staggered as he turned. Desperately, he fought the growing urge to close his eyes. If he fell asleep, it would become the sleep of death. Radlin fumbled for his automatic, determined to take revenge.
Kothon watched him. There was no malice in his gaze, only a quiet sense of satisfaction that he had saved his people from the menace of the humans. He stood stoically, accepting his fate as Radlin raised the gun, mumbling curses. He didn’t care about the professor, but he had led Catherine to her death. It was only fitting that he should also die. But the professor’s hand wavered as he tried to squeeze the trigger. His vision grew dark. The automatic fell from his hand. His knees buckled, and he, too, collapsed senseless to the ground.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the undergrowth stirred with the movement of something swiftly approaching. But before Kothon could turn to ascertain the cause, he also succumbed to the bloom’s narcotic perfume and tumbled unconscious to the soil.
**********
Kothon awoke. Slowly, he sat up, surprised that he was still alive. By rights, the nakani flowers’ deadly scent should have killed him. There was a medicinal aftertaste in his mouth - the remnants of the drug that counteracted the soporific toxin. It reminded him of something from his childhood, but what? Putting aside the thought for the moment, Kothon looked warily around. He was in a stone cell. A large barred window admitted dim light, and by this illumination, he saw that Radlin and his niece shared his prison. Quickly, he examined the girl, greatly relieved that she was alive and uninjured. Ignoring the still unconscious professor for the moment, as the man posed no threat, the young Martian rose and peered inquisitively through the grill-work of the circular window. Jungle choked ruins met his enquiring gaze.
A groan drew his attention from the view. Radlin had regained consciousness. He sat up, still a little groggy from the flowers' deadly fragrance. The professor shook Catherine, and she, too, came awake. Both took in their surroundings and stared at Kothon - Radlin with fury, the girl with puzzlement. The professor reached for his weapon, but his holster was empty. The man swore as he vaguely remembered the gun falling from his hand.
“What happened?” Where are we?" asked Catherine, her confusion giving way to fear as she realized they were in a gloomy cell.
“That bloody savage tricked us,” growled Radlin as he stood, his fists clenched in rage. “We were knocked out by the anesthetic perfume of the flowers. The lying, treacherous bastard led us into a trap.”
“I deceived you, just as you attempted to deceive me,” replied Kothon, amazed at the man’s hypocrisy. “You are no more supernatural beings than I am. You sought to exploit me and my people rather than attempt to befriend us. I couldn’t allow that, so I led you not to the citadel of Achmanari, my home, but to what I thought would be your doom, even though it entailed my own destruction. The only thing that surprises me is that we are still alive.”
Radlin’s eyes narrowed. “If your people haven’t captured us, then who has?” he angrily asked.
“I do not know for sure," Kothon replied, seeing no point in lying. “It may be the descendants of the Old Ones. Our history scrolls tell of a time when Mars was a far more fertile world. During that distant age, the Old Ones were uncontested masters of the globe and we, their slaves, subjugated through brutal conquest. It was a golden age for our overlords, but nothing lasts forever. Eons passed and the planet changed, becoming more arid.
“The Old Ones retreated into the chasms to save themselves. They created the nasuro trees to retain air and humidity, and the nakani - the toxic plants - to protect their new abode from invasion. But with their science and their machines, our masters no longer needed chattels. My ancestors, an underclass, were heartlessly driven out, callously exiled to the hostile surface. Many died, but some adapted to the harsh conditions and survived what should have been a death sentence. From that day on, we vowed that never again would we be slaves to anyone.”
Professor Radlin’s mind, unmoved by the tragic tale, spun with new possibilities. If the savage was correct, then they were captives of a far more advanced civilization than that of Kothon’s people. It seemed, though, that the Old Ones had not mastered space travel, for if they had, they would have surely come to Earth as conquerors. Perhaps he could offer them his knowledge in exchange for sanctuary.
Radlin’s thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the cell door. Catherine gasped in shock as a strange machine, one of the three that had been sent to locate them and administer the antidote, rolled into the room. The thing, about six feet tall, looked like a combination of a gyroscope and a unicycle. The vertical ring-shaped frame of the spinning disc was supported by a single wheel. Six metallic tentacles, telescopic in construction and with dexterous three-fingered mechanical hands, were evenly spaced around the mechanism’s second frame, which, unlike the first, was horizontal.
“What is that thing?” cried the girl in alarm.
“A device of the Old Ones,” replied Kothon, grimly.
The machine whirred. From it emanated a thought-voice that penetrated their minds. “Resistance is futile. You will follow this machine.”
“What shall we do?” Asked Catherine in a frightened whisper as she moved closer to her uncle.
“Follow it, of course,” replied Radlin. “Don’t you see, Catherine,” he continued excitedly. “This machine is evidence of an advanced civilization. Far better that we deal with them than a bunch of ignorant and treacherous savages.”
Catherine glanced guiltily at Kothon and saw the young Martian was stoically ignoring the bigoted insult. Although he had plotted their deaths, she found herself unable to hate him, for he had done so in an attempt to protect his people. As she had come to know Kothon and saw his humanity, she had become increasingly uncomfortable with her uncle’s nefarious plans. Yet, she had made no objections to them. Catherine realized she could not condemn the young Martian as she would have done something similar had she been in his position.
The trio left the cell, and Kothon looked curiously around as they followed the machine down a wide corridor. This building was in a much better state of preservation than the ruins he’d seen from the cell’s barred window. They passed a small courtyard garden in which strange plants grew. The dark purple growths were warty, leafless rods averaging 20 inches in height. The moment Kothon laid eyes on them, his memory was jogged. But for the moment, he decided to keep his deductions to himself.
They passed on through empty and dusty rooms. There was no sign of any other living thing. The overall impression was one of age-old abandonment and slow decay - an inevitable dissolution barely held in check by minimal repairs. Shortly, they emerged into a large circular room with many arched windows where something awaited them. The thing seemed to be seated on a throne-like chair, which occupied a stepped circular dais at the chamber’s far end. The entire dais was enclosed by a lucid dome in which glowing crimson vapors swirled disturbingly, partially obscuring the true nature of the enigmatic objects that it contained.
As they approached, the humans faltered in their stride. With the closing distance, the true nature of the thing within the dome was revealed as, for a moment, the eerie luminous mist parted. It was a reptilian humanoid whose staring citrine eyes were an unnerving window to the cold and inhuman mind that lay behind them. The serpentine head, with its bulging cranium, was heavily scaled with olive-green plates that formed a natural crest reminiscent of an Amerindian’s war bonnet. The scales diminished in size as they spread over the rest of its thin, sinuous frame, being smallest on its dexterous, three-fingered hands. The creature’s only apparel consisted of heavy gold ornaments about its neck, wrists, and ankles.
“Is it dead?” Whispered Catherine, fearfully. “It must be. Surely, nothing could survive in that weirdly glowing mist.”
“I think you’re right,” confidently replied her uncle. “It must be preserved like a specimen in formaldehyde. This machine probably thinks its ancient creator is still alive. I wonder what happened to the rest of them.”
“I am preserved, but far from dead.”
The trio stopped dead in their tracks. Catherine uttered a frightened gasp. Both men tensed. The unnerving voice had come to them, not in the form of audible words, but directly into their minds by way of a telepathic projection of pure thought. It was the same voice that had issued forth from the machine leading them.
“I am Quetu,” continued the Old One. “I am the last of my kind. We were never a numerous people, and as the relentless ages passed, we grew fewer - a dwindling race on a dying world. Now only I remain, defying death. Unlike the others of my kind, I still possess the dynamism to fight extinction. Through science, I shielded myself from the ravages of the eons. The crimson mist within this crystal dome is the product of my fertile intellect. Thus, my mortal frame is preserved from dissolution, and my mind free to roam the cosmos. For ages I have sought a way to free myself from this decrepit frame, and now the solution is at last at hand.”
Radlin, who had been listening avidly, spoke up. “You are obviously a superior genius,” he excitedly said. “As you can see, we are not from Mars. We are from Earth - the third planet orbiting the sun. I, like you, am a scientist. I designed and constructed the spacecraft that brought us to your world, thus proving my intelligence,” he proudly declared. “Let me help you in your noble work.”
“Your hidden thoughts are as clear to me as your spoken words,” replied Quetu with cold contempt. “That is how I sensed your arrival, how I can understand your language and your motives. I know your people destroyed themselves in a suicidal atomic war. Only an inferior species would be so foolish as to allow this madness to occur. Now, homeless, you seek to ingratiate yourself into my favor, not to selflessly help me, but as a desperate means of self-preservation. You and your companions will assist me, yes. But not as equals, rather as slaves that I shall use like tools.”
The professor was shocked. Being a racist, he considered himself a member of a superior group and, because of his social status, a cut above other whites as well. But now the situation was entirely reversed, and it was he who was about to find himself on the receiving end of dehumanizing subjugation.
“But … but,” he gasped like a stranded fish, his mind struggling to formulate a coherent reply.
“Enough,” continued Quetu, harshly. “You will remain silent and listen. I need a young and healthy body to replace this ancient husk in which my intellect dwells - the body of a child, the product of a young and vigorous race whose malleable brain I can overwrite with my superior mind. You will impregnate your niece. I know you lust for her, so the task should not be onerous to you. When her child is old enough, then the process of mind transference can begin. Now, initiate the reproductive act at once.”
Catherine’s hand flew to her mouth in complete shock. She stared at her uncle in wide-eyed disbelief. “Tell me it isn’t true,” she gasped, horrified. “Surely, you don’t intend to obey this … this creature’s obscene order? Incest is bad enough, but to hand an innocent child over to this monster is … why, it's utterly inhuman!”
Radlin turned to her, his perverse desires coming to the fore. Previously, his plan had been to talk Catherine into having sex with him, arguing that as they were the only survivors, it was their duty to preserve humanity by having children. But now another reason had arisen, and so he seized the opportunity to fulfill his twisted fantasy, and as compensation for enslavement to Quetu. “My dear,” he began as he advanced towards Catherine, his voice pleading. “It seems we have no choice. It’s best if you cooperate to avoid trouble."
Catherine backed away, a look of shock and loathing on her face. “Get away from me,” she vehemently cried. “I thought I knew you, but I see now I never truly did. You’re no better than that horror in the dome.”
The professor, his true nature now fully revealed, roughly grabbed his niece’s arm. Catherine cried in fright. She slapped his leering face. Radlin cursed and raised his hand. Kothon leaped forward before he could strike her. The young Martian grabbed Radlin by the shoulder. He spun the man around and slammed his fist against the professor’s jaw. The powerful blow sent the scientist crashing to the floor. Kothon leaped over his downed opponent. He took Catherine’s hand. “Let’s away,” he urgently cried.
But before they could flee, the robot swiftly intervened at Quetu’s telepathic command. The machine shot forward. Its metallic tentacles lashed out. Its powerful mechanical hands cruelly latched onto the wrists of Kothon and the girl. Both screamed as electric shocks subdued them. They, too, tumbled to the floor as Radlin struggled to his feet.
The professor, now more beast than human, kicked Kothon in the ribs. The young Martian gasped in agony. Radlin fell upon his niece with the savagery of a mad dog. The scientist tore her shirt away in a frenzy. Catherine screamed in wild fear as her uncle forced her shapely legs apart and wedged his portly frame between them. Kothon fought through the agony that beset him, the girl’s hysterical cries of pain and terror a spur to his frantic efforts. The robot loomed over him, holding him fast, preventing him from going to her aid.
Kothon’s mind raced, frantically seeking a means of freeing himself. His eyes alighted on four fragile-looking glass spheres encircling the shaft that connected the robot’s single wheel to its gyroscopic body. He lashed out with a powerful kick. His sandaled foot smashed against one sphere, completely shattering it.
Sparks exploded. The machine toppled. Radlin screamed as its frame crashed against his skull. The robot then fell sideways and struck the floor, narrowly missing Catherine. Quetu also struck. Kothon gasped. He clutched his head with his hands as telepathic forces assailed him. He was rocked by terror as the Old One stabbed his brain with intense emotions that scourged his reeling mind. Kothon fought back. He staggered to his feet, his limbs trembling from the taxing endeavor of resisting the terrible psychic assault.
Three robots rushed into the room as Kothon seized the disabled automaton. He lifted the inert machine above his head, his muscles straining to the utmost from the mighty effort. Quetu redoubled his attack as the other machines closed in. Kothon’s knees began to buckle. The young Martian gritted his teeth. With renewed determination, he stumbled forward and hurled the robot against the dome with all his remaining strength. The lucid material of the hemisphere, which had become brittle with the passing centuries, shattered. Quetu uttered a wailing cry of utter despair. The attacking robots wobbled. They crashed to the tiles, mere feet away. Then Kothon collapsed to his knees. He fell unconscious to the floor. He had passed out from the strain of his travail.
**********
Kothon opened his eyes. Catherine was leaning over him, her face tear-stained. She had wrapped the shredded remains of her shirt around her torso in an ineffectual attempt to conceal her nudity. The girl burst into further tears, but this time of relief. Unable to find a pulse due to anatomical differences, she’d thought he was dead.
The young Martian sat up and comfortingly embraced the weeping girl as he worriedly looked at the shattered dome. The glowing gas had escaped and harmlessly dissipated, giving him a clear view of the broken interior. Disconcertingly, there was no sign of Quetu.
“Where is the Old One?” he asked, worried that the wily creature was on the loose.
Catherine pulled herself together and wiped away her tears. “When the preserving gas escaped, his body rapidly disintegrated,” she explained. “The flesh fell away like cascading sand. Even his bones turned to dust. It was all over in a matter of seconds. A pile of moldering detritus is all that remains.”
The girl shuddered in horror at the disturbing memory of the creature’s awful end, and Kothon held her trembling body tighter as she buried her face in his shoulder. The young Martian shifted his gaze to Radlin. The man lay sprawled on the floor, blood seeping from his fractured skull. Even from a distance, it was obvious that he was as lifeless as the fallen robots.
Time passed and Catherine settled. She glanced at her uncle’s body, then quickly turned her head away and looked at Kothon whom she saw in a new light. The girl remembered how, when they had first met, she had thought him an inferior savage who was intent on raping and devouring her. Yet, all along, it was her uncle who had been the true fiend, despite his whiteness and higher education. The blindfold of prejudice completely fell away, and she lowered her eyes, ashamed.
“You should hate us,” she quietly said. “For the way we treated you, and the way we would have treated your people. But I sense that you don’t.”
“Hatred is a destructive emotion,” replied Kothon. “It can blind people to the good in others and is the cause of much evil. This is what my people believe. I sensed the good in you beneath the contaminating prejudices of your society.” He gently took her hand. “I am glad that you still live.”
Catherine did not pull away. She smiled tentatively. “Thank you. But what now?” she asked, uncertain.
“The last of the Old One’s is dead,” replied Kothon. “My people are finally completely free from this menace, and we will now be able to occupy their abode. Life in these fertile fissures will be much easier when compared to the harshness of the surface world.”
“But what about the deadly perfume of the flowers?”
“When we left the cell, we passed a small courtyard garden in which unique plants grew,” explained Kothon. “They were dark purple, warty, leafless, rod-like growths. They are called cemasa, and are used by my people to treat childhood illnesses. I recognized the taste when I regained consciousness in the cell. They are the immunity-inducing antidote to the flower’s toxic scent. Eons ago, an animal must have carried cemasa seeds to the surface where they grew and spread. A new world of possibilities is now open to my people. Together, you and I can show them the way.”
**********
It was evening. Catherine stood on the parapet of the citadel of Achmanari. Six months had passed since she and Kothon had arrived at his abode in the space-cube, which her uncle had taught her to pilot on the way to Mars. By starlight, Catherine’s roving gaze took in the immense stronghold, which had been continuously occupied for about three thousand earthly years. It was built from a granite-like, rose-colored stone; its smooth, sculpted look the result of eons of abrasion by wind-blown sand acting on the citadel’s walls and towers.
A large rocky hill elevated the citadel above the flat desert with its scattering of konusu trees and rows of cultivated pseudo-cacti whose edible tubers provided food for the citizens. Specially designed dew-harvesting nets were spread across the hill like a vast spider web, on which water condensed and then trickled into a huge underground reservoir by way of a complex drainage system. The flat apex of the tor where the stronghold was located was accessed by six sets of broad stairs, each decorated with conical pinnacles.
Shape-wise, the ramparts of the defensive structure were not precisely orthogonal to one another so that the plan of the building had a discernible trapezoidal outline. Its walls were about ten feet in thickness and were strengthened on the exterior by fifty pilaster-like buttresses, each of which was surmounted by a conical spire. The corners of the ramparts were formed by rectangular-shaped buttresses, also topped by pinnacles. Huge towers were also present, with wind chimes of religious significance on the apex of their cone-shaped spires. The interior courtyard, measuring six hundred feet on each side, was surrounded by galleries, with the walls of the galleries facing the courtyard pierced by arched gateways.
The huge citadel consisted of five stories and covered over 800,000 square feet, which could accommodate its 900 strong population. Family kitchens, sanitary facilities, and livestock were on the ground floor. The next floor was a storage room for food, tools, and other items, with the remaining floors being devoted to bedrooms and communal living spaces. The stronghold, which had been built in a much more violent age, was typical of the fifty other settlements scattered across the vastness of the Red Desert.
It was a strange scene confronting the young woman, but one to which she was slowly becoming accustomed. Catherine had been worried about how she would fit into Martian society, especially given that she had gone along with her uncle’s nefarious plan to exploit the indigenous inhabitants of the planet. Kothon's assurances that all would be well proved correct. His parents, Majar and Inura, like the rest of his people, were very accepting, and of course she was no longer the prejudiced person that she had been.
The sound of approaching footsteps made the young woman turn from the parapet. She smiled at Kothon with more than just friendship as he drew near, for as they had gotten to know each other better over the passing months, their relationship had changed profoundly. “The fifty citadels. Their kings, at the meeting. Well it went?” Catherine asked in halting poku, Kothon’s complex language, which she was still in the process of mastering.
Kothon replied in English so she could better understand him. “The Council of Kings has agreed to establish a joint colony in the fissures. If all goes well, then additional settlements can be developed." He placed his hand on her belly, which was beginning to swell with the growth of their child. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
Catherine leaned against him, and he placed his arms lovingly around her. “I’m happy,” she replied. “Happy to be the mother of your child, and that some aspect of my people, united with your own, shall live on.”
“Perhaps not all your people are dead,” he replied, looking at the Earth, which appeared in the twilight sky as a bright evening star. “No doubt the Old One’s knowledge, or at least some remnants of it, remains in their decaying cities. Our wise men will study it and learn, and from your spacecraft also. Perhaps someday our great-grandchildren will visit your world and know for sure.”
Both stood in silence gazing at the night sky, content with the present, and looking forward to the bright future that, together, lay before them.
The End