The Martian War (14 page)

* * *

When we finally reached the port of Casablanca, Lowell learned the names of officials susceptible to bribes, which forms he was required to fill out, and which fees must be paid. There was already a steamer in port bound for the United States, and he promptly booked us passage in separate cabins.

Knowing that seamen would be more curious than the nomadic and superstitious Tuaregs, we decided that the Martian’s presence should be kept quiet. The cage was covered with a tarpaulin, and Lowell explained that he was transporting a large animal captured in Africa, bound for the Boston zoo.

We found a place in the dark, cool cargo decks where the Martian’s cage would be left undisturbed. At first, the steamer captain showed little interest in what we were trying to smuggle, and then none at all after Lowell paid
him an extra bribe to buy us more privacy.

I was glad to be bound for America. After so many years on the run, I looked forward to calm civilization. I wanted to go anyplace where I would find the freedom and facilities to perform all the experiments I had in mind. Though it was currently uncommunicative, the Martian would offer a wealth of opportunities—science, technology, philosophy—once I managed to break through the barrier of understanding.

Lowell and I found ourselves alone with the Martian in a small cargo room. We removed the covering tarpaulin and looked through the bars. “He will truly be a marvel when we get him to America,” Lowell said. “My family can help me make the appropriate scientific announcements.”

I was more concerned about the Martian’s declining health than about its possibilities for fame in Boston society. “I will be pleased merely to get it to a safe place. Perhaps it is suffering from one of our Earth germs, to which it has no immunity. Right now, it looks very sick.”

A
ccording to Huxley’s still-ticking pocket watch, it was past noon back in London, but out in space the passengers saw nothing but a starry night. Wells opened one of the interior blinds to expose the Sun’s orb, but the illumination was so blinding he had to close the covering immediately. The incredible situation in which he found himself took his breath away.

Ever practical in the face of panic, Jane rolled up the opposite shade so she could gaze out at the pock-marked Moon. Its silvery-white surface seemed peaceful and soothing.

While the professor dozed, Wells and Jane stared at the lines and shadows, deep craters that might have been ancient volcanoes or asteroid impacts. Wells had never imagined such
a sight in all his life, and he hoped he survived to write about it, someday.

He pressed closer, as excited as he was frightened. “It looks closer, Jane. See all the detail. It’s as if we’re seeing through a telescope.”

“You promised to show me fascinating things and take me to interesting places.” Jane touched his cheek. “So far, you have been true to your word.”

The Moon had always fascinated Wells, but at the moment Jane intrigued him more. Seeing Huxley sound asleep, they slid away from the porthole. Under the shimmer of moonlight, he put his arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. So far the excitement had kept them awake, but they swiftly fell into dreams in each other’s arms … .

* * *

Huxley shook Wells vigorously awake. “I thought you’d both like to watch this—we’re going to crash soon.”

The urgency in the professor’s voice made Wells snap to full alertness. Jane was already up and peering out the porthole. Filling the whole view, the Moon loomed in their path like an immense hammer ready to smash them. The craters now looked like yawning, hungry mouths fanged with cliffs and upthrust ridges.

“Our speed must be quite extraordinary,” Huxley said, without a glimmer of panic. “I wish Cavor had installed some form of direct controls. I do not know how to guide our course or slow our descent.”

Wells had a sudden idea and pulled himself to the nearest
exposed porthole. “If Cavor’s material is opaque to gravity, how is it that we are being drawn so inexorably toward the Moon? Obviously, there must be some—”

The older man’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course, the porthole! You’ve left one of the blinds up and a section of cavorite exposed. These blinds must block the action of the cavorite somehow, but with the uncovered section facing the Moon, lunar gravity has acted on all the items inside the sphere, pulling us along in that direction. Unfortunately, to our doom.”

Jane understood. “The Moon is reeling us in like a trout.”

Acting decisively, Wells rattled the blind shut. He mentally went through his own lessons on physics and astronomy, when Jane had studied at his side.

“That will stop the pull of gravity, but our momentum will keep us traveling in a straight line,” he said, discouraged. “That is Newton’s first law.”

Huxley sighed. “What a pity. I should have liked to do a bit of exploring on the Moon.”

Though the sphere was now dark, Wells scrambled to the other side of the sphere, bumping Jane’s leg, knocking into Huxley’s shoulder, but he had no time to waste. “All is not lost—we simply need to apply an equal and opposite force.” He slid open a window blind, saw an empty field of stars, then slammed it shut. He opened another, then another, until finally one opened with a view of the blazing sun. He shielded his eyes from the burning vision. “The Sun is more distant, but much larger and has a stronger gravitational pull. It’ll slow us, like applying the brakes on a bicycle.”

“Brilliant, Wells!” Huxley said.

Jane braced herself, expecting a sudden lurch of deceleration. “I’m glad we fell asleep looking at the Moon. If we had a porthole open facing the opposite direction, we might have been roasted alive before we could do anything.”

The glare inside the enclosed sphere was harsh as the sun dragged them to a halt. Jane rolled up the Moon-side covering, glanced out quickly, and snatched the blinds back down again. “We seem to be safely high above the surface.”

Wells slammed shut the Sun-side blind. “There. I would guess we’re now just hovering.”

Huxley seemed very pleased. “If we have discovered a crude means of maneuvering this craft out in space, then we are no longer in danger of immediate obliteration. With a judicious opening and closing of the blinds, we can ride the currents of gravity wherever we wish to go.”

“That means we can make our way safely back to Earth,” Wells said.

“Whenever we’re ready,” Jane added.

Huxley tapped his finger against his bushy sideburns. “Must we be so anxious to get back to our cozy homes? I would rather have a look around.”

“Very well, then.” Jane’s expression was determined. “We shall do our explorations as a team.”

Wells gave her a quick, enthusiastic hug. He had always known she was hungry to learn and discover, curious about the way the universe worked. “In
From the Earth to the Moon
, Jules Verne’s heroes did nothing more than circle around the Moon and return home. We shall be the first to actually touch down—if we can manage it without killing ourselves.”

Huxley went to the opposite porthole and slid up the blinds so that the lunar surface showed in its full glory. “Forward
again, carefully.” With a section of the cavorite exposed, the armored sphere began to move once more toward their destination.

The professor’s joy and anticipation made him look much younger than he had appeared at the Imperial Institute. “History shall remember us as the first men on the Moon, Wells. Not a bad accomplishment, eh?”

“The first men
and a woman,”
Jane insisted. “Or do you expect me to stay inside the cavorite sphere and cook you breakfast?” Wells chuckled.

“My apologies, Miss Robbins,” Huxley said. “The female of the species always plays a vital role—frequently more important than the male’s, for all our colorful plumage.”

Flying by their best guess, the three passengers opened and closed the blinds to adjust their course, angling toward the pock-marked surface. They circled the alien landscape in fits and starts, approaching the shadowy boundary between daylight and the dark side of the Moon.

“Shall we select a place to land?” Huxley asked. “I am dubious, however, about our ability to exert such a level of control.”

“All of the terrain looks equally bleak to me,” Jane said.

They were settling toward the razor-edged line of dawn that crept across the surface as the Moon orbited the Earth. “Perhaps it would be best to make a landing on the edge of sunrise, which is likely to be the most temperate area. The day side may be baking hot and the night side intensely cold.”

“An excellent deduction, Wells. Let us choose a level spot near a crater.”

After so great a journey across such a vast distance, the last
few moments swept up on them with the speed of a locomotive. They had slowed to a fraction of their former velocity, but still the craters and the rocky surface hurtled toward them. Wells yanked open the opposite window shades, letting the Sun’s pull slow them like a parachute, and Jane slammed shut her view of the craters. They were flying blind.

Huxley said, “I hope we aren’t crushed like an egg dropped onto a tile floor.”

“We’ll know in a moment,” Jane said.

And they did. Cavor’s remarkable armor cushioned them against the impact. The jolt rang through the sphere, throwing the three passengers together in a heap. The round space vessel rebounded into the sky again, tumbling, rolling, until finally gravity snagged the open sections of cavorite again like an anchor and pulled the sphere downward. After several more ricochets, each one smaller in amplitude than the previous one, the sphere came to rest with the exposed windows flat against the ground, where gravity could seize them.

Wells fumbled to find Jane in the darkness, and threw his arms around her. Huxley sounded as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “We have actually reached the Moon.”

Crawling on his knees, Wells opened all of the blinds at what he perceived to be the sphere’s floor. “This should hold us to the lunar surface like a magnet. I wouldn’t want the sphere to drift away while we are off exploring.”

“What sort of clothes do you suppose one must wear when walking on the Moon?” Jane said.

“No one’s ever done it before, so you will set the fashion,” Wells said.

They had been so rushed when pursuing Griffin that he and Jane were dressed only in the comfortable lounging clothes from their room. Huxley wore his striped robe, loose shirt, and trousers. “I would have preferred good, sturdy alpine boots, but under the circumstances I shall make do with slippers.”

“First things first,” Jane said. “Let us look out on this strange new world.”

Wells opened one of the small blinds so they could see the silhouetted terrain. The sphere rocked slightly, but the larger bottom-facing windows held them to the ground. Together they watched sunrise on the Moon. A flood of light and warmth swept over them, bursting through a dam of darkness. The vivifying sunlight crossed the cold, black landscape. With it came mists that evaporated, rising gradually at first and then with greater fury in a constant exhalation.

“Ah, the air itself must have settled and frozen in the utter coldness of night,” Huxley said. “Interesting.”

When the line of sunlight passed over their cavorite vessel, the rumble of the pebbly lunar surface was strong enough that they could sense the vibration through the armored hull. Outside, the atmosphere thickened.

“Look, the sky is even turning a slight blue,” Jane said. “It’s as if the whole world is waking up with the morning.”

Ice crystals sparkled like diamonds in the light. The rigid shadows became diffuse, then melted away. Never in his life had Wells seen such a magnificent dawn. “Do you suppose the air will be thick enough for us to breathe?”

“If it isn’t, then our expedition of discovery will produce very little of value.” Huxley’s falcon-sharp eyes looked at both Wells and at Jane. “Our most important duty is to be explorers for science. We must see what we can, document our
discoveries, learn what the Moon has to offer. One day other voyagers might come here to complete the detailed work, but we three are the first—and we must do it properly.”

Gathering his nerve, Wells went to the hatch, which they had not opened since it had been blasted shut by Griffin’s nitroglycerin bomb. “Well, as they say, we can’t begin until we start. If we’re all agreed … ?” He raised his eyebrows. Both Huxley and Jane nodded.

Showing no trepidation, Wells unsealed the hatch. With a hiss, their air rushed out, swirling and cold, fluttering the papers inside. Wells stood blinking out at the rugged ground before him. No one—not even Sir Richard Burton in Arabia, or Mungo Park in darkest Africa—had ever set forth into a land so strange. He drew a deep breath of the lunar atmosphere and braced himself, expecting to be struck down by poisonous gases from the strange world. “The air is fresh and sweet, though a bit chilly.”

“It will warm as the day proceeds,” Huxley said. “Go outside, Mr. Wells.”

But he hesitated, turning back to his mentor. “Sir, the honor of being the first to touch this new world rightfully belongs to you. It is equivalent to Christopher Columbus discovering North America.” Little more than a foot separated him from the dusty, crumbly ground.

“No need to make such a foofaraw, young man. It is but a small step.”

Wells stood firm. “No, Professor. When history looks back upon this, it will be seen as a giant leap for mankind.”

FROM THE JOURNAL OF DR. MOREAU

Our steamer left Casablanca, stopped at Tangier, and proceeded through the Strait of Gibraltar. While Lowell took in the Mediterranean breezes on the sunny deck, I spent my days tending our captive Martian and taking copious notes. I already had enough material to write at least one analytical book, possibly more.

The steamer passengers had no inkling that a creature from another planet was stored in one of the small cargo holds. By the time we headed west across the Atlantic, I had become accustomed to my small, dim room in the private parts of the ship adjacent to the cargo chamber where we held the Martian.