“Another radioplane is in sight!” replied an abrupt voice.
Saint-Clair shuddered. In the distance, a brilliant point appeared.
“Disperse!” cried Saint-Clair. “And slow down!”
With admirable self-composure, Max repeated the order—and the four crystal-carapaced vehicles drew apart. The reception-mechanism of the motive waves was nine-tenths neutralized; almost immediately, the speed of the four radioplanes was reduced to 30,000 kilometers per hour.1
“Keep slowing down!” cried Saint-Clair.
The gauges marked 3000 kph.
“More!”
No more than 300 kph.
“More!”
Now no more than 30 kph.
The shining dot had visibly increased in size, but it too must have slowed down; soon, it no longer seemed to be approaching.
Saint-Clair looked at the chronometer; eleven minutes had passed since the cataclysm that had annihilated the Admiral and his two companions.
“The newcomer was 22 minutes behind the first,” Saint-Clair murmured. “Let’s see!” He looked around. He could only see two radioplanes, one of them above him, the other below and to starboard. The third must have been in the same plane as one of those two.
Despite appearances however, the one that came from Mars was coming closer; its diameter had increased. Suddenly, though, it became obvious that the enemy was stopping.
“What does the fellow want?” murmured Saint-Clair.
He did not have to wait long. A scene to beggar the human imagination unfolded in the infinity of interplanetary space, millions of leagues from Earth and Mars alike.
The Martian radioplane arrived slowly, at a minimal speed of 30 kilometers an hour. Saint-Clair was soon able to see that there was only one man within it. At the same moment, Max recognized the man, whose face was clearly visible through the crystal carapace, which was not shining on one side. “It’s the man from La Gironde who called himself the Marquis de Briage!” the young man cried.
“Koynos!” said Saint-Clair, with an indescribable emotion.
They watched Koynos pass by to starboard. At the same moment, however, Koynos reversed the direction of wave-reception and, after a rapid tremor, the radioplane came back, moving backwards. Still moving backwards, it followed the same line of advance as the terrestrial radioplanes.
The Nyctalope understood. On Mars, the XV had further improved the radioplanes; they had developed a mechanism permitting the deployment of the arriving waves in a contrary sense, so as to neutralize the propulsive force that had previously been pushing the radioplane forwards!
With an inexpressible emotion, the Nyctalope said to Max: “Pass me the receiver!”—for he had seen Koynos lean over the telephonic console.
Conversation was immediately engaged.
“Hello? Hello? Saint-Clair?”
“Yes. Is that you, Koynos?”
“Yes. Have you seen a radioplane?”
“First,” asked the Nyctalope, “are you friend or foe?”
“Friend—for the moment.”
“Good! A radioplane did, indeed, come from the direction of Mars; it annihilated one of ours with three men, in a collision.”
“That was Alkeus, one of the Fifteen. It was you, Saint-Clair, that he wanted. Was there anyone I knew among the three dead men?”
“Yes—Admiral de Ciserat.”
“Xavière’s father!”
The human heart is certainly bizarre! On hearing that name in the mouth of Koynos, Saint-Clair felt a pang of jealousy, despite the overwhelming importance and strangeness of the present circumstances. He repeated, almost harshly, “Xavière’s, yes, and Yvonne’s.”
“It is in obedience to Mademoiselle de Ciserat that I am here,” Koynos continued. “And this is what, despite the Oath of the Fifteen and all my obligations, I’ve come to say to you… Hello? Hello? Are you listening?”
“I’m listening!”
“Don’t try to land on Mars near Argyre Island—inevitable death awaits you there, for Oxus has offensive means at his disposal that will destroy you in space, and defensive means that will annihilate you if, by any slim chance, you escape the former. Do you believe me? I’m speaking in Xavière’s name.”
“I believe you!” the Nyctalope said.
“Good!”
“Where should we land?”
“Argyre Island is in the southern hemisphere, which is tilted towards Earth at this time of year. Modify the direction of your approach by the number of degrees that calculation will indicate to you, and land on Niliacus Island, which is in the northern hemisphere, in the middle of the lake of that name.2 It’s a desert island, a former Martian army base, presently abandoned by virtue of its inhospitability—but regions inhospitable to the Martians are, by contrast, quite hospitable to Earthmen. You’ll find vast forests there and the remains of technological and military installations of which you might be able to take advantage. Above all, approach Mars over the northern hemisphere once you are within 200,000 kilometers. While Oxus can still see you, he will be unable to take any action against you, and by the time he can take action, he will no longer be able to see you, since you will be on the far side of the world! Is all that understood?”
“Understood!” replied Saint-Clair. “Will the help that you’re giving us be limited to that?”
“For the moment, it’s sufficient. I’ll return to Argyre Island, where Xavière might be in more danger than you will be in when you disembark on Mars.”
“What danger?”
“Nothing precise—but I’m afraid of Oxus! Adieu! Watch out for the Fifteen and the Martians! Your adventure is insane!”
Saint-Clair wanted to reply, but he heard the click of a receiver being hung up. He raised his head and looked out.
Koynos had already opened the mechanism that received the waves to the full. Going backwards, his radioplane drew away and disappeared at lightning speed in the direction of Mars.
For a few minutes, Saint-Clair remained almost as dazed as young Jolivet was. No man, however strong and determined he might be, could find himself in such a situation without experiencing a certain sensation of dislocation—but the exceedingly strong sense he had of his responsibility, as well as pride and love, restored Saint-Clair’s calmness and presence of mind after a minute or so.
“Repeat this!” he said to Max, and dictated the following order: “Form a single file behind me, about five kilometers apart. Maximum speed. Follow my movements and stay on the telephone. Forward!”
And the four Terran radioplanes resumed their phantasmal course through interplanetary space. The hours passed slowly or rapidly, according to their passengers’ momentary states of mind. Worlds and bolides gravitated around the four infinitesimal points that were the radioplanes. The direction of their progress was modified at one point.
Mars, an immense globe, visibly increased in size before the Terrans, who were calm and cool, as insensitive as Fate itself.
At the end of the seventh 24 hour day, Saint-Clair—who had only slept at very rare intervals, and was as taut and tense in his every nerve as a bowstring—cried out, for Jolivet to repeat into the telephone: “Lake Niliacus is in view! Decelerate progressively by one degree per minute. Resume a horizontal line.”
Lake Niliacus, as immense as a true sea, extended in the distance, scarcely visible in the shadow. The Sun, still blinding for the Terrans, was setting relative to the lake. Soon, a black island became visible in the midst of the uniform waters, and it was by night—the melancholy calm of a luminous and temperate winter night, softly lit by the stars and the two moons provided by Mars’ two satellites, Phobos and Deimos—that the four radioplanes gently set down, without shaking, on Martian soil. With equal haste, the four radioplanes were opened and the 11 Terrans leapt out of the crystal carapaces, throwing themselves into one another’s arms, laughing and weeping, prey to an excitement that seemed close to madness.
The less dense air, to which they had been
gradually adapting themselves since their entry into the Martian atmosphere, intoxicated them, rendering them lighter and more athletic in body, confident, optimistic and joyous in mind.3
Huddled in pairs or groups, they stared drunkenly at the unfamiliar nocturnal sky. Amid myriads of stars, the strange moons Phobos and Deimos—the first coming from the east, the second from the west—were shining in the immensity. One, Deimos, was full; the other, Phobos, displayed a crescent.4 Their double clarity was reflected by the calm undulations of an expanse of water, on the shore of which the Terrans were standing. To their left, a copse of trees formed an elegant black stain upon the sky; to their right, the flat expanse of the dark water extended towards the brighter horizon; the silence was absolute, for the water was not even quivering: perfectly simple sensations by which the imagination was slightly deceived.
Without the strange novelty of the two moons, they might have believed that they were on Earth, in France, on the edge of a pool in Sologne on a calm and clear October night, gentle and perfumed in its freshness.
The air was lighter, more transparent; they felt as if they were larger, stronger, and less heavy than on Earth, less attached to the ground. It seemed rather as if by extending their arms they were opening wings—but it was exquisite. There was nothing terrible in it. It evoked nothing red, bloody or tragic, even though the people of Earth had taken the liberty of making the planet Mars a motif with frightful associations. Their expectation was martial, but it was in idyllic surroundings that they were astonished by gentle dreams!
Saint-Clair translated all these impressions, which she shared with his ten companions in adventure. He said, or rather sighed: “This is delightful!” And this speech was like the airy caress of a gentle breeze.
Alas, it was not to be delightful for long, and the days to come would often give the lie to the intoxicating promise of that first evening.
Although the years and seasons on Mars are almost twice as long as on Earth, to the extent that the Martian year has 688 days, the duration of the day and night there is almost the same as here: 24 hours, 39 minutes and 35 seconds. As the Terrans were soon to learn, the days were divided by the Martians into 24 hours, from noon to noon, each about 35 seconds longer than the terrestrial hour.5 They had arrived in the terrestrial month of October—corresponding to the 20th month of the Martian calendar, for the Martian year has 24 months—on the 29th day.6
On Mars, on the 29th day of the 20th month, the Sun sets at 6:52 p.m., and rises at 17:58 p.m.—which would be 5:58 a.m. counting in 12-hour divisions as on Earth. It was about 6 p.m. when the Terrans set down on Martian soil. In the eight days that their intersidereal journey had lasted, they had slept very little. Thus, despite the strangeness of their situation, they soon tired of contemplating the two Martian moons and following their rapid march across the starry sky.
The weakest of the 11 men was the first to yield to nature. “I’m sleepy,” said Jolivet—and he shivered, for the nocturnal air was getting colder.
Max’s voice reminded Saint-Clair of his duties as leader. “My friends,” he said—and his voice took on an extraordinary sonority in the rarefied air—“Max is right to say what he feels. We are all as sleepy as he is, and greatly in needy of rest. Let us retire to the radioplanes, where the cooling air will not be able to get in, and sleep. At daybreak, we shall confer and make whatever resolutions the circumstances require.”
Klepton and the other adventurers agreed.
Two minutes later, the 11 Terrans were enclosed in their respective radioplanes, and five minutes after that, comfortably accommodated in their seats and enveloped by special cloaks with which they were equipped, they were all asleep.
On the grass of the gently sloping meadow that ran down to the motionless sea, the four radioplanes shone in the pale convergent light of Phobos and Deimos.
The hours went by; midnight came, then 13 hours, 14 hours, 15 and 16. To the east of the mysterious planet, the horizon, marked out by low hills, gradually took on a mauve tint, then greenish orange, then pink. Slowly, the colors were transformed, becoming gradually more luminous and distinct. It was dawn: the calm dawn of a fine autumn day.
The radioplanes’ chronometers, divided into 24 fractions, marked 17:35 p.m. when the first person—Saint-Clair—awoke.7 With the admirable constitution of men who are physically and mentally strong, he had slept like a contented bourgeois in bed in his house in the country—and at the precise moment of awakening, he did not remember anything. He rubbed his eyes, slightly bewildered.
Immediately, the clear memory of events rendered him conscious of everything. He saw Jolivet sleeping beside him; the young man was smiling in the grip of some pleasant terrestrial or sidereal dream. Let him sleep a little longer! Saint-Clair thought—and he opened the door of the radioplane quietly. He got out and took a few steps towards the east.
Because of the slight density of the atmosphere, and because the Nyctalope was exercising his habitual muscular force, each of his steps lifted him entirely into the air by several centimeters, and he took immense strides without any effort.
In setting foot on Martian soil, crossing long distances in a bound and feeling himself so light and so powerful at the same time, Saint-Clair experienced a formidable pride and a prodigious joy. “Ah! Conqueror of the world!” he exclaimed. And he immediately added, as an appeal and an invitation: “Xavière! Xavière!” But the spectacle of the orient on fire brought him to a halt.
Standing on a hillock, he gazed with a voluptuous avidity. In the distance, beyond the reddish forests that covered the low hills, the sky was tinted with bright colors—yellows, oranges, reds—like ardent streaks of molten metal. That lasted for long minutes, with incessant variations of tone, each individual tone being equally bright and pure—for the Martian atmosphere rarely accommodates mists and clouds.
Suddenly, there were two, five, seven jets of fire radiating into the sky towards the zenith, and the Sun’s orb began to appear. It climbed majestically, surging forth at a measure speed from the reddish mass of the forest, whose crowns became bloody. Eventually, it showed in its entirety, unbearably and violently bright.
“The Sun! The Sun of Mars!” cried Saint-Clair, enraptured.
He turned round, to in order to fetch his companions to participate in that joy, to commune with them in the glory and force of that new morning. They all ran around, making immense bounds, Miscalculating the scope of each stride, they overstepped, with loud laughter, and then came back, more prudently. They joined hands and formed a living chain, agitated by indescribable emotions—and, obedient to an instinct of their species, they each released a howl that summed up, for each individual, all his enthusiasm and all his joy. For Saint-Clair, Jolivet, Bontemps, Pacard and Tardieu, the cry was: “Vive la France!” For Klepton, Gaynor, Merlak, Tory, O’Brien and Johnson, it was: “Hurrah for Old England!” And by that, they showed that they were still men of the old times, not the demigods that the new era ought eventually to forge.
This time, the first person to recover the necessary self-control was Klepton. With a gesture, he gathered his companions into a circle, in which Saint-Clair was facing him. “My friends,” he said, “we have spent yesterday evening and this morning admiring nature; now it is necessary to figure out how to live, fight and conquer. We have enough food-supplies for a week in the radioplanes. Our revolvers and hatchets are weapons good enough to bring down animals at close range and to defend ourselves in a hand-to-hand fight—but against the Martians, if they come and if they find us, they are mere playthings. So, during that week, we must create a refuge, if not authentic weapons. Our situation is almost desperate. If a single Martian catches sight of us, it will be all over. On the other hand, we can neither return home from here nor send messages to the Congo station.
“In a month, 3000 men will depart from that same station. If we do not warn them, they will arrive in the vicinity of Argyre Island and Oxus will annihilate them before they set foot on Martian so
il. In our present situation, therefore, the givens of the problem are these: first, within a week, to find what we need to feed us, shelter us, hide us and defend us against a possible Martian attack; then, within a month, to find a means of communicating with the radiomotive station in the Congo. Then, and then only, we can think about defeating Oxus and the Fifteen, freeing the prisoners and conquering Mars.”
Klepton fell silent. He had defined the terrible situation in which the adventurers found themselves quite clearly. There was a pause.
Saint-Clair broke the silence and said: “Klepton, in the present circumstances, and to resolve the double problem, don’t forget that we have two auxiliaries: Xavière and Koynos. Already, by way of Koynos, Xavière has saved our lives. Let us search, work and prepare to fight—but in order to have the strength to find, to realize and to conquer, let us not forget that Xavière is thinking of us, and that she is has sovereignty over the soul of Koynos, one of the Fifteen.”
The admirable man said these things without the slightest pang of dolorous, terrible and heart-breaking jealousy. He said them in that calm manner to give confidence and courage to his comrades, because he, personally, wanted to forget that he loved Xavière, and that Xavière was, in reality, a prisoner of the XV.
Then, the 11 Terrans held a sort of council-meeting, seated on a mound covered with exceedingly thick red grass. Each one imparted his ideas freely, and, after a quarter of an hour of deliberation, it was decided that they would first mount an exploration of Niliacus Island. Koynos had mentioned abandoned military bases; it was necessary to discover these bases, to see what they comprised and where any part of them might be useful.
With common accord, the little troop once again recognized the Nyctalope as their supreme leader, and the savant and excitable Klepton as his lieutenant. As for the nine other men, each of them was employed according to his abilities, knowledge and talents, subject to the receipt of orders that had to be carried out immediately and without discussion, on pain of death.
The Nyctalope on Mars 2: The Triumph of Love Page 2