by Pam Uphoff
"Talk to Zila," Xaero suggested. "She knows a few words. Might get you started." She watched as the mob milled around in the meadow, looking like oversized fireflies from this distance. "They seem to realize there isn't anything to chase."
Whistles and chirps came to them faintly, and finally the mob reversed course and headed back toward the village.
"They never spotted us," Nyx sounded very relieved. He glanced over his shoulder, "Zila, talk to me about the Uglies' language."
"I couldn't make the noises correctly," she admitted. "If we'd had enough time we could have worked out a written translation. Let me show you." She dug around in her pocket, as she walked up the ramp and pulled out a worn orange book. "I forgot to give this back to them. They were pointing at pictures and giving me the words." She opened it, and as they gathered around, she pointed at a picture of something very like the bladeless little giants. "This is a dine oh soar. That's their word for all the giants, this one they said was a rap toar. They thought I was some kind of dine oh soar too, that's when I started pointing at the sky."
Nyx's eyes glowed. "A picture book. Words and what are probably descriptions of the animals. I've died and gone to the Pleasure Cavern." He didn't get to bed that night.
Chapter Six
The next day they moved the Dzi to the mining site. The maneuvering and landing jets lifted it easily enough and the distance was short.
Thereafter they kept a constant guard up, and traveled very little. The site was varied enough to satisfy Xaero and the other bio scientists, and the miners went underground with their machines.
Xaero was impressed by the miniature processing line they'd set up, grinding the ore and separating out the richer quarter, which was bagged, stored and would periodically be tossed through a small gate.
"I doubt the automatics will keep going for more than a tenth," Trev said, admiring his handiwork, "but that'll dump an entire power plant's worth of ore close enough to Mars for retrieval."
"And the next crew will get it started back up, for more. We'll dig in and bury the trailer, with the cart and everything not in the assembly line inside it." Trebore was looking like a herfit full of cheeper. "I, of course, am planning on being part of that crew as well."
Xaero nodded, "Although I'd really like to get to the far side of these mountains to check out those huge bodies of water. And the other continents. There's bound to be regional variations in all the animals."
"That will all depend on the reaction we get to the Little Giants and the Time Travelers." L'on pointed out. "A bunch of people are going to really get upset over the uglies."
They had sighted and recorded the Little Giants, with their hunters and pikes, from a distance three times, but weren't seen themselves. The uglies . . . they had all the recordings of their studies of the machines, what Nyx swore were the computer memories, the vids taken from the Dzi and Zila's book.
The remainder of their time on Blue sped past, and with no few regrets they packed up the last samples and triggered the Time-and-Space drive.
Chapter Seven
Xaero felt light as fluff as she walked down the Dzi's rear ramp. They had maneuvered the ship inside the isolation building, and sounds echoed in the cavernous space.
"Home! My ankles thank you, my knees worship you. My back may recover in a year or two."
Xaero swapped grins with Trev at Nyx's fervent reaction to normal gravity.
Trev leaned over and whispered, "Mind you, I feel the same way."
She nodded, and glanced back at the crew members who were being carried or helped down the ramp. Vasi was the worst, but his broken leg and wrist were both healing well. Despite their care and protective gear, everyone had sore backs, twisted ankles and sprained wrists or other minor injuries. Her own injury was going to attract a lot of attention. A claw scar from an alien creature. The Newsies would love it. Thank the old Sky Gods she and Trev had agreed with the security conscious types and used slightly contorted versions of their names.
The quarantine building was on the surface and completely sealed. They were in for a solid tenth of biological isolation, but that didn't mean they weren't going to get the whole heroes' welcome. A quarter of the building was the hanger for the Dzi, the rest was living quarters, laboratory space, and public display.
"Actually, I think I feel like an inmate at the Zoo," she said.
"Hmm, painfully accurate." Trev agreed, shifting his hold slightly on the transparent pressurized habitat he was carrying. "But we'll get out soon enough. Unlike these guys."
On the far side of a glass wall, the official reception committee was surrounded by reporters. Lights flashed constantly, vidcams were recording everything and everyone from every angle. All the ambulatory Martians were carrying biological samples, the flashier the better, but Xaero had insisted on a representative selection. The potted plant she carried was dead boring, compared to Captain L'on's flier.
He placed the pressurized container and its black and white occupant on the table before the glass wall. The flier jumped back and forth, flashing its modified scales and riveting the attention of everyone there. Until Trebore placed one of the Blue bipedal Smalls beside it. Then Aura added the container of the most colorful insixts, Trev the ugly hopping amphibians, Riu the fuzzy little Big Ears, Nyx the hard shelled Hiders. The ordinary little lizard-like creatures Zila brought in were nearly unnoticed. The rest placed exotic vegetation, also in pressurized containers, behind the animal cages, and then it was time for speeches.
The Empress beamed at Trev, no doubt relieved that her youngest chick had returned in one piece.
"We've always looked to the sky and found our eyes drawn to the brilliance of Big Blue. Now we have been there, and we have realized that it is even more incredible than our wildest dreams."
As the Empress extolled the crew's bravery, Xaero found her thoughts and eyes wandering. Beyond the security zone, beyond the reporters, beyond the invited guests, she could see the signs waving.
SAVE BLUE FROM MARS!
SAY NO TO INVASION!
MARTIANS BELONG ON MARS!
KILLERS!
She sighed. The REM, or at least the non-criminal, non-terrorist arm was still alive and going strong. And still wrong, too.
Martians couldn't stay on Mars. Blue was too big, the gravity too high, but the time-and-space drive wasn't going to be limited to just the solar system. Mars was dying, but the Martians needn't die with it. All the new caverns, the new surface buildings were just stop gap measures.
Somewhere, up there in the stars they would find a new home.
Her attention returned to the Empress as she wound up her address, "By your bravery and hard work you have increased the knowledge of Martians by an immeasurable amount. For all of Mars, I thank you." She stepped back, as if to leave the floor open for other speakers, and Captain L'on stepped up to the glass to deliver his prepared speech.
Through a gap in the crowd, she spotted a picketer who looked a lot like Silver. And another who looked like Gold . . . and one who was undoubtedly Raelphi.
It was good to be home.
Addendum for Earthlings
The Martian day is 24.6 hours long. A split is 1/100th of a day, roughly 15 minutes.
The Martian year is 1.88 Earth years long, and thus there are roughly 670 Martian days in a Martian year. A tenth is 1/10th of a Martian year: 67 days.
Until we get some samples returned to Earth, we won't have a good grasp of Martian history. Our best estimates, at this point are that the last sizable bodies of water on Mars dried up billions of years ago. Even episodic smaller amounts of water have probably not happened for at least tens, and possibly hundreds of millions of years. Although recent data has hinted at seasonal permafrost melting creating local damp spots.
The core of Mars has indeed solidified, and only a weak remnant magnetic field is left. What atmosphere Mars had at that point began thinning as high speed impacts of the particles and atoms of the solar wind struck the
upper parts and started eroding it, not unlike a stream eroding a sandstone, one grain at a time.
I placed these stories roughly 35 million (Earth) years ago for plot purposes. Most likely IF there was ever life on Mars it probably never evolved into complex forms, and probably all died hundreds of million years ago.
So there aren't really any Martians, they aren't really between four and five feet tall, with a stride that makes "a thousand strides" in between a kilometer and a mile. Pseudos are nothing like over-achieving metrosexuals, DINKs, yuppies, or preppies.
And surely the planet has been spared lawyers.
About the Author
I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.
Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’re coming up on our thirty-fifth anniversary.
My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I “retired” to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush (Mom? Someone is paying you to read??!!)
I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.
The Lawyers of Mars is my sixteenth novel. I'm in the process of writing a sequel. Can't leave the Martians on a dying planet, after all!
I'm twelve books into a parallel worlds universe with genetically engineered "magic." That series starts with Outcasts and Gods. It’s an ongoing series, but most of the books are stand alone stories. Just a couple need to go together to solve the problem at hand. I have a very large backlog of rough drafts, so this series will be very active.
I also write under the pen name Zoey Ivers. The books are not strictly for middle grades and young adults, but they do feature young protagonists and a lack of sex, if you are looking for a challenging read without having your kids ask embarassing questions.
I'm planning to bring out at least three more books this year. One of them is a manuscript that I've pulled out the batch making the rounds of publishers, so it should go up quickly. I've got two new books in the Wine of the Gods Universe under way. And then a third "Zoey Ivers" book in the Doors series. And then there's this brand new time traveling space opera that has captured a lot of my time lately. So I may try to squeak in a fifth book before the end of the year.
I need to find the time to get more books out in print, out to Kobo, Sony, B&N . . . I need to find the time to invent a time machine . . .
Other Titles by Pam Uphoff
Wine of the Gods Series:
Outcasts and Gods
Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)
The Black Goats
Explorers
Spy Wars
Comet Fall
A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)
Dark Lady
Growing Up Magic (Four Novellas)
Young Warriors
God of Assassins
Empire of the One
Earth Gate (2014)
Dancer (2014)
Martian Series:
The Lawyers of Mars
Of Martians and Men (2015)
Writing as Zoey Ivers
YA Cyberpunk Adventures:
The Barton Street Gym
Chicago
Atlantis (2014)
Fantasy:
Demi God
Excerpts from Upcoming Releases
Of Martians and Men
by
Pam Uphoff
"Rex, I believe you. Absolutely and totally." The thin man held up a finger to stop interruption. "But. If you don't want to be written off as a complete whacko nut case, you can only tell part of the story."
"Regis, I tell you…"
"I know, I know. Intelligent Barbarian dinosaurs and Space Alien dinosaurs. I believe you. Now we have to figure out a palatable way to explain them." He pointed out the window where three raptors were making short work of a side of beef, on the far side of a high electrical fence. Beyond them, workers were erecting a five meter high steel barred fence around a ten acre field. The workers seemed to be working with their heads cranked around to stare at the dinosaurs.
"We need to find out more about the Space Dinos." Rex insisted.
Regis Kingsland rubbed his temples. May be it would be better to let his twin talk about it, get it out of his system, here in private. "Okay, now what did they look like?"
Rex's eyes lit up. "They were pretty, slender and elegant compared to the dinosaurs, and even with the tails they stood completely erect." His eyes narrowed in thought. "Picture a greyhound, standing on her back legs, OK? Long slender legs and arms, big deep chest." His eyes flashed in irritation. "Not that sort of chest, they weren't mammals. They had a lot of lung capacity. Now cross your greyhound with a seahorse. They had a sort of angularity to their exteriors, like that, and heavy tails that were still pretty flexible, not quite prehensile, though. Cheek flares or frills around the sides and back of their skulls. Now, give it a lion's mane of porcupine quills, and a ridge of gradually shorter quills down their spines to the tip of their tails."
Definitely a headache. "Greyhound, seahorse and lion-porcupine. Right. Maybe you could photoshop them?"
"Yeah," Rex perked up then hesitated, "I doubt I can get the colors right though, they were like, metallic. Sandy pale gold through black-and-bronze. The little one I told you about, that was luring the dinos into the alley and knocking them out was all coppery. I'd like to see her in broad daylight!"
"Her?"
"Well, she was smallish. So I figured female." Rex shrugged, "And get your mind out of the sewers, I'm not kidding about the porcupine quills, you should have seen them trying to ride three to a raptor without sticking each other. If it hadn't been for those stinky leather ponchos they wouldn't have been able to."
Regis snickered, and then pointed to the crisp, clean and very large new barn, white with green trim, landscaped, the large sliding doors on the front closed. "We need to act as if your time machine is in there."
"With your Quarter horse broodmares?" Rex asked.
"We won't mention the horses--that's my new show barn, by the way—and we won't give the reporters access. We really don't want any of them to know your apparatus is portable. At least not until it's replaced."
Regis sighed. Two time trips, two close encounters with trees. What were the odds? Why hadn’t he insisted on someone else driving as a condition of financing his little brother’s insane idea? At least they'd all gotten out before the electronics in back had seriously shorted and started the fire.
And a damn good thing those raptors had run all night long and were exhausted when they'd arrived. The two tame ones weren't much of a problem, but the wild one—the only male, wouldn't you know?—was a bit difficult to handle. Hopefully he wouldn't eat any of the reporters that had besieged the ranch, and whom Regis would eventually have to let in for pictures and interviews.
On arrival, Vera had led the domesticated dinos into Regis's stallion exercise area, and the wild one had followed. They'd realized they had to electrify it almost immediately, and Regis had started the steel fence for a large, attractive display pasture. Except they weren't showing off horses. These guys were predators, and he once again wondered if he shouldn't have let his rent-a-cops shoot them when Rex and company had arrived so spectacularly and unexpectedly.
He snorted a little in memory of his indignant reaction: "Didn't we agree you'd only come and go at scheduled times when no one was around to see? How could you miscalculate so badly you missed a three thousand acre ranch?" No doubt at all which brother was the financial genius millionaire and which was the Mad Scientist. Rex’s explanation of a torch wielding mob of dinosaurs, rescue by the space dinos and the actual presence of the three raptors had made
for such an interesting afternoon. Regis figured Rex owed him big time for that chaotic arrival.
"Okay, Regis, we’ll say we used some cutting edge materials to build a one-time-only time gate in a barn-turned-research-lab, and nearly got eaten by dinosaurs, these three of which followed us back through the gate, which had a slight focus problem, which was why we arrived a mile away from where we should have. At an incredible risk of life and limb we captured the raptors, and got them back here. Ta da!
"Now, that'll do for the reporters, but what about the government? What about the scientists?"
Rex jabbed a finger at the raptors. "However they might want to write this off as a publicity stunt and a fake, there they are. Raptors."
Regis looked out the window, and sighed. "Dancing around like a prairie chicken. They've got feathers fer christsake, even your much feared scientists may think they're faked somehow. Genetically altered emus or something."
Rex grinned. "No, that I'm not worried about. The experts can't be fooled. I'm worried about the Space Dinos. Where are they from, what were they doing there? It's unbelievable that we coincidentally arrived right when they were there. I think they must have detected the Hawkings field and landed nearby to check us out. Under the circumstances they might not have traced us, and we might not have any visitors. But we really do have to talk to the authorities about them. Really."
Regis shuddered. "If we don't convince them, we get to entertain psychologists with our strange psychoses. If we convince them, what will they do to us? Something worse?"
Rex scratched his chin. "What I'm really afraid of is them just taking the field generators and walking off. What will the government do with a time machine? Sooner or later they'll get one."