The Nyctalope on Mars 1: The Mystery of the Fifteen

by Jean de La Hire

  “No,” she said, as if in a dream.

  “Turn your head slightly—there, behind me, do you see those two little items of coupled apparatus? One is the carbon-absorber, the other the oxygen-generator. They have provided us with the air necessary for aspiration and have absorbed the carbon of expiration. And you’re asking yourself how we were able to withstand the mortal cold of the etheric regions?”

  “No,” she said again.

  “It’s because we have beneath our feet a special electric radiator, which transforms an infinitesimal part of the Hertzian waves propelling us into heat.”

  Koynos bowed, turned a little tap attacked to a metal canister installed between the wings of his chair, and got to his feet.

  “There—you’ll feel the difference in the air more acutely. A touch of oppression, which will soon pass, because the Martian atmosphere, although different from Earth’s in several respects, is almost identical to ours with respect to human respiration…” He stopped speaking, looked at the young woman, and remained silent for a moment—then, changing its tone, the grave and slightly emotional voice resumed: “You said just now, Mademoiselle, that you had not even looked at me…”

  She shivered, and turned questioning eyes towards him, while a certain pulmonary difficulty left her a trifle breathless.

  “Certainly,” he resumed, “I did not hope for such an honor then—but the time and circumstances were inappropriate for me to solicit it. I had seen you, and since then, I would have renounced my enviable destiny entirely, rather than not have you share in it. I could not do that as a matter of choice, time and circumstances being opposed to it, so I did it by force—please excuse me, Mademoiselle, and do not condemn me for the past before having sounded out the future…”

  That was perfect; Xavière could not think of anything to say. There was another silence. Then, a trifle pale with exasperation, thrown back into the tumult of thoughts that the extraordinary combination of circumstances provoked, she said, dryly: “Well, Monsieur…!” She was strong now, though. She sat back in her armchair and contemplated the new world to which Koynos had brought her—and in the depths of her soul, the obstinate voice of hope murmured to her:

  Wait! Fight! Don’t weaken! These mysterious Fifteen are men. Other men exist, as intelligent, as strong, as courageous. Your fiancé would give his life for you; your father is powerful and rich. They will search for you. They will find this radiomotive station in Central Africa from which interplanetary radioplanes depart—and you will be able to vanquish Koynos entirely, as you have already vanquished his heart!

  And while these words resounded in the depths of her soul, with a thousand variations, her eyes and her mind allowed themselves to be captivated by the prodigious spectacle that the aspects of Mars presented to her terrestrial senses. She was a trifle short of breath, but felt no pain, and the spectacle that presented itself to her soon rendered her insensible to that discomfort.

  The Sun was entirely above the horizon. By squinting, Xavière could look it in the face. It seemed smaller than when seen from Earth. The air was extraordinarily transparent, without a cloud or the least hint of mist. The Austral Sea now seemed pale silver, and Argyre Island, low and sandy around its shores, formed a great stain of vivid red, marked in the middle by features of the terrain whose nature the young woman could not discern.

  Soon, though, they were no more than five or six meters above the ground. The radioplane’s descent was very gradual. Koynos turned the steering-wheel slightly, the radioplane veered, and Xavière saw then that the unevenness in the terrain was nothing but a sort of entrenched encampment constructed in the exact center of the island, in the middle of which buildings were huddled. The red coloration of the rest of the island originated from fantastic vegetation of an unknown nature.

  Five minutes later, without a jolt or a shudder, the radioplane set down on the vast terrace of one of the buildings.

  Alpha pressed a switch; an almost-invisible door opened in the crystal carapace, at almost the same level as the terrace.

  Koynos had got to his feet. A single step took him outside. He presented his left hand to Xavière, saying: “Welcome to Mars, Mademoiselle!”

  Her heart beating with a thousand contradictory emotions, Xavière resolutely supported her right hand on Koynos’ arm and leapt on to the terrace. The oppression in her lungs had disappeared. She felt as light as a dragonfly. The little jump she had made to get out of the radioplane would have carried her much further forward if Koynos had not held her back. She was bewildered. He smiled.

  “You’ll get used to your body’s lightness and that extraordinary facility of movement,” he said. “Excuse me for mingling figures with my words, but you must know that on Mars, bodies weighs a third as much as they do on Earth. The muscular force that you develop in your movements is three times more active in consequence. A single step will carry you three times as far, and you will be able to leap several meters without effort—but all these anomalies will soon be familiar to you…”

  He stopped. Xavière was no longer listening, because a spectacle that was simultaneously surprising, consoling and painful had offered itself to her.

  Other terraced buildings surrounded the one where they had come down, and on each of the other terraces, Xavière saw a radioplane descending, each with a crystal carapace flanked by wings, composed of a long chassis stretched by metal wires. Each carapace was, in addition, surmounted by a short mast linked to the wings by stays, similarly composed of metal wires.

  Xavière counted 14 radioplanes—and from each one, in succession, she saw two men emerge, either guiding a resolute young woman, sustaining a tottering young woman, or carrying a young woman who had fainted.

  “Ah!” she cried. “So I’m not alone!” Immediately, though, she held out her arms. “Yvonne, Yvonne!”

  She had just recognized one of the unconscious young women as her sister Yvonne. She was on the neighboring terrace, separated from the one on which Koynos had landed by a fairly wide street. Xavière wanted to leap forwards, but Koynos held her back.

  “Mademoiselle,” he said, “your sister will be in your arms in a few minutes.”

  At that instant, moreover, Yvonne and her two guards disappeared into a red staircase set in the middle of the terrace.

  “Quickly, quickly, Monsieur!” Xavière cried, transported by a combination of instinctive joy and dolorous apprehension. “My sister has fainted, Monsieur! I want to see her immediately! Oh, my God—she might die!”

  Tears sprang from her eyes. Koynos drew her along. Lightly and rapidly they descended a staircase, passed through large rooms, went into the street, and immediately entered another house… where Xavière saw Yvonne lying on a divan.

  Immediately, Xavière noticed the pink color of her sister’s cheeks, the serene calmness of her attitude, the regularity of her respiration.

  Standing next to the divan was a man dressed like Koynos. “Mademoiselle,” he said, in a guttural voice, “your sister is only sleeping by virtue of the effect of the elixir. She will wake up in a few minutes. Shall we leave these demoiselles alone for the moment, Koynos?”

  “Gladly, Alkeus.”

  And, as she asked herself whether she might not be in some insane dream, Xavière saw the two men bow to her respectfully, resume their upright stance, turn their backs and go out, each through a different door. She fell to her knees beside her sleeping sister and, in a silence in which she could hear the precipitate beating of her heart, she looked at Yvonne for a long time, through the tears that were misting her eyes.

  II. Clarifications

  After leaving the room where the two young women remained alone, Koynos walked a little way along the street and went into a house that stood in isolation on a little plaza marking the center of the XV’s entrenched encampment.

  Scarcely had the door closed behind him, automatically, when a vibrant ringing resounded and a metallic voice emerged from the invisible speaker of a phonograph embe
dded in the wall, saying: “Martian hydroplanes detected in the south. Cosmopolis down!”

  Immediately, the house began to tremble and a roll of thunder was heard. The bay windows that let in the daylight were abruptly obstructed, and an electric globe suddenly lit up in the ceiling of the empty room in which Koynos stood.

  Koynos did not appear to be paying any attention to these incidents. He marched to the wall opposite the door by which he had entered and pressed his thumb to a protruding ivory button. Thirty seconds later, a second door opened in front of him. Koynos went through.

  A black dwarf stood up in front of him. “The Master’s waiting for you,” said the gnome.

  Koynos did not reply, but followed the dwarf, who had set off at a trot. The Commander went through a third doorway, while the dwarf stood aside; Koynos took a few steps into a large circular room luxuriously furnished as a library, lit by two electric chandeliers. It was circled by profound divans, surmounted by shelves loaded with books. In the middle, between rotating terrestrial and Martian globes set on columns, stood a long, broad desk, almost entirely covered by an unrolled celestial map. Behind that table, a man was standing next to a yellow metal armchair.

  It was Oxus: the very same man who, 25 years earlier, aided by the monk Fulbert—who had since died—had terrified the world with the Hictaner, the creation of his genius. Time had whitened his hair and his long Gallic moustache, but, even though he was more than 70 years old—years overloaded with conflict and troubles—his eyes were shining with all the brilliance of energetic youth, and he stood up straight with all the vigor of an old oak.

  “Is it done?” he said, as Koynos bowed before him.

  “It’s done, Master. The 15 young women are in Cosmopolis, in our Brothers’ hands. Most of them are still under the influence of the elixir and are asleep. The others are divided between anguish and astonishment.”

  “Good. You can leave for Earth again. Make arrangements for the radiomotive station in the Congo to be destroyed at the appointed hour. No antenna must remain intact!”

  “What should I do about the technicians who will remain there after my departure?”

  “Tell them that if they present themselves at the Banque de France at the prearranged date and hour, they will each lay their hands on the promised two million. I’m certain of their fidelity, in any case.”

  “And Bastien?”

  “Go to see him in Paris; propose that he follows you. If he accepts, he’ll be a Brother; if he refuses, run him through—and make sure he’s dead.”

  Koynos bowed.

  “Martians have been detected,” Oxus went on, “but they’re still far enough away for you to leave without danger. Go!”

  Respectfully, Koynos kissed the hand that Oxus extended to him.

  Five minutes later, he went back into the room where he had left Xavière.

  She was sitting on the divan, her eyes dry and her attitude stiff. Half stretched-out next to her sister, with her head on the other’s shoulder, Yvonne was weeping gently. The trembling hands of the two young women were intertwined.

  Koynos came forward. “Mademoiselle,” he said, without preamble, “I’m going back to Earth. I’ll be gone for about 20 days. I specify the interval for your benefit as much as mine; Martian days are only about 40 minutes longer than terrestrial days. During that time, you will not be separated from your sister.”

  “What will be done with us during that time, and afterwards?” Xavière said, coldly.

  “You will have to get used to—even learn to like—your new life.”

  There as a pause. Koynos was already bowing to take his leave when Xavière continued, less coldly: “Can I ask you something, Monsieur?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Without failing in your duty, can you acquaint our father with the incredible fact that we are on Mars, and give him proof?”

  Koynos hesitated. Finally, lowering his voice, he relied: “Without failing in my duty, Mademoiselle, no, I cannot. But…”

  He fell silent. Xavière had shuddered. Koynos looked at her.

  She fixed her large, fascinating eyes upon him and, lowering her voice, said: “Monsieur, I beg you…”

  He went pale and lowered his eyes. A terrible combat commenced within him, in the mysterious medium of sentiments, desires and as-yet-nebulous passions.

  “Mademoiselle,” he murmured, eventually. “I give you my word: it shall be done!” Droplets of sweat were forming on his brow. “Here,” he added, presenting Xavière with a notebook and a pen, which he had taken from his pocket. “Write to your father yourself. A few words from you will be better proof that you are on Mars, and the only possible one…”

  Very emotional, Xavière stood up. She had understood, understood completely—and she accepted! She accepted that Koynos, for her sake and in response to her plea, had “failed in his duty.” She seized the notebook, opened it, scribbled a few lines on a blank page, and returned the objects that Koynos had lent her. While she was writing, a flood of tears had sprung from her eyes.

  There was a long silence. Seated on the divan, Yvonne was no longer weeping. She looked at her sister—and she blushed when Xavière extended her hand to Koynos and said, simply: “Thank you. Go, Monsieur.”

  He seized the proffered hand, brushed it with his lips, and was retreating rapidly when a word stopped him. “Monsieur!” Xavière had said, again.

  He turned round interrogating her with his eyes.

  “Shall we see the other prisoners?” the young woman asked.

  “Until my return you will be together as much as you please. You have only to speak; your desires will be fulfilled.” Then he turned abruptly, and left.

  A few moments later, followed by his mechanic, Alpha, whom he had summoned as he passed through his house, Koynos stepped on to the terrace where they had landed half an hour before. The radioplane was still there, but the terrace itself, instead of being elevated above the ground of Argyre Island, as was natural, had now sunk down, as had the other terraces. At the level of the vast extent of ground separating the agglomeration of buildings, there was a high circular rampart, which formed the distant horizon. In addition, the streets between the houses were no longer hollowed out; they were on the same level as the terraces.

  Koynos and Alpha must have been accustomed to these anomalies, for they did not seem even to notice them. Alpha went half way around the radioplane, which was settled on its runners, while Koynos pressed his feet upon a certain point on the terrace, causing a paving-stone to turn over. Then he operated a switch with his heel.

  To the east, in the open terrain separating the buildings from the rampart, a mast emerged from the ground, extending progressively—doubling, tripling and then quadrupling in length. It was soon a pyramidal pylon 300 meters in height. Antennae detached themselves from its mass, spreading out like a parasol, then stopped, fixed in place by invisible hands.

  Alpha was already in the radioplane. Koynos followed him; the crystal bay was hermetically sealed. The Commander gripped the steering-wheel while the mechanic depressed a small lever. The radioplane’s antennae then became sensitive to the Hertzian waves emanated by the radiating pylon that had emerged to the east. The radioplane rose from the ground, hovered momentarily, and was suddenly projected into the sky. Soon, it was hurtling away from Mars at the usual blistering speed of 300,000 kilometers an hour.

  From the radiant light of the Sun to the stellar marvels of the night, passing through the Martian atmosphere and then the imponderable ether, the sparkling radio plane hurtled like a bolide, so rapid and so tiny that the brilliant astronomers of Mars and the savant astronomers of Earth could neither follow its trajectory nor detect its arrival. It was like a streak of fire in the infinite.

  Exactly seven days, seven hours and seven minutes after quitting Argyre Island, it descended gently into the lower layers of the Earth’s atmosphere above Africa, over the region of the Belgian Congo, marked by the intersection of one degree of s
outhern latitude and 20 degrees of eastern longitude. The radioplane set down on a vast esplanade, in the middle of which stood a pylon similar to the one of Argyre Island. Fifteen terraced buildings, surrounded by the impenetrable virgin forest that covers the central regions of the independent state of the Congo, ringed the esplanade.

  As Koynos and Alpha emerged from the radioplane, a man appeared on the threshold of a hut built at the foot of the pylon. He ran towards Koynos.

  “Anything new?” said the Commander, without preamble—just as if, instead of coming from Mars after an absence of 14 days and 16 hours, he was simply returning from an excursion in the neighboring jungle. The man appeared to be accustomed to this etiquette, which might have seemed bizarre, for he simply replied: “A dispatch from Paris to Brazzaville arrived yesterday by the usual means.” At the same time, he held out a piece of paper, folded and sealed.

  Koynos broke the seal, unfolded it and read it. Then, without a muscle in his face having quivered, he raised his head. “It’s from Bastien,” he said. “I need to be in Bordeaux the day after tomorrow. That’s a journey of 5000 kilometers—a matter of 30 hours or more. Is my monoplane ready?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have it brought out. We’re leaving.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes to travel back and forth, presumably—four days at the most. If I’m late, though, be alert! Where’s Normand?”

  “He’s asleep. It’s my turn on watch.”

  “Good. Withdraw the pylons; take the houses underground. We’re not the only people in the world who can use airplanes; there’s also the dirigible service between Bordeaux and Timbuktu—and I’m wary of the Nyctalope.”