The Great Martian War

by Scott Washburn

  “Okay!” shouted Comstock. “Let’s reel them in!”

  The riders gave the spur to their mounts and the tired beasts surged ahead. They couldn’t gallop, not with each horse carrying two men, but they managed a fast trot. They reached the top of the ridge, which was barely tall enough to merit the name, and started down the other side. For an instant Dolfen thought they were the victim of some cruel joke, because there was almost nothing to see. A long shallow valley sloped away from them for a couple of miles and it looked nearly deserted. But no, there were things there! A large cluster of wagons milled about in the far distance and he could see the black smoke of train engines. Closer at hand he could see what must be the infantry, but they were all hugging the ground, mostly concealed by the scrub growth and depressions in the earth. Suspicious lumps behind the center of the line must be the artillery, but they’d had things thrown over them. It wouldn’t fool any human looking at them, but perhaps it might fool a Martian.

  They trotted down the slope and caught up with the others, all the while looking nervously behind them. They lost sight of the Martians for a while, but then the bulbous heads of the machines reappeared as they marched up the ridge. Dolfen and the others passed through the lines of infantry, all the men clutching their rifles and watching them pass. They seemed incredibly vulnerable. It was a damn shame they didn’t have any of those dynamite bombs like the Ordnance men had made.

  Looking back again, he saw that the enemy machines were at the top of the ridge and still coming on. Not long now! They shifted their course a bit to the south to clear the front of the disguised artillery ahead of them. A good thing, too, because only moments later the gunners sprang up and threw off the things covering their guns. The battery commanders raised their arms and then…

  “Fire!”

  * * * * *

  Cycle597,843.6, East of Holdfast 32-1

  Something slammed into Qetjnegartis’ machine and smoke momentarily obscured its view. What? But then it saw the clouds of smoke in the distance and realized what had happened. More of the large projectile throwers! Another prey-creature force! Even as it processed this information, hundreds more of the creatures rose from the ground and began firing their small weapons. A strange rattling, like what might be heard in a strong sandstorm on the homeworld, filled the control cabin as the projectiles bounced off the armor.

  Messages began pouring in from its subordinates, reporting the obvious and asking for orders. But what to do? This appeared to be a trap—and it had walked right into it. Perhaps the sensible thing to do was to walk right out of it again. Could it get the prey to pursue as they had done in the first battle? Destroy their dangerous weapons while they moved and then crush the rest of the force? They are capable of learning…

  But then the large weapons fired again and Qetjnegartis counted only eight of the smoke clouds. There had been thirty-two in the first battle. Only a small force? Perhaps this was the last of the prey’s reserves, scraped together and committed in desperation. If they could be crushed it might break their last resistance. Yes.

  “Press forward! Ignore the individual creatures and destroy the large weapons!”

  * * * * *

  March, 1909, West of Prewitt, New Mexico Territory

  Major Andrew Comstock gave a whoop as the guns opened fire. He twisted around to look back; several explosions blossomed on the ridgeline behind the Martians and it looked like at least one hit on one of the machines. But where were the tanks? He’d seen the disguised field guns even before they revealed themselves, but he couldn’t see the tanks anywhere. Without them this was going to be another slaughter!

  “I need to find the general!” he shouted in the ear of the lieutenant he was clinging to.

  “Might not be easy in all this mess, sir!”

  “He’ll be somewhere with a good view! See any place like that?” He was turning his head from side to side trying to spot something that looked like a headquarters; signal flags, clusters of horses or vehicles, something…

  “Maybe over there, sir?” The man pointed at a little hill with a cluster of stunted trees. There seemed to be some activity there.

  “All right, we’ll give it a try. Go that way.”

  “I need to see to my troop…”

  “Then give me your damn horse! That’s an order!”

  He ruthlessly evicted Kenshaw from his horse and trotted off toward the hill. The artillery was still banging away and a sudden cheer made Andrew look back. One of the tripods was staggering from a hit. It was turning in circles, smoke seeping out of it. But the others were still coming on fast. They’d have the artillery in range of their own weapons any second.

  Andrew faced forward again and saw a man on a horse galloping straight toward him. The man rode up and reined in his mount.

  “You Comstock?” he demanded. He was only a captain, but if he was on the general’s staff he’d act like he was a general himself.

  “Yes!”

  “Well come on, the general wants to talk to you!”

  He kneed the beast into the best speed it could still manage and followed the captain. They reached the little grove of trees just as the first shriek of heat rays was heard. Andrew winced as a loud explosion immediately followed. The guns weren’t going to last long and once they were gone…

  The captain led him to a cluster of officers. He didn’t have any trouble recognizing Frederick Funston. A little chubby and fully bearded, Funston had made headlines a few years before with his handling of the aftermath of the great earthquake in San Francisco. He was said to have ice-water in his veins and despite the chaos all around him today, ‘Fearless Freddy’ appeared totally unruffled. He was giving an order to an aide as Andrew rode, up, but he immediately turned his attention to him.

  “Comstock?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “You’re one of Crozier’s men, aren’t you?”

  “Yes sir,”

  “What the hell were you doing out there?”

  “Uh, I was with General Sumner’s army with orders to observe. When the army was destroyed, me and my men were cut off. We trailed a group of Martians back to their base and I saw…”

  “Yes, yes, we can talk about that later. Right now I need to know: are those six the only ones I’m facing right now?” He pointed toward the Martian machines.

  “Yes, sir! They’ve been chasing us for over two days, but there are only the six. But sir! I was told that the tanks are here! Where are they? Without them the Martians are going to break right through your center!” He pointed to where the tripods were blasting the artillery—half the guns were gone already.

  Incredibly, Funston was smiling. He turned slightly and called to one of his aides. “Now, Lieutenant. Send up the signal.”

  “Yes sir!” cried the officer. A Signal Corps officer. “Sergeant! Now!” With a roar and a trail of smoke, a rocket leaped skyward.

  Almost immediately, clouds of black smoke belched up from the right of the line and the left and from almost directly behind them. As Andrew looked on in delight, a dozen huge metal boxes lurched forward from the gully they’d been hiding in. The tanks!

  Funston looked back at him. “You’re a West Pointer, aren’t you, Major? Surely they taught you about the Battle Cannae!”

  * * * * *

  Cycle597, 843.6, East of Holdfast 32-1

  The heat ray swept across another of the large projectile throwers and the thing’s chemical ammunition exploded, throwing the prey-creatures who had been serving it in all directions. The draught animals to the rear of it fled in panic. Qetjnegartis looked on in satisfaction. Yes, this had been the right decision. Although Purlintas’ war machines had been badly damaged, the other five had only suffered minor hits and were now in position to finish off the enemy’s heavy weapons and then the slaughter could commence. Perhaps this would crush the last resistance in this…

  “Commander! Beware! Some… some things are approaching!”

  Qetjnegartis quickl
y scanned its surroundings looking for threats, but there was nothing that… What are those? Thirteen strange objects had appeared to the front. They were nearly trapezoidal solids in shape with odd projections at front and rear. The projections at the rear of each were spewing clouds of black smoke. Magnifying the image it could see that there were moving traction belts on each side that were pushing or dragging the objects across the ground. Vehicles of some sort?

  “More are coming from the right and left, Commander!”

  Qetjnegartis shifted the view and indeed, twelve more were coming from the north and fourteen from the south. The two new groups were still some distance away, but the first group was quite near. What were they? Nothing like this had been encountered by any of the invasion groups. Did they pose any sort of threat?

  As if in answer, the group to the front suddenly halted and puffs of smoke appeared at the front of each. An instant later, Qetjnegartis’ machine suffered a heavy impact that drove it backward. The feedback from its controls did not indicate any significant damage to the machine’s systems, but a sparkling cloud of metal flakes blowing past the cockpit indicated at least some of the armor had been stripped away. Three of its subordinates reported that they too had sustained some damage. More of the projectile throwers! Mounted on moving platforms!

  “Destroy these things! Quickly!”

  Following its own order, Qetjnegartis swept its heat ray across the three nearest platforms. Smoke flashed off of them, but they did not explode the way the other projectile throwers had. Were they destroyed? No! The things fired their weapons again and another blow struck its machine, and this time the information flowing through its tendrils told it that there was a breach in the lower body. No critical systems were damaged, but it was now vulnerable.

  “These vehicles are armored! Concentrate your fire until they are destroyed!”

  It aimed the heat ray at a single vehicle and fired, leaving the beam on the target. The thing began to glow. First a dull red and then brighter and brighter until it suddenly exploded in a flash of light and a cloud of smoke and steam. Yes! They could be destroyed. Two more of them erupted in flames as Qetjnegartis’ subordinates followed its example.

  But it took time and the prey-creatures made use of the time. They fired again and now more fire was raining down as the two flanking forces converged. Ridnapadge suddenly called for assistance, but before any could be rendered, its machine crumpled to the ground, hopelessly wrecked. The odds were shifting rapidly…

  Qetjnegartis’ own machine shuddered again and this time the damage was severe. The heat ray was disabled!

  This is no good. Over thirty of these new devices and only three of us still fit to fight. If we stay, we will be destroyed. We can’t even use the same tactic as we did to win the first battle; these things can move and fire at the same time.

  It rankled, but there was no choice.

  “Retreat. I command again: retreat.”

  * * * * *

  March, 1909, Somewhere in the New Mexico Territory

  Rebecca Harding tried to watch what was happening without losing sight of Sergeant Dolfen, or losing her grasp on Ninny’s reins. After the mad run to reach the army, they had been deposited by the cavalrymen who had saved them and left to fend for themselves. The major had ridden off in a hurry and his men tried to chase after him on foot. Sergeant Dolfen had gathered his men and the civilians and led them toward the rear. To safety? With the cannons roaring and the heat rays shrieking and the men yelling, no place felt safe. No place in the whole world.

  Dolfen led them to a small gully a few hundred yards behind the line of cannons, but it seemed to Becca like a singularly unsafe place to stop. The Martian machines were coming right after them and started destroying the cannons. She looked on in horror as the brave, brave soldiers kept loading and firing right up until the heat rays found them, turning them to flame and blowing up their cannons. The horses that pulled the cannons bolted and fled, some with burning tail and manes. Smoke drifted back over her and that awful and all-too familiar smell of burning flesh nearly made her gag.

  “We can’t stay here, Sarge!” shouted one of the men. “They’ll walk right over us!”

  “I know! I know! Come on, let’s go that way!”

  They were all gasping and exhausted, but they realized they had to move. They stumbled farther to the rear, dodging stampeding horses and around supply wagons, all the while the sound of the heat rays was getting closer.

  But then there was an odd whooshing noise and Becca looked up to see a red rocket, like an Independence Day fireworks, streak up into the sky and burst. What was that? Some signal to retreat? But almost immediately, there was a roar from just ahead and clouds of black smoke jetted up, seemingly from out of the ground. Moments later, a dozen incredible things pulled themselves out of a gully and rumbled toward them!

  What were they? Not Martians surely! They might be made of metal like the Martian machines, but they were painted green and covered with rivets and streaks of rust marred their sides; nothing like the gleaming, perfect machines of the invaders. Each one had a boiler on the back with a tall smokestack, belching black clouds. Some sort of rotating belts on the sides, making terrible squeaking sounds, were pulling them forward and what looked like a cannon stuck out from the front. On a few of them, men were sticking out of hatches on the top. Soldiers! These must be some sort of army war machines!

  “Holy shit!” cried Sergeant Dolfen. “We’ll be caught right between them and the Martians! Turn! Go left!” He reached out and grabbed Becca’s arm and dragged her after him. Ninny was squealing in fright.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The cannons on the front of the machines suddenly fired and she was nearly knocked down by the blasts; and almost losing hold of Ninny. She struggled upright, kept moving, and then felt that awful heat from the Martian ray. It wasn’t aimed at her, but it passed over her to wash across the strange army machines. She expected them to blow up, just like everything else, but was astonished when they continued to fire their cannons, apparently unharmed except for scorched paint!

  But the rays lashed out again, focusing on individual machines, and this time they did explode. Bits of debris rained down around them, but the smoke was blown the other way. In spite of this, a cheer went up and looking back, she saw one of the enemy machines come crashing down. They killed one!

  Sergeant Dolfen hauled her down into a ditch and they huddled there, gasping for breath and watching the battle. And it really was a battle, not just some slaughter. The Martians seemed confused by the appearance of the new army machines—and there were two more groups of them closing in from the sides now, too! They turned this way and that, firing off their rays in different directions. But shells continued to burst around them and on them and they were being hurt. One machine in the distance was jerking around in awkward little circles, a closer one was wrecked, and the remaining four looked like elks worried by a pack of dogs. Becca wished she still had her grandfather’s rifle so she could shoot, too, but she’d been forced to abandon it during the last mad scramble to get here.

  The fight went on and an alarming number of the army’s machines seemed to be burning, but then one of the closest Martians was hit and some large piece of it flew off. It stood there for a moment and then turned around. An instant later the others did as well. They were moving away!

  “They’re running!” she screamed.

  * * * * *

  March, 1909, West of Prewitt, New Mexico Territory

  Andrew wanted to get close to some tanks. Once released from General Funston’s scrutiny, he had no actual orders other than the ones he’d been operating under all along: observe the enemy, observe the tanks, report back. Well, he had a hell of a lot to report! But there was no way he was going to leave while this battle was going on! The tanks were finally in action and he was damn well going to see what they did!

  And so far they seemed to be doing pretty well.

  One of the Ma
rtian machines was down and the others were all taking damage. Andrew had held his breath when a heat ray swept across several of the tanks, and then cheered when they had survived. The armor worked! Or at least it worked for a while. A longer exposure melted right through the armor and destroyed the tank, but they could still survive a lot longer than field artillery.

  And now the tanks were closing in on three sides and the Martians were retreating! Somehow, Andrew could sense that this wasn’t some phony retreat to get the humans to pursue into a trap; no the Martians were running—running for their lives!

  “Looks like they’re beat, Major!”

  Andrew turned to see who had spoken and was stunned to see that it was Lieutenant Robert Frye, the man he’d detached way back in Illinois to shepherd the tanks forward! He’d completely forgotten about him! “Frye! You made it!”

  “Sure did,” replied the lieutenant, grinning. “Hell of a job, but we got here. I saw you there watching, but I hardly recognized you, sir, what with that growth of beard and all. Guess you and the others had a bit of an adventure, too.”

  Andrew ran a hand over his unshaven face. “Yeah, a bit. But where are the other tanks? I only count about forty of them.”

  Frye shrugged. “Broken down getting here. The trains could only get us to about ten miles away and they had to come the rest of the way under their own power. We were lucky to only lose a third of them, sir.” Frye looked a little hurt.

  “Yes, I’m sure. But good job, Lieutenant! A great job! You’ll have to tell me all about it… later.”

  “Yes sir… Oh! Look at that!”

  The Martians were falling back, up the long slope, but the two flanking tank forces were closing on them like the jaws of a trap. Two of the Martian machines had stopped to face the northern wing. They had destroyed three of the tanks, but were getting pounded in return. Suddenly, one of the machines was enveloped in a crackling web of blue lightning bolts that looked for all the world like Dr. Tesla’s bizarre contraption out on Long Island! An instant later the thing disappeared in an eye-aching blast of light. A colossal boom rolled across the landscape, shaking the ground, and when Andrew could see again, there was no trace of the first machine and the one which had been close by had been smashed to junk.