by Andrew Mayne
April looked over at two men with a large box camera on a tripod. They were panning it around the North Park. It made a clacking sound.
“Not much use at night,” she murmured.
“Depends on the film,” said Smith. “Sergeant, so we can put you in the camp that believes this is a genuine alien artifact?”
“Indeed. I can’t see how it could be anything else.”
“And the ransom doesn’t bother you?”
“I don’t think it’s much different than Cortes or Pizarro.”
“Pardon me?” said Smith.
“The conquistadors,” replied April, who was still staring at the men with the strange camera.
“Of course. I see your point, sergeant. When they came to a new world, their first reaction was to demand gold and tribute.”
“The Greeks and the Romans, too. Some might say it’s the civilized thing to do.”
“Er, not if you consider killing the natives and burning books civilized,” said Smith.
“I hadn’t thought of that. Let’s hope this encounter goes smoother.” Nelson tucked his thumbs into his pockets and stuck out his chest.
“Indeed. Sergeant, I don’t suppose you found any more footprints?”
“Footprints?
“Near the back left tent post, Miss … Miss June found a rather deep footprint that would seem to vindicate what you said you saw. It appears our Martian did indeed carry the monolith and set it into place.”
“As if I had any doubt.”
“No. I’m sure you don’t. But I’m sure there have been some whispers, perhaps?”
“That there has been. But they’ll see.” Nelson raised an eyebrow and looked skyward.
“What makes you so certain?”
“Because the Martian said so,” replied Nelson in a hushed voice.
April turned away from the men with the camera. “He said what?”
“He whispered it to me. Not in that loud voice they could hear all the way to the south end of the park.”
“What did he whisper, sergeant?” asked Smith.
“Watch the sky to the south for a sign.”
Smith noticed that the sergeant had kept his gaze toward the south end of the park during the entire conversation. He thought it was because he was keeping watch. Now he realized the sergeant was waiting for a return visit. No matter how frightening the previous night’s encounter had been, it was the most important event of his life. He’d experienced a kind of euphoria familiar to soldiers in the heat of battle and mountain climbers on the edge of death.
“Well, I hope you keep a careful distance this time,” said Smith.
“Are you kidding? I hope they invite me on board. That’s why I insisted on standing an extra watch here. I want to make sure I’m here when they come back.”
Smith looked up at the dark sky and the twinkling stars. “Fancy a trip to Mars?”
“Indeed,” said Nelson. He had a faraway look in his eyes.
“Well, I’m glad the conquest of this continent has done nothing to diminish man’s thirst for exploration,” replied Smith.
“Pardon me, Professor Hellgood,” said April.
Smith was still staring at the stars. “Oh, er, yes?”
“I believe the men with the camera contraption have been taking photographs of you.”
“Quite a lot, I imagine. It’s a motion-picture camera.” Smith looked over at April and then paused. “Of me?”
“Yes, professor. They seem to be very interested in you and only you.” She’d been watching as the men trained the camera on Smith.
Smith turned his back to the camera. “Sgt. Nelson, do you know who those men are with the large camera?”
“You mean the Navy folks? Trying out some kind of nighttime celluloid.”
“They don’t look like Navy men to me. They’re dressed all in black like undertakers,” said April.
Nelson looked at the men. “I think they’re with naval intelligence or some health agency. I can’t remember. Lots of folks running around here from funny departments I’ve never heard of before. Are they friends of yours, professor?”
“Likely rivals from another university. You know how that can be.” Smith gave him a sheepish grin while trying to find something interesting to look at in the seams of the tent. “I think we’ll be going now. Miss … Miss June, care to take a walk toward the north lake?” Smith held out his elbow.
April gave the sergeant a polite smile and then followed Smith around the tent and away from the men in black.
“Are they following us?” asked Smith.
April held her hand up to her mouth to cough to the side and looked backward. “They’re picking up the camera and following us. Are they trouble?”
“The worst kind,” said Smith. “They have a habit of showing up in places where unusual things have taken place.”
“Well, so do you.”
“Yes, but I try to help. Let’s keep walking and see how long they follow us for.” Smith glanced down at his heavy rocket umbrella. Using it would attract more attention than he wanted.
They walked farther into the meadow. April held his arm tightly. They could make out the outlines of the trees and some of their surroundings, but it was still quite moody at night. She was amused by the fact that Smith had no idea how improper it looked to anyone as he escorted her into the dark corner of the park. She was about to suggest they go toward a more lighted area when something caught her eye.
“Are they still watching us?” asked Smith.
“No. I think they’ve lost interest.” April was looking behind them.
“Well, that’s good.”
“No. It’s not. Smith, the southern sky is glowing green!”
“What?” Smith turned around as the southern end of the city glowed bright green.
“What on earth?” asked April as she turned to Smith.
A man came running down the meadow, shouting at the top of his lungs. “The Martians have set the Statue of Liberty on fire! The Martians have set it on fire!”
“Well, this is odd,” said Smith as he broke out into a run.
Green Fire
Thousands of people crowded the grass around Battery Park at the south end of Manhattan to look on in shock at the burning statue. Normally all but invisible at night, save the faint glow of the torch, the dull copper Statue of Liberty was enshrouded in green flames that lit up the night sky.
Emerald flames flickered around the monument like a ghostly visage out in the bay.
Smith held out his hand and helped April down from the hired carriage so they could get a closer look. People crowded to the edge of the seawall and were only held back from being pushed into the chilly water by a thick metal chain. To the left, several officials were standing on the now-defunct Castle Clinton emigration building, trying to get a better look from above.
“Martians,” people whispered with certainty. Some of them looked to the sky for a sign of a spacecraft.
Smith found a stone wall to stand on and helped April up. Although the statue was quite a distance away, it was unmistakable. Its outline was magnified by the eerie flame and the smoke.
Two fire boats could be seen at either end of the island trying to spray water onto the conflagration. Their steam-powered hoses could barely make it halfway up the pedestal, let alone reach the statue.
“What does this mean?” asked April. She touched a gloved knuckle to her chin.
Smith looked around at the crowd. He saw two policemen whispering to each other. “It’s a warning,” he decided.
“A warning of what?”
“Our Martians want the powers that be to know that they’re real. They want them to take this space ray seriously. I’m sure in a few hours we’re going to get another message.”
“Saying what?”
“Probably making an even larger threat. This is supposed to be a small example, to frighten us.”
“Well, it’s working,” said April. She saw the concerned
faces all around them. People had come from all over the city to stare at the sight. They had no idea yet about the mention of the Martian space ray. She was certain it was only a matter of time before it was leaked out. She could only imagine the kind of panic that would create.
“Up until now, we had a very elaborate hoax, the full force of it witnessed by one man. Now we have this public spectacle. People are already in fear and don’t know why yet. They read the account of the Martian and are now drawing their own conclusions.” Smith turned away from the blazing monument.
“Will they be able to put it out?” asked April.
“I should think it will burn itself out soon enough. It’s a parlor stunt, really. Just a very large parlor stunt. It’ll probably speed up the oxidation process, though.”
“Is that bad?”
“Only if you have something against the color green.”
April noticed that Smith’s attention was elsewhere. “What are you looking at?”
“Oh, nothing. Just wondering.” His eyes turned to the sky. “Our Martians are quite the showmen.” Hundreds more people were cramming into the park and onto the ferry dock to get a look at the statue. “I get the feeling that they wouldn’t want to miss this.” He looked at the different faces in the crowd, hoping to see something, maybe a look of pride.
“You still think it’s a charade? Even after the footprint and this?”
“Yes. Quite so. I’m just concerned with how big of a hoax this is.”
April tried to see if anyone stood out. Most of the people wore heavy working-class coats. A few uptown residents were getting out of carriages, attracted to the spectacle despite the late hour. “Do you think he’s here? The Martian Ambassador?”
“Or the emperor. I know I wouldn’t want to miss a show like this.”
High above the crowd, the Martian Emperor watched the city staring in awe at the inferno he’d created. The light from the fire cast a green pallor on their frightened faces. For all their pretense of sophistication, he’d cowered them with the simplest of technologies of all: fire. In time, he hoped that at least some of them would understand the significance of the feat and see the futility in trying to resist a superior intellect. The gold tribute was just a start, an acknowledgment that they understood that they’d been outmatched. He was confident that after a few more demonstrations the world governments would be ready to surrender to his will and welcome his rule. Those that wouldn’t would be brought to heel by the others and forced to submit to his dominion.
Mars is Calling
President Benjamin Harrison looked at the telegraph cable that had been placed on his desk. His secretary of state, James Blaine, was still sitting in the chair across from him.
“It’s that New York business,” said Harrison. “That statue is on fire. Green fire. They think it may be that cosmic ray.” He was still trying to process the information, as if saying it aloud would make it easier to comprehend.
Blaine shook his head. “They can’t be serious. Don’t tell me they’re believing the pap they put in their own papers.”
Harrison pushed the telegraph to the other man. “Elkins sent a few men to investigate. I asked Roosevelt to have a look, just in case a foreign power is involved.”
“I’d check on the whereabouts of PT Barnum, too.”
“I believe he’s still dead,” said Harrison.
“Better check the grave.”
“You don’t hold much on the Martian story?” Harrison watched the man’s reaction.
“I don’t even think it’s worth your attention. When I was a newspaperman, we would just laugh ourselves hoarse making up tall tales to fill the blank spaces. This is amateur yellow.”
“And now this green fire?”
“I’ll believe it when this man from space walks up to me and says hello. And even then I’d ask him who he voted for before I gave him the time of day,” said Blaine in his grumbly voice.
The phone sitting on the desk rang in its cradle. Harrison picked up the handset and put it to his ear, trying not to touch it to his skin. He was still too nervous to touch the light switches in the White House for fear of electrocution. He’d begrudgingly had the telephone placed on his desk as a sign of modernity.
“Yes,” shouted Harrison and waited for the voice of the switchboard operator.
“THIS IS THE MARTIAN EMPEROR.” The voice sounded mechanical and even more distant than voices normally sounded on the device. “BY NOW YOU’VE BEEN MADE AWARE OF A SMALL DEMONSTRATION OF OUR SPACE RAY. YOU HAVE FOUR DAYS TO RAISE THE MARTIAN FLAG, CEASE ALL MILITARY ACTIONS AND PAY OUR TRIBUTE.”
“Now hold on,” said Harrison. He cast a look at Blaine.
Blaine moved his chair closer to the desk to more clearly hear the sound coming out of the speaker.
“END OF TRANSMISSION.” The other end of the line made a series of clicks.
“Miss Fenwick?” Harrison called to the White House dispatcher.
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“Where did that call originate?”
There was a long pause as she pulled cables in and out of sockets. Finally she came back on the line. “It didn’t appear to come from anywhere.”
Harrison set the handset back in the cradle and looked across the desk at his secretary of state. “Could it be a ploy by a foreign power?”
“If it is, it’s an act of war. I know the British are still a bit unsettled about the Canadian business. But this is so beyond the pale.”
Harrison turned to look out the window at the dark sky. “The world is moving fast. Electricity everywhere. Shopkeepers installing telephones. A fellow sat right where you’re sitting a few months ago and played back the sound of my own voice from a clever contraption. I’ve heard Edison and others talk about the wireless transmission of voice. Automobiles.” He waved at the phone and shrugged. “Countless men are trying to conquer flight.”
“That will take a hundred years,” said Blaine.
“Will it? We used men in balloons as spotters in the war.”
“But heavier than air? An automobile can scarcely make it from one side of town to another without sputtering out. An aircraft? Not in my lifetime.”
“Perhaps not. But what if the Greeks had discovered the combustion engine or the telegraph? Would we be arguing now about British claim to minerals on the moon? What would we have achieved in the two millennia henceforth? Imagine two great races, one on Mars, one on Earth. One spark, one leap of the imagination and the other jumps ahead. While we clobbered each other over the heads with wooden clubs in the primeval forests of Europeans, were our Martian counterparts building railroads, lighter-than-air travel, mastering electricity? To think, you and I wouldn’t be in this office, in this great country, if it hadn’t been the happenstance of a few exceptional individuals in Jefferson, Franklin and Washington. You might be a correspondent for the London Times and I a barrister arguing over land contracts.”
“So it’s Martians, is it?” Blaine managed a small grin. “All it took was one telephone call? Am I to open up negotiations?”
“No. Of course not. I just think that it’s important that two old men like ourselves make certain that we don’t become too recalcitrant in our ways.”
“So what is our reaction to be?”
“When faced with a problem such as this, I often ask myself what one of my wiser predecessors would have done. In this case, Jefferson. He held the sciences very dear. I say we maintain a cautious approach but keep an open mind.”
“And what of the demands?”
“I’ll leave it to our secretary of war to tell me when I need to take this as more then a hoax. I’ve also got Roosevelt in New York digging his nose into things.”
“Roosevelt? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was halfway to Mars to launch a counter invasion by now.”
“Pity the Martians,” said Harrison. The telephone call had unsettled him. He still wasn’t quite sure what to believe. The one thing he was certain of was the distant Ma
rtian voice had unnerved him more than he was letting Blaine know.
The Aeronaut
Smith and April found a cable car still running and took it uptown toward the sidetrack near Lexington where his secret train was sitting. In the distance, fire bells could be heard as horse-drawn pumps raced to different parts of the city. Constables and firemen were standing on corners keeping watch in case the mysterious green fire that had engulfed the Statue of Liberty spread. Their car passed two blocks from City Hall; several pump trucks were already parked in front.
“Quite a commotion,” said April.
“Quite a distraction, too,” replied Smith. He looked along the rooftops of the buildings as they passed. A few dark silhouettes were visible against the night sky. The green fire was already fading.
“I don’t want to sound the fool. But what if it was Martians? Earlier you said Martians didn’t look anything like the illustration. What did you mean?”
“Oh, nothing. Just a guess, that’s all. In answer to your question, if it is the Martians, then we’d better pay up.”
“How would we know?” asked April.
“I was thinking about that. If we operate under the assumption that it’s a few earthmen masquerading as Martians, then we need to look for the evidence of that.”
April watched as two young boys ran across the street, laughing as they chased each other. “Yes, but suppose they are hoaxers of some sort. We just saw what they did to the Statue of Liberty. What if they could do that to the whole city? An entire continent?”
“I don’t. I don’t believe there is a space ray, Miss Malone. I believe their weapon is fear. They’re using deception to accomplish that. And by the look of things, quite well. If they are humans playing Martian make-believe, then we know that fighting them is a different matter than fighting the genuine thing.”
“And if they’re genuine?” asked April.
“I have contingencies for that.” Smith’s voice trailed off. “Some things are best left unsaid. Right now we need to focus on the facts. That begins with the physical evidence.”