The Martian War

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


PROFESSOR HUXLEY’S DECISION

Though the results wouldn’t become obvious for days, nature took its inexorable course as the cholera germ spread through the Martian canal system. Faint mists rose from the wrecked ice quarries as water and carbon dioxide sublimated into the skies. Across the polar battleground, the Selenite drones began to repair the worst destruction, like ants busily tidying their mound after a rainstorm. Rebuilding the world, even if it wasn’t their own.

Wells stood in the chill air beside his two companions, feeling hollow. He slipped his arm around Jane’s waist and held her close. Neither of them said anything. What was there to say, knowing they had just delivered a death sentence to an ancient—if terrible—civilization?

Huxley drew a deep breath and stared toward the red-tinged horizon. The gentlest of breezes ruffled his gray hair and bushy sideburns. “It is the biological imperative to do what is necessary to ensure one’s own survival. The Martians no doubt felt justified in their evil actions to ensure the continuation of their species.”

“We ourselves are doing nothing less, Professor,” Wells said. “So why don’t I feel victorious?”

Jane frowned. “If only the Martians had asked for our help, rather than deciding to take everything they needed … .”

Superior Martian technology was capable of remarkable advancements, but the slave masters of the red planet had long since stopped devising new solutions. Instead, they behaved as parasites, draining the lifeblood—literally and figuratively— from Selenite society. They had intended to do the same to humankind. Given innovation and imagination, Wells was certain the Martian race could have developed alternative solutions. He mused grimly, “When a race’s imagination dies, extinction itself cannot be far behind.”

The Selenites helped them attach chains and cables to the sphere and drag it outside, assisted by the judicious opening and closing of the blinds covering the anti-gravity material. Wells and Jane worked together inside the cavorite ship, airing it out, taking stock of their supplies for the return journey.

Huxley remained outside, assessing the polar cap industries, studying the technology the Martians had built by the labor of the captive drones. He crossed his arms over his striped robe; by now his clothes were quite tattered and dirty, his slippers falling apart.

“Mr. Wells, Miss Robbins, I have reached a decision. You two, climb aboard now and go. There is no guarantee you’ll return safely to Earth, but I am confident in your abilities. I, meanwhile, intend to stay here, on Mars.”

Wells’s jaw dropped. “Professor, I beg you to reconsider.”

“I am a man of convictions, Mr. Wells, as I have proved in countless debates with uneducated asses. Nothing now will force me to change my mind or re-evaluate my conclusions.”

Though Wells knew it was folly to argue with one of the greatest and most persuasive speakers of the nineteenth century, he said, “Professor, you are a self-proclaimed agnostic. How can you feel such devastating guilt that you would sentence yourself to permanent exile? What good does it do to remain here, to live with your conscience? Are you so eager to observe the terrible destruction we all have wrought?”

Huxley gave him a wan smile and looked contemplative. “Guilt? On the contrary, Mr. Wells, I am genuinely curious to observe what happens next here. It is the purest example of survival of the fittest … an experiment in a biological laboratory the size of a world. Will the Selenites manage to create their own society here, even without a Grand Lunar? Such questions are quite vexing.”

Jane said, “But what about the cholera, Professor? You are just as vulnerable to it.”

“Ah, I shall be careful to drink only purified water from the source here at the pole. Though this germ affects human populations in squalid living conditions, it is easy enough to avoid through proper sanitation procedures. The Martians, however, will have no way to guard themselves.”

Huxley put his arm around the shoulders of his distraught young companions and spoke in a paternal voice. “Now, now, you two. Think of me. I am old, and my health is failing. Wells, you are a keen observer—you must have noticed in London how painful my joints and aches were. The stiffness in my bones, the arthritis, the rheumatism. I suffered from plentiful maladies ranging from gout to headache to hangnails. Here on Mars, though, the lower gravity and the drier air will make my life much more comfortable. I feel young, and alive, with a whole new world to explore! I believe I can survive longer. Besides, it will give me a chance to help the Selenites maintain this planet.”

Jane sniffed. She withdrew the eye of the Grand Lunar and placed it in the old man’s seamed palm. “Keep this, Professor— you will have much greater need of it than I do. It’s the only way you can communicate with the Selenites.” She smiled at him. “Besides, with a mind such as yours, I can think of no person more capable of serving as a surrogate Grand Lunar.”

Huxley blushed and kissed the young woman on the cheek. “I haven’t had an opportunity such as this since the Rattlesnake, and I do look forward to the challenge. Someone should stay behind to observe and document every moment of it for science, for history … in case humans ever return to the red planet.”

After they said their farewells and the Selenite drones surrounded Jane one final time, she and Wells climbed into the cavorite sphere. Huxley gave them a long, meaningful look before he swung the hatch shut and sealed them inside.

They closed the blinds to block off the cavorite and thus severed the sphere’s connection to Mars’s gravity. The craft soared into the sky with a smooth, weightless sensation.

Though he knew it might alter their course, Wells opened one of the porthole blinds. He and Jane pressed their faces together, gazing down to see T.H. Huxley, a small figure surrounded by swarms of white-skinned drones. The professor was staring across the landscape at the canals and the water quarry, no doubt imagining the distant cities of the dying Martians. He looked up to them and waved, then turned back to his enormous task.

Staring down at the receding deserts of Mars, Wells and Jane swiftly and surely left the red planet behind. As he held her close in the confines of the cavorite sphere, he knew it would be days before their path would take them back to Earth. “Apart from thwarting the invasion, Jane, I can see one tremendous advantage for the two of us.”

She looked at him quizzically, then grinned. “Of course. At last we can be alone.”