The Martian War

CHAPTER EIGHT


A WELCOME VISITOR AND UNWELCOME NEWS

After Moreau had delivered his shocking news to the symposium audience, the Institute scientists, military officers, lords, and even Prime Minister Gladstone, surged to their feet and gathered close to see the nightmarish specimen.

Moreau clearly understood the tumult his revelations would cause, and Wells could see that the bearish man enjoyed the effect of his announcement. Moreau stood confident and arrogant in the middle of the uproar.

Professor Huxley’s words cut across the excitement and confusion in the lecture hall. “In light of these new developments, I hereby adjourn this symposium until we can further assess the news Dr. Moreau has brought us.”

Griffin shot to his feet, his face reddened with anger, his bristly hair standing up as if in indignation. He did not even glance at the alien’s tank. “We cannot stop the symposium! We must compile all knowledge so we can fight the Germans! We must not allow ourselves to be distracted by … Martians. My formula is too important.”

Huxley gave the eccentric chemist a conciliatory look. “Dr. Griffin, much as I dislike Dr. Moreau, we have an important new factor to consider. It may be that the entire focus of our symposium will change dramatically.”

“No! It can’t.” But his voice was lost among the shouts of amazement or disgust as people peered into the aquarium. Huxley paid no further attention to Griffin.

Moreau walked across the stage like a conquering general. “I think you will agree, Thomas, that my intrusion is warranted.”

“If your words are indeed true.” Huxley turned down his lips in continued skepticism. “Numerous hoaxes have been perpetrated upon a gullible public. The circus man P.T. Barnum in America has made a living at it, and let us not forget the Cardiff Giant, which many scientists insisted was real.”

Wells hurried up to them, notepaper in hand, his mind full of questions. But he did not interrupt the conversation—or was it a confrontation?—between the two men.

“This is no joke.” Moreau sounded dangerous. “We have known each other for many years. At one time, you respected my biological investigations. I realize that you disagree with the morality of my experiments, but have you ever known me to be a liar?” Moreau thrust the bound volume forward. “Here, take my journal. It documents everything. It includes sketches I made of dissections and a full account of my dealings with the Martians.” His eyes were full of challenge. “Read it and see if you still consider this a hoax.”

Huxley took the book. “I will make up my own mind.”

Wells fought back a smile. This was precisely what Huxley taught all of his students: to study the facts for themselves and to make their own decisions.

Moreau continued, his voice louder than before. “Something must be done immediately. Toward the end of this year, Mars and Earth will be at their closest point at opposition. Already, the two worlds are approaching each other inexorably along their orbital paths. We must stop the Martians before they launch their invasion upon Earth.”

Huxley stared him down. Wells looked from one man to the other, holding his breath.

“Even if what you say is true, Moreau, exactly how do you expect us to fight a distant planet? Shall we shoot fireworks and hope they reach escape velocity? How can we possibly defend against invaders from Mars?”

Moreau gestured toward the scientists clustered around the aquarium. “You claim this Institute has the greatest minds in Britain. Think of something.”

Wells retired to his small room and feverishly documented everything he had witnessed, adding parenthetical comments of his own, which helped him put his thoughts in order. He hoped that Huxley meant for him to do such editorializing. It was unlikely he would ever be able to publish these accounts— certainly not as factual articles, due to Britain’s national security.

A student assistant rapped sharply on the door of his room. “Mr. Wells, you have a visitor in the front office. We could not allow her to come to the secure wing, but she wishes to see you—most insistently, sir.”

Wells’s heart leaped. Jane had come! With a happy expression and a light step, he hurried after the volunteer to the administrative office. Jane’s face lit up as soon as he passed through the door. Her expression, her eyes, her gently pointed chin all reminded him of a perfect sunset on a beautiful summer day.

“Jane! I did not expect you, but I certainly can’t complain.”

“I have been sitting here for the past hour, H.G., trying to think of an appropriate excuse as to why I have come. I tried to divert my mind by studying the flowers and birds and butterflies in my guidebooks. At night, I worked on memorizing all the constellations. But nothing seems as interesting if I don’t have you to share it with. I’m sorry if I’m disturbing your visit here, but I’ve missed you so.”

“You and I need never make excuses for wanting to be together, my dear.” He kissed her, much to the embarrassment of the frowning secretary who sat at his desk. The poor man shuffled papers and made an inordinate amount of noise to remind the two that he was there and watching.

At that moment the door swung open and T.H. Huxley strode in. “Have you drafted those letters yet, Henderson? They must be posted immediately. I require the advice of other experts—” He looked up, distracted. “Ah, Mr. Wells! I should have you write my correspondence. Then my demands will be clear and concise, and my urgency made plain.”

Wells chuckled in disbelief. “Professor, you are one of the finest writers of our age. I wouldn’t presume to have a literary ability equivalent to your own.”

“I do not require literature, Wells, simply a request for information.” He looked at Jane, and suddenly his personality brightened. “And who is this? She appears to be a fine specimen.”

“Indeed she is, sir.” Wells beamed. “One that should be included in every textbook of the female form and mind.”

Jane extended her hand. “Apparently H.G. doesn’t believe I have a name. I am Miss Amy Catherine Robbins. I’m very pleased to meet you, sir. H.G. speaks of you often.”

Huxley said, “Wells is proving to be a shining star just as I had hoped. Especially after today, I need his insights more than ever.”

“Then you need Jane’s insights as well, Professor,” Wells said impulsively. “She has an imagination as sharp as my own, and often sheds light on questions in a way I have never before considered.”

“Excellent. We could certainly use a fresh perspective on these matters. Will you be staying with us, young lady?”

“Professor, we have no rooms available,” said the dour secretary. “Especially not for a lady.”

“I would love to stay, if I’m invited,” Jane said, ignoring the secretary. “I can, of course, share a room with H.G. We are to be married soon anyway.”

Henderson appeared extremely embarrassed, but Huxley was too distracted to show any reaction. “Can you vouch for her loyalty to the Crown, Wells? Are you certain she’s not a Prussian spy? More importantly, are you convinced she will not be bored by our technical discussions and scientific talk?”

Wells squared his narrow shoulders to look as imposing as he could manage. “Jane has one of the most insightful minds and interesting perspectives of any person I know. She was once a student of mine, by far the best. I have decided to keep her.”

“It is settled then,” Huxley said. “You two follow me back to the research wing. After Moreau’s announcement today, not even a woman could disrupt my researchers further. Tell her about our Martians, Wells, and see what she thinks about the whole matter.”

“Martians?” Jane arched her eyebrows as they followed the professor into the private wing.

Huxley took his leave of the pair while Wells showed Jane to their room. Once inside, they became much more interested in each other than in interplanetary invasions. With all the privacy they could wish for, the two occupied themselves with kissing, laughing. Reacquainting themselves with each other involved the tedious and time-consuming task of removing the appropriate layers of clothing. They did not begrudge the time, but went through all the necessary steps … .

Later, finally able to concentrate on other things, Wells got around to telling her everything, and she listened with rapt attention as they lay naked together, cozy in the narrow bed.

In the joy of seeing her again and talking about the Institute’s wonderful projects, as well as the Martian specimen, Wells overextended himself. Jane was suddenly more concerned about his health than an invading fleet from Mars. She touched his moist forehead and frowned as she brushed his brown hair aside. “You must not tax yourself too much, H.G. If you have another breakdown, you can’t help Professor Huxley at all.”

“But there is too much to do, Jane!”

“I have no wish to become a widow before I have a chance to be your wife. You must not have another relapse from your old kidney injury.”

Tonight, though, he felt too excited to lie back and rest. Having Jane naked beside him did little to calm him either.

He grasped her hand, and their fingers intertwined. “All right, let us talk about the consequences of the astonishing things I’ve been shown. I’m sure you’ll think of possible repercussions I haven’t yet considered.” He knew Jane could understand the implications of Moreau’s warning and see the overall perspective, but she also saw smaller problems and human difficulties. “Will humans be able to change their priorities? If Moreau is correct, then the Martian invasion will be a war that encompasses the entire world. No, in fact more than our world, both Earth and Mars.”

“People will do what they need to do. You can’t solve all the problems yourself, H.G.”

“No, but with all the talent in this Institute, we have a good chance. Professor Huxley has already contacted the world’s governments. Surely we can work together on a problem of obvious mutual benefit? Humans are intelligent creatures, after all. How can the Prussians, the French, and the Americans, not see that we must cooperate to face this peril?”

“I have always loved your dreams, H.G.” Jane leaned over to kiss his forehead. “But you must temper them with a healthy dose of practicality.”