Martians Never Die

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  martians never die

  By LUCIUS DANIEL

  _It was a wonderful bodyguard: no bark, no bite, no sting ... just conversion of the enemy!_

  At three-fifteen, a young man walked into the circular brick buildingand took a flattened package of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.

  "Mr. Stern?" he asked, throwing away the empty package.

  Stern looked with hard eyes at the youthful reporter. He recognized thetype.

  "So they're sending around cubs now," he said.

  "I'm no cub--I've been on the paper a whole year," the reporterprotested, and then stopped, realizing his annoyance had betrayed him.

  "Only a year. The first time they sent their best man."

  "This ain't the first time," said the young man, assuming a bored look."It's the fourth time, and next year I don't think anybody will come atall. Why should they?"

  "Why, because they might be able to make it," Beryl spoke up. "Somethingmust have happened before."

  Stern watched the reporter drink in Beryl's loveliness.

  "Well, Mrs. Curtis," the young man said, "everyone has it figured outthat Dr. Curtis got stuck in the fourth dimension, or else lost, ordied, maybe. Even Einstein can't work out the stellar currents yourhusband was depending on."

  "It's very simple," replied Beryl, "but I can't explain it intelligibly.I wish you could have talked to Dr. Curtis."

  "Why is it that we have to come out here just once a year to wait forhim? Is that how the fourth dimension works?"

  "It's the only time when the stellar currents permit the trip back toEarth. And it's _not_ the fourth dimension! Clyde was always irritatedwhen anyone would talk about his traveling to Mars in the fourthdimension."

  "It's interdimensional," Stern put in.

  "And you're his broker?" asked the reporter, throwing his cigarette downon the brick floor and stepping on it. "You're his old friend fromcollege days, handled his financial affairs, and helped him raise enoughmoney to build his machine?"

  "Yes," Stern replied, a little pompously. "It was through my effortsthat several wealthy men took an interest in the machine, so that Dr.Curtis did not have to bear the entire expense himself."

  "Yeah, yeah," the reporter sighed. "I read an old story on it before Icame here. Now I'm out of cigarettes." He looked hopefully at Stern.

  Stern returned the look coldly. "There's a store where you can buy someabout three blocks down the road."

  "Is that the room where he's expected to materialize with his machine?"The reporter pointed to an inner door.

  "Yes. Dr. Curtis wanted to be sure no one would be injured. This innercircular room was built first; then he had the outer wall put up as anadded precaution. The circular passageway we're in leads all around theold room, but this doorway is the only entrance."

  "And what are those holes in the top of the door for?"

  "If he returns, we can tell by the displaced air rushing out. Then thedoor will open automatically."

  "And when is the return scheduled for?" asked the reporter.

  "Three-forty-seven and twenty-nine seconds."

  "If it happens," the reporter added skeptically. "And if it doesn't, wehave to wait another year."

  "Optimum conditions occur just once a year."

  "Well, I'm going out to get some cigarettes. I've got time ... andprobably nothing to wait for. I'll return though."

  He walked briskly through the outer door.

  * * * * *

  "This is the hardest part of the year, especially now. Suppose he didcome back," Beryl said plaintively.

  "You don't have to worry," Stern assured her. "Clyde himself said thatif he didn't come back the second year, he might not make it at all."Stern opened his gold case now and offered Beryl a cigarette.

  She shook her head. "But he made two trial runs in it first and cameback."

  "That was for a short distance only--that is, a short distanceastronomically. Figuring for Mars was another story. Maybe he missed theplanet and ..."

  "Oh, don't! It's just not _knowing_ that I can't stand."

  "Well," he said drily, "we'll know in--" he stopped and looked at hiswristwatch--"in just about fifteen minutes."

  "I can't wait," she moaned.

  He put his arm around her. "Relax. Take it easy and stop worrying. It'lljust be like last time."

  "Not the last time at all. We hadn't--"

  "As soon as we are able to leave here," he said, drawing her close andsqueezing her gently, "I'll take steps to have him declared legallydead. Then we'll get married."

  "That's not much of a proposal," she smiled. "But I guess I'll have toaccept you. You have Clyde's power of attorney."

  "And we'll be rich. Richer than ever. I'll be able to use some of my ownideas about the investments. As a matter of fact, I have already." Andhe frowned slightly.

  "We have enough," Beryl said quickly. "Don't try to speculate. You knowhow Clyde felt about that."

  "But he spent so damned much on the machine. I had to make back thoseexpenses somehow."

  Steps sounded outside and they drew apart. The reporter came in with acompanion of about his own age.

  "Better wipe the lipstick off," he grinned. "It's almost time forsomething to happen."

  Stern dabbed at his mouth angrily with his handkerchief.

  At first the sound was so soft that it could hardly be heard, but soon awhistling grew until it became a threat to the eardrums. The reporterslooked at each other with glad, excited eyes.

  The whistling stopped abruptly and, slowly, the door opened. Thereporters rushed in immediately.

  Beryl gripped Stern's hand convulsively. "He's come back."

  "Yes, but that mustn't change our plans, Beryl dear."

  "But, Al ... Oh, why were we so foolish?"

  "Not foolish, dear. Not at all foolish. Now we have to go in."

  Inside the room was the large sphere of metalloy. It had lost itsoriginal gleam and was stained and battered, standing silent, closed,enigmatic.

  "Where's the door?" called the first reporter.

  The sphere rested on a number of metal stilts, reaching out from thelower hemisphere, which held it about three feet from the floor, like agreat pincushion turned upside down.

  Slowly, a round section of the sphere's wall swung outward and stepsdescended. As they touched the floor, both reporters, caught by the sameidea, sprinted for it and fought to see which would climb it first.

  "Wait!" shouted Stern.

  The reporters stopped their scuffling and followed Stern's gaze.

  * * * * *

  Something old and leathery and horrible was emerging from the circulardoorway. Several tentacles, like so many snakes, slid around the handrail which ran down the steps. Then, at the top, it paused.

  Stern felt an immediate and unreasoning hate for the thing, whatever itwas, a hate so strong that he forgot to feel fear. It seemed to him tocombine the repulsive qualities of a spider and a toad. The body, fatand repugnant, was covered by a loose skin, dull and leathery, and thefatness seemed to be pulled downward below the lower tentacles like aninsect's body, until it was wider at the bottom than at the top.

  Like a salt shaker, Stern thought.

  It turned its head--it had no neck; the loose skin of the body justturned with it--and looked back inside the sphere. The head resembled atoad's, but a long trident tongue slid in and out quickly, changing theresemblance to that of a malformed snake.

  From the interior, Dr. Curtis appeared beside the creature and stoodthere vaguely for a moment. Stern noticed that his clothes seemed justas n
ew as when he had left, but he had grown a long, untrimmed beard,and his face had a vacant expression, as if he were hypnotized.

  The creature looked upward at Curtis, who was head and shoulders taller,and its resemblance changed again in Stern's mind, so that now it lookedlike a dog, at least in attitude. From its mouth came a low hissingnoise.

  Illustrated by WILLER]

  Curtis looked down at the dog-spider-toad, his eyes slowly beginningto focus. The creature wiggled like a seal with a fish in sight, thenslid and bumped down the