2 - Blades of Mars (8 page)

 
          
 
‘A flying ship!
I
have heard of such things - some Southern races still possess a few, I
believe.' It was Jil Deera who spoke now. 'Have you found one?'

 
          
 
'No.' I shook my head, still thinking deeply.

 
          
 
'Then why speak of such a thing?' Vas Oola
spoke somewhat sharply.

 
          
 
'Because I think we could make one,' I said.

 
          
 
'Make one?' Hool Haji smiled. 'We have not the
knowledge of the old races. It would be impossible.'

 
          
 
'I have some little technical knowledge,' I
said, 'though not as much as was once possessed, evidently, by this vanished
race. I had not thought of building an aircraft of so advanced a kind as
theirs.'

 
          
 
'Then what?'

 
          
 
‘A primitive aircraft could be built, I
think.'

 
          
 
The three blue men regarded me in silence -
still a trifle suspicious.

 
          
 
There was no word for the kind of aircraft I
had in mind - no Martian word. I used the English derivation from the French.

 
          
 
'It would be called a balloon,’ I said.

 
          
 
I began to sketch in the sand, explaining the
principle of the balloon.

 
          
 
'We should have to make a gas-bag from the
material we found back there,' I said. 'There will be difficulties, of course -
the bag must be airtight for a start. From it we suspend ropes attached to a
cabin - that will be the thing in which we ride...'

 
          
 
By the time I had finished talking and
sketching, the intelligent men of Mendishar believed me and largely understood
me - which was remarkable considering they came from a society which was mainly
non-technical. Once again I had experienced the robust open-mindedness of the
Martian who, on the whole, can be taught any concept in a very short time if it
is explained to him in sufficiently logical terms. They were an old race, of
course, and had the example of the earlier, highly-civilised races - the Sheev
and the Yaksha - to show them that what often seemed impossible need not
necessarily be.

 
          
 
Enthusiastically, we returned through the
underground chambers selecting the things we needed.

 
          
 
I was not at all sure that the right gas would
be found in the banks of containers that occupied several of the rooms. 1 took
my life in my hands and began to sniff a little of each gas. The containers had
valves which still worked perfectly.

 
          
 
Some of the gases were unfamiliar, but none
seemed particularly poisonous, though one or two made me a trifle dizzy for a
short time.

 
          
 
At last I found the set of containers I
needed. They contained a gas with the atomic number 2, the symbol He, atomic
weight 4.0023, a gas which took its name from the Greek word for the sun -
Helium. Non-inflammable and very light, it was what I had been seeking - the
perfect gas for filling my balloon! The search became intensive after I had
ascertained that the basic things we needed were there - the light fabric, the
gas,
the
ropes. Next I began to inspect the motors we
had found. I did not take them to pieces since I guessed they had some kind of
nuclear base -
that
the power came from a tiny atomic
engine. But I did find out how they operated and saw that they would be very
simple to harness to propellers.

 
          
 
There were no propellers, however - nothing
that would serve as propellers. These would have to be made, somehow.

 
          
 
Our next great discovery was of a machine that
could be keyed to run out sections of the tough, light synthetic material of
which so much of the place was built.

 
          
 
The machine was large and evidently connected
to some unseen reservoir.

 
          
 
Ii was a boon to us. On a panel in front one
made a careful drawing of the part wanted. This had to be done like a plan -
side-view, top-view and front-view. The size of the required piece was
selected, buttons were pressed and, within, minutes, the part came out into a
pan lying beneath the main machine.

 
          
 
We could have as many propellers as we needed
- indeed, we could have our cabin custom-built, too. I wished then that I might
have more time to saunter around this fantastic underground city and discover
just what powered it, what synthesis of elements produced the super-strong
plastic, how the machine worked ... I resolved to return as soon as I could,
bring with me men who could be trained to work with me on a project that would
have as its ultimate end the wresting of all the city's secrets from it, the
correlation of information, the analysis of machines and materials.

 
          
 
When that came about, a new age would dawn on
Mars!

 
          
 
Meanwhile we worked
hard,
transporting all the things we needed into the domed hall where, apart from
anything else, we were close to the water supply.

 
          
 
We also found dehydrated food in air-tight
containers. This food was tasteless but nourishing.

 
          
 
As the balloon began to take shape our spirits
rose higher and higher.

 
          
 
During this time we did not forget to look
after our personal appearance. I made a point of shaving regularly - although
the only mirror I could find was a great reflector as big as me which I somehow
dragged into the domed chamber simply to use as a shaving mirror.

 
          
 
While Jil Deera and Vas Oola worked on the
balloon -we had found that the pressure of a warm human hand on the fabric
served to weld it together, facilitating the making of the gas-bag - Hool Haji
and I climbed the wall and began to finish nature's work of breaking open the
dome.

 
          
 
In order that the inhabitants of the place
might continue to live - if life it was - we had constructed a kind of
hatch-cover which could be fitted in place of the dome to stop sand drifting
down and clogging the fountain.

 
          
 
Soon the helium tanks were fitted to the valve
of the gasbag and the four of us watched the great mound of fabric slowly fill
out.

 
          
 
We had not yet fitted the driving bands to
engine and propeller shaft, but apart from that the balloon was ready. I was in
all essential respects a powered airship and, though slower and more vulnerable
than the Martian aircraft that I had encountered, would do its job well, I
thought.

 
          
 
Soon the gas-bag was taut. The balloon began
to strain at its mooring ropes and looked as if it could lift a hundred such as
us. We began to laugh and slap one another on the back - though it was a bit of
a stretch for me to slap Hool Haji's back! We had done it!

 
          
 
The cabin was enclosed, suspended from the
strong ropes that covered the outside of the gas-bag. It was made of sections
of synthetic material and had open port-holes. Unfortunately we had found no
means of providing transparent panes, so we had to construct shutters instead.
Inside it was provisioned with water, spare gas tanks and dehydrated food.

 
          
 
We were very proud of the ship. Crude it may
have been, but it was soundly constructed and soon, when we had let her up
through the roof a bit and fitted the driving bands to the engine, we should be
ready to go wherever we chose. Probably back to Mendishar where, as Hool Haji
pointed out, the arrival of their leader, thought dead or chased away from the
country, in a flying ship would probably hearten the populace to such an extent
that much that had been lost in the attack on the village might be regained by
this spectacular return!

 
          
 
Hool Haji and the other two blue giants were
talking earnestly about this possibility when the opposite door -the one we had
blocked against any attempt of the white ghouls to enter - began to melt.

 
          
 
The material which I had regarded as indestructible
was bubbling and running like cheap plastic in a fire. A terrible smell - acrid
and sweet at the same time - began to come from the door.

 
          
 
I did not know what was happening but I acted
nonetheless.

 
          
 
'Quick,' I yelled.
'Into the
balloon!'

 
          
 
I pushed at my companions, helping them
clamber into the cabin.

 
          
 
Then I turned as the door collapsed completely
- and there were several of the white inhabitants of the place.

 
          
 
In their hands was a machine.

 
          
 
Plainly they did not know what it was. All
they knew was enough to hold it and point it.

 
          
 
It was an odd paradox - a machine so advanced
as that in the hands of those imbeciles.

 
          
 
It was emitting a ray - a ray which struck the
opposite wall now, narrowly missing the balloon and me. A heat ray, doubtless.
A laser ray!

 
          
 
It was then that I realised no one had cut the
mooring lines.

 
          
 
I sprang towards them, drawing my sword.

 
          
 
I knew, in fact, that the knowledge of
portable lasers had belonged to the older
race,
I
should have been prepared for something like this.

 
          
 
In their insensate rage these descendants of
the Yaksha had perhaps dredged up some race memory, found the projector and
brought it back to deal out death to the interlopers.

 
          
 
Whatever the cause, we should all be dead soon
unless I was swift. I sliced the mooring ropes.

 
          
 
Hool Haji yelled at me from the cabin as he
saw what I was doing.

 
          
 
The balloon began to rise, gently bumping the
roof. Shortly the gas would take them to safety as it sought the air beyond the
roof. The aperture created by breaking the dome was just wide enough to take
it.

 
          
 
Now the ghouls levelled the laser at me again.
I was bound to be killed by it. The ray was sweeping tie room, melting or
slicing apart everything it touched.

 
          
 
And then the idea came!

City of the Spider

 
          
 
As THE beam came closer and closer, weaving
somewhat at random in the hand of the moronic ghouls, I suddenly saw the great
reflector which I had been using as a having mirror.

 
          
 
It was a powerful reflector. It might work.

 
          
 
Quickly I rushed towards it and got behind it.

 
          
 
The laser beam sliced away part of the
fountain which fell with a splash into the water. The fountain spurted
sporadically now.

 
          
 
The beam came closer and melted a whole
section of the wall, revealing the next chamber beyond. The white things
shuffled closer, their soft, near-boneless arms cradling the powerful
projector.

 
          
 
Then the beam struck the reflector.

 
          
 
Laser-rays are concentrated light. A mirror
reflects light

 
          
 
This one did.

 
          
 
The mirror bent the ray and spread it for a
few moments. Then for a few seconds it turned the whole ray back on those who
were directing it.

 
          
 
Most of the white ghouls were shrivelled in a
second. The rest yelled in terror, retreated a short way and then came at me
yelling!

 
          
 
I dashed for one of the dangling mooring lines
just as the balloon began to ascend through the aperture.

 
          
 
I grabbed the last few feet of the line.

 
          
 
As claws scraped at me I began to haul myself
up towards the cabin.

 
          
 
Then the balloon was shooting into the air
and, in that moment of escaping the danger of the white creatures and finding
myself in a new danger, I realised that we had forgotten one vital thing m our
haste to escape.

 
          
 
We had forgotten to load our ballast - the
balloon was rising too rapidly!

 
          
 
Twice I was nearly shaken from my hand-hold as
I clung desperately to the rope, trying to pull myself towards the cabin.

 
          
 
Then I saw Hool Haji open the hatch of the
cabin and, balancing with only a toe-hold on the outside of the cabin, he
stretched out and grabbed the rope from which I was suspended.

 
          
 
The ground was far below, the black, shining
desert spinning beneath me.

 
          
 
Hool Haji managed to drag himself back into
the cabin, still clutching the rope. Then he and the other two began to haul me
in.

 
          
 
My hands were aching and torn by the friction.
I was almost ready to let go.

 
          
 
Just as I felt I could hang on no longer I
felt their great hands seize me and drag me in to the cabin. They closed the
hatch.

 
          
 
Panting with exhaustion and relief, I lay on
the floor of the cabin until 1 had recovered my breath. We were still rising
far too rapidly and would soon escape the slightly thinner Martian atmosphere -
it must be remembered that the atmosphere of that age was much thicker than it
is now.

 
          
 
I rose shakily and went to the controls. They
were simple, makeshift controls and would have been tested before we took the
air if we had had the chance. Now we would have to see if they worked. If they
did not, we were done for.

 
          
 
I pulled a lever which controlled the valve of
the gas-bag. I had to let gas out and hope that it would be just enough and not
so much that would send us plummeting earthwards!

 
          
 
Slowly our altitude levelled out and I knew
the control was working.

 
          
 
But we were still drifting at random on the
air-currents. We would have to land and fix the driving bands to the engine.
Under power we should be able to return to Mendishar in less than a day.

 
          
 
I was rather annoyed at this waste of our
valuable helium, but there was nothing else for it. Very slowly, I began to
take the ship down.

 
          
 
We were still some two thousand feet up when
it seemed the balloon was suddenly kicked by an enormous foot and buffeted
about, sending us all flying. I could not keep my footing and was hurled away
from the control panel.

 
          
 
I believe I lost consciousness for some time.

 
          
 
When I came to my senses it was almost dark.
There was now no longer the sensation of being the ball in some ^me played by
giants far more huge than my blue companions, but a sense, instead, of speeding
along at tremendous velocity.

 
          
 
I rose unsteadily and went to a port-hole,
sliding back a shutter.

 
          
 
I looked down and at first could not believe
what I saw.

 
          
 
We were heading over the sea - a rough,
storm-tossed sea. We were travelling at a good hundred miles an hour - probably
more.

 
          
 
But what was propelling us?

 
          
 
It was a natural force of some kind. It seemed
to be a wind by the moaning and howling sound that reached my ears.

 
          
 
But what kind of wind could have struck so
rapidly without warning?

 
          
 
I turned back to find Hool Haji was beginning
to stir. He, too, had been knocked out.

 
          
 
I helped him up and together we revived our
companions.

 
          
 
'What is it, Hool Haji? Do you know?' I asked.

 
          
 
He rubbed his face with his big hand. 'I
should have watched the calendar more carefully,' he said.

 
          
 
‘Why?'

 
          
 
‘I did not mention this because I felt that we
should either be out of the desert or dead - that was before we found the tower
and the underground city, I did not mention it while we were underground
because I knew we should be safe, there being no sign of damage to the city.'

 
          
 
'What didn't you mention? What?'

 
          
 
'I am sorry - it is my fault. Probably the
reason why the city of the Yaksha has not been reported is because of the
Roaring Death.'

 
          
 
'What is the Roaring Death?'

 
          
 
'A great wind that periodically crosses the
desert. Some think that it was originally the cause of the desert, that before
the Roaring Death came the desert existed as a fertile place. Perhaps the city
of the Yaksha was built before the coming of the Roaring Death. I do not know -
but the Roaring Death has crossed the desert for centuries, producing mighty
sandstorms, levelling everything.'

 
          
 
'And where does the wind go?' I asked. 'For we
might as well know since we're being borne along by it.'

 
          
 
‘Westwards,’ said Hool Haji.

 
          
 
'Over the sea?'

 
          
 
‘Just so.'

 
          
 
‘And where then?'

 
          
 
‘I do not know.'

 
          
 
I went to the port-hole again and looked down.

 
          
 
The troubled sea, cold and dark, still
lay
below us, but through the gloom I thought I could make
out, very faintly, some sort of land-mass.

 
          
 
‘What lies beyond the western sea?' I asked
Hool Haji.

 
          
 
'I do not know - a land unexplored, save along
its coasts. An evil land by all accounts.'

 
          
 
The land was almost below us now.

 
          
 
'Evil?
What makes you
say that?' I asked my friend

 
          
 
'Legends - travellers' tales
- exploration parties that never return.
The Western Continent is a
place of jungles and strange beasts. It was the continent worst struck by the
struggles of the Mightiest War. When the war was over, so they say
,
strange changes took place in nature - men.
animals
, plants were all - altered - by something that was
left behind after the Mightiest War. Some say this was a spirit, some say a
kind of gas, other a machine. But, whatever the reason, the continent in the
West has always been avoided by sane men.'

 
          
 
'All that seems to indicate is an atomic war,
radiation and mutation.' I mused. 'And in the thousands of years since the war
took place it is unlikely that there is any dangerous radiation. We need not
fear from that.'

 
          
 
Some of the words I used were in English
since, though there probably were words to describe the things of which I
spoke, they were not in the current Martian vocabulary.

 
          
 
The 'Roaring Death' was beginning to abate, it
seemed, for our movement became slower.

 
          
 
I felt that our fate was out of my hands as we
sped deeper inland.

 
          
 
The two moons of Mars dashed through the sky
above 191 us, illuminating the sight of strange, waving jungles of peculiar
colourings.

 
          
 
I must admit that the peculiar vegetation did
disturb me somewhat, but I told myself that we could come to no harm while we
rode the wind at this altitude.

 
          
 
When the wind no longer bore us along we could
land at leisure, fix the engines and, under power, go where we wished.

 
          
 
The opportunity did not come for some hours.
Where the wind came from and where it finally died I could not tell -unless it
circled the globe permanently, gathering force as it travelled. 1 was no
meteorologist.

 
          
 
At last we were able to escape the airstream
and drift towards the huge trees whose dense foliage seemed to form a solid
mass below us.

 
          
 
Great, shiny leaves waved on sinuous boughs
and the colours were shades of black, brown, dark green and mottled red.

 
          
 
A sense of evil hung heavily on this jungle
and we did not like the prospect of having to land in it. But at length, by
morning, we found a clearing large enough to take the balloon and we began to
descend.