The Martian Pendant (23 page)

Diana reflected on that last remark. Hadn’t the Crown itself used mercenary troops quite freely in the past? She thought of the Hessian troops in the Revolutionary War, and the Gurkhas in Malaya and elsewhere, but thought better about bringing that up.

Kindred, on a first-name basis with his fellow Minister, came to her aid. “You know, Percy, all you need to do, as is done in America, is to deputize their security men and Diana here, let us say, for six months. That should allow sufficient time for the final official establishment of National Park status for the valley, protecting the archaeological site and its environs from further depredation. I think we all know what is at stake here. If this protection is not accomplished, the Mafia will prevail, and the alien technology will fall into the hands of the highest bidder, likely the Communists.”

The Minister of Justice looked shocked, and then in an incredulous voice exclaimed, “But this has never been done before!”

At that point, Diana could no longer contain herself. Ignoring protocol, she jumped from her chair, and glaring across the desk, brusquely said, “With all due respect, neither has anything like this ever been found on earth. Nor has technology of this type ever been of more importance for the cause of world peace than now. Think what could be the fate of the free world if these secrets fall into the wrong hands!” Then, with her voice faltering, often a woman’s last resort, she tearfully pleaded, “Please give us the powers of deputy security personnel. I promise, you’ll not regret it.”

That did it. Some men just can’t stand to see a woman cry. Calling for his secretary, the necessary papers were drawn up, copies given to Diana and Kindred, and the originals filed. The Minister stood up and came around his desk, extending his hand to her.

“By Jove, Kindred’s description didn’t do you justice, young lady. You’re far more impressive than I was led to believe. Don’t hesitate to contact this office at any time should the need arise, anything at all.”                                                

The Slaughter

After landing back at the camp, Diana sought out Chet, filling him in on their new status, and the need to arrest the Italian workers and disable their machinery. Pleased with the decision, Chet commented, “Even without our wearin’ badges, they better not offer any resistance, because Tommy guns will always trump Berettas. Ah’ll round up my Pinkertons, and at dawn we’ll take ’em!” 

That afternoon, the continuing quest by the half-dozen Italians with their bulldozers ripped open the limestone formation that contained the underground river as it coursed south of the dig. They were elated by the discovery, yielding as it did abundant water for their operation. Some found relief from the dust and the heat by bathing in the rapidly filling hollow their excavation had created. The evening meal became a celebration for them, marked by the unusual consumption of quantities of Sicilian
vino rosso
.

The night was inky black, the myriad stars above casting no appreciable light. It was getting late; Diana and Dan sat outside with Chet, making final plans for the morning.

By a strange coincidence, she said, “I still think that before we leave this place for good, we should take care of that killer crocodile, don’t you chaps agree?”

At that moment, the silence was sundered by a chorus of screams from the Italian camp, followed by scattered pistol shots and the throaty roar of enraged beasts.

“Bloody hell,” she exclaimed, “those sounds are the same as that crocodile made when I encountered it in the ship, and when it seized Krueger! Somehow, that beast must have escaped the underground system somewhere else. We’ve been keeping the water level so low with our pumping at the dig that it wouldn’t be able to climb out there.”

Dan offered, “Unless the pumps have failed. But maybe those Mafia surrogates have blundered into its lair during their mining operation. Either way, that monster hasn’t eaten in a week, and it has to be ravenous!”

“Listen!” Chet almost shouted. “Those are pistol shots, not somethin’ that’d do much ta such a monstrous reptile. And it sounds ta me that there are more than one of ’em!”

Diana sprang into action. “Come on, we’ve got to help! They may not be our friends, but they’re still human beings! Chet, gather your men, and tell them to bring their BARs. Tommy guns, with their lead slugs, indeed won’t have much penetrating power against crocodile hide. And bring the anti-tank rifle. It will surely stop a man-eater in its tracks! As many as able shall ride our D-8 Cat, the one with the floodlights.”

By the time they reached the rival camp, spotlighted in the stark beam of the big dozer’s lights, the scene was a gory shambles. Nothing alive, or recognizable as human, could be found in the shredded tents. Bloody tracks led south. Following that sickening trail soon led them to the large pool, which was still filling, the water stained a bloody red.

As Chet directed his men to train their guns on the shore of the gouged-out pond, he said, “It looks like we’ve lost ’em. It’ll be a couple of weeks at least before they’re hungry enough ta be able ta lure ’em out again with bait.”

That brought a quick response from Diana. “We don’t have that much time. We’re due to leave in two weeks to meet our ship. It has all been arranged.”

Hearing that, Dan interjected, “But we can’t just leave those crocs to come out any time they want. We’ll have to bulldoze the system over here and at the ship, and trap them for good.”

She thought for a moment, and then replied, “The watercourse will have to be diverted, and we don’t know in fact where this underground river goes to the south. One thing remains certain, Danny. The crocs pose a threat to everyone in this area. I have a plan. While Chet and his men surround this opening, we shall flush them out, using the opening next to the ship.”

“That’s interesting,” he responded, “But just how do you plan to do that?”

“Simple, we’ll use dynamite!”

They had difficulty convincing Max, who was chiefly concerned with damage to the ship.  “Nonsense,” she protested, “Mere high explosives won’t be a problem for the Martian technology. It may even help remove some of the concretions, but it will certainly drive those beasts out of their refuge, where the Pinkertons will be able to dispatch them.”

Ballard rigged the charges at the opening on the port side of the hulk. “Let’s hope their lair is near the ship. If it’s south of the opening the Italians created, this will merely drive them farther away. What about blocking the subterranean channel at their new pool, then diverting the river here, and flushing them out by going in after them?”

She was not to be deterred. “It would be quite a task to divert the river, and routing them from their dens would be fraught with danger. I have no doubt they’re near the ship. The
ir dozers opened the underground system only a few hundred yards from the hulk. And don’t forget, their proximity to our dig guarantees they will be anticipating where their next meal is coming from.”

Diana’s plan was carried off without a hitch, and with the dynamite placed in the depths, the shock of the huge explosion, transmitted through the water, flushed the whole system. As the water boiled up near the Italian camp, not one, but three of the killer crocodiles, stunned by the pressure wave, were washed onto the shore, where they were shot one by one, through the b
rain with a BAR.

A jubilant Chet shouted through his walkie-talkie to Max, who was at the ship. “Fer some reason, the water level here is droppin’. And now we have more prizes. Instead of the Mafia, it’ll be museums after our specimens!”

Diana peered into the yawning pit created by the explosion. “I say, the water is gone! It appears that we’ve killed two birds with our one stone. The river has somehow been diverted.” Calling over to Ballard, who was still holding his ears, she shouted, “Jon, I think you’ve made your idea of exploring the caves of this underground watercourse viable. But even without exploring what appears to be a chain of limestone caves, we must not forget to fill that pond before we pull out. It’s rather unnatural for crocodiles to inhabit an underground river. Despite my aversion to eliminating local wildlife, I for one would rather not leave any chance of there being more of those man-eaters. Think of the danger to visitors who will be coming to the new National Park.”

The exploration of the slightly winding underground system took place two days later, as Diana, accompanied by Dan and Chet, all three armed with hunting rifles, cautiously entered the cavern next to the hulk. No sign of life was found, aside from blind cavefish and tiny shrimp like those inhabiting the water in the ship, now mostly dead. In the light of their electric lanterns playing in the shadows, they could see the jumbled piles of a once-delicate lacework of ancient crystalline limestone. Broken-off stalactites, previously projecting down from the vault overhead, colored in breathtaking pastels of green and pink, littered the cavern floor.

Diana had brought along a camera with a flash attachment and several bulbs and took shots of the highlights. Along the way were pools of clear, cold water. They saw no side channels, and no bones. The only evidence of a human presence was Dragunov’s pistol, which Dan found. The lack of any sign of crocodilian eggs or baby crocs was puzzling.

It was more than three hours before they could see light ahead of them. Soon, they emerged, cold and hungry, through the opening where the huge reptiles had been shot. Max and the others were busy inspecting the dead monsters, each more than 20 feet in length. While they answered the many questions about what they had seen, the trio hungrily attacked the box lunches the cook had furnished.

Pointing to the three carcasses, Diana observed, “From what we saw, it seems certain that these huge beasts have not been reproducing in this underground system, and therefore we needn’t be concerned about any young maturing to take their places as man-eaters. I think we may now begin our preparations to ship our discoveries home.” Turning to Chet, she said, “You spoke about these crocodiles becoming museum specimens. Don’t you think, considering what their last meal here was, that they should simply be buried, without preparing them for the taxidermist?”

Max disagreed. “These are fabulous treasures. They could bring thousands of dollars at home, and we could all use the money.”

Dan objected, disdainfully looking at Max. “Don’t you have a shred of decency? Those bulging bellies hold six human beings. Are you willing to gut the reptiles for preservation, and then bury what’s left of their last meal?”

A compromise was reached. The crocs’ great heads and jaws, severed with a chainsaw, were set out to dry, and the scaly bodies, encasing the remains of their victims, were buried where they lay, in the now-empty pond, under a covering of bulldozed rock and earth.

At supper that evening, no one had much of an appetite. The conversation mostly concerned the terrible fate of their
Mafiosi
rivals. Dan was trying to comfort Diana, who was feeling very depressed.

“I agree with you, darling, it was an awful fate. But look at the b
right side of their disaster...”

Cutting him off in mid-sentence, she tearfully scolded him, “Please, Danny, not another lame jest. I can’t take anything more just now.”

“You have to let me finish, sweetheart. I was about to say that now,
all
the fragments of the second ship will remain in our hands.”

With that, she perked up immediately. Wiping her tears, and resting her head on his shoulder, she replied, “Danny, I rather like the sound of what you just told me. Please say that again.”

SEVENTEEN

The Voyage

Losing no time, the access road
was quickly repaired by the bulldozers. They formed a caravan, leaving half the security force to guard the dig and the oil crew. Transporting the engine and the augmented fragments, the many specimens and most of the camp’s equipment to the docks at Dar took several days. As they supervised loading the cargo into the holds of the newly arrived freighter, the
American Traveler,
Diana debated whether to return to the U.S. as the ship's passenger, accompanying the discoveries they had found, or to fly. She wouldn’t be able to take much with her on an airliner, perhaps only her photos, although she’d get back much sooner.

But a month more in transit didn’t seem as important as leaving the discovery of the century to find its way to America without her. S
he could use that extra month to complete the preliminary paper she planned to present on the fossil bones, virtually identical to those of modern humans. For that reason, she packed a complete skeleton into her steamer trunk for study, and tearfully said her goodbyes to Dan.

The rainy season had just begun when the ship cast off, heading north for the Red Sea and the Suez Canal. Piracy in the Indian Ocean and off the Horn of Africa was, in those days, almost unheard of, and the crew, engaged in their duties running the ship, paid little attention to the boat traffic they passed. Many fishing vessels were encountered, usually accompanied by friendly shouts and waves from the fishermen. She planned to walk or jog twice each day for more than an hour during the voyage, and on the first day out participated in the cordial exchange. She was struck as much by the perfect white teeth revealed in the black faces smiling up from below as the fishermen were by her pale skin and golden hair.

On one of her afternoon circuits of the deck, she noticed a motor-driven craft trailing the ship. As she went to the stern, ready to exchange greetings, she was shocked to see grappling hooks already affixed to the railing there. Her warning scream was stifled by a rough hand covering her mouth, and a punch to the solar plexus that reduced her to a helpless lump, flat on the deck, struggling for breath. She looked up at an inscrutable olive-skinned face as she was quickly bound and gagged.

It was then that the rest of the attackers boarded and fanned out to subdue the unsuspecting crew. Their efficiency was such that there was no bloodshed, and as she lay on the aft deck, she saw the entire ship’s complement forced to clamber over the rail. From what could be heard, a cargo net draped over the side helped them descend into one of the hijacker’s motor launches. The crew was lucky. There would have been neither a cargo net nor a waiting launch had their captors been
Mafiosi
.

The hijackers had pre-empted the Mafia conspirators, sabotaging their motor cruiser, causing the engines to seize up an hour out of port, leaving them adrift, blown by the westerlies toward the open sea. As soon as the ship’s bridge was under their control, the freighter came about, and set a course southeast, which would take them out of the shipping lanes, where the chance of detection would be minimal. It wasn’t long before Diana was released from her bonds by a smiling European, she guessed by his accent, a Spaniard.

“Forgive me, lady,” he said, “Subduing you in that way was essential to the success of our mission. I’m sure you understand that had you given the crew a timely warning, much bloodshed would have resulted.”

“I rather see your point,” she replied, “but who are you, and why have you resorted to this piracy? This is an American vessel, and will be the subject of pursuit by the U.S. Navy. The result will be just as with the Bey of Tripoli, subdued in his own capital for his piracy against American merchant ships.”

“
If
they find us. I’m Raul Lopez, First Officer. Further explanation will be given in due time by Captain Chalmers. In the meantime, continue your usual routine aboard. We mean no harm to you or to the ship’s cargo. Just don’t try to send any messages.”

After visiting her cabin, and noting it had been searched, probably for a radio transceiver, and finding her scientific material intact, she readied herself for the evening meal.
Let’s hope they know their way around the galley
. Recalling her earlier experience in Spain, she began to envision
paella
.

When she reached the dining area, the chatter of the pirates ceased. At the head of the table, the ship's new Captain, a short blond man with piercing blue eyes, stood and motioned her to take a place next to him.

“Miss Howard, we are truly honored to have your presence among us this evening. Most people would be cowering in their cabins after today’s excitement. But judging by the cargo of the
American Traveler,
you can’t be considered ‘Most people.’ We hope to enjoy your presence, not only because of your obvious beauty, but also for the alien secrets that accompany you. Come. Please sit, and raise a glass to our mutual project.”

“My first question,” she said sullenly, sitting down next to the Captain, “is who the devil are you, and what mutual project?”

The Captain laughed and replied, “Those are two questions. So it is doubly to be hoped that you will give what I say some thought. We are the crew, commissioned by our Holy Pope, charged with delivering the cargo to Japan, now the most peaceful nation on earth, so that the warlike powers of the world, the Communists, and yes, the United States too, will not learn the secrets of a people so advanced over ours. You see, we have grave doubts about our world’s morality being up to the enormity of the newly discovered technology.”

“I’ll have to grant you that, especially concerning the metals and the nuclear engine, but what of the fossil skeletal remains? They are my only reason to be aboard. What is intended for them?”

The meal was being served by then, neither remotely Spanish nor even European. After all, since it was still an American ship, its stores full of American produce, the meal consisted of hamburgers and French-fried potatoes, with canned string beans. The wine was Gallo Hearty Burgundy. Despite the uninspired menu, the appetites generated by that exciting day led everyone to pitch in without complaint, including the Captain.

In between mouthfuls, he finally answered, “We haven’t received word from the Vatican on that yet. I suppose they could decide to suppress anything regarding your specimens having human characteristics, on the grounds that God’s souls could only have been created here on earth. Hasn’t the Bible defined all that?”

Diana mulled that over. She thought of the Church’s suppression of Galileo and his theories. Of course, by then, humanity had barely emerged from the Dark Ages.  Still, her precious specimens could be subject to any whim of the Catholic Church. She couldn’t do much about the specimens in the hold, but that was all the more reason to keep the material in her trunk safe.

On the third night out, the ship’s mess was subdued, even sorrowful, far from the jubilation that had prevailed previously. She saw the sadness mostly in the common seamen, whose murmuring was mostly inaudible to her. She did catch the word “Papa” several times, however. At the head of the table, the air was different. The Captain and the First Officer, lost in conversation when she took her place, glanced at her with concern, and she could see doubt, not sorrow, written on their faces.

“I hope I’m not intruding on your conversation, but it can’t be ignored that something important has changed the attitude of the entire crew, including that of you two gentlemen.”

Lopez looked pensively into his soup, but the Captain leveled his gaze at her and said, “The news is dismal. O
ur Holy Father died October ninth, a week ago. We received the news only this morning.”

Diana was not surprised, since the Pope had been known to be in failing health for some time. But, despite her decidedly mixed feelings, she attempted to sympathize. “I’m so sorry. His reign of almost twenty years has made his presence important, indeed to all the world, even to non-Catholics.”

The Captain thanked her with a dismissive wave of his hand, causing her to wonder.

“Sorrow for his passing isn’t our concern. The question is, will his policies be continued? Until the College of Cardinals elects a successor, the Camerlengo, Cardinal Tisserant, the Pope’s deputy, will decide how to continue his policies. We have no recourse but to follow Pius’s directive, although his own deputy had voted against him in his election in 1939. The Pope’s message was clear. He wanted his legacy to personify peace.”

She couldn’t help recall, however, that particular Pope’s background in aiding Adolf Hitler’s establishment of the Nazi Party as the predominant force in Germany in the Thirties. He took the title Pius XII on his elevation from Cardinal in 1939.
How ironic,
she thought,
after helping set the stage for the bloodiest war in history.
But then, religion in the West was never really about peace.

“Pious? That word means religious, doesn’t it?” she responded, “Any modern Pope would have to be religious. And his record reflects that he was more interested in increasing the power of the Catholic Church by every available means, including fighting the Communists, than working for actual peace. I wonder, in view of his obsession concerning ‘Godless Communism,’ what was behind his plan to capture this Martian cargo? Godless aliens?”

The Captain, returning to his soup, didn’t respond, and the rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

*    *    *

The ship’s course continued southeast, and then, after a few days, was altered to due south. Diana could follow all that with the little compass she had carried with her around the dig, but at first had only a rudimentary concept of the ship's speed. Later, in her walks, she found by pacing its length, that the ship was around 450 feet long. Throwing a stoppered bottle from the ship’s prow, and then timing when the stern passed it, allowed her to calculate that they were making about 20 miles an hour. That was fast for a freighter, around 17 knots. She had nothing else to go on, but figured they were making perhaps 500 miles each day. And it was getting more temperate. She realized then that they were making for far southern seas, where ships rarely ventured.

The days slipped by with a sameness that made recalling each one difficult. Had she not kept a log of their progress, she soon would have become totally disoriented regarding their position. It was at least a week before they reached the “Roaring Forties.” At that south latitude, the winds from the west often blew at gale force, with the swells accordingly huge. By that time, the temperature had dropped to near freezing at night; the ship’s deck had become hazardous without access to the railing or the safety lines that had been rigged. At first, the swells from the west buffeted the ship abeam, which caused her to roll so alarmingly that when Diana was on deck, she had to hang on for dear life. No more jogging, only a halting hand-over-hand progress was possible. All the while the wind shrieking in the sparse rigging above added to the tumult.

It was during that period that she experienced her first seasickness, which passed after a wretched two days. At its peak, however, on the first day of the malaise, as she leaned over the rail, desperately sick, she couldn’t help looking down into the cold green water below and finding its depths welcoming, holding the promise of relief from the abject physical desperation she felt.
It occurred to her that it was the sight of that same water that gave rise to the tales of beckoning mermaids and the seductive voices of the Sirens.

When at last they turned east, her calculations suggested they were as far south as the 50
th
parallel. The huge green seas coming from astern added to the ship’s speed, as it surfed along before them.
She worried that the helmsman would have to keep on his toes to avoid yawing in the gigantic swells, now mostly capped with white spume, their tops breaking like huge rollers crashing ashore. What would be the result if they broached?
She shuddered at the thought
.

The days seemed to follow each other endlessly; not another ship was seen. By her log it was two weeks before they had altered course, taking a different heading. But to her surprise, her compass showed that instead of northeast, they were again moving southward. This was puzzling at first. Knowing their destination was Japan, she then realized that in avoiding the probable naval and air searches, they would have to turn north into the Pacific west of New Zealand, rather than traverse the densely island-studded Melanesian and Micronesian waters. This required that they avoid the more direct route, north through the Tasman Sea between Australia and New Zealand. But that would take them at least 2,000 miles out of their way! Did they have enough fuel for a voyage two-thirds of the way around the world?

That evening, over a supper of pot roast, potatoes and canned carrots, she asked the Captain about that. At first he avoided an answer, but changed his mind when she told him of her concerns, and what she had observed.

“Are all you Englishwomen so observant? You seem to know as much of our course as our navigator, Rodriguez, here! About the fuel: you’re right, our supply is low, despite our having had the advantage of the winds and the huge following seas. Obviously, we can’t put in to a port friendly to your country, so we are going well south, around the tip of New Zealand’s South Island for a night rendezvous with a Japanese oiler, the
Kyoto Maru
, which is en route to re-provision stations in Antarctica. The seas won’t be as heavy in the lee of the Island, visual detection will be minimal at night and if we are close enough to the other ship, radar may be fooled. It will be a calculated risk, but so has everything we’ve done so far.”