"I want a Martian."
I was glad I didn't have a mirror in front of my face. I could imagine how foolish I looked with my mouth hanging open.
"I even have a name picked out for him," Marsten persisted. "Marty, the Martian. What do you think of that?"
I stood up slowly. "Let me know when you've recovered."
Marsten came around the desk. "Sit down. Now listen to me. Did you ever hear of a man named Hendrick Ritter?"
"No."
"The greatest scientist in the world. He's been working for me for over a year. I hired him to do one particular job for me: to concoct a fuel that will get a space ship to Mars and back. Well, it's done. Did you ever hear of a man named Sam Young?"
"Same answer as before."
"He's a designer for air ships. The best in the business. He's finished a job for me. And, Nick, it's already built. And I've got Joe Roane working for me."
"I've heard of him," I said.