Zarlah the Martian

by R. Norman Grisewood

As it was late in the afternoon when we started, the daylight soon faded, and in a few minutes we had reached complete darkness, the double line of lights on the canal banks being our only guide. Anxiously did I count the minutes as we sped along, but knowing the danger of distracting Reon's attention, even for a moment, while we were travelling at such a terrific speed, I kept silent, nor did I allow my manner to give any evidence of my anxiety.

I now realized that if I reached the observatory in time, I would owe my life to Zarlah. Twice had she reminded me of my duties at the observatory, and had insisted upon my immediate departure, when, under the influence of her great beauty, I would have lingered until too late. My mind was fully determined as to how to proceed with regard to righting the wrong I felt I had done Almos, in confessing to Zarlah my love for her. I would leave a note for him at the observatory to the effect that I wished to communicate with him the following evening, when I would tell him all.

The hopelessness of my love was plain, for it was Almos whom she loved, and she believed also that Almos had confessed his love to her; and, with a lover's conviction that everyone must love the one he loves, I felt that Almos undoubtedly loved Zarlah. Indeed, it was probably his affection for her through which I had silently won her confession. Almos would then have no cause to regret my action, and Zarlah would never know the strange circumstances that had brought them together. Thus did I picture in my mind a happy conclusion to my selfish and precipitate action, which, I had feared at first, must bring overwhelming sorrow and humiliation into three lives, two of which were dearer to me than any on Earth.

I was roused from these meditations by the sudden roar of rushing waters as, in order to reduce speed, we plunged along the surface of the canal. We were nearing our destination at last, and my mind at once reverted to the now imminent danger—that of arriving at the observatory only to find that the wave contact with Paris had ceased, and I was too late ever to return to the world from which I had come. In such a case, I determined to write a brief account of my experiences to Almos, and, after arranging the current of super-radium so that it would convey my spirit out of the virator (whither I knew not), I would then enter the virator and deliver the body to its rightful owner.

Although I determined upon this course as being clearly my duty, in the event of my being too late to return to Earth, the desperate nature of such a proceeding roused me to action. We had now risen from the canal and were floating slowly in the air at a considerable height. Striving hard to suppress my agitation, I urged Reon to make more speed, and he at once responded by increasing the power. As it was now after midnight in this part of Mars, we were in no danger of encountering small aerenoids in our flight, and in a few moments, to my great relief, I distinguished the observatory lying far beneath us. Describing circles over the building, we slowly descended and in a few seconds we had reached the balcony.

Thanking my companion with a hearty handshake (which came perfectly natural even on Mars), I bade him adieu, and, stepping on to the balcony, made my way into the observatory with all haste. Everything was in the condition I had left it, and I was greatly relieved to find that the necessary time for the process of departure still remained, before wave contact with Paris ceased. My heart now went out in true gratitude and love to her who, in the simple desire to do what was right, had placed duty before her love, and had thus been of such inestimable service to me.

Immediately upon my arrival, I had prepared the virator for my journey back to Earth by substituting the projecting apparatus of the radioscope for the receiving apparatus. It was only necessary now to start the clockwork that would shut off the current to earth in half an hour, and would start the current flowing through the upper chamber of the virator.

After having written a brief note to Almos, saying that I wished to communicate with him the following evening before making another visit, I made a hasty examination of the current of super-radium which now flowed through the virator to Earth from the projecting apparatus. The instant my spirit was released, it would be caught up in this current and conveyed to my body, where it lay in my rooms in Paris. In half an hour the clockwork would shut off the current flowing to Earth, and would then turn on the current which flowed through the upper chamber of the virator, thus transferring Almos' spirit back to the body, as it lay in the lower chamber.

All was in perfect order, but it was not without a feeling of reluctance and anxiety that I stepped into the virator and, after carefully fastening the door, prepared the cone of chloroform. I realized that there were many dangers attending the return journey that were not present in my journey to Mars. If I had erred in my calculation of the time the super-radium current could be kept on my body in Paris, or if my body had moved in that time, it would undoubtedly mean death to me; and the thought of whether Almos, in such a case, would learn of my fate on the morrow flashed through my mind. Realizing the danger of such apprehensions, not only from the loss of valuable time which they occupied, but also from the fact that they tended to unnerve me at the moment when hesitation meant death, I quickly fastened the chloroform cone over my face and inhaled the fumes.

A moment's consciousness—a flickering light—