The Chronological Man: The Martian Emperor Read online

  Contents

  The Emperor of Mars

  Copyright

  Author's Note

  Invasion

  The Sleeper

  The Menagerie

  Secret Train

  Opportunity

  The Obelisk

  The Men Who Dress in Black

  Green Fire

  Mars is Calling

  The Aeronaut

  Lady Liberty

  Teddy and Schmitty

  Crash

  Brain Trust

  The Secret Hospital

  Boss Miggs

  Chinese Remedy

  Platinocyanide

  Opium

  Strange Visitors

  Close Encounter

  A Peculiar Sight

  Abduction

  Railroad Car

  A Secet Base

  Stellarium

  Roosevelt and Mayor

  Mars Attacks!

  Captive

  Surrender

  The Plotter

  The Prince of Saturn

  Falling Star

  Alien Autopsy

  Escape

  Gold Tribute

  Invasion Force

  Saucers Attack

  Fire Truck

  Brutus Maximus

  Goddess of War

  Beside Manner

  Epilogue

  Author’s note

  THE MARTIAN EMPEROR

  - A Chronological Man Adventure -

  by Andrew Mayne

  Copyright

  Copyright 2011 Andrew Mayne

  All Rights Reserved.

  [email protected]

  12.19.11k

  Author's Note

  The events described here were among the first of a series of “airship hysteria” panics leading into the decade preceding World War I. Due to the embarrassing nature of what happened, both to the government and major newspaper chains, the entire event was written off as a hoax. At the expressed request of the secretary of war, details and information were excised from public archives to protect vital U.S. military interests.

  A.M.

  Invasion

  New York City, Central Park, 1892

  Police Sgt. Robert Nelson was in the middle of a dream where everything was curiously green when the telephone rang in the downstairs lounge of the boarding house he lived in with a half-dozen other bachelors. Never having much use for the infernal devices, he put a pillow over his head and did his best to ignore the annoying bell.

  He was surprised at how well the pillow worked until he realized that someone else had picked up the telephone. All the better. If only he could get the pillow over his eyes to block out the bright green moonlight glowing from behind his window shade.

  The stairs creaked as someone came walking upstairs. Nelson pulled the pillow tighter over his head, hoping that it would act as a talisman to prevent the inevitable knock on his door.

  Mr. Granger, owner of the boarding house, rapped on the door with his familiar three-and-one knock. Nelson wanted to ignore it. He contemplated for a moment pretending to not be there, but he knew Granger saw him come in a few hours earlier. A call at this hour could only mean the incompetents at the police substation had managed to lock themselves in the holding jail or some other foolish deed.

  He let out a loud grunt, informing Mr. Granger that he was headed down to the telephone. The footsteps retreated down the hall and Nelson pulled himself out of bed. He regretted the double nightcap the moment he stood up and squinted to ignore the harsh green light.

  “What is it?” Nelson said into the receiver.

  “Sssorry to disturb you, sir.”

  Nelson rolled his eyes. It was the nitwit Winfield. Nelson had been told that he only stammered in his presence but wasn’t sure if that was a put-on or not. “What is it, lieutenant?”

  “It’s, it’s about the, the, the light sir.”

  “The light? What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve been getting hundreds, hundreds of calls, sir.”

  “What light?”

  “The light over Central Park. The green, the green light.”

  Recognition seeped into Nelson’s mind. The green moonlight. He couldn’t remember that ever happening before. “What am I supposed to do about the light? Call an astronomer.”

  “People, people say it’s getting closer.”

  “Closer?”

  “Closer,” Winfield repeated.

  “How close?”

  “People are calling to say they think it’s landing.”

  “Landing? What am I supposed to do about that? Call Central.”

  “They called us. They said the mayor called them. His sister can’t, can’t sleep.”

  “Fine. Fine. Meet me at the east entrance. I’m two blocks away.”

  Nelson put the receiver back in the cradle and shook his head. He shuffled back upstairs, donned his police uniform over his pajamas and tucked his revolver into his belt. He wasn’t worried about the light as much as the low-lifes and drifters who tended to use the park as a kind of shantytown when nobody was looking.

  He walked out the front door and could clearly see the bright green light. His first reaction was that it was some kind of balloon lit with electrics. As he grew closer, he could see that it appeared metallic and was shaped like a pie plate. The green light emanated from several portholes around the circumference of the whatever-it-was.

  Nelson didn’t know what to make of it. It looked like some kind of Edison contraption for a fair. He just kept walking toward the park and staring up at the sky. His curiosity built until he tripped while crossing the street when his foot got caught in the gutter.

  Winfield and Lt. Haywood were waiting for him at the east entrance, as were several hundred other people who’d gathered at that late hour to see what the light was. Most of them had dressing gowns and robes thrown over nightclothes.

  Winfield and Haywood were doing their best to keep people out of the park. Nelson walked over to the entrance and stared up at the thing. It was now just a few dozen yards above the ground, just over the treetops.

  Nelson looked at Winfield. The man returned the look, expecting him to explain everything.

  Nelson turned around. The crowd was silent but waiting for him to do something.

  “It’s, it’s like something out of one of those Jules Verne novels.”

  Nelson grunted. He had no idea what Winfield was talking about. “I guess I should I have a closer look.” He hesitated, hoping that someone else would have a better idea. When nobody spoke up, he entered the park.

  He kept his eyes on the green thing as he walked across the grass meadow. As he drew closer, he could make out rivets and seams in the hull. It had to be some kind of flying contraption, he decided. But whose?

  There were no supports underneath it. And it didn’t appear to be tethered to the ground like a balloon.

  He stomach began to feel a bit unsettled as he thought about the possibility of it being some kind of war machine. Perhaps a submarine of the sky?

  He reached down to tap the edge of his holster when his foot hit something. There was a loud scream. Nelson fumbled with the catch to pull his gun free. Several shapes low to the ground came running past him, all of them making bleating-like sounds. One of them nearly knocked him over.

  He brought his pistol up and realized they weren’t making bleating-like sounds. They were bleating because they were sheep. The flying machine was hovering over the sheep’s meadow in the park. They, in turn, all decided at the same time that it was a good idea to leave.

  Nelson put his gun back in his holster, although he wasn’t sure if t
he sheep had the right idea after all in fleeing.

  He reached the edge of the clearing where the strange object was now hovering only a few dozen yards off the ground.

  Now what? Nelson wasn’t quite sure what his civic duties were at this point. Should he shout at it? Ask them to leave? Ask who to leave?

  Almost in answer to his question, a large shaft of light poured out of the underside of the craft. He had to squint. The buzzing sound he realized that he’d heard all the way back at the boarding house had grown louder. Something was happening.

  He hoped it wasn’t a bad thing but couldn’t imagine a good thing happening under these circumstances.

  The light shut off below the craft. Something now stood underneath it.

  Nelson thought it was another strange device at first. Then it moved. Only loosely man-shaped, it was definitely not man-sized. And it was carrying something massive in its arms.

  The strange man had to be nine feet tall by Nelson’s reckoning. The green light from the craft cast an eerie shadow around the figure. It had two arms, and two long legs that ended in heavy boots. For a head, it had a large red globe that seemed to be filled with red gas. To Nelson, it looked kind of like a deep-sea diving suit, with the exception of the single globe for a helmet.

  Nelson was still trying to figure out what he was looking at before he realized it was walking toward him. He wanted to run away. He touched the holster of his gun again and flipped open the catch.

  “Stop right where you are!” Nelson shouted.

  The strange man kept walking toward him.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” Nelson raised his gun on the strange man.

  “PUT AWAY YOUR WEAPON, EARTHLING!” a loud voice echoed across the meadow.

  Nelson gripped the gun with both hands.

  A blinding flash of blue light shot into his eyes. Something knocked him over. His head felt numb. When he looked up, the strange man was now towering over him. He raised his gun to fire and then noticed the barrel was bent ninety degrees to the side.

  The strange man turned the large gray object he was carrying and set it down at Nelson’s feet. It made a loud thud and sank into the grass.

  “WE BRING YOU GREETINGS FROM THE MARTIAN EMPEROR!”

  Nelson couldn’t tell if the sound was coming from the strange man or the craft above his head. He looked at the metal slab that was now standing at his feet. It was covered in writing.

  The strange man who had placed it there turned and walked back toward the center of the meadow under the vessel. A cone of light surrounded him and then he was gone.

  The buzzing sound grew louder. The craft began to lift. It floated into the sky and then vanished.

  He was alone in the dark meadow with the metal slab. It was too dark to read what was written on it; he could only make out its silhouette against the stars of the sky.

  He had no idea what just happened but was pretty sure it was important. He screamed when he felt something touch his ear. His heart tried to beat its way through his chest, and he resisted the urge to fire his bent pistol, lest it explode in his hands. Nelson resigned himself to a horrible fate as he felt something warm and sticky salivate on his ear. He kept waiting for the inevitable pain to set in as monstrous teeth devoured him, but it never came. He felt the downy fur of the sheep on his cheek and then breathed a sigh of relief as the animal moved on to munch on a patch of grass.

  The Sleeper

  April Malone looked into the face of the strange man standing in the middle of the office. Their eyes were locked. Her lips were apart, frozen in mid-utterance as she was about to remind the man of her name. He’d shushed her and insisted that she give him the chance to remember it.

  He’d only moments before emerged from the mysterious vault-like door behind which he spent months – perhaps years – doing god knows what. April had seen him emerge only once before, the first time they’d met. He’d been experiencing a kind of amnesia then as well. He couldn’t remember then if he’d ever met her.

  This time he could tell in an instant when he saw the crestfallen look upon her face when he’d emerged and asked, “Have we met?”

  It would have been an innocent question if Smith hadn’t been the most extraordinary person she’d ever met and taken her on an equally extraordinary adventure. The question was like a hairpin in her heart. His face was helpless. The moment the question left his lips, he saw her reaction and regretted the question. April’s reaction would have gone from surprise to hurt if he hadn’t followed up the question with a quick addendum.

  “You seem like a very special person,” he said, followed by fumbling in his pocket for a white note card. “It says my name is Smith. But you already know that.” His nose caught the scent of fresh pastries and coffee and jerked to the service trolley she’d set them out upon. His feet took him there, yet he never broke eye contact with April as his hands forced doughnuts and eclairs into his mouth. Crumbs fell to the floor as he ravaged them.

  She watched as life almost seemed to flow back into the gaunt face of her mysterious employer. She hoped his memory would return along with his vitality.

  April reached a thumb out to his cheek and wiped away a crust of white sugar powder.

  Smith smiled. “Where are my manners!” He held a jelly doughnut out to her.

  April waved it off. His childlike innocence was hard to stay angry at. She knew he couldn’t help his condition, at least she thought he couldn’t help it. She still wasn’t quite sure what the cause was or if it even had anything to do with his long absences.

  “Miss …” Smith started the sentence, hoping her name would come to him as the syllables rolled off his tongue, to no avail. He looked at his white card again and then turned to the desk at the right side of the room. “I have a feeling that we’re supposed to do something very important ….”

  “I think …”

  “No, don’t tell me your name. Please. Let the fog clear.”

  He sat down at the desk and turned a metal crank on the side that powered the machinery inside. “Here we go. I think that’s doing something.”

  “You …”

  “Please, miss. Let me think of it.” Smith stared at the desk and waited for something to happen.

  April closed her mouth and watched as Smith continued to turn the crank. He ignored the blue punchcard in the middle of the desk. He was supposed to place that into the brass slot, or at least that was the way it worked the last time he sat down at the contraption. But she remained silent, not wanting to disturb him.

  Smith turned the handle for a minute and then looked at the desk, confused. “It appears to be broken.”

  April cleared her throat and eyed the blue card.

  “Oh, of course! How silly of me,” said Smith after he followed her gaze. He smiled and picked up the card. He stared at it in his hand, unsure of what to do next. “Whoops, looks like I got a bit of jam on there.” Smith wiped the red glob off the corner. He absentmindedly licked his finger as he held the card up to the gaslight. “Hate to foul up the works with a bit of jelly.” He continued to stare at the card.

  April raised an eyebrow.

  “All right, Miss Malone, tell me what I’m supposed to do with the card, but please don’t tell me your name. Sometimes it could take days or never come to me at all. Please don’t be hurt.”

  April shook her head. “The slot. Place it into the slot on the desk.”

  “Yes, of course!” Smith leaned over the desk and fed the card into the brass slot and then began to turn the crank. He looked up at her and smiled as he turned it and then looked back down at the desk when it began to make a mechanical sound. “I just said your name, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.” April tried to restrain a shy smile.

  The desk made a bell sound. “How extraordinary.” Smith’s eyes lit up.

  April walked over to the desk and looked down. The dials were still spinning.

  Smith gazed up at her and smiled. “I don’t normally remember n
ames so quickly. At least I don’t remember remembering them.” The dials stopped spinning. A card spit out of the slot in the middle of the desk. Smith pulled it out and slid it into a metal device and started to slide metal plates back and forth over it. “This will take just a second, Judith.”

  Judith? April’s smile vanished.

  “That was very clever what you did with the cannon on the pirate scow. Always a quick thinker.” Smith made a few notes on a sheet of paper and continued to be oblivious to anything but the task at hand.

  “Who’s Judith?” April tried to make the question flat and neutral, as if it were just a matter of small talk.

  “Judith is dead.” Smith looked up. “Why did you bring her up?” His face looked hurt.

  “I ….” April wasn’t sure what to say. “I misunderstood you.” The truth was there was little about Smith she did understand.

  “Yes. I’m sure things are quite confusing. I feel especially foggy today. I can’t quite seem to get this contraption to work. I’d like to ring the neck of whoever built it, but I suspect that it’s me. I’m certain there’s something very urgent for us to deal with.”

  “Smith, perhaps,” April started. She desperately wanted to tell him what she already knew.

  “Now, now, Miss … Miss. Damn it. In a moment.” He was frustrated that he forgot her name again. “Very foggy. I had the strangest dream about a sewer and a giant squid. A squid in fresh water! How peculiar.”

  “Sounds interesting,” April mumbled. A chill went down her spine as she recalled the events of their previous adventure.

  “Quite. If it wasn’t for the most extraordinary young woman, I would have met my end. Amazing girl. Very intelligent. Quite pretty. If only she ….” Smith looked up at April’s blushing cheeks. “Oh my.”

  If only she? April wanted to know where the sentence finished.

  “I don’t mean to carry on about another young woman like that. I don’t know if that’s presently rude or not. No matter. Miss, are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”

  April turned around, walked over to her desk and picked up the newspaper that had been sitting there since Smith burst into the room.