"MartiansCome" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowndes Robert W)

"Yes. Water--damned ash of hydrogen--waste product really. But we haven't enough to go around. What I mean--can your contraption--thingumbob--send us some every now and then?"

Whitlowe looked around for Gary. "Excuse me, sir," he said hastily into the lens. "I'll have to find my partner before I could answer that. Cheerio."

He switched off the screen. "Gary!" he yelled, looking wildly around. No colleague. There was a smashing of glass from the cellar; quick as thought Whitlowe popped down the rickety stairs. The big man was wallowing in a litter of bottles, mostly empty, and crooning softly to himself.

"Gary! For--"

He looked up owlishly. "Not a drinking man ordinarily," he interrupted stubbornly. "But any time I find myself talking to a bunch of half-baked giant spiders eleven trillion miles away--well!" He reached for another bottle and gulped noisily.

The little dark man grinned. "First time I've seen you stewed since college," he stated happily. "If I join you, will you come up and consult with our friends? They want us to broadcast them some water--they've been thirsty for years and years." He poured himself two fingers--widely separated, of course--of brandy and tossed it off.

Gary began to sob. "Poor things. Poor thirsty little Martians. With all the water we have here on Earth, we can't send them one little drop."

"Yes," agreed Whitlowe. "Poor Martians." He finished the bottle.

Gary was weeping copiously now. "Did you see the way they looked at us? So friendly and trusting. Most sweet little spiders I ever did see. And they can't have any water--can't have a bath or a shower or a swim all their life."

Whitlowe felt something big rising in his throat. "Something must be done," he said. "In fact, something will be done."

He rose to his feet. "Come," he urged, "since Mahomet cannot go to the mountain; the mountain will come to Mahomet. We'll issue a blanket invitation to the Martians to come to Earth and make their new home here. Plenty of water--plenty of big, beautiful wet water for everybody!"

Gary kissed him.


WHITLOWE SWEPT BACK a lock of dark hair and faced the Presidium. "Gentlemen of the Committee," he began.

"Nothing formal," warned the chairman. "Just explain yourselves. And make it good...." He tapped his teeth with a pencil.

An expression of quiet, self-asurance passed over Whitlowe's face. The oratorical tones in which he had uttered the first few words melted away. His voice bespoke sincere simplicity. "First of all, I must refute the fantastic accusations which have been hurled against me and my collaborator." He gestured at Gary, slumped in a corner chewing his nails. "The assertion that we invited the Martians to come to Earth is ridiculous; under different circumstances I could laugh heartily at it. However, this is no time for joking.

"Let me say only that this canard is but another example of sensational journalism, something from which nearly all of you have suffered at one time or another."

He paused to let the words sink in, and, from the expressions on some of the faces, saw that his words had had the desired effect. Then: "The true story, gentlemen of the committee, is easily and simply told--even if incomplete. You will see why it cannot be complete after a moment or so.

"We raised funds through public subscription and fitted out our equipment and apparatus thus; we proceeded to the isolated scene of our experiments and assembled this equipment--suffice to say that, after a few minor adjustments, it worked.

"The Martians were revealed to us as huge insect-like creatures. I would not call them insects, although perhaps an entomologist might find reason for applying the term. However, that is beside the point; what I mean is: in appearance, the Martians more closely resemble the insect than any other known form of Terrestrial life.

"From the start, our intercourse and communication was on a friendly basis. I confess freely that, from the nature and general run of our conversations, no thought of danger entered my head. Whether or not that was due, partly, to the influence that these creatures had upon us, I cannot say.

"Precisely when their attitude became menacing is also well-nigh impossible to state. We were being shown various sorts of machinery the Martians use when the--I'll have to use the term ray for want of a more adequate one--was run in on us. It had a sort of mesmeric effect; I distinctly recall doing things while my mind objected and while my thoughts warned me to shut off communication.

"My belief is that we have been made to forget a great deal of what we saw and perhaps much of what information we actually gave the Martians. It was only through accident--my falling over some obstacle and ripping out wires in the process--that communication was shut off. I think that is why we remember what we do; obviously the Martians wanted more information and, at the time of the breakoff, had not yet gotten around to blanking out, completely, our impressions of them. My opinion is, that, had not this accident occurred, we would have been forced to destroy our apparatus and forget the entire incident of our actual communication with Mars.

"For, gentlemen, it cannot be denied that the Martians menace us. Before the fortunate accident, we had been informed--the answer to a direct question in regard to some of the information we had given--that the Martians intend to migrate, as a race, to this planet."

He paused to glance at Gary. The big man had stopped chewing his nails and a look of haunted, self-castigation had filled his countenance. "This would explain," continued Whitlowe, "the atmospheric disturbances observed on Mars last week."