Transcribe
Translate
Spaceways, v. 3 issue 3, whole no. 19, March 1941
Page 13
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
SPACEWAYS 13 THE MARTIAN IDOL [[handwritten "4"]] by HENRY ANDREW ACKERMANN With dawn approaching Jerry Scott and the girl grew anxious. All during the dark night of Mars they had remained, unsleeping and alert, in Scott's ship fiercely holding off the hordes of Martian Desert-Dwellers. Elizabeth Maraye had displayed the courage that proved her the daughter of Commander John Alwin Maraye, the commandant of the Grigl Space Navy Yards. "We've baffled them so far, Betty." Scott peered out into the lightening gloom. "The Monkey-Men aren't sure whether there's only just the two of us or not." Both humans knew why the natives were attacking Jerry's disabled ship. Jerry Scott was a mineralogist who sought platinum, the valuable mineral used to plate propulsion ray tubes on space ships. In the valley of geysers in which his vessel sat he had discovered a splendid find of the ore. It was in the shape of a statue carved to the repulsive likeness of twin Monkey-Men. Jerry had managed to carry it off without the natives finding out about it right away. But it wasn't long before they discovered the theft and they raised a rumpus. They had demanded that Scott return the image which was their god, their idol. He was told that he had committed sacrilege to the nth degree when he had taken it. The fact that Jerry had left in the idol's place thousands of dollars worth of trading goods ,which the natives sorely needed did not count with the Monkey-Men. They wanted their idol. They gave him twenty-four hours to give it up or.... Scott had laughed at this ultimatum. But then he had not know that his propulsion tubes' platings had cracked; had not known that a clumsy member of his crew would put the ship's radio out of commission, beyond repair. The Monkey-Men had kept their word. They had not attacked until his time was up. To make matters worse, Elizabeth, his sweetheart, had chosen this crucial time to visit his base camp. She had arrived just before the attack. "Too bad my crew is out in the desert," said Jerry. "I certainly could use them now!" It was a strange situation that they were in, Scott reflected. Here they were, only a few air or ether miles from Drigl where they could get help immediately. But the ship was useless until the tubes were repaired, and the radio just wasn't, any more. "Jerry!" Elizabeth was at one of the open port-holes. "I can see those creatures working at something. They're rolling several huge boulders over to a crude-looking thing. It looks like a large see-saw." "A catapult." Jerry's lips tightened grimly as he saw it. "They mean to bombard us with tons of rocks. Our ship isn't a battle cruiser. It will never stand that." He hobbled over to Betty and handed her his heat rifle. "Keep firing at them. I've an idea." Elizabeth kept up a steady barrage while Jerry disappeared into the depths of the ship. When he returned the small idol was with him. "What's the idea?" The girl was puzzled. "Going to give them the image anyway, after all this trouble we've gone through to keep it?" She stamped her foot petulantly. "Now, I wouldn't think of doing that," he grinned. "My idea may work, if I'm as good a pitcher now as I used to be when I was just a kid. He surveyed the scene. Outside the Martians were about ready to launch their giant sling, their simian figures looking for all the world like something from Dante's Inferno as the hot springs threw forth columns of water, steam and gas casting an eery mist about them. Jerry motioned his sweetheart away from the port; he hefted the idol and wound up his arm for hard, accurate shot. The ugly image left his palm with
Saving...
prev
next
SPACEWAYS 13 THE MARTIAN IDOL [[handwritten "4"]] by HENRY ANDREW ACKERMANN With dawn approaching Jerry Scott and the girl grew anxious. All during the dark night of Mars they had remained, unsleeping and alert, in Scott's ship fiercely holding off the hordes of Martian Desert-Dwellers. Elizabeth Maraye had displayed the courage that proved her the daughter of Commander John Alwin Maraye, the commandant of the Grigl Space Navy Yards. "We've baffled them so far, Betty." Scott peered out into the lightening gloom. "The Monkey-Men aren't sure whether there's only just the two of us or not." Both humans knew why the natives were attacking Jerry's disabled ship. Jerry Scott was a mineralogist who sought platinum, the valuable mineral used to plate propulsion ray tubes on space ships. In the valley of geysers in which his vessel sat he had discovered a splendid find of the ore. It was in the shape of a statue carved to the repulsive likeness of twin Monkey-Men. Jerry had managed to carry it off without the natives finding out about it right away. But it wasn't long before they discovered the theft and they raised a rumpus. They had demanded that Scott return the image which was their god, their idol. He was told that he had committed sacrilege to the nth degree when he had taken it. The fact that Jerry had left in the idol's place thousands of dollars worth of trading goods ,which the natives sorely needed did not count with the Monkey-Men. They wanted their idol. They gave him twenty-four hours to give it up or.... Scott had laughed at this ultimatum. But then he had not know that his propulsion tubes' platings had cracked; had not known that a clumsy member of his crew would put the ship's radio out of commission, beyond repair. The Monkey-Men had kept their word. They had not attacked until his time was up. To make matters worse, Elizabeth, his sweetheart, had chosen this crucial time to visit his base camp. She had arrived just before the attack. "Too bad my crew is out in the desert," said Jerry. "I certainly could use them now!" It was a strange situation that they were in, Scott reflected. Here they were, only a few air or ether miles from Drigl where they could get help immediately. But the ship was useless until the tubes were repaired, and the radio just wasn't, any more. "Jerry!" Elizabeth was at one of the open port-holes. "I can see those creatures working at something. They're rolling several huge boulders over to a crude-looking thing. It looks like a large see-saw." "A catapult." Jerry's lips tightened grimly as he saw it. "They mean to bombard us with tons of rocks. Our ship isn't a battle cruiser. It will never stand that." He hobbled over to Betty and handed her his heat rifle. "Keep firing at them. I've an idea." Elizabeth kept up a steady barrage while Jerry disappeared into the depths of the ship. When he returned the small idol was with him. "What's the idea?" The girl was puzzled. "Going to give them the image anyway, after all this trouble we've gone through to keep it?" She stamped her foot petulantly. "Now, I wouldn't think of doing that," he grinned. "My idea may work, if I'm as good a pitcher now as I used to be when I was just a kid. He surveyed the scene. Outside the Martians were about ready to launch their giant sling, their simian figures looking for all the world like something from Dante's Inferno as the hot springs threw forth columns of water, steam and gas casting an eery mist about them. Jerry motioned his sweetheart away from the port; he hefted the idol and wound up his arm for hard, accurate shot. The ugly image left his palm with
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
