Martians Never Die Page 2

steps, with Curtis following him.

  "Clyde!" cried Beryl and rushed toward Curtis.

  The outstretched tentacles of the beast stopped her, but at a touch fromCurtis they fell away and Beryl was in his arms.

  Stern watched the scene sourly and with rage in his heart. Why hadn'tClyde waited another year? Then nothing could have changed things. Nowhe would lose not only Beryl, but the management of the money that wasleft, and the marketing of new patents on the machine. Curtis did notapprove of speculation, especially when it lost money.

  "You've changed, Clyde," Beryl was saying as she hugged him. "What isthe matter--do you need a doctor?"

  "No, I don't want a doctor, but I have to get home," said Curtis.

  Stern felt anger again beating in his brain like heavy surf on a beach.Curtis was sick. The least he could have done was die. Well, maybe hestill would. And if he didn't he could be helped to--Stern saw the beastlooking at him intently, malevolently. Its face might have looked almosthuman, now that it was so close, if it had possessed eyebrows and hair.As it was, its nose rose abruptly and flared into two really enormousnostrils, but its mouth looked small and wrinkled, like that of an oldgrandmother without any teeth.

  They turned to the doorway without noticing the absence of thereporters, who had long since run off to telephone and getphotographers.

  Curtis walked slowly. He would stop for a moment, look about as ifexpecting something entirely different, and then he would move forwardagain.

  They all got into the car, Curtis and Beryl on the front seat, withBeryl driving, and Stern and the creature in the rear. As Beryl drove,Stern looked savagely at the back of Curtis's head, but he felt thebeast staring at him balefully. Could it be a mind reader? That wasridiculous. How could anything that couldn't speak read a person's mind?

  He turned to study it. The Martian, if that was what it was, had onlysix tentacles, three on each side. The lower ones were heavy and almostas thick as legs. The upper ones were small and were obviously used ashands, while it was possible that the middle ones could be used eitherway. A series of suction cups or sucking pads were at the end of eachtentacle. With equipment like this, it could walk right up the side of abuilding, except, perhaps, for the higher gravity of Earth.

  Stern could smell it now, a dry, desert smell, and that made it morerevolting than ever. They were born to hate each other.

  * * * * *

  When they got home, Beryl was all solicitousness. The way a woman iswhen she has a man to impress, Stern thought.

  "Just sit right here in your old chair," she told Curtis, "and I'll calla doctor. Then I'll put some water on to heat." But first she knelt byhis side and laid her head on his breast. "Oh, darling," she said with asob, "Why did you wait so long? I've missed you so."

  A very good act, Stern told himself bitterly, without believing it atall.

  She got up and turned toward Stern. "Will you help me get some water on,Al?" she asked. "I'm going to phone."

  He went into the kitchen. He knew where the kettle was, therefrigerator, the mixings. He could hear her dialing, and then, beforehe got the kettle on the burner, she came inside and closed the kitchendoor.

  "Clyde's sick and I have to take care of him," she said anxiously.

  It wasn't entirely the money, he confessed to himself now. He hated thesituation, but he had to give in--on the surface anyway.

  "Okay, let's forget the whole thing," he said.

  "Oh, Al dear, I knew you'd understand! I've got to go back now and trythe phone again. I got a busy signal."

  Stern followed her, still rankling at the way Curtis had forced Beryl tolive while he spent so generously on his own expensive interests.Shortly after their marriage, he had built a home for Beryl and himselfin an exclusive suburb, on a hilly bit of land with a deep ravine at theback. But it was small and Beryl had not even been allowed maids exceptwhen they entertained, which was seldom. Soon he would change all that,Stern told himself. They had not dared to while Clyde was away.

  In the modern living room, Curtis sprawled in his easy chair as thoughhe hadn't moved since they had placed him there. But his air ofabstraction seemed to have increased. Before him sat the beast, looking,Stern thought, more like a dog than ever. Its head wasn't cocked to oneside, but that, less than its alien appearance, was the one thing tospoil the illusion.

  Tires screeched in the driveway while Beryl was still at the telephone.Stern went to the front door, closed it and put the chain bolt inplace. The back door would still be locked and they would hardly try toforce the screen windows.

  Heavy steps pounded up the front walk. "Did Dr. Curtis really get back?"The first man shot out. The one who followed had a camera.

  "Dr. Curtis has returned," Stern spoke through the opening of the frontdoor which the chain permitted, "but his physical condition won't permitquestioning, at least until his doctor has seen him."

  "Did he really bring back a Martian? We want to see the Martian anyway."

  "We can't have Dr. Curtis disturbed in any way until after his physicianhas examined him," Stern said bluntly.

  "Is he in there?"

  "We'll give you a report when we're ready."

  * * * * *

  A second car pulled up to the house as Stern shut the front door, andwent to check the rear one. When he came back, flashes from the windowshowed the cameraman was trying to take pictures through the glass.Stern drew the shades.

  "Well, poor Schaughtowl, so you had to come with me," Curtis was sayingto the monster.

  The beast wiggled again as it had on the steps of the machine. A tail towag wasn't really necessary, Stern decided, when there was so much bodyto wiggle.

  Schaughtowl, as Curtis addressed it, seemed to brighten in the darkenedroom.

  "Poor, dear Schaughtowl," said Curtis gently.

  It was unmistakable now--the skin actually brightened and emitted a sortof eerie, luminous glow.

  Curtis leaned over and put his hand on what would have beenSchaughtowl's neck. The loose skin writhed joyously, and, snakelike, thewhole body responded in rippling waves of emotion.

  "Gull Lup," the monster--said wasn't the right word, but it was not abark, growl, mew, cheep, squawk or snarl. Gulp was as close as Sterncould come, a dry and almost painful gulping noise that expresseddevotion in some totally foreign way that Stern found revolting.

  He realized that the phone had been ringing for some time. Hedisconnected it, and then heard loud knocking.

  "It's Dr. Anderson," he heard a man's voice calling impatiently andangrily.

  Cautiously, Stern opened the door, but his care was needless. With a fewtesty remarks, the doctor quickly cleared a space about the door andentered.

  He went at once to Curtis, with only a single shocked glance atSchaughtowl.

  "Where the devil have you been and where in hell did you get thatthing?" he asked as he unbuttoned Curtis's coat and shirt.

  Since playing with his pet, Curtis seemed more awake. "I went to Mars,"he said. "They're incredibly advanced in ways we hardly guess. We'reentirely off the track. I just came back to explain how."

  "Your friend doesn't look very intelligent," the doctor answered, busywith his stethoscope.

  "Animals like Schaughtowl are used for steeds or pets," said Curtis."The Ladonai are pretty much like mankind, only smaller."

  "Why did you stay so long?"

  "After I left, the Ladonai told me, they were going to shut off anypossible communication with Earth until we advance more. They thinkwe're at a very dangerous animal-like stage of development. Once I camehome, I knew I couldn't go back, so I wanted to learn as much as I couldbefore I left them."

  "Stand up for a minute," ordered the doctor.

  "Not right now," said Curtis. "I'm too tired."

  "You'd better get to bed, then."

  "I think not. It's merely caused by the difference in gravity andheavier air. The Ladonai told me to expect it, but not to lie down.After
a while I'll try to take a short walk."

  * * * * *

  So Clyde wasn't going to die, after all, Stern thought. He had come homewith a message, and, remembering the determination of the man, Sternknew he wouldn't die until he had given it. But he had to die. He woulddie, and who was competent enough to know that it wasn't from the shockof having come home to denser air and a heavier gravity?

  There were ways--an oxygen tube, for example. Pure oxygen to be inhaledin his sleep by lungs accustomed to a rarified atmosphere, or stimulantsin his food so it would look like a little too much exertion on a heartalready overtaxed. There were ways.

  Stern's scalp