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Read Ebook: The Hermit of Mars by Bartholomew Stephen Finlay Virgil Illustrator
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Ebook has 90 lines and 5665 words, and 2 pages
The bald man nodded and went out the airlock. Martin Devere watched in silence as the other man began to gather up his diagrams and plans and tie them into a neat bundle.
"I guess we can take it easy now, Pop. As soon as that telegram's sent and I get this stuff burned, my partner and I are unemployed. Of course we'll have to hang around a while longer in case they want us to shoot off Baby out there, but there's nothing to that. In the meantime maybe I can help you dig up some more of those old pots and statues."
Martin Devere seemed to be thinking. He watched as the tall man checked to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, then carried the bundle of plans over to the electronic oven.
"Oh, maybe, maybe not."
"Couldn't they fire it from Earth by radio?" Devere asked.
"Nope. Somebody might try jamming."
"Oh, I see...."
Martin Devere was silent again until the tall man opened the oven and removed a bundle of gray ash. He dumped the ashes into a bucket and began stirring them with his hand.
"Something else I was wondering about," Devere said. He began cleaning the fragment of ceramic again, his hands working in a slow circular motion.
"Supposing the United Governments find out where it--the bomb is. They might send a missile to blow it up."
"Told you, Pop. Baby can out-run anything else that flies. Wouldn't do them any good."
"Yes, yes.... Still, the missile would hit Mars, wouldn't it? I mean, it would destroy all this--the igloos, my diggings ..."
The tall man gave a laugh.
"Don't worry so much, Pop. We'd have plenty of time to get in the ship and clear out. We might even take you with us."
"Still ..." But the old man lapsed again into thought.
"Yeah?"
"Hello. Listen, I did something stupid."
Martin Devere looked up at the sound of the bald man's voice. Devere's hands still held the piece of ceramic. He had polished it until a complex geometric design was visible, etched in reds and blues. It might have been equally a decoration or some mechanical diagram.
"Did you get the message sent?" the tall man asked.
"Yes, that part's all right. I got to the ship and contacted headquarters. I think they're going to deliver the ultimatum right away. Now we just wait for orders. The only thing is, the sandcat's power went dead on me while I was halfway down a hill. It started to roll, and I forgot I was wearing a spacesuit. I jumped out. This low gravity fooled me too. I think I've broken my ankle, it hurts like hell."
The tall man cursed in a low voice.
"All right, all right," he said after a moment. "Just take it easy. I'll have to come out and get you."
"I think the sandcat is all right. Stupid of me to jump like that, wasn't thinking. Better bring a spare battery with you.... Oh, and you'd better bring a light too. It will be getting dark in another half hour."
"Okay, just wait for me. I'll home in on your suit radio."
The tall man switched off the receiver and went to his own suit locker. Martin Devere watched as he removed the holster and weapon from his hip. He pulled the heavy plastic trousers over his denim jumper and then buckled the gun back again before starting on the rest of the spacesuit.
"Nothing serious, I hope?" Martin Devere put the ceramic down carefully and picked up another object from a stack of artifacts.
"You heard, didn't you? You any good at setting a broken ankle, Pop?"
"Oh, I could manage, I guess. Broke my arm down in the diggings once. Had to set it myself. Twenty years ago, I think it was. I've been more careful since then." He gave a laugh. It started as a normal laugh, then broke to a senile giggle. Then his face was serious again. He carried the new artifact closer to the man with the gun.
"You know, I was telling you.... The Martians were vegetarians. They never made any weapons for hunting. They did know about explosives, though."
"What's that thing?" The tall man, struggling with the buckles of his breathing equipment, glanced at the object in Devere's hands. It looked like badly corroded bronze, and consisted of a long tube with a large bulb at one end.
"Oh, by the way. There's nothing wrong with your sandcat's battery. It was the motor I sabotaged."
Then Martin Devere pointed the ancient digging tool at the tall man and blew him into two neat pieces.
The Hermit of Mars never did get around to walking out to the space ship and using his visitor's radio to tell Earth what had happened. He really intended to, but he forgot. The ultimatum that was delivered to the United Governments failed, of course, but no one knew exactly why until the next Earth-Mars conjunction.
The United Governments was prevailed on by the World Television Service to send out someone to interview the Hermit, if he were still alive.
That interview was unfortunate. It might have established Martin Devere as the world hero that he was, and he might have been awarded some kind of medal. As it went, his rude and insulting answers to the young man's questions made him unpopular for years.
His last answer in the interview was the worst. The young man, already sweating, looked in desperation at the green crystal vase that Martin Devere insisted on holding in front of the television lens.
"Tell me, Dr. Devere," the young man asked. "You seem--er--a very modest man. Doesn't it make you the least bit proud to know that you've saved the world?"
Martin Devere lowered his vase and gave the young man a puzzled look.
END
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