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+ <title>
+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Dope on Mars, by Jack Sharkey
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dope on Mars, by John Michael Sharkey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Dope on Mars
+
+Author: John Michael Sharkey
+
+Illustrator: Wood
+
+Release Date: October 8, 2008 [EBook #26843]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOPE ON MARS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="bk1">
+
+<div class="bk2"><h1>THE DOPE<br />
+on Mars</h1>
+
+<h2><small>By JACK SHARKEY</small></h2></div></div>
+
+<div class="bk3"><div class="bk4"><p><i><b><big>Somebody had to get the human
+angle on this trip ... but what
+was humane about sending me?</big></b></i></p></div>
+
+<p class="rgt"><b><small>Illustrated by WOOD</small></b></p></div>
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">My</span> agent was the one who
+got me the job of going
+along to write up the first
+trip to Mars. He was always getting
+me things like that&mdash;appearances
+on TV shows, or mentions in writers'
+magazines. If he didn't sell
+much of my stuff, at least he sold
+<i>me</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"It'll be the biggest break a
+writer ever got," he told me, two
+days before blastoff. "Oh, sure
+there'll be scientific reports on the
+trip, but the public doesn't want
+them; they want the <i>human</i> slant
+on things."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Louie," I said weakly, "I'll
+probably be locked up for the
+whole trip. If there are fights or accidents,
+they won't tell <i>me</i> about
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense," said Louie, sipping
+carefully at a paper cup of scalding
+coffee. "It'll be just like the
+public going along vicariously.
+They'll <i>identify</i> with you."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Louie," I said, wiping the
+dampness from my palms on the
+knees of my trousers as I sat there,
+"how'll I go about it? A story? An
+article? A <i>you-are-there</i> type of report?
+What?"</p>
+
+<p>Louie shrugged. "So keep a
+diary. It'll be more intimate, like."</p>
+
+<p>"But what if nothing happens?"
+I insisted hopelessly.</p>
+
+<p>Louie smiled. "So you fake it."</p>
+
+<p>I got up from the chair in his office
+and stepped to the door.
+"That's dishonest," I pointed out.</p>
+
+<p>"Creative is the word," Louie
+said.</p>
+
+<p>So I went on the first trip to
+Mars. And I kept a diary. This is
+it. And it is honest. Honest it is.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>October 1, 1960</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">They picked</span> the launching
+date from the March, 1959, New
+York <i>Times</i>, which stated that this
+was the most likely time for launching.
+Trip time is supposed to take
+260 days (that's one way), so
+we're aimed toward where Mars
+will be (had <i>better</i> be, or else).</p>
+
+<p>There are five of us on board. A
+pilot, co-pilot, navigator and biochemist.
+And, of course, me. I've
+met all but the pilot (he's very
+busy today), and they seem friendly
+enough.</p>
+
+<p>Dwight Kroger, the biochemist,
+is rather old to take the "rigors of
+the journey," as he puts it, but the
+government had a choice between
+sending a green scientist who could
+stand the trip or an accomplished
+man who would probably not survive,
+so they picked Kroger. We've
+blasted off, though, and he's still
+with us. He looks a damn sight better
+than I feel. He's kind of balding,
+and very iron-gray-haired and
+skinny, but his skin is tan as an Indian's,
+and right now he's telling
+jokes in the washroom with the co-pilot.</p>
+
+<p>Jones (that's the co-pilot; I
+didn't quite catch his first name) is
+scarlet-faced, barrel-chested and
+gives the general appearance of belonging
+under the spreading chestnut
+tree, not in a metal bullet flinging
+itself out into airless space.
+Come to think of it, who <i>does</i> belong
+where we are?</p>
+
+<p>The navigator's name is Lloyd
+Streeter, but I haven't seen his face
+yet. He has a little cubicle behind
+the pilot's compartment, with all
+kinds of maps and rulers and things.
+He keeps bent low over a welded-to-the-wall
+(they call it the bulkhead,
+for some reason or other)
+table, scratching away with a ballpoint
+pen on the maps, and now
+and then calling numbers over a
+microphone to the pilot. His hair
+is red and curly, and he looks as
+though he'd be tall if he ever gets
+to stand up. There are freckles on
+the backs of his hands, so I think
+he's probably got them on his face,
+too. So far, all he's said is, "Scram,
+I'm busy."</p>
+
+<p>Kroger tells me that the pilot's
+name is Patrick Desmond, but that
+I can call him Pat when I get to
+know him better. So far, he's still
+Captain Desmond to me. I haven't
+the vaguest idea what he looks like.
+He was already on board when I
+got here, with my typewriter and
+ream of paper, so we didn't meet.</p>
+
+<p>My compartment is small but
+clean. I mean clean now. It wasn't
+during blastoff. The inertial gravities
+didn't bother me so much as
+the gyroscopic spin they put on the
+ship so we have a sort of artificial
+gravity to hold us against the
+curved floor. It's that constant
+whirly feeling that gets me. I get
+sick on merry-go-rounds, too.</p>
+
+<p>They're having pork for dinner
+today. Not me.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>October 2, 1960</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Feeling much</span> better today.
+Kroger gave me a box of Dramamine
+pills. He says they'll help my
+stomach. So far, so good.</p>
+
+<p>Lloyd came by, also. "You play
+chess?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"A little," I admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"How about a game sometime?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," I said. "Do you have a
+board?"</p>
+
+<p>He didn't.</p>
+
+<p>Lloyd went away then, but the
+interview wasn't wasted. I learned
+that he <i>is</i> tall and <i>does</i> have a
+freckled face. Maybe we can build
+a chessboard. With my paper and
+his ballpoint pen and ruler, it should
+be easy. Don't know what we'll use
+for pieces, though.</p>
+
+<p>Jones (I still haven't learned his
+first name) has been up with the
+pilot all day. He passed my room
+on the way to the galley (the
+kitchen) for a cup of dark brown
+coffee (they like it thick) and told
+me that we were almost past the
+Moon. I asked to look, but he said
+not yet; the instrument panel is
+Top Secret. They'd have to cover
+it so I could look out the viewing
+screen, and they still need it for
+steering or something.</p>
+
+<p>I still haven't met the pilot.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>October 3, 1960</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Well, I've</span> met the pilot. He is
+kind of squat, with a vulturish neck
+and close-set jet-black eyes that
+make him look rather mean, but he
+was pleasant enough, and said I
+could call him Pat. I still don't
+know Jones' first name, though Pat
+spoke to him, and it sounded like
+Flants. That can't be right.</p>
+
+<p>Also, I am one of the first five
+men in the history of the world to
+see the opposite side of the Moon,
+with a bluish blurred crescent beyond
+it that Pat said was the Earth.
+The back of the Moon isn't much
+different from the front. As to the
+space in front of the ship, well, it's
+all black with white dots in it, and
+none of the dots move, except in a
+circle that Pat says is a "torque"
+result from the gyroscopic spin
+we're in. Actually, he explained to
+me, the screen is supposed to keep
+the image of space locked into
+place no matter how much we spin.
+But there's some kind of a "drag."
+I told him I hoped it didn't mean
+we'd land on Mars upside down. He
+just stared at me.</p>
+
+<p>I can't say I was too impressed
+with that 16 x 19 view of outer
+space. It's been done much better
+in the movies. There's just no awesomeness
+to it, no sense of depth or
+immensity. It's as impressive as a
+piece of velvet with salt sprinkled
+on it.</p>
+
+<p>Lloyd and I made a chessboard
+out of a carton. Right now we're using
+buttons for men. He's one of
+these fast players who don't stop
+and think out their moves. And so
+far I haven't won a game.</p>
+
+<p>It looks like a long trip.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>October 4, 1960</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">I won</span> a game. Lloyd mistook my
+queen-button for my bishop-button
+and left his king in jeopardy, and
+I checkmated him next move. He
+said chess was a waste of time
+and he had important work to do
+and he went away.</p>
+
+<p>I went to the galley for coffee
+and had a talk about moss with
+Kroger. He said there was a good
+chance of lichen on Mars, and I
+misunderstood and said, "A good
+chance of liking <i>what</i> on Mars?"
+and Kroger finished his coffee and
+went up front.</p>
+
+<p>When I got back to my compartment,
+Lloyd had taken away the
+chessboard and all his buttons. He
+told me later he needed it to back
+up a star map.</p>
+
+<p>Pat slept mostly all day in his
+compartment, and Jones sat and
+watched the screen revolve. There
+wasn't much to do, so I wrote a
+poem, sort of.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">Mary, Mary, quite contrary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How does your garden grow?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Martian rime, Venusian slime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a radioactive hoe.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>I showed it to Kroger. He says
+it may prove to be environmentally
+accurate, but that I should stick to
+prose.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>October 5, 1960</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Learned Jones'</span> first name.
+He wrote something in the ship's
+log, and I saw his signature. His
+name is Fleance, like in "Macbeth."
+He prefers to be called Jones. Pat
+uses his first name as a gag. Some
+fun.</p>
+
+<p>And only 255 days to go.</p>
+
+<div class="figright">
+<img src="images/002.jpg" width="381" height="550" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>April 1, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">I've skipped</span> over the last 177
+days or so, because there's nothing
+much new. I brought some books
+with me on the trip, books that I'd
+always meant to read and never
+had the time. So now I know all
+about <i>Vanity Fair</i>, <i>Pride and Prejudice</i>,
+<i>War and Peace</i>, <i>Gone with
+the Wind</i>, and <i>Babbitt</i>.</p>
+
+<p>They didn't take as long as I
+thought they would, except for
+<i>Vanity Fair</i>. It must have been a
+riot when it first came out. I mean,
+all those sly digs at the aristocracy,
+with copious interpolations by Mr.
+Thackeray in case you didn't get
+it when he'd pulled a particularly
+good gag. Some fun.</p>
+
+<p>And only 78 days to go.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 1, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Only 17 days</span> to go. I saw Mars
+on the screen today. It seems to be
+descending from overhead, but Pat
+says that that's the "torque" doing
+it. Actually, it's we who are coming
+in sideways.</p>
+
+<p>We've all grown beards, too. Pat
+said it was against regulations, but
+what the hell. We have a contest.
+Longest whiskers on landing gets a
+prize.</p>
+
+<p>I asked Pat what the prize was
+and he told me to go to hell.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 18, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Mars has</span> the whole screen
+filled. Looks like Death Valley. No
+sign of canals, but Pat says that's
+because of the dust storm down below.
+It's nice to have a "down below"
+again. We're going to land, so
+I have to go to my bunk. It's all
+foam rubber, nylon braid supports
+and magnesium tubing. Might as
+well be cement for all the good it
+did me at takeoff. Earth seems awfully
+far away.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 19, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Well, we're down.</span> We have
+to wear gas masks with oxygen
+hook-ups. Kroger says the air is
+breathable, but thin, and it has too
+much dust in it to be any fun to
+inhale. He's all for going out and
+looking for lichen, but Pat says he's
+got to set up camp, then get instructions
+from Earth. So we just have
+to wait. The air is very cold, but the
+Sun is hot as hell when it hits you.
+The sky is a blinding pink, or maybe
+more of a pale fuchsia. Kroger
+says it's the dust. The sand underfoot
+is kind of rose-colored, and not
+really gritty. The particles are
+round and smooth.</p>
+
+<p>No lichen so far. Kroger says
+maybe in the canals, if there are
+any canals. Lloyd wants to play
+chess again.</p>
+
+<p>Jones won the beard contest. Pat
+gave him a cigar he'd smuggled on
+board (no smoking was allowed on
+the ship), and Jones threw it away.
+He doesn't smoke.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 20, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Got lost today.</span> Pat told me
+not to go too far from camp, so,
+when I took a stroll, I made sure
+every so often that I could still see
+the rocket behind me. Walked for
+maybe an hour; then the oxygen
+gauge got past the halfway mark,
+so I started back toward the rocket.
+After maybe ten steps, the rocket
+disappeared. One minute it was
+standing there, tall and silvery, the
+next instant it was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Turned on my radio pack and
+got hold of Pat. Told him what happened,
+and he told Kroger. Kroger
+said I had been following a mirage,
+to step back a bit. I did, and I could
+see the ship again. Kroger said to
+try and walk toward where the ship
+seemed to be, even when it wasn't
+in view, and meantime they'd come
+out after me in the jeep, following
+my footprints.</p>
+
+<p>Started walking back, and the
+ship vanished again. It reappeared,
+disappeared, but I kept going. Finally
+saw the real ship, and Lloyd
+and Jones waving their arms at me.
+They were shouting through their
+masks, but I couldn't hear them.
+The air is too thin to carry sound
+well.</p>
+
+<p>All at once, something gleamed
+in their hands, and they started
+shooting at me with their rifles.
+That's when I heard the noise behind
+me. I was too scared to turn
+around, but finally Jones and Lloyd
+came running over, and I got up
+enough nerve to look. There was
+nothing there, but on the sand,
+paralleling mine, were footprints.
+At least I think they were footprints.
+Twice as long as mine, and
+three times as wide, but kind of
+featureless because the sand's loose
+and dry. They doubled back on
+themselves, spaced considerably
+farther apart.</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?" I asked Lloyd
+when he got to me.</p>
+
+<p>"Damned if I know," he said. "It
+was red and scaly, and I think it
+had a tail. It was two heads taller
+than you." He shuddered. "Ran off
+when we fired."</p>
+
+<p>"Where," said Jones, "are Pat and
+Kroger?"</p>
+
+<p>I didn't know. I hadn't seen
+them, nor the jeep, on my trip back.
+So we followed the wheel tracks for
+a while, and they veered off from
+my trail and followed another, very
+much like the one that had been
+paralleling mine when Jones and
+Lloyd had taken a shot at the scaly
+thing.</p>
+
+<p>"We'd better get them on the
+radio," said Jones, turning back
+toward the ship.</p>
+
+<p>There wasn't anything on the
+radio but static.</p>
+
+<p>Pat and Kroger haven't come
+back yet, either.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 21, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">We're not</span> alone here. More of
+the scaly things have come toward
+the camp, but a few rifle shots send
+them away. They hop like kangaroos
+when they're startled. Their
+attitudes aren't menacing, but their
+appearance is. And Jones says,
+"Who knows what's 'menacing' in
+an alien?"</p>
+
+<p>We're going to look for Kroger
+and Pat today. Jones says we'd better
+before another windstorm blows
+away the jeep tracks. Fortunately,
+the jeep has a leaky oil pan, so we
+always have the smears to follow,
+unless they get covered up, too.
+We're taking extra oxygen, shells,
+and rifles. Food, too, of course.
+And we're locking up the ship.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="dcap">It's later</span>, now. We found the
+jeep, but no Kroger or Pat. Lots of
+those big tracks nearby. We're taking
+the jeep to follow the aliens'
+tracks. There's some moss around
+here, on reddish brown rocks that
+stick up through the sand, just on
+the shady side, though. Kroger
+must be happy to have found his
+lichen.</p>
+
+<p>The trail ended at the brink of
+a deep crevice in the ground. Seems
+to be an earthquake-type split in
+solid rock, with the sand sifting
+over this and the far edge like pink
+silk cataracts. The bottom is in the
+shade and can't be seen. The crack
+seems to extend to our left and
+right as far as we can look.</p>
+
+<p>There looks like a trail down the
+inside of the crevice, but the Sun's
+setting, so we're waiting till tomorrow
+to go down.</p>
+
+<p>Going down was Jones' idea,
+not mine.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 22, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Well, we're</span> at the bottom, and
+there's water here, a shallow stream
+about thirty feet wide that runs
+along the center of the canal (we've
+decided we're in a canal). No sign
+of Pat or Kroger yet, but the sand
+here is hard-packed and damp, and
+there are normal-size footprints
+mingled with the alien ones, sharp
+and clear. The aliens seem to have
+six or seven toes. It varies from
+print to print. And they're barefoot,
+too, or else they have the damnedest-looking
+shoes in creation.</p>
+
+<p>The constant shower of sand
+near the cliff walls is annoying, but
+it's sandless (shower-wise) near
+the stream, so we're following the
+footprints along the bank. Also, the
+air's better down here. Still thin,
+but not so bad as on the surface.
+We're going without masks to save
+oxygen for the return trip (Jones
+assures me there'll <i>be</i> a return
+trip), and the air's only a little bit
+sandy, but handkerchiefs over nose
+and mouth solve this.</p>
+
+<p>We look like desperadoes, what
+with the rifles and covered faces. I
+said as much to Lloyd and he told
+me to shut up. Moss all over the
+cliff walls. Swell luck for Kroger.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="dcap">We've found</span> Kroger and Pat,
+with the help of the aliens. Or maybe
+I should call them the Martians.
+Either way, it's better than what
+Jones calls them.</p>
+
+<p>They took away our rifles and
+brought us right to Kroger and Pat,
+without our even asking. Jones is
+mad at the way they got the rifles so
+easily. When we came upon them
+(a group of maybe ten, huddling
+behind a boulder in ambush), he
+fired, but the shots either bounced
+off their scales or stuck in their
+thick hides. Anyway, they took the
+rifles away and threw them into the
+stream, and picked us all up and
+took us into a hole in the cliff wall.
+The hole went on practically forever,
+but it didn't get dark. Kroger
+tells me that there are phosphorescent
+bacteria living in the mold on
+the walls. The air has a fresh-dug-grave
+smell, but it's richer in oxygen
+than even at the stream.</p>
+
+<p>We're in a small cave that is just
+off a bigger cave where lots of tunnels
+come together. I can't remember
+which one we came in through,
+and neither can anyone else. Jones
+asked me what the hell I kept writing
+in the diary for, did I want to
+make it a gift to Martian archeologists?
+But I said where there's life
+there's hope, and now he won't talk
+to me. I congratulated Kroger on
+the lichen I'd seen, but he just said
+a short and unscientific word and
+went to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>There's a Martian guarding the
+entrance to our cave. I don't know
+what they intend to do with us.
+Feed us, I hope. So far, they've just
+left us here, and we're out of rations.</p>
+
+<p>Kroger tried talking to the guard
+once, but he (or it) made a whistling
+kind of sound and flashed a
+mouthful of teeth. Kroger says the
+teeth are in multiple rows, like a
+tiger shark's. I'd rather he hadn't
+told me.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 23, 1961, I think</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">We're either</span> in a docket or a
+zoo. I can't tell which. There's a
+rather square platform surrounded
+on all four sides by running water,
+maybe twenty feet across, and
+we're on it. Martians keep coming
+to the far edge of the water and
+looking at us and whistling at each
+other. A little Martian came near
+the edge of the water and a larger
+Martian whistled like crazy and
+dragged it away.</p>
+
+<p>"Water must be dangerous to
+them," said Kroger.</p>
+
+<p>"We shoulda brought water pistols,"
+Jones muttered.</p>
+
+<p>Pat said maybe we can swim to
+safety. Kroger told Pat he was
+crazy, that the little island we're on
+here underground is bordered by a
+fast river that goes into the planet.
+We'd end up drowned in some grotto
+in the heart of the planet, says
+Kroger.</p>
+
+<p>"What the hell," says Pat, "it's
+better than starving."</p>
+
+<p>It is not.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 24, 1961, probably</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">I'm hungry</span>. So is everybody
+else. Right now I could eat a dinner
+raw, in a centrifuge, and keep it
+down. A Martian threw a stone at
+Jones today, and Jones threw one
+back at him and broke off a couple
+of scales. The Martian whistled
+furiously and went away. When the
+crowd thinned out, same as it did
+yesterday (must be some sort of
+sleeping cycle here), Kroger talked
+Lloyd into swimming across the
+river and getting the red scales.
+Lloyd started at the upstream part
+of the current, and was about a hundred
+yards below this underground
+island before he made the far side.
+Sure is a swift current.</p>
+
+<p>But he got the scales, walked
+very far upstream of us, and swam
+back with them. The stream sides
+are steep, like in a fjord, and we
+had to lift him out of the swirling
+cold water, with the scales gripped
+in his fist. Or what was left of the
+scales. They had melted down in
+the water and left his hand all
+sticky.</p>
+
+<p>Kroger took the gummy things,
+studied them in the uncertain light,
+then tasted them and grinned.</p>
+
+<p>The Martians are made of sugar.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Later, same day</span>. Kroger
+said that the Martian metabolism
+must be like Terran (Earth-type)
+metabolism, only with no pancreas
+to make insulin. They store their
+energy on the <i>outside</i> of their
+bodies, in the form of scales. He's
+watched them more closely and
+seen that they have long rubbery
+tubes for tongues, and that they
+now and then suck up water from
+the stream while they're watching
+us, being careful not to get their lips
+(all sugar, of course) wet. He
+guesses that their "blood" must be
+almost pure water, and that it
+washes away (from the inside, of
+course) the sugar they need for
+energy.</p>
+
+<p>I asked him where the sugar
+came from, and he said probably
+their bodies isolated carbon from
+something (he thought it might be
+the moss) and combined it with
+the hydrogen and oxygen in the
+water (even <i>I</i> knew the formula for
+water) to make sugar, a common
+carbohydrate.</p>
+
+<p>Like plants, on Earth, he said.
+Except, instead of using special
+cells on leaves to form carbohydrates
+with the help of sunpower,
+as Earth plants do in photosynthesis
+(Kroger spelled that word
+for me), they used the <i>shape</i> of the
+scales like prisms, to isolate the
+spectra (another Kroger word)
+necessary to form the sugar.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't get it," I said politely,
+when he'd finished his spiel.</p>
+
+<p>"Simple," he said, as though he
+were addressing me by name.
+"They have a twofold reason to fear
+water. One: by complete solvency
+in that medium, they lose all energy
+and die. Two: even partial sprinkling
+alters the shape of the scales,
+and they are unable to use sunpower
+to form more sugar, and still die,
+if a bit slower."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," I said, taking it down verbatim.
+"So now what do we do?"</p>
+
+<p>"We remove our boots," said
+Kroger, sitting on the ground and
+doing so, "and then we cross this
+stream, fill the boots with water,
+and <i>spray</i> our way to freedom."</p>
+
+<p>"Which tunnel do we take?"
+asked Pat, his eyes aglow at the
+thought of escape.</p>
+
+<p>Kroger shrugged. "We'll have to
+chance taking any that seem to
+slope upward. In any event, we can
+always follow it back and start
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno," said Jones. "Remember
+those <i>teeth</i> of theirs. They must
+be for biting something more substantial
+than moss, Kroger."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll risk it," said Pat. "It's better
+to go down fighting than to die
+of starvation."</p>
+
+<p>The hell it is.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 24, 1961, for sure</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">The Martians</span> have coal
+mines. <i>That's</i> what they use those
+teeth for. We passed through one
+and surprised a lot of them chewing
+gritty hunks of anthracite out
+of the walls. They came running at
+us, whistling with those tubelike
+tongues, and drooling dry coal dust,
+but Pat swung one of his boots in
+an arc that splashed all over the
+ground in front of them, and they
+turned tail (literally) and clattered
+off down another tunnel,
+sounding like a locomotive whistle
+gone berserk.</p>
+
+<p>We made the surface in another
+hour, back in the canal, and were
+lucky enough to find our own trail
+to follow toward the place above
+which the jeep still waited.</p>
+
+<p>Jones got the rifles out of the
+stream (the Martians had probably
+thought they were beyond recovery
+there) and we found the jeep. It
+was nearly buried in sand, but we
+got it cleaned off and running, and
+got back to the ship quickly. First
+thing we did on arriving was to
+break out the stores and have a
+celebration feast just outside the
+door of the ship.</p>
+
+<p>It was pork again, and I got sick.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 25, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">We're going back</span>. Pat says
+that a week is all we were allowed
+to stay and that it's urgent to return
+and tell what we've learned
+about Mars (we know there are
+Martians, and they're made of
+sugar).</p>
+
+<p>"Why," I said, "can't we just tell
+it on the radio?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because," said Pat, "if we tell
+them now, by the time we get back
+we'll be yesterday's news. This way
+we may be lucky and get a parade."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe even money," said
+Kroger, whose mind wasn't always
+on science.</p>
+
+<p>"But they'll ask why we didn't
+radio the info, sir," said Jones uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"The radio," said Pat, nodding to
+Lloyd, "was unfortunately broken
+shortly after landing."</p>
+
+<p>Lloyd blinked, then nodded
+back and walked around the
+rocket. I heard a crunching sound
+and the shattering of glass, not unlike
+the noise made when one
+drives a rifle butt through a radio.</p>
+
+<p>Well, it's time for takeoff.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="dcap">This time</span> it wasn't so bad. I
+thought I was getting my space-legs,
+but Pat says there's less gravity on
+Mars, so escape velocity didn't
+have to be so fast, hence a smoother
+(relatively) trip on our shock-absorbing
+bunks.</p>
+
+<p>Lloyd wants to play chess again.
+I'll be careful not to win this time.
+However, if I don't win, maybe this
+time <i>I'll</i> be the one to quit.</p>
+
+<p>Kroger is busy in his cramped
+lab space trying to classify the little
+moss he was able to gather, and
+Jones and Pat are up front watching
+the white specks revolve on that
+black velvet again.</p>
+
+<p>Guess I'll take a nap.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 26, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Hell's bells</span>. Kroger says
+there are two baby Martians loose
+on board ship. Pat told him he
+was nuts, but there are certain
+signs he's right. Like the missing
+charcoal in the air-filtration-and-reclaiming
+(AFAR) system. And
+the water gauges are going down.
+But the clincher is those two sugar
+crystals Lloyd had grabbed up
+when we were in that zoo. They're
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>Pat has declared a state of emergency.
+Quick thinking, that's Pat.
+Lloyd, before he remembered and
+turned scarlet, suggested we radio
+Earth for instructions. We can't.</p>
+
+<p>Here we are, somewhere in a
+void headed for Earth, with enough
+air and water left for maybe three
+days&mdash;if the Martians don't take
+any more.</p>
+
+<p>Kroger is thrilled that he is
+learning something, maybe, about
+Martian reproductive processes.
+When he told Pat, Pat put it to a
+vote whether or not to jettison
+Kroger through the airlock. However,
+it was decided that responsibility
+was pretty well divided.
+Lloyd had gotten the crystals,
+Kroger had only studied them, and
+Jones had brought them aboard.</p>
+
+<p>So Kroger stays, but meanwhile
+the air is getting worse. Pat suggested
+Kroger put us all into a state
+of suspended animation till landing
+time, eight months away. Kroger
+said, "How?"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 27, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Air is foul</span> and I'm very
+thirsty. Kroger says that at least&mdash;when
+the Martians get bigger&mdash;they'll
+have to show themselves.
+Pat says what do we do <i>then</i>? We
+can't afford the water we need to
+melt them down. Besides, the
+melted crystals might <i>all</i> turn into
+little Martians.</p>
+
+<p>Jones says he'll go down spitting.</p>
+
+<p>Pat says why not dismantle interior
+of rocket to find out where
+they're holing up? Fine idea.</p>
+
+<p>How do you dismantle riveted
+metal plates?</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 28, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">The AFAR system</span> is no more
+and the water gauges are still dropping.
+Kroger suggests baking bread,
+then slicing it, then toasting it till
+it turns to carbon, and we can use
+the carbon in the AFAR system.</p>
+
+<p>We'll have to try it, I guess.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="dcap">The Martians</span> ate the bread.
+Jones came forward to tell us the
+loaves were cooling, and when he
+got back they were gone. However,
+he did find a few of the red crystals
+on the galley deck (floor). They're
+good-sized crystals, too. Which
+means so are the Martians.</p>
+
+<p>Kroger says the Martians must
+be intelligent, otherwise they
+couldn't have guessed at the carbohydrates
+present in the bread after
+a lifelong diet of anthracite. Pat
+says let's jettison Kroger.</p>
+
+<p>This time the vote went against
+Kroger, but he got a last-minute reprieve
+by suggesting the crystals
+be pulverized and mixed with sulphuric
+acid. He says this'll produce
+carbon.</p>
+
+<p>I certainly hope so.</p>
+
+<p>So does Kroger.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Brief reprieve</span> for us. The
+acid-sugar combination not only
+produces carbon but water vapor,
+and the gauge has gone up a notch.
+That means that we have a quart
+of water in the tanks for drinking.
+However, the air's a bit better,
+and we voted to let Kroger stay inside
+the rocket.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime, we have to catch
+those Martians.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>June 29, 1961</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Worse and worse</span>. Lloyd
+caught one of the Martians in the
+firing chamber. We had to flood
+the chamber with acid to subdue
+the creature, which carbonized
+nicely. So now we have plenty of
+air and water again, but besides
+having another Martian still on
+the loose, we now don't have
+enough acid left in the fuel tanks
+to make a landing.</p>
+
+<p>Pat says at least our vector will
+carry us to Earth and we can die
+on our home planet, which is better
+than perishing in space.</p>
+
+<p>The hell it is.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>March 3, 1962</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Earth in sight</span>. The other
+Martian is still with us. He's where
+we can't get at him without blow-torches,
+but he can't get at the carbon
+in the AFAR system, either,
+which is a help. However, his tail
+is prehensile, and now and then it
+snakes out through an air duct and
+yanks food right off the table from
+under our noses.</p>
+
+<p>Kroger says watch out. <i>We</i> are
+made of carbohydrates, too. I'd
+rather not have known.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>March 4, 1962</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="dcap">Earth fills</span> the screen in the
+control room. Pat says if we're
+lucky, he might be able to use the
+bit of fuel we have left to set us
+in a descending spiral into one of
+the oceans. The rocket is tighter
+than a submarine, he insists, and
+it will float till we're rescued, if
+the plates don't crack under the impact.</p>
+
+<p>We all agreed to try it. Not that
+we thought it had a good chance of
+working, but none of us had a better
+idea.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">I guess</span> you know the rest of
+the story, about how that destroyer
+spotted us and got us and
+my diary aboard, and towed the
+rocket to San Francisco. News of
+the "captured Martian" leaked out,
+and we all became nine-day wonders
+until the dismantling of the
+rocket.</p>
+
+<p>Kroger says he must have dissolved
+in the water, and wonders
+what <i>that</i> would do. There are
+about a thousand of those crystal-scales
+on a Martian.</p>
+
+<p>So last week we found out, when
+those red-scaled things began clambering
+out of the sea on every coastal
+region on Earth. Kroger tried
+to explain to me about salinity osmosis
+and hydrostatic pressure and
+crystalline life, but in no time at all
+he lost me.</p>
+
+<p>The point is, bullets won't stop
+these things, and wherever a crystal
+falls, a new Martian springs up
+in a few weeks. It looks like the
+five of us have abetted an invasion
+from Mars.</p>
+
+<p>Needless to say, we're no longer
+heroes.</p>
+
+<p>I haven't heard from Pat or
+Lloyd for a week. Jones was picked
+up attacking a candy factory yesterday,
+and Kroger and I were allowed
+to sign on for the flight to
+Venus scheduled within the next
+few days&mdash;because of our experience.</p>
+
+<p>Kroger says there's only enough
+fuel for a one-way trip. I don't care.
+I've always wanted to travel with
+the President.</p>
+
+<p class="rgt">&mdash;JACK SHARKEY</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/003.png" width="200" height="150" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b>
+This etext was produced from <i>Galaxy Magazine</i> June 1960.
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
+typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Dope on Mars, by John Michael Sharkey
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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