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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6476035 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53048 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53048) diff --git a/old/53048-h.zip b/old/53048-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8e442ad..0000000 --- a/old/53048-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/53048-h/53048-h.htm b/old/53048-h/53048-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index e34cc37..0000000 --- a/old/53048-h/53048-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1147 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hermit of Mars, by Stephen Bartholomew. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hermit of Mars, by Stephen Bartholomew - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Hermit of Mars - -Author: Stephen Bartholomew - -Illustrator: Virgil Finlay - -Release Date: September 14, 2016 [EBook #53048] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMIT OF MARS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="379" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>THE HERMIT OF MARS</h1> - -<p>BY STEPHEN BARTHOLOMEW</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of Tomorrow October 1963<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">He was the oldest man on<br /> -Mars ... in fact, the only one!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>When Martin Devere was 23 and still working on his Master's, he was -hurt by a woman. It was then that he decided that the only things -that were worthwhile in life were pure art and pure science. That, of -course, is another story, but it may explain why he chose to become an -archeologist in the first place.</p> - -<p>Now he was the oldest human being on Mars. He was 91. For many years, -in fact, he had been the <i>only</i> human being on Mars. Up until today.</p> - -<p>He looked through the transparent wall of his pressurized igloo at the -puff of dust in the desert where the second rocket had come down. Earth -and Mars were just past conjunction, and the regular automatic supply -rocket had landed two days ago. As usual, Martin Devere, taking his -own good time about it, had unloaded the supplies, keeping the things -he really needed and throwing away the useless stuff like the latest -microfilmed newspapers and magazines, the taped TV shows and concerts. -As payment for his groceries he had then reloaded the rocket with the -written reports he had accumulated since the last conjunction, plus a -few artifacts.</p> - -<p>Then he had pushed a button and sent the rocket on its way again, back -to Earth. He didn't mind writing the reports. Most of them were rubbish -anyway, but they seemed to keep the people back at the Institute happy. -He did mind the artifacts. It seemed wrong to remove them, though he -sent only the less valuable ones back. But perhaps it couldn't be -helped. One time, the supply rocket had failed to return when he pushed -its red button—the thing was still sitting out there in the desert, -slowly rusting. Martin Devere had happily unloaded the artifacts and -put them back where they belonged. It wasn't his fault.</p> - -<p>The puff of dust on the horizon was beginning to settle. This second -rocket had descended with a shrill scream through the thin air, its -voice more highly pitched than it would have been in denser atmosphere. -Martin Devere had looked up from his work in time to see its braking -jets vanish behind the low Martian hills a few kilometers distant.</p> - -<p>It was much too large to be an automatic supply rocket, even if there -had been reason to expect another one. Martin Devere knew it could mean -only one thing—someone was paying him an unannounced visit.</p> - -<p>He waited, watching through the igloo wall to see who had come to poke -around and bother him after all these years.</p> - -<p>At first he was annoyed that the people at the Institute hadn't let him -know visitors were coming. Then he reminded himself that it had been -years since he'd taken the trouble to listen to his radio receiver, or -to read the messages they sent him along with supplies.</p> - -<p>After a long time, he made out a smaller dust-puff, and then a little -sandcat advancing slowly across the desert. Riding on top of it were -two men in space suits.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Everyone on Earth who reads popular magazines or watches TV knows the -story of Martin Devere, "The Hermit of Mars." Over the years, now that -he is dead, he has become a sort of culture hero, as Dr. Livingston or -Albert Schweitzer once were. Though Martin Devere could not be called -a humanitarian in any sense of the word. After his divorce from his -first and only wife, at the age of 45, he never gave much thought again -either to women or any other kind of people—except for his long-dead -Martians.</p> - -<p>But everyone should know by now how Martin Devere first came to Mars -at the age of 50. Even then he was the oldest man on the planet, -and Mars sustained quite a large research colony at the time. Only -Martin Devere's unchallenged scientific reputation, together with his -apparent good health, enabled him to leave Earth as head of a five-man -archeological team. This turned up the first fossil ruins far beneath -the desert sand.</p> - -<p>Then there came a day when the Space Institute of the United -Governments decided to abandon Project Mars. It was getting too -expensive to maintain. Everything of value to space research had -already been learned about the planet, and the archeological site, -though yet barely scratched, did not properly come under space -research. Closing Project Mars would mean more funds for solar -research, on Mercury, for the Lunar colony and for work on the -interstellar drive.</p> - -<p>So the hundred-odd inhabitants of the Project received orders to leave -the igloos and other equipment behind and come back to Earth.</p> - -<p>Martin Devere, however, had been on Mars for three years now. When the -Project physician gave him his routine exam, it was discovered that a -valve in Martin Devere's aorta had developed a faint flutter. Nothing -too serious, really. But enough to greatly reduce his chances of -surviving another rocket lift-off.</p> - -<p>Martin Devere smiled at the news and volunteered to remain behind, -alone on Mars. Under the circumstances, the Institute was forced to -agree.</p> - -<p>On the day that the strange rocket came down behind the desert hills, -Martin Devere had been on Mars for a total of 38 years. For the past 35 -of them he had been The Hermit—and quite happy about it....</p> - -<p>The little sandcat was getting closer. Martin Devere smiled to himself, -watching the two men in their clumsy space gear. It was high noon, and -a nice comfortable ten degrees centigrade outside. If the two newcomers -thought they needed full spacesuits to get around out there, Martin -Devere wasn't going to tell them any different. Actually, though the -atmospheric pressure was about the same as at the top of Mount Everest, -on a beautiful day like this a man could get along easily outdoors with -nothing more than an oxygen mask. But let them clomp around in their -rubberized long-johns if they wanted to.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes they would be coming in through the igloo's airlock. -Martin Devere turned away, scowling now. He hoped the Institute hadn't -decided to reopen Mars Project. There was plenty of room in all these -igloos and connecting tunnels that had been left behind, but with a new -expedition here it might get pretty crowded. Mainly, Devere didn't want -a bunch of amateurs poking around his diggings, breaking things.</p> - -<p>His thumb rubbed slowly across the long stubble on his chin. He -wondered if he had made some slip in that last report, or in some of -the pictures of the ruins he'd sent back. He'd rather the Institute -didn't find out about those fossilized machines he'd dug up. He didn't -understand the gadgets himself, but some of the people at the Institute -just might decide they were interesting enough to be worth sending up -an expert.</p> - -<p>The Institute, Devere knew, was interested in machinery, not art -objects.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>One of the men held an automatic pistol pointed at Martin Devere while -the other was stripping off his space gear. Then the pistol changed -hands while the first man removed his own suit. Martin Devere could -have told them that he wasn't afraid of the gun. He didn't actually -care much, one way or the other: let them point it if it made them -happy. Martin Devere figured that he had already lived a lot longer, -here in this feeble gravity and germ-free, oxygen-rich air, than his -tricky heart would have allowed him on Earth. Let them point the gun if -they wanted to.</p> - -<p>"If you make one move toward the radio transmitter I'll blow your head -off," the taller man said. He had black wavy hair that hung over his -brow. The other man was completely bald.</p> - -<p>"I don't even know if the radio works," Martin Devere answered. "I -haven't turned it on in years. I should warn you, though, that if you -shoot that thing inside the igloo here, it will puncture the plastic -wall and let all the air out. I always keep the pressure up high -indoors so I can boil water for coffee."</p> - -<p>The tall man frowned in confusion and blinked at the weapon in his -hand. Then he stared at the transparent dome above him, as if realizing -for the first time that only a thin bubble of plastic separated him -from near-vacuum, now that he had removed his suit.</p> - -<p>"I was just making some coffee when you showed up," Martin Devere said, -turning away. "Have some? I'm afraid it's instant. I've given up trying -to get the Institute to send me a can of real coffee in the rocket. -They think I need canned TV shows more."</p> - -<p>"He's harmless," the bald man said. "You can see he's just an old -senile nut. Leave him be, we've work to do."</p> - -<p>The tall man lowered his weapon, then let it fall into the holster at -his hip.</p> - -<p>"No big hurry. I think I'd like some of that coffee first. Say, Pop, -how about cooking us a meal in a couple of hours?"</p> - -<p>Martin Devere was spooning brown powder into three cups.</p> - -<p>"Sure thing. What would you like—beans and franks, or franks and -beans?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"I suppose you wonder what we're doing, Pop?" The tall man held the -disassembled pieces of his gun in his lap. He was carefully polishing -each part with a chemically treated cloth.</p> - -<p>It was three days since they had landed, and the tall metal skeleton -was beginning to take shape out in the desert. At the moment, the -bald man was out alone, testing circuits. Usually the two went out -together—they had apparently decided it was safe to leave Martin -Devere unguarded, though they had smashed his radio transmitter just in -case.</p> - -<p>The two men worked steadily during the daylight hours, came back at -sunset to eat and sleep, then went out again at dawn. The towering -lacework of steel was growing like an ugly flower.</p> - -<p>The tall man held the trigger assembly of his gun up to the light. -He turned it slowly between his thumb and forefinger. It cast an odd -crescent-shaped shadow over the muscles of his jaw.</p> - -<p>"No, I don't wonder what you're doing," Martin Devere answered. He was -sitting at his workbench, crouched over an ancient metal plate as thin -as paper.</p> - -<p>The tall man began to put his weapon back together again. He snapped -the trigger assembly into the receiver. He pulled the hammer back and -then released it; it made a sharp, hard click.</p> - -<p>"Not even curious, Pop? Okay, then tell me what <i>you're</i> doing. What's -that piece of tinfoil you've been staring at the past two hours?"</p> - -<p>Martin Devere straightened and turned to look at the other.</p> - -<p>"It's an ancient Martian scroll. It's nearly a million years old. I -found it in a new pit I've been digging, five hundred meters down. It's -the longest and perhaps most important bit of Martian writing I've -found so far."</p> - -<p>"Yeah? What's it have to say?"</p> - -<p>Martin Devere shook his head. "Their language, their whole frame of -reference, was fundamentally different from ours. It's something like -higher mathematics, you'd have to learn the language to understand it. -But I suppose you might say that this is a poem.... Yes, an epic poem."</p> - -<p>The tall man laughed. He shoved an ammunition clip into his weapon, -pumped a round into the chamber, slipped the gun back into its holster. -He got up and began pacing the floor of the igloo. The floor was -cluttered with dozens of artifacts.</p> - -<p>He stopped and nudged one specimen with his toe.</p> - -<p>"What's this thing, Pop? An ancient Martian meatgrinder?"</p> - -<p>"I hardly think so. They were vegetarians." He squinted at the object. -"I'm afraid I have no idea what it is. It's some sort of machine, but -I'm no engineer, I can't imagine what its function was. They—don't -build many machines, you know."</p> - -<p>The man with the gun turned to stare at Martin Devere.</p> - -<p>"You mean <i>didn't</i> build, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, of course.... Past tense." And Devere turned again to peer at the -million-year-old poem before him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Damn it to hell. This might hold us up a week." The bald man flung the -shatterproof helmet of his suit against the igloo wall. His tone of -voice was matter-of-fact emotionless. Even the way he threw the helmet -betrayed no real emotion. Still wearing the rest of his suit he sat -down at Martin Devere's work bench and clenched his fists. His face was -smooth, blank.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" His partner put down some drawings and came over.</p> - -<p>"The modulator circuit doesn't check out. I'll have to take the whole -works apart and start over again." The bald man spoke—when he did -speak—with a faint accent that Martin Devere could not identify.</p> - -<p>"It doesn't matter." The other rubbed at his chin. "We're still ahead -of our schedule."</p> - -<p>"Hey. Old man." The bald man pointed at Devere. "You have anything to -drink in this cave of yours?"</p> - -<p>Martin Devere frowned, thinking. He remembered a bottle he'd been -saving for some special occasion—he couldn't recall what, just now.</p> - -<p>"I think I have some bourbon," he said at last. "If I can find it."</p> - -<p>"Find it. Mine straight, on the rocks."</p> - -<p>When Martin Devere returned awhile later, the bald man was still -wearing his helmetless space suit. He and his friend were studying a -complex wiring diagram spread out on the work bench.</p> - -<p>Martin Devere put two plastic cups down on the bench and poured them -full. Neither of the men looked up from their diagram until he had set -the bottle down.</p> - -<p>"Pour one for yourself, Pop," the tall man said.</p> - -<p>"Thanks. Don't mind if I do." Devere went to get another cup. Over his -shoulder he said, "Hope you boys don't mind crushed ice instead of -cubes. I just set a bucket of water in one of the unheated tunnels for -a couple minutes. Then I hit it with a hammer."</p> - -<p>It was four hours past sunset, the temperature outside was far below -freezing.</p> - -<p>"One thing you don't need on Mars is a refrigerator!" Pouring himself -a drink, the old man suddenly laughed. It was a brief, senile giggle, -that made the tall man turn to stare at him.</p> - -<p>"Could be uncomfortable, though, if you were ever stuck out there at -night." Martin Devere's face was sober once more as he lifted his -cup and looked deeply into it. All trace of senility had vanished as -suddenly as it had appeared. "Like, say, if you were out there long -enough for your suit power to go dead. You'd freeze to a hunk of ice -in a few minutes.... Me, I never go outside at night."</p> - -<p>"Shut up," the bald man said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>All day the bald man had been out alone, working on his electronic -circuits. Evidently this left his partner nothing to do except study -schematics.</p> - -<p>Now Martin Devere was aware that his guest had been staring at him for -several minutes without speaking. Martin Devere went on polishing the -green crystal vase he held in his hand. The vase looked ordinary at -first glance, until you noticed that it wasn't quite symmetrical. There -was a studied and careful asymmetry about its form, barely discernible, -that would disturb you the more you looked at it—until you knew -suddenly that no human brain could have created that shape.</p> - -<p>The polishing cloth moved rhythmically across the vase's curving -surfaces. The green crystal reflected light in a way that made you -begin to think about boundless seas of water.</p> - -<p>"I'll be glad when this job is over with," the tall man said, half -aloud.</p> - -<p>"When it is, will you go away?" Martin Devere turned the vase slowly in -his hands.</p> - -<p>"Not for a while yet, Pop." The man with the gun on his hip got to his -feet and stretched.</p> - -<p>"I don't mind telling you what it's all about, Pop. You're all -right. It's simple. My partner and I were sent here by a certain -national power that doesn't like being told how to run its own -affairs by the United Governments. We're striking the first blow for -Freedom. That thing we're putting together out there is a bomb. It -could—disable—most of Earth. It has a new kind of nuclear rocket -engine behind it that could carry it across 200 million miles in a few -hours.</p> - -<p>"You get the idea, Pop? Here on Mars, they won't even find it. And if -they did, we could deliver the bomb before they got a missile halfway -across.... So I hope you won't mind if my partner and I stay a while, -Pop."</p> - -<p>It was several seconds before Martin Devere answered. He set the -crystal vase carefully inside a case and regarded it a moment.</p> - -<p>"As long as you don't go messing up my diggings or break any of the -artifacts, it's no business of mine."</p> - -<p>"And what if I did, Pop?" The tall man walked closer to Martin Devere. -He stood over the old man, his shadow on him. His hand rested lightly -on the butt of his gun. "What if I were to take all your vases and -statues and pots and tablets and smash them to bits, one by one? What -would you do then?"</p> - -<p>Martin Devere's eyes slowly closed and opened, he made no other move -for a minute. Then he got to his feet without looking at the other man. -He turned and began to move away, toward a tunnel door that led to the -diggings.</p> - -<p>Probably the tall man thought that he had finally put the fear of God -into Martin Devere. But as he turned back to his pile of schematics he -heard the old man's whisper:</p> - -<p>"You might regret it."</p> - -<p>The man with the gun did not answer.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Tell us about it, Pop."</p> - -<p>"Yes, why don't you tell us about it."</p> - -<p>They meant Martin Devere's work. The two men had finished their own -job. The assembled bomb rested in the desert, silent but alive, like -some abnormal growth.</p> - -<p>Because of sunspot activity they hadn't yet been able to radio their -employers on Earth. The bald man expected conditions to clear in two -or three days. When they did clear, he would signal, "The bird is -nesting." Then the nation he had mentioned would be ready to deliver -its ultimatum to the United Governments.</p> - -<p>For the first time since landing on Mars, the two men were idle. They -were waiting. They looked as if they were willing to wait a long time -if necessary.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Martin Devere's artifacts were the only amusements available.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the old man knew they were making fun of him. But he seemed -to take their question seriously. When he began to speak, they found -themselves listening.</p> - -<p>"We don't know exactly what happened." Martin Devere faced the two -men across the cluttered workbench like a lecturer addressing his -students. He held in his hand a small bronze statue that might have -been a portrayal of one of the old Martian people or, just as likely, -some long-extinct animal. In the diffuse sunlight that came through -the igloo wall, it cast a shadow on the work bench that was even more -disturbingly alien in shape.</p> - -<p>"No, we don't know what happened to them," the old man said. "The last -of them died nearly a million years ago, before the first Homo Sapiens -walked the Earth. From what we—I—have found we know a little about -what they were like. But we don't know why they died.</p> - -<p>"We do know, for instance, that they never had much interest in -technology. Not that they lacked intelligence. They could build a -machine when it suited their purposes, whatever those may have been. -And I don't say they weren't interested in science. They had a highly -developed theoretical science, as sophisticated as their art. You might -say they were theoreticians. They were concerned with pure art and pure -science—but not with applied technology, or commercialized art.</p> - -<p>"My own theory is that they had no need for technology. In the first -place, they were vegetarians, not carnivorous. So that their earliest -men had no need for hunting weapons—or other gadgets. Probably they -never developed the aggressive instincts which in humanity led to -warfare with its subsequent impetus to applied technology. The Martians -never got around to making cars or airplanes or bombs. They dedicated -themselves, gentlemen, to the contemplation of beauty.</p> - -<p>"Then, nearly a million years ago, something happened to them. Perhaps -Mars began to lose her atmosphere then. Her oceans evaporated, the -air could no longer retain her heat at night, the farmlands parched -and froze. A few of the plant types were able to adapt and survive. -But within a few years, all animal life died out. One day, there were -suddenly no more Martians left."</p> - -<p>Martin Devere's dry, withered hand caressed the small statue he held.</p> - -<p>"Who knows? If they'd had time to develop space travel they might have -saved themselves. Then again, with a technology like yours, they might -have blown themselves up long before the natural catastrophe ..."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean like <i>yours</i>?" the tall man said. "You mean like -<i>ours</i>, don't you?"</p> - -<p>But Martin Devere turned away without answering.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Do you have another bottle of bourbon, old man?"</p> - -<p>"No, I'm afraid not," Devere said. "There was only that one bottle."</p> - -<p>"Too bad. We should have a little celebration." The bald man began -sealing himself into his spacesuit.</p> - -<p>"I'll wait for you here," his partner said. "I'd better start burning -those plans."</p> - -<p>Martin Devere looked up from the fragment of ceramic he was cleaning.</p> - -<p>"You're going to send the message now?"</p> - -<p>Neither of the men bothered to reply, since the answer was -self-evident. The bald man tested the air and power equipment of his -suit, then turned to his partner a moment before sealing his helmet.</p> - -<p>"You checked the sandcat's power supply?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but you'd better take another look at it. I think the battery's -leaking."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"<i>Baby.</i> You mean your bomb, out there. You think you might actually -shoot it off then."</p> - -<p>"Oh, maybe, maybe not."</p> - -<p>"Couldn't they fire it from Earth by radio?" Devere asked.</p> - -<p>"Nope. Somebody might try jamming."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I see...."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Something else I was wondering about," Devere said. He began cleaning -the fragment of ceramic again, his hands working in a slow circular -motion.</p> - -<p>"Supposing the United Governments find out where it—the bomb is. They -might send a missile to blow it up."</p> - -<p>"Told you, Pop. Baby can out-run anything else that flies. Wouldn't do -them any good."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes.... Still, the missile would hit Mars, wouldn't it? I mean, -it would destroy all this—the igloos, my diggings ..."</p> - -<p>The tall man gave a laugh.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"Still ..." But the old man lapsed again into thought.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>An hour later, the short-range radio gave a shrill beep. The tall man -went over and flipped the <i>talk</i> switch.</p> - -<p>"Yeah?"</p> - -<p>"Hello. Listen, I did something stupid."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Did you get the message sent?" the tall man asked.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>The tall man cursed in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"All right, all right," he said after a moment. "Just take it easy. -I'll have to come out and get you."</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"Okay, just wait for me. I'll home in on your suit radio."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Nothing serious, I hope?" Martin Devere put the ceramic down carefully -and picked up another object from a stack of artifacts.</p> - -<p>"You heard, didn't you? You any good at setting a broken ankle, Pop?"</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"You know, I was telling you.... The Martians were vegetarians. They -never made any weapons for hunting. They did know about explosives, -though."</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"This? Oh, this is some kind of a tool I found. I think it was a -digging tool, used for breaking up rocks. They <i>did</i> build canals, you -know.... As I was saying, they knew about explosives. This tool, for -instance. It worked by means of a small, shaped charge inside this -bulb here. The explosion was so well-focused that there was almost no -recoil. A high-energy shock wave was emitted from the barrel—very -effective at short range. But the most amazing thing about this tool is -that the chemical explosive is still potent after lying underground for -nearly a million years....</p> - -<p>"Oh, by the way. There's nothing wrong with your sandcat's battery. It -was the motor I sabotaged."</p> - -<p>Then Martin Devere pointed the ancient digging tool at the tall man and -blew him into two neat pieces.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The United Governments was prevailed on by the World Television Service -to send out someone to interview the Hermit, if he were still alive.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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. (Back at -the Institute, a dozen faces were flushing red with indignation as -their owners realized what the old man had been holding back.)</p> - -<p>"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?"</p> - -<p>Martin Devere lowered his vase and gave the young man a puzzled look.</p> - -<p>"You mean Earth? Tell me, why should I want to save <i>that</i> world?"</p> - - -<p class="ph4">END</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Hermit of Mars, by Stephen Bartholomew - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMIT OF MARS *** - -***** This file should be named 53048-h.htm or 53048-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/0/4/53048/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Hermit of Mars - -Author: Stephen Bartholomew - -Illustrator: Virgil Finlay - -Release Date: September 14, 2016 [EBook #53048] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMIT OF MARS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - THE HERMIT OF MARS - - BY STEPHEN BARTHOLOMEW - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of Tomorrow October 1963 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - He was the oldest man on - Mars ... in fact, the only one! - - -When Martin Devere was 23 and still working on his Master's, he was -hurt by a woman. It was then that he decided that the only things -that were worthwhile in life were pure art and pure science. That, of -course, is another story, but it may explain why he chose to become an -archeologist in the first place. - -Now he was the oldest human being on Mars. He was 91. For many years, -in fact, he had been the _only_ human being on Mars. Up until today. - -He looked through the transparent wall of his pressurized igloo at the -puff of dust in the desert where the second rocket had come down. Earth -and Mars were just past conjunction, and the regular automatic supply -rocket had landed two days ago. As usual, Martin Devere, taking his -own good time about it, had unloaded the supplies, keeping the things -he really needed and throwing away the useless stuff like the latest -microfilmed newspapers and magazines, the taped TV shows and concerts. -As payment for his groceries he had then reloaded the rocket with the -written reports he had accumulated since the last conjunction, plus a -few artifacts. - -Then he had pushed a button and sent the rocket on its way again, back -to Earth. He didn't mind writing the reports. Most of them were rubbish -anyway, but they seemed to keep the people back at the Institute happy. -He did mind the artifacts. It seemed wrong to remove them, though he -sent only the less valuable ones back. But perhaps it couldn't be -helped. One time, the supply rocket had failed to return when he pushed -its red button--the thing was still sitting out there in the desert, -slowly rusting. Martin Devere had happily unloaded the artifacts and -put them back where they belonged. It wasn't his fault. - -The puff of dust on the horizon was beginning to settle. This second -rocket had descended with a shrill scream through the thin air, its -voice more highly pitched than it would have been in denser atmosphere. -Martin Devere had looked up from his work in time to see its braking -jets vanish behind the low Martian hills a few kilometers distant. - -It was much too large to be an automatic supply rocket, even if there -had been reason to expect another one. Martin Devere knew it could mean -only one thing--someone was paying him an unannounced visit. - -He waited, watching through the igloo wall to see who had come to poke -around and bother him after all these years. - -At first he was annoyed that the people at the Institute hadn't let him -know visitors were coming. Then he reminded himself that it had been -years since he'd taken the trouble to listen to his radio receiver, or -to read the messages they sent him along with supplies. - -After a long time, he made out a smaller dust-puff, and then a little -sandcat advancing slowly across the desert. Riding on top of it were -two men in space suits. - - * * * * * - -Everyone on Earth who reads popular magazines or watches TV knows the -story of Martin Devere, "The Hermit of Mars." Over the years, now that -he is dead, he has become a sort of culture hero, as Dr. Livingston or -Albert Schweitzer once were. Though Martin Devere could not be called -a humanitarian in any sense of the word. After his divorce from his -first and only wife, at the age of 45, he never gave much thought again -either to women or any other kind of people--except for his long-dead -Martians. - -But everyone should know by now how Martin Devere first came to Mars -at the age of 50. Even then he was the oldest man on the planet, -and Mars sustained quite a large research colony at the time. Only -Martin Devere's unchallenged scientific reputation, together with his -apparent good health, enabled him to leave Earth as head of a five-man -archeological team. This turned up the first fossil ruins far beneath -the desert sand. - -Then there came a day when the Space Institute of the United -Governments decided to abandon Project Mars. It was getting too -expensive to maintain. Everything of value to space research had -already been learned about the planet, and the archeological site, -though yet barely scratched, did not properly come under space -research. Closing Project Mars would mean more funds for solar -research, on Mercury, for the Lunar colony and for work on the -interstellar drive. - -So the hundred-odd inhabitants of the Project received orders to leave -the igloos and other equipment behind and come back to Earth. - -Martin Devere, however, had been on Mars for three years now. When the -Project physician gave him his routine exam, it was discovered that a -valve in Martin Devere's aorta had developed a faint flutter. Nothing -too serious, really. But enough to greatly reduce his chances of -surviving another rocket lift-off. - -Martin Devere smiled at the news and volunteered to remain behind, -alone on Mars. Under the circumstances, the Institute was forced to -agree. - -On the day that the strange rocket came down behind the desert hills, -Martin Devere had been on Mars for a total of 38 years. For the past 35 -of them he had been The Hermit--and quite happy about it.... - -The little sandcat was getting closer. Martin Devere smiled to himself, -watching the two men in their clumsy space gear. It was high noon, and -a nice comfortable ten degrees centigrade outside. If the two newcomers -thought they needed full spacesuits to get around out there, Martin -Devere wasn't going to tell them any different. Actually, though the -atmospheric pressure was about the same as at the top of Mount Everest, -on a beautiful day like this a man could get along easily outdoors with -nothing more than an oxygen mask. But let them clomp around in their -rubberized long-johns if they wanted to. - -In a few minutes they would be coming in through the igloo's airlock. -Martin Devere turned away, scowling now. He hoped the Institute hadn't -decided to reopen Mars Project. There was plenty of room in all these -igloos and connecting tunnels that had been left behind, but with a new -expedition here it might get pretty crowded. Mainly, Devere didn't want -a bunch of amateurs poking around his diggings, breaking things. - -His thumb rubbed slowly across the long stubble on his chin. He -wondered if he had made some slip in that last report, or in some of -the pictures of the ruins he'd sent back. He'd rather the Institute -didn't find out about those fossilized machines he'd dug up. He didn't -understand the gadgets himself, but some of the people at the Institute -just might decide they were interesting enough to be worth sending up -an expert. - -The Institute, Devere knew, was interested in machinery, not art -objects. - - * * * * * - -One of the men held an automatic pistol pointed at Martin Devere while -the other was stripping off his space gear. Then the pistol changed -hands while the first man removed his own suit. Martin Devere could -have told them that he wasn't afraid of the gun. He didn't actually -care much, one way or the other: let them point it if it made them -happy. Martin Devere figured that he had already lived a lot longer, -here in this feeble gravity and germ-free, oxygen-rich air, than his -tricky heart would have allowed him on Earth. Let them point the gun if -they wanted to. - -"If you make one move toward the radio transmitter I'll blow your head -off," the taller man said. He had black wavy hair that hung over his -brow. The other man was completely bald. - -"I don't even know if the radio works," Martin Devere answered. "I -haven't turned it on in years. I should warn you, though, that if you -shoot that thing inside the igloo here, it will puncture the plastic -wall and let all the air out. I always keep the pressure up high -indoors so I can boil water for coffee." - -The tall man frowned in confusion and blinked at the weapon in his -hand. Then he stared at the transparent dome above him, as if realizing -for the first time that only a thin bubble of plastic separated him -from near-vacuum, now that he had removed his suit. - -"I was just making some coffee when you showed up," Martin Devere said, -turning away. "Have some? I'm afraid it's instant. I've given up trying -to get the Institute to send me a can of real coffee in the rocket. -They think I need canned TV shows more." - -"He's harmless," the bald man said. "You can see he's just an old -senile nut. Leave him be, we've work to do." - -The tall man lowered his weapon, then let it fall into the holster at -his hip. - -"No big hurry. I think I'd like some of that coffee first. Say, Pop, -how about cooking us a meal in a couple of hours?" - -Martin Devere was spooning brown powder into three cups. - -"Sure thing. What would you like--beans and franks, or franks and -beans?" - - * * * * * - -"I suppose you wonder what we're doing, Pop?" The tall man held the -disassembled pieces of his gun in his lap. He was carefully polishing -each part with a chemically treated cloth. - -It was three days since they had landed, and the tall metal skeleton -was beginning to take shape out in the desert. At the moment, the -bald man was out alone, testing circuits. Usually the two went out -together--they had apparently decided it was safe to leave Martin -Devere unguarded, though they had smashed his radio transmitter just in -case. - -The two men worked steadily during the daylight hours, came back at -sunset to eat and sleep, then went out again at dawn. The towering -lacework of steel was growing like an ugly flower. - -The tall man held the trigger assembly of his gun up to the light. -He turned it slowly between his thumb and forefinger. It cast an odd -crescent-shaped shadow over the muscles of his jaw. - -"No, I don't wonder what you're doing," Martin Devere answered. He was -sitting at his workbench, crouched over an ancient metal plate as thin -as paper. - -The tall man began to put his weapon back together again. He snapped -the trigger assembly into the receiver. He pulled the hammer back and -then released it; it made a sharp, hard click. - -"Not even curious, Pop? Okay, then tell me what _you're_ doing. What's -that piece of tinfoil you've been staring at the past two hours?" - -Martin Devere straightened and turned to look at the other. - -"It's an ancient Martian scroll. It's nearly a million years old. I -found it in a new pit I've been digging, five hundred meters down. It's -the longest and perhaps most important bit of Martian writing I've -found so far." - -"Yeah? What's it have to say?" - -Martin Devere shook his head. "Their language, their whole frame of -reference, was fundamentally different from ours. It's something like -higher mathematics, you'd have to learn the language to understand it. -But I suppose you might say that this is a poem.... Yes, an epic poem." - -The tall man laughed. He shoved an ammunition clip into his weapon, -pumped a round into the chamber, slipped the gun back into its holster. -He got up and began pacing the floor of the igloo. The floor was -cluttered with dozens of artifacts. - -He stopped and nudged one specimen with his toe. - -"What's this thing, Pop? An ancient Martian meatgrinder?" - -"I hardly think so. They were vegetarians." He squinted at the object. -"I'm afraid I have no idea what it is. It's some sort of machine, but -I'm no engineer, I can't imagine what its function was. They--don't -build many machines, you know." - -The man with the gun turned to stare at Martin Devere. - -"You mean _didn't_ build, don't you?" - -"Yes, of course.... Past tense." And Devere turned again to peer at the -million-year-old poem before him. - - * * * * * - -"Damn it to hell. This might hold us up a week." The bald man flung the -shatterproof helmet of his suit against the igloo wall. His tone of -voice was matter-of-fact emotionless. Even the way he threw the helmet -betrayed no real emotion. Still wearing the rest of his suit he sat -down at Martin Devere's work bench and clenched his fists. His face was -smooth, blank. - -"What's the matter?" His partner put down some drawings and came over. - -"The modulator circuit doesn't check out. I'll have to take the whole -works apart and start over again." The bald man spoke--when he did -speak--with a faint accent that Martin Devere could not identify. - -"It doesn't matter." The other rubbed at his chin. "We're still ahead -of our schedule." - -"Hey. Old man." The bald man pointed at Devere. "You have anything to -drink in this cave of yours?" - -Martin Devere frowned, thinking. He remembered a bottle he'd been -saving for some special occasion--he couldn't recall what, just now. - -"I think I have some bourbon," he said at last. "If I can find it." - -"Find it. Mine straight, on the rocks." - -When Martin Devere returned awhile later, the bald man was still -wearing his helmetless space suit. He and his friend were studying a -complex wiring diagram spread out on the work bench. - -Martin Devere put two plastic cups down on the bench and poured them -full. Neither of the men looked up from their diagram until he had set -the bottle down. - -"Pour one for yourself, Pop," the tall man said. - -"Thanks. Don't mind if I do." Devere went to get another cup. Over his -shoulder he said, "Hope you boys don't mind crushed ice instead of -cubes. I just set a bucket of water in one of the unheated tunnels for -a couple minutes. Then I hit it with a hammer." - -It was four hours past sunset, the temperature outside was far below -freezing. - -"One thing you don't need on Mars is a refrigerator!" Pouring himself -a drink, the old man suddenly laughed. It was a brief, senile giggle, -that made the tall man turn to stare at him. - -"Could be uncomfortable, though, if you were ever stuck out there at -night." Martin Devere's face was sober once more as he lifted his -cup and looked deeply into it. All trace of senility had vanished as -suddenly as it had appeared. "Like, say, if you were out there long -enough for your suit power to go dead. You'd freeze to a hunk of ice -in a few minutes.... Me, I never go outside at night." - -"Shut up," the bald man said. - - * * * * * - -All day the bald man had been out alone, working on his electronic -circuits. Evidently this left his partner nothing to do except study -schematics. - -Now Martin Devere was aware that his guest had been staring at him for -several minutes without speaking. Martin Devere went on polishing the -green crystal vase he held in his hand. The vase looked ordinary at -first glance, until you noticed that it wasn't quite symmetrical. There -was a studied and careful asymmetry about its form, barely discernible, -that would disturb you the more you looked at it--until you knew -suddenly that no human brain could have created that shape. - -The polishing cloth moved rhythmically across the vase's curving -surfaces. The green crystal reflected light in a way that made you -begin to think about boundless seas of water. - -"I'll be glad when this job is over with," the tall man said, half -aloud. - -"When it is, will you go away?" Martin Devere turned the vase slowly in -his hands. - -"Not for a while yet, Pop." The man with the gun on his hip got to his -feet and stretched. - -"I don't mind telling you what it's all about, Pop. You're all -right. It's simple. My partner and I were sent here by a certain -national power that doesn't like being told how to run its own -affairs by the United Governments. We're striking the first blow for -Freedom. That thing we're putting together out there is a bomb. It -could--disable--most of Earth. It has a new kind of nuclear rocket -engine behind it that could carry it across 200 million miles in a few -hours. - -"You get the idea, Pop? Here on Mars, they won't even find it. And if -they did, we could deliver the bomb before they got a missile halfway -across.... So I hope you won't mind if my partner and I stay a while, -Pop." - -It was several seconds before Martin Devere answered. He set the -crystal vase carefully inside a case and regarded it a moment. - -"As long as you don't go messing up my diggings or break any of the -artifacts, it's no business of mine." - -"And what if I did, Pop?" The tall man walked closer to Martin Devere. -He stood over the old man, his shadow on him. His hand rested lightly -on the butt of his gun. "What if I were to take all your vases and -statues and pots and tablets and smash them to bits, one by one? What -would you do then?" - -Martin Devere's eyes slowly closed and opened, he made no other move -for a minute. Then he got to his feet without looking at the other man. -He turned and began to move away, toward a tunnel door that led to the -diggings. - -Probably the tall man thought that he had finally put the fear of God -into Martin Devere. But as he turned back to his pile of schematics he -heard the old man's whisper: - -"You might regret it." - -The man with the gun did not answer. - - * * * * * - -"Tell us about it, Pop." - -"Yes, why don't you tell us about it." - -They meant Martin Devere's work. The two men had finished their own -job. The assembled bomb rested in the desert, silent but alive, like -some abnormal growth. - -Because of sunspot activity they hadn't yet been able to radio their -employers on Earth. The bald man expected conditions to clear in two -or three days. When they did clear, he would signal, "The bird is -nesting." Then the nation he had mentioned would be ready to deliver -its ultimatum to the United Governments. - -For the first time since landing on Mars, the two men were idle. They -were waiting. They looked as if they were willing to wait a long time -if necessary. - -Meanwhile, Martin Devere's artifacts were the only amusements available. - -Perhaps the old man knew they were making fun of him. But he seemed -to take their question seriously. When he began to speak, they found -themselves listening. - -"We don't know exactly what happened." Martin Devere faced the two -men across the cluttered workbench like a lecturer addressing his -students. He held in his hand a small bronze statue that might have -been a portrayal of one of the old Martian people or, just as likely, -some long-extinct animal. In the diffuse sunlight that came through -the igloo wall, it cast a shadow on the work bench that was even more -disturbingly alien in shape. - -"No, we don't know what happened to them," the old man said. "The last -of them died nearly a million years ago, before the first Homo Sapiens -walked the Earth. From what we--I--have found we know a little about -what they were like. But we don't know why they died. - -"We do know, for instance, that they never had much interest in -technology. Not that they lacked intelligence. They could build a -machine when it suited their purposes, whatever those may have been. -And I don't say they weren't interested in science. They had a highly -developed theoretical science, as sophisticated as their art. You might -say they were theoreticians. They were concerned with pure art and pure -science--but not with applied technology, or commercialized art. - -"My own theory is that they had no need for technology. In the first -place, they were vegetarians, not carnivorous. So that their earliest -men had no need for hunting weapons--or other gadgets. Probably they -never developed the aggressive instincts which in humanity led to -warfare with its subsequent impetus to applied technology. The Martians -never got around to making cars or airplanes or bombs. They dedicated -themselves, gentlemen, to the contemplation of beauty. - -"Then, nearly a million years ago, something happened to them. Perhaps -Mars began to lose her atmosphere then. Her oceans evaporated, the -air could no longer retain her heat at night, the farmlands parched -and froze. A few of the plant types were able to adapt and survive. -But within a few years, all animal life died out. One day, there were -suddenly no more Martians left." - -Martin Devere's dry, withered hand caressed the small statue he held. - -"Who knows? If they'd had time to develop space travel they might have -saved themselves. Then again, with a technology like yours, they might -have blown themselves up long before the natural catastrophe ..." - -"What do you mean like _yours_?" the tall man said. "You mean like -_ours_, don't you?" - -But Martin Devere turned away without answering. - - * * * * * - -"Do you have another bottle of bourbon, old man?" - -"No, I'm afraid not," Devere said. "There was only that one bottle." - -"Too bad. We should have a little celebration." The bald man began -sealing himself into his spacesuit. - -"I'll wait for you here," his partner said. "I'd better start burning -those plans." - -Martin Devere looked up from the fragment of ceramic he was cleaning. - -"You're going to send the message now?" - -Neither of the men bothered to reply, since the answer was -self-evident. The bald man tested the air and power equipment of his -suit, then turned to his partner a moment before sealing his helmet. - -"You checked the sandcat's power supply?" - -"Yes, but you'd better take another look at it. I think the battery's -leaking." - -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. - -"_Baby._ You mean your bomb, out there. You think you might actually -shoot it off then." - -"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. - - * * * * * - -An hour later, the short-range radio gave a shrill beep. The tall man -went over and flipped the _talk_ switch. - -"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. - -"This? Oh, this is some kind of a tool I found. I think it was a -digging tool, used for breaking up rocks. They _did_ build canals, you -know.... As I was saying, they knew about explosives. This tool, for -instance. It worked by means of a small, shaped charge inside this -bulb here. The explosion was so well-focused that there was almost no -recoil. A high-energy shock wave was emitted from the barrel--very -effective at short range. But the most amazing thing about this tool is -that the chemical explosive is still potent after lying underground for -nearly a million years.... - -"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. (Back at -the Institute, a dozen faces were flushing red with indignation as -their owners realized what the old man had been holding back.) - -"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. - -"You mean Earth? Tell me, why should I want to save _that_ world?" - - -END - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Hermit of Mars, by Stephen Bartholomew - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMIT OF MARS *** - -***** This file should be named 53048.txt or 53048.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/0/4/53048/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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