Short Fiction by Mack Reynolds (ready to read books .TXT) 📕

be switched on. This weapon, one of the several designed for the Earth campaign, as your Omnipotence is undoubtedly aware, is so constructed as to prevent the use of any internal combustion engine within a dozen miles of the Elect-no. In this case, no aircraft, nor landcraft, utilizing internal combustion, could enter our zone.

Baren Darl seemed somewhat relieved at this precaution, but his attitude to a certain extent began to affect the rest of us. To prepare for any eventuality, I had the Fission-Suppressor activated. This, of course, automatically made it impossible for nuclear fission to take place within a hundred miles of our ship.

That measure pleased Baren Darl exceedingly in view of the fact that the Earth nations seemed to be spending practically all of their military appropriations on their so-called A-Bombs and H-Bombs. According to the radio emanations our Luna base had picked up, the Earthlings were interested in little else in a military way, except possibly bacteriological weapons, and, of course, we were prepared to deal them a strong blow along that line with our lepbonic plague spreading fleas.

At any rate, knowing that we had suppressed the use of their major weapon, the fission bomb, and had prevented transportation from entering the vicinity, we proceeded toward the clearing where the Earthlings had gathered, determined to test the I.Q. Depressor, nark, and the lepbonic plague fleas, for it was upon the success of these weapons that our Earth campaign depended.

We proceeded with care toward the clearing on the edge of which our scouts had detected the Earthlings, and carefully approached from behind the one specimen we saw there. Evidently, the others had gone off.

Baren Darl, the only member of our little group who was familiar with the language, acted as spokesman, and we concealed for the moment at least, the purpose of our “visit.” The following conversation was recorded by Baren Darl himself and later translated as literally as possible into our own superior language.

Earthling: “Huh? What’s that?”

Baren Darl: “Have no fear.”

Earthling: “Revenooers! Paw! Hank!”

(The meaning of the word revenooers was completely unknown to Baren Darl but from the Earthling’s tone of voice it is to be assumed that the term is a derogatory one.)

Baren Darl: “We are not revenooers. We are friends.”

Earthling: “Huh?”

Baren Darl: “We are not revenooers. We are friends.”

Earthling (suspiciously): “Well, you can’t have no free corn, if that’s what you’re looking for. Can’t buy none neither. Paw won’t sell no raw corn. Says corn ain’t fitten to drink unless it’s been aged a week.”

(This conversation seemed to puzzle Baren Darl and I was beginning to suspect already that his knowledge of the Earthlings was somewhat less than he had led me to believe.)

Baren Darl: “Where are the others?”

Earthling: “Huh?”

(This continual inability on the Earthling’s part to understand the questions put to him by Baren Darl also caused me to wonder whether or not the decals spent on Luna in observing Earth were quite as fruitful as they might have been.)

Baren Darl: “Where are the others?”

Earthling: “Oh, you mean Maw and Paw and Hank and Zeke. They’re off looking for Martins.”

(Your Omnipotence is of course aware that in the language of the Earthlings our glorious planet is known as Mars, and we as Martians, or, evidently, as this Earthling pronounced it, Martins.)

This information was, as you can well imagine, startling, since we had supposed that our landing had been made in the most complete secrecy. What means they had utilized to discover us is unknown.

Baren Darl: “Ahhhhh. And, er⁠ ⁠… what made them suspect there were Martians in the vicinity?”

Earthling: “Huh?”

Baren Darl: “What made Maw and Paw and Hank and Zeke think there were Martians around?”

Earthling: “Oh.”

Baren Darl: “What made them think there were Martians about?”

Earthling: “Paw says he can smell him a Martin from most twenty miles away. Paw’s got a regular feelin’ for Martins, like. Paw’d rather shoot him a Martin than eat fried chicken. I wish I could shoot me a Martin, I wish. Yup, I sure wish I could shoot me a Martin. I wish⁠—”

(This sixth sense of some of the Earthlings had been unsuspected by Baren Darl in spite of his decals of investigation. Evidently, the Earthlings have an unusual ability to detect the presence of alien life forms. Also surprising was the fact that the Earthlings were evidently aware of our plans to conquer their planet and were already worked up to a pitch of patriotism which made them extremely anxious to destroy us.)

Baren Darl turned to me and explained that there were four more of the Earthlings in the woods searching for us and that undoubtedly they would soon return. He suggested that we immediately try some of our weapons upon this specimen.

The plan seemed feasible enough so I ordered one of the warriors to find a suitable liquid in which to place a portion of the poison nark.

Ultimate plans, as you are aware, had been to drop, by spacecraft, small containers of nark in the reservoirs, rivers and lakes of the Earthlings. One drop was designated to be, as your Omnipotence knows, sufficient to poison a reservoir capable of supplying the water needs of a hundred thousand Earthlings.

Although water was not available, the warrior was soon able to find what was obviously a container for some type of beverage. It was nearly full of a colorless fluid.

The following conversation then took place between Baren Darl and the Earthling:

Baren Darl: “What is this?”

Earthling: “Huh? Oh, that’s white mule. Yup, sure is.”

Baren Darl (puzzled): “I thought a mule was a four legged animal of burden particularly noted for kicking.”

Earthling (vaguely): “Paw’s white mule’s got lots of kick in it. Yup.”

Upon finding it was a beverage, as we had suspected, a small quantity of nark was quickly inserted.

Baren Darl: “Try a drink.”

Earthling: “What say?”

Baren Darl: “Have a drink?”

Earthling: “Uhhhhh. Maybe I will, but don’t tell Paw. Paw says I’m simple enough without no white mule.”

(Here he took a long draught without seeming effect, although we were expecting him to fall