Obsolete
by Rod Hunsicker
The Thark stepped over her and slipped his sword into the man rushing to
her defense. It was easy for the giant green man to thrust out his
longsword in time for the impulsive red man to impale himself on it. The
Thark roared as he pinned the red man to the ground and stepped on his
face. Then, thinking better of it, he took his immense foot off the red
man's face so he could hear the dying man's moans of pain.
There were two more Tharks. The red girl scrambled along the mossy ground
in a desperate search for some kind of weapon. Like most natives of
Barsoom, she was naked except for ornamentation. One of the green giants
caught her and hoisted her in the air like a baby. He seized her throat and
pulled her pretty face up to his own. Rubbing his tusks on her cheek first,
he snaked out his tongue and licked her lips. Laughing at her horrified
reaction, he dropped her to the ground.
She rolled to her feet. No weapon was in sight. The two men who had been
her companions were past helping her. All three Tharks were laughing at her
now. She felt small and helpless before their monstrous bodies.
"Surrender, red woman," the smallest Thark hissed. "Both your men are dead.
Live a little longer so the rest of our tribe can enjoy your dying."
This was no idle threat. She was well aquatinted with Thark torture and
their delight in slowly killing a captive piece by piece. It took all her
courage to lift her oval face and spit at the Thark's face.
Her spittle never reached the young green man, but her message was clear.
His unthinking reaction was a slap that lifted her off the ground and
dropped her several feet away. Stunned, she tried to get up again.
***
A man stepped over a nearby hill and stood against the afternoon sun. He
was not seen by the Tharks until he had lingered too long. The biggest one
turned and pointed at him. The other two shouldered their rifles. The man
remained frozen, as if deciding what to do. He was dressed in brown robes
and was hooded. This was unusual for any Barsoomian. Nakedness was the
custom among most of the intelligent races. Especially those who lived in
hot climates. A plain harness was worn outside his robes. It was studded
with buttons and lines that looked like electronic circuitry. On his right
side was holstered a pistol and a longsword hung on his left. Only his legs
and his hands were in sight and they were an odd bronze color.
Apparently he made his decision, because he walked down the hill toward the
green men. Some martial instinct prompted one of the Tharks to take aim at
him. The robed man danced his fingers over the studs on his harness and
kept advancing. The Thark opened fire. The radium slug shot toward its
target, then seemed to lose interest and simply drop to the ground in front
of him. The other two Tharks tried to shoot the robed man with no more
success.
Thirty feet away from the Tharks he paused. The red woman stumbled toward
him. Hope cleared the shock from her battered mind. She lifted her hand in
a request for help. The man inclined his cowled head toward her and
accepted.
"Stand away from the woman and go in peace," he said.
At first, intimidated by the human's ability to disregard their riflefire,
the Tharks were silent. Then they bristled at words of peace. These where
the words of a coward. All three advanced on the human with swords ready.
Eager to impress the others, the youngest one ran ahead to engage the human
first.
It was a short fight. The young one died in the first pass. Again the robed
man asked the Tharks to leave in peace.
"You are a strange coward," said the largest Thark. "I think you have
tricks in your robes and no courage in your heart. Fight me naked with
steel in your hand."
"Words of courage from a monster who fired upon me with a rifle. Your words
mean nothing to me, green man. Your life will not mean anything to anyone
if you don't retreat and depart."
The green man laughed and attacked and died.
The last Thark was more intelligent than the others. Few red men ever moved
with the speed and power of this stranger. He rested his sword on his
shoulder and stood with his weight leaning on one leg. "Who are you?" he
asked casually.
"That doesn't concern you," the robed man said in a flat voice. "The ways
of your people are violence and vandalism. If you are wise, you will rise
above that now and live a little bit longer."
The Thark gave this some thought and agreed. "I am Gator Nel. Some day you
will know that name again. And the knowledge will bring you pain and
sorrow," he pledged. Then he gathered his possessions slowly for he was
full of pride. He left a few minutes later.
The robed man stood quietly and watched the 15-foot green man walk away.
When there was no more danger, he turned to the red woman. She was staring
at him intently as if she were trying to see the face inside his cowl.
"Who are you?" she asked. Now that she was alone she was uncertain of her
status with this stranger. The Tharks were a race of men not given to
sexual interest as a whole, although there were a few deviates among them.
It was true that no honorable red man should ever think of harming a woman
and certainly never think of killing one. But this man was unknown to her.
Not even his race.
To him, she was a lovely sight. Most red women were attractive and this one
was not different. She stood with her legs together demurely and her hands
clasped in front of her chest. Her breasts were small, as befitting a race
whose children do not nurse. They were well shaped, however, indicating
their importance in sexually attracting prospective mates. She was slender,
with just a touch of plumpness to her buttocks and thighs. Her legs tapered
down to delicate ankles. She lifted her chin proudly as she realized he was
appraising her. Despite the bruise on her face, she was blessed with a
refined beauty and deep brown eyes full of intelligence.
"My name is Fray," he said politely, with a little bow. "Are you injured
badly?"
She had forgotten her injuries. A quick self-examination revealed them to
be painful, but minor bruises. "No, I'll be all right."
"Good," he said tonelessly. He spied her fallen aircraft and walked over to
it. It had been badly damaged by Thark riflefire and was beyond repair. The
two red men who had been with her were dead. She stood beside him and
stared blankly at the aircar.
"Looks like a long walk. You can't fix it, can you?" she asked.
"Not with the tools at hand. Frankly, your vehicle is ruined. One of those
Tharks was a superior marksman. He hit the right places."
Fray examined the fallen red men again.
"Brave young men," the girl commented. "I'm so sorry we took this ride."
"Most young red men are brave," said Fray. "Foolishly, hopelessly, brave."
There was a touch of sorrow in his flat voice.
"What do we do now?" she asked of him.. He was a man who had agreed to help
her.
She looked at him sharply. "Please forgive me. My manners are horrid. I am
Gena Thal, daughter of Ceren Thal. My father has an encampment about 20
haads away. Not a far walk."
"Ceren Thal," he mused. "Is he the famed astronomer and mathematician?"
"Why, yes he is," she said. "Do you know him?"
Fray shook his head. "I have heard of his work. Read some of his papers.
What is a scholar of his magnitude doing out in the wilderness?"
"He needs to observe some stellar phenomena from a viewpoint most
favorable," she explained. "A comet is coming soon, and he wants to see it
with his own eyes. He says he has seen enough through his instruments." Now
that she was on familiar ground now, she felt more sure of herself. She
smiled and rearranged her ornaments to where they had been before the
fight.
"This is dangerous country. Too far from a major city or settlement. Are
you a scientist as well?" he asked.
"I'm surprised you asked. Not many men think a woman could be scientist
material. As a matter of fact, I am. My specialty is the science of
biology."
Fray stood in silence for a long moment. "Come, we have to get you to your
father's camp."
Gena Thal wondered if she would be any safer with her father than this man.
And she had not yet seen his face.
Fray helped her gather what belongings she wanted to bring and they started
toward Ceren Thal's camp. It was a warm afternoon. After the beating she
had taken, Gena began to stumble after the first haad. She sat on the mossy
ground and rubbed her right ankle.
"It's hurt worse than I thought," she said.
Fray looked at the sun.
"We only have a few hours of daylight left," he said. "Would you like to
rest, and then proceed in the morning?"
"Am I safe here?" she asked softly.
"What do you mean? I don't think the Tharks will return quickly. The
survivor recognized that he was outgunned. This is a broad barren place
with few natural predators. There is always a chance of white apes
appearing, but I think I can handle that."
"Then I am safe?" she said, looking meaningfully into his cowl. She'd put
the question as bluntly and directly as Barsoomian custom allowed of a
proper red woman.
He stepped back when he realized what she meant.
"I have offered my services to you," he said simply.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Please forgive me. It's hard to trust a man who
hides his face. I know you must have reasons for hiding yourself. I am
grateful for the help you have given me."
Fray set up a temporary camp. Using some of the things they had brought
from the battle site, he managed to do a decent job. And he had his own
gear, which he carried in a bag fitted to his harness. He shared his food
with her. It was short rations, but it helped with her hunger. This night
both moons were in the sky. It was easy to see each other as they lay down
to rest.
Fray watched her as she turned away from him to sleep. Most red men were
honorable when it came to women. It was expected of them. Much of the red
man's idea of love was based on romance and the heroic concept of lofty,
idyllic pledges. But Fray was not a red man. His blood raced at the sight
of the beautiful, naked girl lying only a few steps away from him. The
nights were cold on Barsoom, and the girl began to shiver. He stood up and
took off his robe. Quietly, he stalked over to the sleeping girl and
covered her with it. He returned to his spot and curled up to sleep.
In the morning, the girl was surprised to find Fray's robes on her. She was
half frightened to search for him. Maybe he was so ugly that he had to hide
behind these robes. She admonished herself for this ungrateful fear.
Whatever he looked like he was her savior.
Fray was not ugly. He was different. His skin was a light bronze color. He
was well formed with planar muscularity. The strangest thing about him was
his head. His hair was blood red and his eyes icy blue. No man like him
should exist on Barsoom.
"You are not of Barsoom?" she asked tentatively.
He held out his hand for his robe and put it on quickly. "I am a man who
has offered you protection."
"Are you from Jasoom?" she asked.
Fray laughed. "You are the daughter of an astronomer. Surely you have
looked at the surface of other worlds through his instruments. I could be
from Jasoom, but I'm not. Men live on worlds all over the universe. If I am
not from Barsoom, as you have asked, then I could be from any of these
worlds. Men are very alike on these worlds. It is on Barsoom that so many
differences in the human being can be found."
"What do you mean?"
He drew back his cowl to answer her. "In order to adapt to the harsh
environmental needs enforced by a dying planet, your people had chosen to
reform themselves instead of terraforming the planet. An interesting
solution. Your ancient civilization was very advanced. But the people were
self-centered. They were happy and carefree. They excelled in the arts and
music and all expressions of the human spirit. Everything they did centered
on their personal experiences. When the world began to die, they never
thought to heal it. Instead, they hid from the fact until it was
inevitable. Then they chose to change themselves rather than their world."
"Not true, we have the atmosphere plant, and are constantly struggling to
maintain our water levels," Gena protested.
"Yes, that came later," Fray said. "Let's get going. We can have you in
your father's camp in a few hours."
Neither made any comment as they prepared to leave. The Barsoomian climate
was comfortable that day as they made their way across the land. Gena
watched for any of the many dangers that might threaten them, but they
seemed lucky. No monstrous predators, or hordes of green men, or savage
white apes stood in their path. It was not long before the young woman grew
curious again and began to ask questions.
"What makes you think you know all about my people or about my world?" she
asked suddenly. "Have you lived our lives, suffered our pain, or faced our
dangers?" She was prompted to defend her people against this alien. A man
from nowhere.
"I don't know all about your people. I have many facts concerning them
though. These facts are not unknown to yourselves. Its how you accept them
that identifies who you are," he replied. He was intent on getting the girl
to her father. It was a long walk. Time enough to say what must be said.
"Is what we are something you admire or respect?" she asked. She stopped
walking and lifted up her pretty face.
"I'm honored that you request my opinion," he replied. "My studies have
concluded that the red people of Barsoom are one of the most virtuous human
races in the universe. Most of your people are clean, moral and strong. You
can live for a thousand years, yet as a race have remained the same for
half a million.. No change in so long. Perhaps you have gained perfection.
The creation of the red race from the blending of all the others may have
produced the ultimate Barsoomian."
He paused thoughtfully. "Come with me. I know a small detour we can make
that might be interesting to you. Will you come?"
Gena was not anxious to go home. Fray was the most interesting man she had
met in a long time. Blessed with a greater than average intellect, Gena
found it to be a curse in most of her relations with men. She had just
begun serious work in the biological fields when her father had insisted on
her coming with him to see the comet. It was obvious that he wanted to
speak with her about something serious, and wanted to do it in a place
where the two of them were isolated. Going out on a sightseeing trip with
two young men had postponed that discussion, but she feared that he would
resume it upon her arrival in camp. He thought her too dedicated to her
scientific work and should be more the carefree noblewoman usually found at
her social station. Another delay in that discussion was welcomed.
"I trust you, Fray. And I like to see interesting things," she said.
Laughing, he pointed the way. They moved in a southerly direction for a few
hours until Gena saw a small, domed building in the distance. As they got
closer she recognized it as a green man hatchery. Fortunately none of the
giants were around.
"We must be very careful, Fray. The green men will slaughter us if they
find us here."
"Of course. This is their future, " Fray agreed. "But there are no adults
around today. Come, let us get closer and look at the eggs."
As they walked closer to the hatchery, Gena raised on her tiptoes,
naturally wanting to be quiet in such a dangerous place. Fray seemed
unconcerned. He led her up to a window and pointed to the eggs lying
inside. Most of the eggs were the same size. They were large enough to
house a four-foot Thark child. When these children broke loose of their
shell they would be completely mature except for their size. Education
would proceed rapidly through some "parent" selected from any mature Thark
in the tribe considered suitable for parenthood. All these things Gena
knew.
"This is a rare find. You knew this hatchery was here?" Gena said softly.
Suddenly she was suspicious of this red-haired stranger. Perhaps he
consorted with Tharks. How else could he know where their most guarded
secret was hidden?
"Yes, I found it about a year ago. It is the hatchery of a very small tribe
of Tharks who roam the area in a circular pattern around this place. You
can see that the number of eggs is small. These eggs are ready to deliver
soon. At that time it would be dangerous to be here."
"Why show this to me?"
"Before the catastrophe that began the killing of Barsoom, people bore
their children like humans everywhere else do. Their children were born
live from their mother's womb. The Green men are not humans, though they
share great similarities to us. The ancient men thought that to survive in
an increasingly hostile world they must become like the green men. Let
their children spring whole from an egg. Children can be produced in
numbers needed with greater efficiency. Childcare was reduced drastically,
freeing parents to devote their time to other endeavors. The red race has
survived. Indeed it has prospered. Grown mighty in this dying world. A
marvelous achievement.
"I just wanted you to know the downside. Proper maturation in humans is
initiated in a slow process from baby to adult. The first five years a red
child spends in his egg are respectively spent in the loving and
instructive arms of his parents for normal humans. Human beings are so
alike in many ways that their only differences can be traced to the
formative care they experience in those first few years. It is true that a
red child gets a jump on a normal human child, but he pays a price in the
end. Racial stagnation. The red race has remained the same for half a
million years. No change. No advancement. No racial evolution."
They were quiet for a while.
"Why tell me?" Gena asked.
"You are intelligent. You are interested in biological fields of science.
You might be interested in what I have to say."
"Who are you? Why should what you say interest me? I have heard the
thoughts and words of the most intelligent men in Helium," she said
proudly.
"Who I am isn't important. What I say may be important to you. That's up to
you. Just think about it. I'm not asking for more than that. You are a
biological scientist. The human Barsoomian doesn't need to carry his eggs
around in the manner of the green men anymore. The red man is no longer
forced to march endlessly to find safety or food. You are strong now.
Firmly entrenched again. Why remain like green men, who only live to fight?
"On the downside, normal human maturation will develop greater
individualization among your people. Not everyone will share the same red
man principles over time. Your wonderful sense of honor and integrity that
exists in most of your people may be damaged. It is a matter of choice.
Gena Thal, you have the intelligence to entertain these matters of choice."
Gena was silent for a long time. The little green men in those eggs would
hatch and become exactly like their parents: Roving fighting machines,
without concern for others or true personal relationships. If the red man
had copied the green man, were the results a breed of one-dimensional
human?
"Was it by chance that we met?"
"I had intercepted your communications with your father's encampment.
Later, I learned of your misfortune. I would have tried to speak to you in
some other fashion if fortune had not provided a way. I just wanted to tell
you my ideas. My grandfather has told me that ideas are mightier than
swords."
Gena pressed her palms against the wall of the hatchery. She was confused
and troubled by what Fray had told her. It was too much to deal with now.
"Let's get going. We can still reach your father's camp by nightfall," Fray
said. They resumed their journey.
Just over the hill was her father's camp. One of Barsoom's moons was rising
in the darkening sky. Gena knew that Fray would not be going in with her.
"I will think about what you have said. And why you have said it to me.
Will I ever see you again?" she asked. It was odd that she had felt so safe
with this stranger, a man who was not even of her own race. It was a good
feeling.
"I think so," Fray said. His voice was slightly thickened with emotion. "If
we are friends, I certainly hope so."
Gena looked at his with soft dark eyes. "We are friends, Fray. Until we
meet again."
Fray smiled and nodded. He watched her go down the small hill to her
father's camp. Her naked buttocks shifted lithely and seductively. He had
been moved by the red girl -- even though he knew that it was a
characteristic of red women to inspire men to an emotional state of
protectiveness with just a glance.
Fray was of the Old Race who lived on this world. His kind had left Barsoom
over a million years ago to find a more exciting environment to live in.
Now they had returned. Or, at least he had. A new race of men ruled
Barsoom. Not his. Where they would go in an evolutionary sense, or even if
they should, would be their own choice.
His job was to point out the choices.
He was glad another step had been taken.
\
END
Copyright 1997, Rod Hunsicker
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