Steampunk Prime_ A Vintage Steampunk Reader - Mike Ashley [58]
Suddenly there came the rapid tinkling of an electric bell — soft and musical, as all sounds were, I noticed, in the new civilization; and Hammerfleet cried, “That’s from the Mars telegraph.”
We all hurried to the station, and there found this message: “Our missionary, Zorlin, started hours ago. Will be there with you immediately.”
It seemed no time at all before there was a rush and a thud outside the station, and Glissman announced that these sounds meant the arrival of a stellar car on the receiving platform. He was right. As we threw open the door, two strange figures came staggering in. One was a sinewy, blonde fellow, limp and tired, as though he had passed through about thirty-five thunderstorms.
“Bronson?” Exclaimed my friends, astounded.
“Yes, I’m here,” he affirmed. “And this is Zorlin.”
He pointed to his companion, the strangest resemblance of a man I had ever seen; of giant form, and with a face of overpowering intelligence, but at this instant crouching to the floor on hands and knees, half helpless.
“Your atmosphere is so heavy,” he said in fairly good English. “I can hardly bear it yet. But I will soon stand up.” He shook his vast head of hair and beard; then heaved a mighty breath, struggled to rise, and sank into a chair. This was our missionary.
IV.
THE NEW EARTH
When the travelers had been refreshed and revived we drew from Bronson an account of his interstellar adventures.
“As I came near Mars,” he said, alternately twirling and biting the ends of his long and warlike yellow moustache, “I was aware of strange rubbings alongside the car, and occasional shocks as of hammer-blows. Satan, I suppose, is called ‘the Old Boy,’ because a boy is the personification of mischief, and second only to Eve in making trouble. My first idea was that the Old Boy was having fun with me, by throwing stones. A rapid survey through my peep-holes showed me I was so far right — I was caught in a meteor-storm. Fortunately, though, the meteors over there do not shoot so recklessly as those that come near earth. They move with a velocity in accord with that of Mars, so that they drop through its atmosphere ‘as the gentle rain from heaven.’ But they gave me a pretty hard time of it; steering clear of them; and there may have been some magnetic stress accompanying their flight that carried me out of the way. At any rate, it was a long time before I could make a landing. But, with my automatic drag-net lowered from the bottom of the car, I managed to catch two small meteors, which I used as a combined anchor and rudder, in conjunction with the adjusted Helium screen, and finally reached terra-Martis long after the observers there had given me up. Once safely aground on the planet, I found Zorlin all ready to embark; and we decided to come right back.”
“But they had promised he would come without you,” Stanifex interposed. “How could he ever have done that?”
“Ask him,” Bronson suggested, pulling his moustache wide at both sides defiantly. “And can we talk English to him?
“Does he understand?” Electra asked.
“He has the most rapid intelligence I ever met,” answered Bronson. “I had to teach him most of the English language on the eight-hours home trip; and he took it all in like water, as fast as I could pour. That is what has fagged me out so.” And the stellar aeronaut helped himself to a vegetable chicken-breast, and swallowed a draught of “life-brew”