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 --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Send comments to rodney@fast.net ---------------------------------------------------------------------------