It is unlikely that, for the first time crossing the threshold of the university in Minnesota, a young man with glasses named Paul Anderson would have thought that in a few years his books would be very popular. He chose the profession of a physicist and really became an outstanding scientist-physicist, sci-fi, historical and detective works brought him wide fame.
The fantastic story "Kill a Martian" is directed against those who sow discord between nations, who justify colonial oppression.
The night whisper brought a disturbing message. Born many miles away, it flew across the desert on the wings of the wind. Bushes rustled about him, half-destroyed lichens and dwarf trees rustled. Nimble animals, huddling under snags, in caves, in shady dunes, passed it to each other. Not clothed in words, vague waves of horror echoing in the brain of the Krigi warrior, a warning came: a man went hunting!
A sudden gust of wind made Kriega flinch. Around, over the hills that smelled bitterly of iron, in the maelstrom of sparkling constellations for thousands and thousands of light years, an endless night stretched. Kriga plunged his trembling nerve endings into it, tuning in to the wave of the bush, wind, nimble rodents lurking in burrows under their feet, ready to perceive the voice of the night.
Alone, all alone. Not a single Martian for hundreds of miles around. Only wild animals, trembling bushes and a thin, sad voice of the wind.
A silent death scream swept through the thorn bushes, from plant to plant, echoing in the animals' nerves clenched with fear. Somewhere nearby, living things wriggled, shriveled and charred in the blazing torrent of death that rushed down on them from the rocket.
Kriega slumped against a high, wind-cut cliff. His eyes, frozen with fear, hatred and slowly growing determination like two yellow moons, glowed in the darkness. He noted grimly that the death-sowing rocket made a full circle, about ten miles in diameter. And he found himself in a gigantic trap, inside this circle. And soon there will be a hunter ...
Kriga raised his eyes to the indifferent light of the stars, and a convulsion ran through his body. Then he sat down more comfortably and began to think.
It all started a few days ago, in the spacious office of the Wisby trader.
“I came to Mars,” Ryordan said, “to shoot the owl.
Even in such godforsaken holes as Port Armstrong, Ryordan's name was well known. Heir to millions of a transport company, which, thanks to his violent activities, turned into a real monster that entangled the whole of the Sun with its tentacles, he was almost better known as a great hunter. From the fire-breathing dragons of Mercury to the giant lizards that inhabit the eternal ice of Pluto, all the game standing has experienced the smashing power of his gun. Except, of course, the Martian. Hunting for this "game" has long been prohibited.
He sprawled casually in the chair, tall and muscular, still relatively young. In his presence, the office seemed smaller, and the power hidden in it, as well as the cold gaze of bright greenish eyes, overwhelmed the merchant.
But it's illegal, you know yourself, ”said Whisby. - You will be given twenty years if caught.
Uh! The Earth Consul is in Ares, on the other side of the planet. If we keep things quiet, who will know? The Rai Order took a sip from his glass. “In a couple of years, they will plug up all the holes so that hunting will become really impossible. This is the last chance for a person to get an "owl". That’s why I’m here.
Whisby hesitated, glancing distractedly out the window. Port Armstrong was a collection of hermetic buildings connected by tunnels. It grew right out of the red desert, stretching in all directions to an unusually close horizon. An earthling in a waterproof suit with a transparent helmet walked down the street, several Martians idly leaned against the wall. And nothing else is alive - the silent death boredom that reigns under the dim shriveled sun. Life on Mars is not very pleasant for an earthling.
I hope you have not become infected, like everyone else on Earth, with an idiotic love for these "owls"? Ryordan asked scornfully.
“Oh no,” Whisby said. “Here, in the area of my fort, they know their place. But times are changing. That's that.
“Yes, there was a time when they were just slaves,” Ryordan said. “Now these slobbering liberals on Earth are demanding to be given the right to vote.
He snorted disdainfully.
“Yes, times change,” Whisby repeated softly. - When a hundred years ago the first people landed on Mars, the difficulties of mastering an alien planet embittered them. The settlers quickly became suspicious and violent. Otherwise it is impossible - otherwise they would not have survived. They could not reckon with the Martians, perceive them otherwise as intelligent animals. In addition, the inhabitants of Mars made excellent slaves. After all, they require so little food, heat and oxygen. They are so hardy that they can survive without air for almost a quarter of an hour. And hunting a wild Martian ... It was a real sport! Still - a reasonable game, which all the time managed to escape from the hunter, and sometimes finish him off.
I know, I know, ”Ryordan said. “That's why I want to shoot at least one. What interest if the game has no chance of escape.
“But it's different now,” Whisby said. - The positions of the earthlings have strengthened enough. In addition, liberals have made their way to power on Earth. Naturally, one of the first reforms was the abolition of slavery for the Martians.
Ryordan swore. The lawful return of the Martians who worked on space lines cost him a pretty penny.
“I don’t have time for your philosophizing,” he said. “If you can arrange a hunt for a Martian - oh, kay. I’m ready to thank you.
- In what specific size? Whisby asked.
After a good bargain, they shook hands. Ryordan had a small rocket and hunting gear, while Wisby was to procure radioactive materials, a falcon and a hound.
- Well, where am I going to get the Martian? Ryordan asked. He jabbed his finger out the window. “Maybe catch one of them and let him out in the desert?
Now it was Whisby's turn to grin contemptuously.
- One of them? Ha ha! City bums! A citizen from Earth, and he would have been able to better stand up for himself.
The Martians were rather plain looking. They were no taller than four feet and walked on skinny, clawed legs. Their bony four-fingered hands looked frail. The Martian's chest is wide, but the waist is ridiculously thin. It seemed like it could be broken in half. The inhabitants of Mars were viviparous and warm-blooded creatures. They fed their young with milk, but their skin was covered with gray feathers. Round heads with a large curved beak, huge amber eyes and ears covered with feathers protruding from the crown, earned them the nickname "owl". They wore only wide belts with large pockets, which replaced a loincloth, and a scabbard on the side. Even the most liberal-minded earthlings did not dare to grant them the right to use modern tools and weapons. The memory still kept many bloody feuds.
The Martians have always been good fighters, ”Ryordan said. “In the old days, they carved out a lot of human settlements.
“The old Martians, yes,” Whisby agreed, “but not these. They are just stupid hard workers, as dependent on our civilization as we are. And you need a real wild old-timer, and I know where to find one. He spread a map on the table. “Right here in the Hrefnin mountains, about a hundred miles from here. The Martians live a long time, two hundred years, and this guy Krieg has been muddying the waters in the area since the first settlements. He even commanded several Martian raids on earthlings' forts, and since the conclusion of peace and general amnesty, he has lived completely alone in an ancient ruined tower. A real old warrior who hates earthlings with all his livers. From time to time he comes in here to sell skins or a few pieces of gold, so I know a thing or two about him.
Whisby's eyes flashed.
“By shooting that arrogant bastard, you will be doing us all a great service. He walks around with an air as if everything here belongs to him. Believe me, he will "work out" your money.
Ryordan nodded in satisfaction.
Things were bad. The man brought with him a hunting bird and a dog. If it weren't for them, Kriga could get lost in a labyrinth of caves, canyons and thorny thickets. But the "hound" will easily find his tracks, and the "falcon" will follow steadily from above.
To top it all off, the man landed a rocket very close to the Krigi tower. All of his weapons remained there. He was cut off, unarmed and alone, save for the little support the desert population could give him. If only you could get to the tower ... In the meantime, you just have to try to survive.
He sat in the cavern, peering through the parched expanse of sand and brush, through miles of thin atmosphere into the distance, where the silvery metal of the rocket gleamed. The man seemed like a small speck in this vast, bare space, a lonely insect, crushed by the bulk of the dark blue sky.
The earthling was also alone, but he had a gun capable of unleashing death on any creature, and predatory merciless creatures, and in the rocket, probably, a radio transmitter, through which he could call friends. And both - the hunter and the victim - are trapped inside a ring of fire, a vicious circle that Kriega could not cross on pain of death, much more terrible than death from a human bullet ...
But is there a worse death than being shot by this monster, so that your body in the form of a scarecrow would be taken to a foreign planet and every fool could stare at him and mock? The pride of the old and brave people rose inexorably in Krieg in a heavy, bitter wave. After all, he demanded so little from life ... Solitude in his tower ... Society of his own kind in the Season of Meetings, when you can take part in a solemn ancient ceremony, and then recklessly have fun and, perhaps, meet a girl. She will give birth to children for him, and they will start raising them together ... The opportunity to occasionally visit the earthlings' village and buy metal tools and wine are the only valuable things that a person brought to Mars ... Yes, a little silence to sit quietly and amuse yourself with vague dreams about those times when the Martian tribe will rise from slavery and take an equal position in the face of the Universe ... And now everything is over. Now this too will be taken from him.
He muttered a curse to the earthlings and again concentratedly set to work, hurrying to sharpen the tip of his spear so that he could have at least this pitiful help in the future struggle. The bush rustled dryly, sounding the alarm, the pitiful invisible creatures squealed in fear. The desert screamed about the approach of the monster. But he could wait a little longer before starting his escape.
Ryordan scattered the radioactive isotope in a ten-mile ring around the old tower. He did it at night, in case a patrol ship was nearby.
It is not safe to approach the ring for three weeks. So there is enough time. After all, the Martian is imprisoned in such a small area.
Ryordan was sure that he would not even try to break out of this circle. "Owls" understood well what radioactivity is, even in those years when they fought with earthlings. No, Kriga will try to hide, and maybe even dare to fight. But most likely he can be driven into a corner.
And yet there was no point in taking risks. Therefore Ryordan turned on the automatic signaling system of the radio transmitter. If he didn’t return to the ship in time and disconnect it, after two weeks the transmitter would signal Whisby and he would be rescued.
He checked the equipment. He was wearing a pressurized suit, equipped with a small pump, which received power from the ship's energy beam and served to pump air into the suit. The same installation filtered moisture from his breath, which made it possible to take almost no water with him. Therefore, the reserves for several days were not too heavy, especially in the conditions of the weak gravity of Mars. Only a 45-caliber gun, adapted for shooting in the Martian atmosphere and powerful enough for hunting big game, a compass, binoculars and a sleeping bag. Everything is extraordinarily light, besides, nothing superfluous.
In extreme cases, his suit was equipped with a small reservoir of suspension. By turning the tap, he could let it into the respiratory system. At this concentration, the gas, of course, did not lead to complete anabiosis, but paralyzed the motor nerves and slowed down the general metabolism so much that a person could hold out for several weeks on one breath of air. It was widely used in surgery and saved the lives of many interplanetary researchers whose oxygen system failed.
Ryordan stepped out of the rocket and locked the airlock. The possibility that the "owl" would open it, if he could deceive the hunter and get to the ship, was excluded. Tordenitis would be needed to break this constipation.
He whistled to his assistants. These local animals were tamed long ago by the Martians, and then by man. The "hound" looked like an emaciated wolf, only with a wider chest and feathers instead of fur. She kept the trail no worse than an earthly shepherd. The Falcon bore even less resemblance to its earthly prototype. It was a bird of prey, but in the local thin atmosphere it took six feet in span to lift its pitiful body into the air. Ryordan was pleased with the way they were trained.
The dog purred. The low, quivering sound would not have been heard at all if the suit were not equipped with a microphone and amplifier. The "hound" smelled, sniffing, and the "falcon" soared into the sky.
Ryordan did not look closely at the tower. It has long turned into ruins, ugly and unfamiliar to the human eye, perched obliquely on top of a rusty hill. Remnants of the former Martian civilization ... The man grinned disdainfully.
The dog barked. A gloomy lonely sound rolled through the still, icy air, bouncing off boulders and rocks, slowly dying in silence. But it was the call of the battle horn, a haughty challenge to the aged world: “Move aside! Get out of my way! The conqueror is coming! "
Suddenly the dog dashed and barked: it took the trail. Ryorden walked behind, free and wide, as one walks under conditions of weak gravity. His eyes are light
Kriega filled his lungs convulsively, with a sob. He breathed heavily and rapidly, his legs were leaden and limp, and the beating of his heart shook his entire body.
But he was running, and behind him a menacing rumble grew. The heavy tread was heard closer and closer. Jumping from stone to stone, sliding and sliding on his back into clay ravines, wading between trees, Kriga fled from the hunter.
For a day already, the dog was chasing him on his heels, and the "falcon" hovered over his head. Like a maddened jerboa, he raced away from death barking behind him. Kriga never thought that a person could move so fast and tirelessly.
The desert fought with him. Plants, the mysterious, blind life of which no earthling could understand, were on his side. Their thorny branches parted, giving him a way, and again closed, scraping the sides of the "hound" and slowing its pace. But they could not stop the ruthless dog. Again and again he pulled out of their powerlessly clinging paws and rushed along the trail.
The man trudged a full mile behind, but showed no signs of fatigue. And Kriega kept running. He had to get to the edge of the cliff before the hunter could catch him through the scope. Must, must! And the dog growled behind him.
The Martian flew up the ridge. Ahead, the slope ended steeply into a deep canyon - five hundred feet of jagged cliffs that fell into a wind-breathing abyss. And above them - the blinding shine of the setting sun. He paused for a moment, silhouetted against the blazing sky - a great target if a man could get into the line of fire - and he went over the edge.
He hoped that the "hound" would rush after him, but she braked in time at the very edge. Kriga climbed down the slope of the cliff, clinging to the slightest crevice, freezing when the rock, eaten by centuries, crumbled at hand. The "Falcon" hovered above its head, trying to peck or grab with its claws, and beckoning its owner in a shrill voice. Kriega was defenseless: after all, he could not tear off his hands, risking being smashed to smithereens. Though...
Kriega slid down the slope of the gorge into a gray-green thicket of creeping bushes, and his whole being called to the ancient laws of the symbiosis of Martian life. "Falcon" again rushed at him, but Kriga lay motionless, petrified, as if dead, until the bird with a triumphant cry sat on his shoulder, preparing to peck out his eyes.
And then the thorny vines began to stir. There was little strength in them, but the thorns had already sunk into the body of the bird, and it was impossible to escape from them. While the bushes tore the "falcon" apart, Kriga continued to descend to the bottom of the canyon.
Ryordan's enormous figure loomed over the edge, clearly protruding from the darkening sky. He fired once, twice. Bullets viciously dug into the rocks at the very body of the Martian, but shadows moved from the depths, and Kriega was saved. Then the man turned on his megaphone, and a monstrous voice crashed into the deepening night, rolling out with a thunder like which Mars had not heard for a millennium:
- One zero in your favor! But that is not all! I'll get to you!
The sun slid over the horizon, and night fell on Mars like a large dark blanket. Through the darkness, Krieg heard the laughter of an earthling. The rocks trembled from this laugh.
Ryordan was tired of the long race, and the oxygen supply to the suit was clearly inadequate for the effort. He wanted to smoke, eat something hot, but both were impossible. Well, he will appreciate the blessings of life even more when he returns home - with the skin of a Martian.
Grinning, the hunter set up camp. This Martian baby is worthy prey, there was no doubt about it. Toughie! He had already stood for two days on this ten-mile patch, and besides, he had killed the "falcon". But Ryordan got close enough to him. The dog will easily find him: after all, there are no rivers or streams on Mars to confuse the tracks.
He lay looking into the bottomless starry night. It’s going to be cold soon, cold as hell, but the sleeping bag is good enough to keep it warm with the solar energy accumulated during the day. "Hound" has buried nearby in the sand, but she will immediately raise the alarm if the Martian tries to dive around the camp.
Falling asleep, Ryordan recalled past hunts. Yes, he had seen a lot. But this hunt was the loneliest, most unusual and, perhaps, the most dangerous of all, and therefore the best. Ryordan harbored no grudge against the Martian. He respected the bravery of this little one as he respected the bravery of the other animals he hunted.
Ryorden woke up in the short gray dusk, set up a quick breakfast and whistled for the dog. His nostrils flared with excitement, his whole body, drunk with impatience, sang joyfully. Today ... Maybe today ...
He had to go down into the canyon by a long detour, and the dog rushed around for an hour before he fell on the trail. Then there was another barking barking, and the chase resumed - this time more slowly, since the path was uneven and flint.
The sun was already high when they reached the dry riverbed. A pale, cold light flooded the sharp, like needles, ledges, gorges painted in fantastic colors, clay slopes, sand, fragments of ancient geological eras. A deep, tense silence reigned, as if expecting something.
Suddenly the thorns parted underfoot. With a pitiful howl, the dog slid along the wall of the opening pit. With the swiftness of a tiger, Ryordan lunged forward and, falling, barely had time to grab the dog's tail with his hand. He miraculously stayed on the edge of the pit. Grasping the bush that clung to his helmet with his free hand, he pulled the dog to the surface.
Shivering, he looked into the trap. It was well done - almost 12 feet deep, with as narrow sheer walls as the sand would allow, artfully covered with bushes. Three sinister flint-tipped spears were thrust into the bottom of the pit. If he were even a little slower, the dog would have died, and maybe he himself.
The man bared his teeth in a wolfish grin and looked around. Probably, the "owl" went to the trap all night. Therefore, he cannot be far away ... and must be desperately tired.
As if in response to his thoughts, a stone fell from a nearby cliff. It was huge, but on Mars, falling objects have only half the Earth's acceleration. Ryorden dodged to the side, and the monstrous debris crashed into the spot where he had just lay.
- Come on out! - he shouted, rushing to the rock.
For a moment, a gray figure appeared ghostly at the edge of the cliff and launched a spear at it. Ryordan fired and the figurine disappeared. The spear bounced off the dense fabric of his suit, and he began to climb the narrow ledge to the top of the cliff.
The Martian was nowhere to be seen, but a faint reddish path led into a hilly desert.
- Wounded, I swear to God!
Kriga lay in the shadow of a large rock and trembled with exhaustion. Outside the shadow, sunlight danced in a dazzling, unbearable dance. Hot and cruel, as blinding and bright as the metal of the conquerors, he seemed to demand sacrificial blood.
Kriega made the mistake of spending invaluable hours on this trap. It didn't work, and he should have known it would. And now he is hungry, the thirst is gnawing into his throat like a wild beast, and the pursuit is getting closer and closer.
They almost caught up with him. The whole day he was hounded, he was never able to break away for more than half an hour on the way. No rest, a continuous devilish race through the wild desert, and now he awaited battle, fettered by the iron weight of exhaustion.
The wound in his side was burning. It was not deep, but it cost him a lot of blood and deprived him of those short moments of sleep that he might have been able to snatch.
For a moment, the Krieg warrior disappeared. There was only a lonely, frightened child crying in the silence of the desert.
Can't they leave me alone!
The low dusty green bushes rustled. A vole mouse squeaked somewhere in the hollow. They are already close.
Kriega wearily climbed to the top of the cliff and hid. He made his way here in a roundabout way, and they must pass by.
From where he was, he could see the tower — low, yellowish ruins, ravaged by the winds of millennia. The Martian only had enough time to sneak inside and grab a bow, a couple of arrows and an ax. A pitiful weapon. Arrows will not pierce the Earthman's suit: should the short and weak arms of the Martian stretch the bow wide enough? And from an ax, even an iron one, is also not much use. And that was all he had, he and his little allies, the inhabitants of the desert, who fought with him for the right to live on their own.
OK. He placed an arrow on the bowstring and hid in the misty, flickering light of the sun, waiting.
The dog appeared first, howling and barking. Kriega drew the bow as best he could. But first let the person come closer ...
And here he is, running with a gun in his hand, jumping over the rubble of rocks. His searching, restless eyes glow with a greenish fire. He is ready to deal the killing blow. Kriega turned slowly. The dog had already passed the rock, and the earthling was just under him.
An arrow sang. With wild delight, Kriga watched as she stabbed the dog, how it clumsily bounced and thrashed, rolling on the ground, howling and trying to grab the arrow that had lodged in her body. Like a gray lightning, the Martian threw himself from the cliff down onto the man. If only his ax could pierce this helmet ...
He hit the hunter and they both rolled. With wild hatred, the Martian chopped with an ax, but it only slid over the smooth plastic. Ryorden howled and delivered a crushing blow with his fist. Infernal pain pierced Krigi's body, and he rolled back. Ryordan managed to fire, but missed. Kriega turned and started to run. Falling to one knee, the man began to aim at a gray figure that was climbing the next slope. A small sand snake slid down his leg and wrapped itself around his wrist. Her strength was just enough to divert the gun from the target. A bullet whizzed past Krigi's ear and he disappeared into a crevice.
The Martian's sixth sense caught the dying agony of the snake. He could almost see a man squeamishly tearing it off his hand, throwing it on the ground, and trampling it mercilessly with its forged boots. A little later, a dull rumble was heard, echoing in the hills. This man brought explosives and blew up his tower.
The Krieg warrior was left without a bow and an ax. Now he is completely defenseless. There is not even a haven where you can retreat to give the last battle. And a man, even without his creatures, will pursue him, albeit more slowly, but just as relentlessly as before.
Kriega fell onto a pile of stones. Dry sobs shook his entire thin body, and the setting wind wept with him.
Finally he raised his head and looked into the boundless red and yellow distance where the sun was setting. Somewhere nearby, a jerboa squeaked softly, giving birth to a quiet echo in the low, blown rocks, and the bush rustled, whispering to invisible neighbors in an ancient wordless language. The whole planet - a desert with its sands, a light breeze flowing under the high cold stars, a fresh wide open space full of silence, loneliness and such a fate alien to man, had a quiet conversation with Kriga.
This is not to say that Kriga hated his pursuer, but all the inexorableness of Mars was in him. He fought for this life, ancient, primitive, full of dreams incomprehensible to man, a battle against everything alien, seeking to defile this eternal peace. His cruelty was as old and unforgiving as life itself, and every battle won or lost meant a lot, even if no one knew about it.
You are not alone, the desert whispered. - You are fighting for all of Mars, and we are with you.
Something flashed in the darkness, a small warm body ran along his rune - a tiny, feathery creature like a mouse, which many huddle in the Martian sands, rejoicing in its insignificant fleeting life. But it was a part of his world, and there was no pity in the voice of Mars.
Tenderness filled Krigi's heart and he whispered in a tongue that was not a tongue:
- Will you do it for us? Will you do it, brother?
Ryordan was too tired to sleep well. He tossed and turned for a long time, thinking, unable to sleep. For a lonely person lost in the Martian hills, this is not the best vacation.
So the dog died too. Well, let it be: the "owl" still does not leave. And yet this incident made him feel the boundlessness, the gray antiquity of the desert and his own loneliness.
Whispers came from all sides. The bush crackled, something howled in the darkness, the wind hummed wildly and gloomily, sweeping over the rocks in the wrong light of the stars. It seemed that they all had their own voice, that the whole world was grumbling dully in the night, threatening him. A vague thought flashed through his head. Will a person ever conquer this incomprehensible world? Has he finally stumbled upon something greater than himself?
No, this is nonsense. Mars is old, decrepit and barren, he is slowly dying, immersed in his dreams. The heavy tread of a man, the thunder of his voice, the roar of rockets storming the sky, wake him up, but for a new fate, inseparable from the human. When Ares raised his spears over the Syrt Hills (Syrt is the region of Mars named by the astronomer J. Schiaparelli), where were they, the ancient Martian gods?
Suddenly there was a rustle. The man instantly woke up from a restless sleep and saw a tiny animal sneaking in his direction. He reached for the gun that lay next to the sleeping bag, but he thought it over and laughed hoarsely. Common sand mouse. And he once again thought that the Martian would not be able to take him by surprise. But he did not laugh for long: the sound of his own laughter filled his helmet with an unpleasant, dull rumble.
With the piercing cold dawn, the man was on his feet. He already wanted to end this hunt. He was dirty and unshaven, he was sick and tired of being content with the pitiful portions of air entering the spacesuit, his whole body was numb and ached from exhaustion. The pursuit would be slower without the dog, but I didn't want to return to Port Armstrong for a new one. No, devil take this Martian, he will still get to his skin!
Noon found Ryordan on a hill among a pile of rocks, the sharp ledges of which, like giant teeth, bared into the sky. He kept walking, completely confident that he would soon wear down his victim.
The tracks were clear and distinctly fresh. He tensed all over at the thought that now the Martian was not far away.
Even too clear traces! Is he being lured into a new trap? Ryorden grabbed the gun more comfortably and began to move forward more carefully. But no, wouldn’t there be enough time ...
The man climbed the rocky ridge and looked around the gloomy fantastic landscape. A dark streak was visible at the very horizon - the border of the radioactive barrier. The Martian could not get far, and if he turned and hid, then Ryordan would easily find him.
He turned on the megaphone, and his voice echoed in the surrounding silence:
- Hey, owl! I got to you! Better come out and be done at once!
An echo picked up his words, and they darted among the bare rocks, crushing and roaring like a metal roar to the heavens. Come out ... come out ... come out! ..
The Martian appeared, it seemed, right out of thin air, as if a gray ghost had risen from a pile of stones some 20 feet away. For a moment, Ryordan was dumbfounded. In disbelief, he gasped for air. Kriega waited, shuddering slightly, as if it really was not a living creature, but a mirage.
Then the man screamed and raised the gun. The Martian continued to stand motionless, like a statue of gray granite, and with acute disappointment Ryordan thought that Kriga had finally come to terms with imminent death.
Well, that was a good hunt.
Goodbye! Ryordan whispered and pulled the trigger.
There was a terrible crash, and the trunk split like the peel of a rotten banana. The hunter himself was not injured, but while recovering from the shock, Kriga had already pounced on him.
The Martian was only four feet tall, emaciated and unarmed, but he unleashed a hurricane of blows on the Earthman. He wrapped his legs around the man's torso and frantically began to twist the suit's air hose.
Ryordan collapsed from the sudden jolt. Purring like a tiger, he closed his hands around the thin neck of the Martian. Kriega beat in vain with his beak. They rolled in a cloud of dust. The bush crackled excitedly.
Ryordan tried to twist Kriege's neck, but the Martian dodged and grabbed the hose again. In horror, the man heard the hiss of air escaping: Kriega finally managed to pull the hose out of the nest with his beak and claws. The automatic valve immediately closed the leak, but the connection with the pump was destroyed.
The hunter swore and squeezed the Martian's neck with all his might. And then he just lay there, clutching his fragile throat, and no amount of Krigi's subterfuge could loosen his grip. After about five minutes Kriga was quiet. Just in case, Ryordan squeezed his neck for a few more minutes, then released him and began hastily fumbling around his back with his hands, trying to reach the pump. The air in the suit grew hotter and smelly. He could not contrive and squeeze the hose back into the socket ...
An unsuitable construction, a vague thought flashed through his head. "But were these suits meant for such battles?"
He looked at the fragile, motionless body of the Martian. A light breeze stirred the gray feathers. What a fighter this kid was! He will become the pride of his hunting collection at home on Earth.
Well, let's see ... He unrolled the sleeping bag and spread it neatly. With the remaining air supply, the rocket cannot be reached, so you will have to let the suspensions into the spacesuit. But first you need to get into the sleeping bag so that the night chill does not turn his blood into ice.
Ryordan crawled into the bag, laced up carefully, and opened the valve on the suspension bottle. Terrible boredom - lying motionless for ten long days until Whisby receives the signal and comes to the rescue. But until then, he will last. There will be something to remember! In this dry air, the skin of the Martian will be perfectly preserved.
He felt how his body grew numb, how the rhythm of his heart and lungs was slowing down. But his mind was still awake, and he noted that complete relaxation has its, to put it mildly, unpleasant sides. It doesn't matter, but he won! He killed the smartest game in the universe with his own hands.
After a while, Kriga stirred and sat down. He was terribly weak. Probably a broken rib. Nothing, it can be fixed. The main thing is that he is still alive. An Earthling choked him for a good ten minutes, but a Mars inhabitant can survive without air for almost a quarter of an hour.
Kriega unlaced the sleeping bag and removed the keys from Ryordan. Then he slowly trudged towards the rocket. A few days of training - and he will learn how to manage it. And then he will fly to his fellow tribesmen living in the Syrt region. Now that they have an Earthling machine, their weapon ...
But first we must do away with the most unpleasant. Kriega had no hatred for Ryordan, but Mars is a cruel world. He returned, dragged the hunter into the cave and hid him so that not a single rescue party of earthlings could find him.
For a moment, he looked into the man's eyes. There was a mute horror in them. Then Kriega spoke slowly, with difficulty choosing English words:
- For all those killed by you, for the fact that you, a stranger, invaded the world where you were not called, in the name of the day when Mars becomes free, I leave you.
Before leaving, he removed several oxygen cylinders from the ship and connected them to a spacesuit - a whole sea of air for a creature immersed in suspended animation. It will be enough to keep a person alive for at least a thousand years.
Translated from English by Andrey Borodaevsky
Drawings by I. Golitsyn
In June 1976, the Viking 1 spacecraft sent a strange image from the surface of Mars. These images contained what is now known as the "Face on Mars". The photographs were taken from the area known as Cydonia Mensae.
The face is located among several craters in the area between Arandas Crater and Bamberg Crater.
Pareidolia
This face is due to an optical illusion called pareidolia. Pareidolia is a psychological phenomenon where a vague and random image is perceived as familiar.
Of course, UFO lovers have found evidence in these images that there was a civilization in the planet's past. Unfortunately, many years passed before technologies appeared that took pictures of the face more clearly, by this time, fictions about Mars had already spread a lot.
Face on Mars: photos and videos
The face is just a hill. A snapshot of the MRO HiRISE camera
Later images of the Mars Global Surveyor spacecraft and other spacecraft showed that there is a face on Mars and it is nothing more than a hill. The shadows that appeared to be facial features have all but disappeared in the high-resolution images.
This image is the famous "Face on Mars" and is the best shot of this hill ever captured by the HiRISE camera on the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter. This hill in the Cydonia region is most likely a dome of lava that erupted many millions of years ago. Compare this to the original image from the Viking spacecraft, which made such a splash in 1976, including a whole new culture of conspiracy theories, books, late-night radio talk shows, and even a full-length feature film. Alas, this is just a hill.
Here's another perspective on the face in 3D. And yet, if you need to be more convincing, here's a face animation created by the Mars Express spacecraft.
3D modeling based on Mars Express images
Comparison of photographs taken by Viking-1 in 1976, Mars Global Surveyor in 1998 and 2001
The original image, from the Viking Orbiter, is significantly lower than the spatial resolution of the HiRISE camera. The differences in the geometry of the lighting made it look like a face. Yes, in the old picture, the hill looks like a face. But these new and better images from Mars Orbiter and Mars Global Surveyor and now HiRISE show incredible detail.
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And here we see that this is indeed the top of the plateau. This formation in the Sidonia region on Mars is most likely a lava dome, which is a separate hill or, in other words, a hill. Compare this image to the original 1976 photograph of the Viking Orbiter (below), which created an incredible sensation, including an entire culture of new theories, books, talk shows and even full-length documentaries. Alas, this is just a hill.
The face on Mars is an already well-known landform in the Martian region of Sidonia. (Photo: NASA / JPL / University of Arizona)
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Original image of Faces on Mars, 1976 Viking orbiter. (Photo: NASA)
Viking had a lower spatial resolution than HiRISE and other lighting geometry, resulting in a face-like structure. Indeed, she looks like the face in this picture. But things don't always turn out what they seem, especially at low resolutions and poor lighting. These new images in the best quality Mars Orbiter Camera aboard the Mars Global Surveyor (which photographed the Sidonia region in 1998 and 2001) and now HiRISE - which reveals incredible details at a distance of 300 km from the surface - definitely put all doubts aside. Unfortunately, even this is not able to convince some people.
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Viking 1 photo from 1976, Mars Global Surveyor (MGS) photo from 1998 and MGS photo from 2001. (Photo: NASA)
This is a 3D side view of the Face on Mars from the MOC camera.
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(Photo : NASA / Jim Garvin (NASA) and Jim Frawley (Herring Bay Geophysics)).
Black and white shot of the HiRISE camera.
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The photo HiRISE 2007 of the year. (Photo : NASA / JPL / University of Arizona).
And this is one of the best shots. Jim Garvin, Senior Fellow, SED Division, Space Flight Center. R. Goddard, NASA, created an alleged "face" hiking route map with a funny description. “The length of the route is approximately 5.5 km one way, the ascent height is about 300 meters. At the beginning of the path, the slopes are gentle, in the middle of the route there are very steep sections. Take plenty of water and oxygen with you. "
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Prospective map of the hiking trail of the elevation formerly known as the Face on Mars. (Photo: NASA / Jim Garvin)
If you're still in doubt now, watch a video created from real 'face' images taken by ESA's Mars Express spacecraft and take a full trip around the hill.
The Russian land is rich! And not only talents, but also ... Martians. It turns out that for 15 years now, a Martian has been living among the Russians, who was reborn into the human body of Boris Kipriyanovich.
From an early age, the Martian only repeats about his civilization, they say, there are underground megalithic cities and spaceships on the red planet. And the alien says that he had been on Earth before and visited the country of Lemuria, sunk in the depths of the ocean.
It must be admitted that the Martian boy has exceptional intelligence and innate ability to do yoga. His favorite position is the lotus position. The alien says that this helps him maintain a mental connection with the Red Planet. As Boriska turned two years old, mom and dad do not know where to go. The son only speaks about other civilizations in space, planetary systems and other obscure things.
Word of the young Martian instantly spread throughout the city. Boriska has become a kind of celebrity. People were interested in the child, everyone wanted to understand how he could know so many things and the boy told everyone about extraterrestrial civilizations, about the existence of an ancient race of people who were three meters tall ...
Of course, many considered these stories to be fictitious, and the boy was slightly nutty. The parents took the boy to a psychotherapist, but he did not notice anything usual. He says that this is a mentally healthy alien, he just has a violent fantasy and a lot of esoteric literature.
Boriska assures that there is still life on Mars, but it is underground, since after a terrible catastrophe the planet lost its atmosphere.
"At that time, I often flew to Earth for research purposes, was a pilot of a spaceship. It was in the days of the civilization of Lemuria, and I had a friend there who died before my eyes .... A huge stone fell on the structure in which he was located. my friend, and I could not save him ... Now we must meet on Earth ... "
15-year-old Martian Boris claims that a terrible catastrophe will happen on Earth between 2012 and 2013. That is why, he thinks, now so many talented children with special abilities are being born to help people.
When asked if he is afraid of death, Boriska replies that he is not, since he knows that life is eternal. Martians breathe carbon dioxide. When you are in this body, you must breathe oxygen. The Martians themselves do not like Earth's air, as it causes aging. The Martians are all relatively young, looking around 30-35 years old. The number of such "Martian" children born on Earth will increase, says the 15-year-old Martian.
One day a boy told a story about a very ancient planet called Proserpine. Long ago, she was hit by a beam and she shattered into pieces. But the inhabitants managed to teleport to a parallel world and, together with people on Mars, watched the death of the planet. And the Earth, being a rational being, began to accept the children of Proserpine for "re-education." That is why these people here felt like “strangers” and said that they were from another planet.
Boriska also teaches lectures. So that people do not get sick and live happily, he advises adhering to the following philosophy:
"People get sick and unhappy, because they live wrong. They should wait for the" cosmic halves ", and not interfere with other people's destinies, not break or destroy the natural integrity. And then the suffering of people will stop. You should live with kindness. When you are beaten, approach and hug this person. When others offend you, do not expect an apology, kneel down and ask the angry person for forgiveness. If you are humiliated and insulted, thank them with a smile. Do you know why the Lemurians died? This is my fault too. They did not want to develop spiritually, they deviated from the path, and thus destroyed the unity of the planet. "
The Martian Sphinx "is by no means the center of the region called Cydonia. It is located about 15 km. North of the mathematical center of Cydonia and is tilted approximately 30 degrees in relation to the Martian meridian.
The optimism of the proponents of the existence of life on Mars was inspired back ... by the same Viking photographs that so recently seemed to have buried their dreams. Only one of them became widely known - a "photographic portrait" of a strange Martian formation, very reminiscent of a woman's face.
In 1979, the operators at the Mission Control Center were so disappointed and discouraged by the lifeless landscapes that they almost indifferently issued this photo 35A72, received from the Viking, too. From the surface of distant Mars, a huge female face looked at the operators. So what? I still remembered an example with "channels", but I saw straight lines on the red planet, now I saw a woman, apparently because of fatigue.
Very little time passed, the "optical illusion snapshot" was bought by a certain West German programmer, who, without hesitation, entered its parameters into a computer in order to zoom in on the image, to look at it not from an orbit of hundreds of kilometers, but only from one and a half kilometers. When the computer printed out the result, he ... was stunned - the optical illusion completely disappeared, a woman was really looking at him! For the non-blinking, staring at the sky, gaze and for the characteristic "ancient Egyptian hairstyle", this statue received the nickname " martian sphinx"The sensation simply could not help but get on the pages of the press, after which, as always, refutations immediately appeared.
A Viking snapshot of the Sidonia region. The face is visible, the pyramids of the "city", the sheer wall (cliff).
The head of the Viking program K. Snyder, the one who leaked the valuable photograph, did not hide his irritation, said that "the discovered image is just rock formations that have taken on bizarre outlines as a result of the play of light and shadows." The Soviet academician Sagdeev warmly supported this idea, saying that there would be no new self-deception, such as was the case with the canals. They did not refrain from studying photography at the Vernadsky Institute of Geochemistry and Analytical Chemistry. According to the candidate of geographical sciences R. Kuzmin, “it's all about oblique illumination, the light of the low-lying Sun casts shadows from ordinary bumps, and as for the nostrils and necklaces on the face, these are ordinary hindrances that arose when the image was transmitted to the Earth! Indeed, according to the laws theory of probability, the insidious play of light and shadow may well suddenly make up any image, one on the whole planet, right up to the inscription “Hello, earthlings.” But if this is not a real image, then you just need to change the direction of lighting, and the whole effect will disappear immediately. NASA rummaged through thousands of photographs and found yet another, previously rejected, image (70A13), taken on a different loop and, therefore, at a different time.The Sphinx, although it was barely visible, nevertheless did not disappear! image, American experts began computer-aided construction of the stereo image.Nostrils, necklaces, and other dots, which were considered interference, in the new image for some reason did not disappear, but The computer confidently sketched out the pupils of the eyes and even the teeth in the open mouth with only it! In those days, it was still very difficult for us to compete with America in the field of computer graphics, but the solution found by the Samara scientist Vladimir TYURIN-AVINSKY was liked by its simplicity and clarity even overseas. Thanks to working with a plasticine copy of the Sphinx, he achieved just such a shape, in which the effect of resemblance to a human face did not disappear in any light. Now it has become possible to estimate the approximate size of the giant. Length from chin to hair - 1.5 km, width -
1.3 km, the height from the surface of the desert to the tip of the nose is 0.5 km!
Another image of a structure resembling a sculptural image of a human face, only it was photographed in another region of Mars - in Utopia.
As you understand, it is simply impossible to meet anything like this on Earth. No, - again the skeptics stated, - such a giant can only be built by a very powerful civilization, but it does not exist on Mars, and if there was, then why would it need a statue that can only be viewed from Space? And the sphinx again passed into the category of an accidental coincidence, only now not light and shadow, but as a result of the weathering of rocks. With a certain amount of stretch, one could agree with such a statement if it were ... an isolated case.
Computer reconstruction of the Sphinx and the "City"
If the image of a woman's face somehow immediately caught the eye, then the structures located 7 km from the sphinx were noticed a little later. Buildings - that's putting it mildly, Tyurin-Avinsky counted in this place as many as 11 pyramids (4 large, 7 small), a whole "city"! They don't look like the results of volcanic activity or anything else. If these are just volcanoes, then you cannot see the crater, lava flows on the walls or around them, and these volcanoes have too regular shape: three-, four-, pentagonal, sharp edges and a summit. About 10 years have passed since his research, computer technology has gone far ahead during this time, so what entire institutes once worked on has become within the power of only one programmer. The specialist who had to turn with this request processed the image, and ... now one of the most powerful computers to date shows a three-dimensional image of the Acidalian plain on Mars. Almost all of the most daring predictions have been confirmed.
Moreover, instead of 11 pyramids and buildings, 19 appear on the diagram, "road" lines and a strange round area appear. The "roads" are clearly not just laid at random, two of them approach the pyramids, three at once converge to a circle in the center of the "city". The dimensions here boggle the imagination too: the largest central pyramid is almost ten times (!) Larger than the famous pyramid of Cheops in Egypt. If the pyramids are somehow close and understandable to us, then we can argue endlessly about the purpose of a "circle" with a diameter of a kilometer: a cosmodrome, a testing ground, a laboratory such as an accelerator, a filled crater, the central square of a city? .. Judging by the abundance of suitable "roads", the latter is the preferred option. Again, proceeding from the fact that two “routes” stretch to the “pyramids”, we can say that they were not used (or were not only used) as religious buildings and tombs (the roads to the Egyptian pyramids-tombs have long been overgrown).
This is how we imperceptibly began to use the past tense verbs. Indeed, there is no doubt that the "city" was built a very long time ago and is now uninhabited. How is this known? Judge for yourself: large meteorites do not often fall on the planet's surface, but in the images of the "city" you can see at least two direct hits of such meteorites in the left large pyramid and in the intersection of "roads". Neither one nor the other has been restored, probably because there was no one to restore it! .....
Image of the Sphinx by Viking (left) and MOS (1997). The third photo is the negative of the second
In September, the camera flaps opened and the automatics took their first test shots ... 04/05/1998 at 12:39 pm - PST "Mars Orbital Camera" installed on "Mars Global Surveyor" successfully photographed the Cydonia region, and received images of the "Martian face" high permissions. The image was transmitted to Earth on Sunday. It was processed by Malin Space Science Systems (MSSS) at 9:15 am and, along with the raw image, was submitted to the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) for release on the Internet. The image was taken during the spacecraft's 220th close approach to Mars. At that moment, the "Face", located at approximately 40.8 ° North latitude, 9.6 ° West longitude, was 444 km from the spacecraft. The "morning" Sun was 25 ° above the horizon. The image has a resolution of 4.3 meters per point, i.e. 10 times higher than that obtained with the "Viking".
Positive and negative portrayal of the "Martian Sphinx". MGS April 1998
Yes ... There were no new details of Martian architecture in the photo. Moreover, on the surface of Mars there was not even something that even skeptics believed in the existence. Of course, the most ardent critics did not recognize the presence of real roads and pyramids in the local sands, but they also agreed that there is "something on Mars that resembles a sphinx, roads and pyramids." But the fact of the matter is that this was not on Mars either. In place of the "city" photographed by the "Vikings", there was an ordinary rugged terrain! Instead of a sphinx - a small mound! At first, the regulars of the Internet accused NASA of misinformation, they say, you are photographing the wrong areas. Then came the conclusions and hypotheses of a different direction, it was assumed that:
a) The Sphinx never existed, its previous photographs are fake ... No, this is too rude, there were few falsifications in this story.
b) There were no falsifications, but only an unconscious craving for the mysterious, everyone "wanted" to see "something like that" on Mars. But what about computers that don't care? And what you put in them, they will give out ... Well, this is partly true. But look at the old photos of the Sphinx - did we all "seem"? No, the resemblance to an artificial structure was clearly striking! I am ready to agree that all this is a random play of nature, but the new pictures do not show her, this game either. Where did she disappear to? ..
c) Perhaps the real sphinx and the "roads" over the two decades from the day of the previous photographing were simply filled up with dust? We do not know much about the frequency and intensity of dust storms on other planets ... But in 20 years to fill up huge kilometer-long structures !? Although if you look at big NASA photos it looks like there is something there, but pretty much covered.
d) If the sprouts of a new civilization survived to this day (for example, in the darkness of the dungeons), then they could well not only build pyramids, but also destroy them. For thousands of years, they kept and preserved their buildings, and all this in order to destroy everything in a decade, or even faster. It would be logical to assume that the main reason was the "invasion" of research vehicles from the Earth. The secret must remain secret, no matter who keeps it ...
The latest photo of the "Sphinx" 04/08/2001
Due to the great excitement around the "Face", it was decided to re-photograph the area of Tsidonia. On April 8, 2001, Mars Global Surveyor, at 20:54 (UTC), flew so that it could capture the Face, located 165 km away and at a distance of 450 km. The resulting photo has a resolution of 2 meters per point. (If there were objects the size of a regular passenger jet on Mars, they would be distinguishable at that scale.)
The new photograph "Faces" covers an area of 3.6 km. The sun illuminates it from the lower left.
The Martian Sphinx can also be viewed in stereo
