Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2010 20:34:03 GMT 1
Chapter Eight: Burning Bright
The original plan for the Deputation, as I so began calling it, was entirely and originally my creation. Knowing this, then, it is not so surprising that a pair of young scientists agreed to participate in the plan very quickly when I explained its details to a group of them, gathered around a tree. Many of them idolized me, at least after the cylinder's landing, and saw me as more accessible than Stent, my superior. Persuading my two comrades to join us was a different matter entirely. Stent seemed obliging enough, probably agreeing to the mission due to the nature of our "joint leadership" arrangement and at least in part from his own ambitions. Henderson, surprisingly, was the most difficult individual to bring along.
"No. I will not go out there with you. The Martians were hideous — hideous, you saw them! 'Men from Mars'. There wasn't a single thing human in them! And yet you reason that because they are intelligent, perhaps even more so than us, they are benevolent. The eyes had no humanity in their look. I saw you, Ogilvy, by the pit shaking with fear along with the rest of us. Your instincts are telling you that something is not right about them. Yet you, in your greed for fame and glory, willingly stifle your good sense and have an idea to go get yourself disembowled or devoured or worse under the pretense of talking to the Martians." He narrowed his eyes in anger, scarcely restraining himself from striking me. "Don't you dare think that I don't know you are trying to ingratiate yourself with Stent. Are you blind? It is clear enough to me that he doesn't care a bit about you. He only keeps you by his side because you're useful to him. If you are trying to become his right hand man, you are not succeeding."
"Henderson, if the Deputation succeeds I will be a valued member of Stent's inner circle. He will care about me, he may even recommend me for a knighthood. We must do this. Besides," I argued, "if Stent doesn't value my contributions to our group, why does he bestow honors upon me and listen to me when I speak, then?"
"A knighthood? You are risking our hides for a potential knighthood? That will do you no good if you're dead! And Stent keeps you around for another reason. You're mad if you truly believe that he likes you. If your plan succeeds, he will no doubt claim the glory for himself and forget you. If it fails, he has someone else around to blame. But back to your idiotic plan to speak with the Martians. Did they look like they wanted to talk, or even cared about us at all? And not only that, you want to risk others' lives as well as your own! Go on, then, take your flag and go galumphing off to die, but leave us out of it! I have a wife and a five-year-old son in London, and what will happen to them if I am killed?" His voice had ascended almost to a scream. "You know what, Ogilvy? I think that you've had your head in the stars for so long that you have forgotten that you live on Earth!"
I sighed; I should have expected this. Henderson was unfortunately a very grounded individual. The only reasons that he had gone out of his time to work with the cylinder were his newspaper and his admiration for me. He was useful but of limited imagination. While I had lofty plans for the future and my eye turned to the stars he was trapped firmly on earth. I felt sorry for him in his sulk and set to persuade him out of it. "Henderson, need I remind you, we are friends. We have done every labour concerning the cylinder together. It was side by side that we saw it open and met the man from Mars. I need your help, and you need mine. We must work together, my man; this will be the greatest moment of all of our lives. The Martians' outer appearances are, I admit, repulsive, but we must not judge them as evil creatures for that reason alone. We must give them a chance."
"Look!" It was one of the two younger scientists, jabbing a finger to something in the night. There was a strange object that had risen up from the pit, a sort of round disc fastened to a long metal rod. "What is that?"
"It must be some sort of signal," I reasoned, holding the flag close to my side. "The Martians must want us to come and visit them. See, Henderson? We have nothing to worry about at all. Now, we shall decide in a democratic fashion who is to accompany Dr. Stent, Henderson, and I down into the pit. Say 'Aye' if you support the Deputation plan."
There was a chorus of 'Ayes', and Henderson's determined stand against me faltered. He surrendered his objection and aided me in bringing the two young scientists, both of whom seemed very excited to be selected as part of my group, to the site. Their names were Marshall and William, it appeared, both gentle young lads and practicing astronomers. They alone had not been alarmed by the Martians, but were as eager to speak with them as I now was. They were both very good friends. Marshall was the elder and more levelheaded of the pair while William, the younger one, had a sense of humour that reminded me of mine. I was very fond of them both despite having known them for such a short time. Both of them were eager to make my acquaintance, delighted to be aides of "the great Doctor Ogilvy", as they called me. I gave Stent a knowing glance, but he did not react. He never had a sense of humour as I did.
The five of us made our preparations. I went forward to explain our idea and intentions to the crowd, whose bravery had increased to an audacious degree. Some of the more daring individuals were going out to the rim of the pit to stare at the cylinder, while the few remaining children attempted to dare each other to touch it (fortunately nothing came of the latter). Henderson, Stent, Marshall, and William waited for me beside a dead tree, talking with each other, trying to relieve the tension that almost all of them felt. Henderson had introduced the seed of doubt.
After my announcement to the crowd I approached him personally, taking him by the shoulder and speaking to him, trying to sound friendly. "Henderson, my good man, you have been a great help to me in the past day or so. Your loyalty and courage are commendable."
"Well, I- I tried my very best, sir...all I could do."
"And I decided, after much thought, that your faith deserves something from me in return. I have decided to reward you for your assistance by granting you a place next to me in the Deputation when we go forth and make contact with the Martians. This honour will give you great fame when we return triumphant to Ottershaw."
"If we return alive, Ogilvy," Henderson muttered, half to himself and half to me.
"We will make it back, my dear Henderson. I promise you, and I do not make promises lightly, that we will make it back."
At the tree the two of us rejoined Stent, as well as the overjoyed Marshall and William, and together we decided on what was to be done. Henderson and I were to stand in the front, myself carrying the precious white flag while displaying it to the Martians in reply to their signal. Stent agreed to this, mentioning that I should be so honoured as a leader because I had discovered the cylinder and thus the creatures inside.
"And what about you, Dr. Stent?" asked William, standing next to me. "You are coming, aren't you?" Stent suddenly appeared to be very nervous, shuffling and mumbling in a way that was most unlike him. Marshall cuffed William in the side.
"Don't talk stupid, Will! Of course he's coming!" he whispered. "Stent's only the bloody Astronomer Royal!"
Stent swallowed before sighing heavily. The shadow in his eyes had vanished and was replaced by what seemed to be, if I hadn't known better, fear. "Yes. Yes. I suppose I ought to come. I will stand in the front with Dr. Ogilvy and Mr. Henderson."
The other scientists cheered and celebrated our imminent departure. "Here's to the health of the eminent Dr. Ogilvy and his aides in this plan, Dr. Stent and Mr. Henderson! May they return with the Martians as our allies!" Leeds shouted, nodding to me. "Good luck, Doctor," he added softly, his eye focused on me for a moment. "I think that you shall be needing it."
I acknowleged him with a sharp nod before setting out from behind the tree, the others by my side, Henderson nervously eyeing the rod and disc as if they would rear up and tear us apart. Marshall and William seemed optimistic, grinning widely. Stent, as was his wont, was attempting to seem cool and confident. His wild eyes betrayed the hot fear burning in them. Together the five of us approached the thing sitting in the sand, and I indeed bore myself as a representative of my species, waving the flag with pride. A few of the braver spectators followed us at some distance, wondering, watching. The air was silent. No one dared to speak. I shot Henderson a confident smile, and he only blinked in reply.
Suddenly there was a trio of green clouds of smoke from the pit, followed by an eerie series of high-pitched hissing sounds. We all wondered what this could mean, although none of us showed our fear. Henderson kept his famous courage, but it was obviously all he could do to keep from fleeing for his life. I caught his hand.
"Stay back," I whispered. 'It is probably only a signal."
A rush of heat washed over us, and I looked to the far end of our party to figure out its source. I very quickly wished that I had not done so. One of the young astronomers, Marshall, I think, had been caught alight, wreathed in fire and writhing hideously before falling and lying very still, flames greedily feeding on his body. Only moments later poor William, who had been so eager and quick with a joke, followed suit and soon lay dead, burning, on the ground. It only took moments for the remaining three members of the Deputation to make a link between the disc and the quick, gruesome deaths of William and Marshall, and at realization another man was struck down where he stood. Even Stent's exalted position as the Astronomer Royal did not save him from the silent Death. Unlike the two hapless young scientists he died knowing exactly what had killed him, and I swear by all that is holy in this universe that I saw unadulterated terror on his face as he succumbed.
No! I wanted to scream, to reassure the Martians that we meant no harm. We mean for peace! You don't understand! Please stop! This isn't how it is supposed to happen! See the flag? You have to understand what it means! You must! But I was so frightened that I did not speak, eyes wide and darting round.
I felt a rough hand grip mine, holding on so tightly that it hurt. Poor Henderson, so noble and loyal and faithful to me, had grabbed me, looking directly into my eyes. He did not speak, but he did not have to. His expression spoke for him. His face showed fear, pain, and most of all rage.
What have you done? They're killing us, Ogilvy! You promised that we would be all right, you betrayed us all, you led us out here to die! What have you done?
It was a mistake, I implored wordlessly back, tugging my hand free from his with some effort. Could have happened to anyone. At that moment Henderson, too, was set alight, falling to the ground lifeless, a mass of flame that had once been a man. The stench of burning flesh and viscera filled the air and made me nauseous.
I am the last man standing. I will die next, the laws of probability condemned me. The sure and silent flame will spring on me, too, and burn me to an unrecognizable corpse as it had my companions. I can not run; if I did, I would surely be caught and fall even as I made for freedom. I could not fight. Instead I shut my eyes tightly so that I will not witness my own funeral pyre and stand before the cylinder, waving my flag desperately even as I know that it would do no good, hoping that everything that had happened before had been an accident, that the Martians had misinterpreted our advance as an act of aggression. Inside my brain my thoughts whirl, memories awaken. Images appear while voices whisper.
I see a little boy, standing alone in the schoolyard, cleaning his spectacles with a bit of spare cloth. His eyes are sad, watching a group of older children play rowdy games and wishing that he were tall and rough and strong enough to join them.
Poor little boy, he has no friends! He looks up at the stars all night long to make the pain go away. Pity and gaze upon the poor child, dry his tears, go out into the dark with him!
The child is no longer alone. A dark-haired boy, a year or so older than he, approaches him and cleans his face of tears. The grateful young one makes him an offer and guides him into the woods, where the sky has gone dark, and the happy little boy, smiling, picks out stars in the sky for his new friend.
A few years later. The little boy is hurt, covering his face with a hankerchief, drying off blood. His friend watches, then approaches the injured child and kindly whispers a warning, a warning that I can hear myself and that I only now, far too late, completely understand.
When will you learn to stop trying to get along with people? I swear, Ogilvy, that habit of yours will be the death of you...
Back to the present. The boy is fully grown, eyes shut, waiting for his death alone in a deep pit. Four other men, all dead, lie close by, at varying angles, lit like funeral torches for him. The man that was once a boy stands still, waving a white flag frantically in a sweating hand. There is a flash, and darkness.
The original plan for the Deputation, as I so began calling it, was entirely and originally my creation. Knowing this, then, it is not so surprising that a pair of young scientists agreed to participate in the plan very quickly when I explained its details to a group of them, gathered around a tree. Many of them idolized me, at least after the cylinder's landing, and saw me as more accessible than Stent, my superior. Persuading my two comrades to join us was a different matter entirely. Stent seemed obliging enough, probably agreeing to the mission due to the nature of our "joint leadership" arrangement and at least in part from his own ambitions. Henderson, surprisingly, was the most difficult individual to bring along.
"No. I will not go out there with you. The Martians were hideous — hideous, you saw them! 'Men from Mars'. There wasn't a single thing human in them! And yet you reason that because they are intelligent, perhaps even more so than us, they are benevolent. The eyes had no humanity in their look. I saw you, Ogilvy, by the pit shaking with fear along with the rest of us. Your instincts are telling you that something is not right about them. Yet you, in your greed for fame and glory, willingly stifle your good sense and have an idea to go get yourself disembowled or devoured or worse under the pretense of talking to the Martians." He narrowed his eyes in anger, scarcely restraining himself from striking me. "Don't you dare think that I don't know you are trying to ingratiate yourself with Stent. Are you blind? It is clear enough to me that he doesn't care a bit about you. He only keeps you by his side because you're useful to him. If you are trying to become his right hand man, you are not succeeding."
"Henderson, if the Deputation succeeds I will be a valued member of Stent's inner circle. He will care about me, he may even recommend me for a knighthood. We must do this. Besides," I argued, "if Stent doesn't value my contributions to our group, why does he bestow honors upon me and listen to me when I speak, then?"
"A knighthood? You are risking our hides for a potential knighthood? That will do you no good if you're dead! And Stent keeps you around for another reason. You're mad if you truly believe that he likes you. If your plan succeeds, he will no doubt claim the glory for himself and forget you. If it fails, he has someone else around to blame. But back to your idiotic plan to speak with the Martians. Did they look like they wanted to talk, or even cared about us at all? And not only that, you want to risk others' lives as well as your own! Go on, then, take your flag and go galumphing off to die, but leave us out of it! I have a wife and a five-year-old son in London, and what will happen to them if I am killed?" His voice had ascended almost to a scream. "You know what, Ogilvy? I think that you've had your head in the stars for so long that you have forgotten that you live on Earth!"
I sighed; I should have expected this. Henderson was unfortunately a very grounded individual. The only reasons that he had gone out of his time to work with the cylinder were his newspaper and his admiration for me. He was useful but of limited imagination. While I had lofty plans for the future and my eye turned to the stars he was trapped firmly on earth. I felt sorry for him in his sulk and set to persuade him out of it. "Henderson, need I remind you, we are friends. We have done every labour concerning the cylinder together. It was side by side that we saw it open and met the man from Mars. I need your help, and you need mine. We must work together, my man; this will be the greatest moment of all of our lives. The Martians' outer appearances are, I admit, repulsive, but we must not judge them as evil creatures for that reason alone. We must give them a chance."
"Look!" It was one of the two younger scientists, jabbing a finger to something in the night. There was a strange object that had risen up from the pit, a sort of round disc fastened to a long metal rod. "What is that?"
"It must be some sort of signal," I reasoned, holding the flag close to my side. "The Martians must want us to come and visit them. See, Henderson? We have nothing to worry about at all. Now, we shall decide in a democratic fashion who is to accompany Dr. Stent, Henderson, and I down into the pit. Say 'Aye' if you support the Deputation plan."
There was a chorus of 'Ayes', and Henderson's determined stand against me faltered. He surrendered his objection and aided me in bringing the two young scientists, both of whom seemed very excited to be selected as part of my group, to the site. Their names were Marshall and William, it appeared, both gentle young lads and practicing astronomers. They alone had not been alarmed by the Martians, but were as eager to speak with them as I now was. They were both very good friends. Marshall was the elder and more levelheaded of the pair while William, the younger one, had a sense of humour that reminded me of mine. I was very fond of them both despite having known them for such a short time. Both of them were eager to make my acquaintance, delighted to be aides of "the great Doctor Ogilvy", as they called me. I gave Stent a knowing glance, but he did not react. He never had a sense of humour as I did.
The five of us made our preparations. I went forward to explain our idea and intentions to the crowd, whose bravery had increased to an audacious degree. Some of the more daring individuals were going out to the rim of the pit to stare at the cylinder, while the few remaining children attempted to dare each other to touch it (fortunately nothing came of the latter). Henderson, Stent, Marshall, and William waited for me beside a dead tree, talking with each other, trying to relieve the tension that almost all of them felt. Henderson had introduced the seed of doubt.
After my announcement to the crowd I approached him personally, taking him by the shoulder and speaking to him, trying to sound friendly. "Henderson, my good man, you have been a great help to me in the past day or so. Your loyalty and courage are commendable."
"Well, I- I tried my very best, sir...all I could do."
"And I decided, after much thought, that your faith deserves something from me in return. I have decided to reward you for your assistance by granting you a place next to me in the Deputation when we go forth and make contact with the Martians. This honour will give you great fame when we return triumphant to Ottershaw."
"If we return alive, Ogilvy," Henderson muttered, half to himself and half to me.
"We will make it back, my dear Henderson. I promise you, and I do not make promises lightly, that we will make it back."
At the tree the two of us rejoined Stent, as well as the overjoyed Marshall and William, and together we decided on what was to be done. Henderson and I were to stand in the front, myself carrying the precious white flag while displaying it to the Martians in reply to their signal. Stent agreed to this, mentioning that I should be so honoured as a leader because I had discovered the cylinder and thus the creatures inside.
"And what about you, Dr. Stent?" asked William, standing next to me. "You are coming, aren't you?" Stent suddenly appeared to be very nervous, shuffling and mumbling in a way that was most unlike him. Marshall cuffed William in the side.
"Don't talk stupid, Will! Of course he's coming!" he whispered. "Stent's only the bloody Astronomer Royal!"
Stent swallowed before sighing heavily. The shadow in his eyes had vanished and was replaced by what seemed to be, if I hadn't known better, fear. "Yes. Yes. I suppose I ought to come. I will stand in the front with Dr. Ogilvy and Mr. Henderson."
The other scientists cheered and celebrated our imminent departure. "Here's to the health of the eminent Dr. Ogilvy and his aides in this plan, Dr. Stent and Mr. Henderson! May they return with the Martians as our allies!" Leeds shouted, nodding to me. "Good luck, Doctor," he added softly, his eye focused on me for a moment. "I think that you shall be needing it."
I acknowleged him with a sharp nod before setting out from behind the tree, the others by my side, Henderson nervously eyeing the rod and disc as if they would rear up and tear us apart. Marshall and William seemed optimistic, grinning widely. Stent, as was his wont, was attempting to seem cool and confident. His wild eyes betrayed the hot fear burning in them. Together the five of us approached the thing sitting in the sand, and I indeed bore myself as a representative of my species, waving the flag with pride. A few of the braver spectators followed us at some distance, wondering, watching. The air was silent. No one dared to speak. I shot Henderson a confident smile, and he only blinked in reply.
Suddenly there was a trio of green clouds of smoke from the pit, followed by an eerie series of high-pitched hissing sounds. We all wondered what this could mean, although none of us showed our fear. Henderson kept his famous courage, but it was obviously all he could do to keep from fleeing for his life. I caught his hand.
"Stay back," I whispered. 'It is probably only a signal."
A rush of heat washed over us, and I looked to the far end of our party to figure out its source. I very quickly wished that I had not done so. One of the young astronomers, Marshall, I think, had been caught alight, wreathed in fire and writhing hideously before falling and lying very still, flames greedily feeding on his body. Only moments later poor William, who had been so eager and quick with a joke, followed suit and soon lay dead, burning, on the ground. It only took moments for the remaining three members of the Deputation to make a link between the disc and the quick, gruesome deaths of William and Marshall, and at realization another man was struck down where he stood. Even Stent's exalted position as the Astronomer Royal did not save him from the silent Death. Unlike the two hapless young scientists he died knowing exactly what had killed him, and I swear by all that is holy in this universe that I saw unadulterated terror on his face as he succumbed.
No! I wanted to scream, to reassure the Martians that we meant no harm. We mean for peace! You don't understand! Please stop! This isn't how it is supposed to happen! See the flag? You have to understand what it means! You must! But I was so frightened that I did not speak, eyes wide and darting round.
I felt a rough hand grip mine, holding on so tightly that it hurt. Poor Henderson, so noble and loyal and faithful to me, had grabbed me, looking directly into my eyes. He did not speak, but he did not have to. His expression spoke for him. His face showed fear, pain, and most of all rage.
What have you done? They're killing us, Ogilvy! You promised that we would be all right, you betrayed us all, you led us out here to die! What have you done?
It was a mistake, I implored wordlessly back, tugging my hand free from his with some effort. Could have happened to anyone. At that moment Henderson, too, was set alight, falling to the ground lifeless, a mass of flame that had once been a man. The stench of burning flesh and viscera filled the air and made me nauseous.
I am the last man standing. I will die next, the laws of probability condemned me. The sure and silent flame will spring on me, too, and burn me to an unrecognizable corpse as it had my companions. I can not run; if I did, I would surely be caught and fall even as I made for freedom. I could not fight. Instead I shut my eyes tightly so that I will not witness my own funeral pyre and stand before the cylinder, waving my flag desperately even as I know that it would do no good, hoping that everything that had happened before had been an accident, that the Martians had misinterpreted our advance as an act of aggression. Inside my brain my thoughts whirl, memories awaken. Images appear while voices whisper.
I see a little boy, standing alone in the schoolyard, cleaning his spectacles with a bit of spare cloth. His eyes are sad, watching a group of older children play rowdy games and wishing that he were tall and rough and strong enough to join them.
Poor little boy, he has no friends! He looks up at the stars all night long to make the pain go away. Pity and gaze upon the poor child, dry his tears, go out into the dark with him!
The child is no longer alone. A dark-haired boy, a year or so older than he, approaches him and cleans his face of tears. The grateful young one makes him an offer and guides him into the woods, where the sky has gone dark, and the happy little boy, smiling, picks out stars in the sky for his new friend.
A few years later. The little boy is hurt, covering his face with a hankerchief, drying off blood. His friend watches, then approaches the injured child and kindly whispers a warning, a warning that I can hear myself and that I only now, far too late, completely understand.
When will you learn to stop trying to get along with people? I swear, Ogilvy, that habit of yours will be the death of you...
Back to the present. The boy is fully grown, eyes shut, waiting for his death alone in a deep pit. Four other men, all dead, lie close by, at varying angles, lit like funeral torches for him. The man that was once a boy stands still, waving a white flag frantically in a sweating hand. There is a flash, and darkness.
FIN
