1899- Journey to Mars

With the Argent finally stationary above the fray, Edgar Burroughs was beside himself. Heretofore he had not been able to leave his post. He had expected all of the Argent crew as well as Dejah Thoris and her Martian defenders to board the ship, at which point he would fly them to safety. When it dawned on him that the Princess had not boarded, he abruptly got up from the pilot chair and whirled to go below. At the last second he flipped the toggle and once again lowered the ramp.

“Now where the hell do you think you’re going, compadre?” Pat Garrett asked.

“To see if I can help the Princess. I’ll dive out of this thing if I have to.”

A six-shooter instantly appeared in Pat Garrett’s left hand and the barrel of it hovered inches away from Edgar’s face.

“No one abandons their post,” Pat said. “Not on my watch.”

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

Ekka came onto the bridge. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Why is the ramp lowering?”

“His doings,” Pat said, and jabbed the revolver at Edgar’s face in accusation.

“I must save the Princess,” Edgar said.

“John Carter is seeing to her,” Ekka said. “I think it’s possible that neither Carter nor Ian will be returning to Earth with us.”

“Who is that crying?” Pat asked. The sound of the sobs had filtered onto the bridge.

“It’s Bixie. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Edgar, do remember what I told you back in the canal? Your friends need you here...now.”

“But—”

“Pat, put that damned thing away. We don’t have time for this. Dakota says that the Golden Man is coming. Out of all this mess, we still have to find my husband and Avi.”

“Well shit,” Pat said, and the revolver in his hand wavered. It was then they noticed he wasn’t looking at either one of them, but instead out the front viewscreen.

“What is it?” Ekka asked.

“Speak of the devil, and here he comes.”

Ekka and Edgar leaned toward the front viewscreen as Pat’s revolver disappeared into its holster. There, less than a hundred yards away and skimming just over the heads of the coming morts was a flyer. On it, three heads focused in on the Argent: Avi, Billy and another that Ekka thought she dimly recognized.

“Quick!” Ekka shouted. “Open the upper hatch!”

[ 101 ]

As Avi put every once of effort into willing the flyer to rise in altitude so that they could land atop the Argent, he slowed the flyer down to a speed less than a man might comfortably run.

Beneath the Argent there was a great puff of steam as if from a hole in the Martian landscape and something terribly bright emerged.

“Shit fire,” Billy said. “It’s the Golden Man! This can’t be good at all.”

“It’s the worst thing possible,” Koothrappally said. “We have to get out of here. It will scorch everyone and everything around it into dust.”

The JPM and the Colt appeared in Billy’s hands, and he fired both of them at the Golden Man, striking him. The Golden Man stood there, and calmly regarded the maelstrom around him. The bullets appeared to have little effect on him.

Billy emptied both guns at the figure.

“It is no good, Billy,” Koothrappally said. “It is impervious to conventional weapons.”

“It must have a weakness,” Billy said.

“Please, shut up!” Avi said. “Concentrating here.”

Billy and Koothrappally saw they were going to crash into their own ship, and their thoughts and their voices fell into silence.