by: Rick Johnson 
PO Box 40451
Tucson, Az.
85717
RikJohnson@juno.com
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I was wandering around London wondering what I should do with my life. My current life that is. My old life was dead and gone, as dead as the ruins of Ancient Greece. Three years ago, subjective, I was a simple Irishman living in the Arizona Desert reading tales of Barsoom and Amtor and Pellucidar, dreaming of the adventures of John Carter, David Innes and Lord Greystoke. Wishing that I could do those things that I read in the books… and I did. For I had discovered the secret… Edgar Rice Burroughs was not just a writer with a strong imagination, he was exactly what his forwards said he was, a chronicler of other’s men’s adventures. Barsoom existed! Maybe not in our specific universe but in some parallel existence that could be traversed under the proper conditions of time, space and imagination. The Demons called them Stargates! Warpings in the fabric of existence that would take you to many places and times.
I found Opar quite by accident. While hiding from bullies in the library, I found the key to the location of Opar (or Ophir as it’s recorded in Egyptian and Jewish history) in a book by a German ologist who recounted the plans of a Nazi scientist to flood Africa and that gave me the key! And I found it. (Mental note: Never try to smuggle African Gold into America. US Customs has no sense of humor!) So I eventually discovered the key to wealth. Swiss Bank accounts! They asked no questions and gladly deposited my gold bars and then transferred a portion of my deposit to my Irish and American banks where I could access the money.
Then, after exploring Ophir and secretly the Valley of the Palace of Diamonds, I was relaxing, walking along a stream when a large reptile reared up and attacked me. I drew the 18” Einfield bayonet that I habitually carried in the desert and proceed to defend myself against this horror… and lost.
The creature was a Demon, a race that had abducted humans before and after convincing them that I was useful (the alternative was leaving the ship via airlock some millions of miles from Earth), I worked for and served the Demons for three years. I fought in the Kris Wars, explored worlds I never knew existed, loved an alien woman (she was of human descent so the parts matched) and was engineered by Demon medicine into what they called Weir, a race they were creating from humans like me to operate their starships.
Then it was over! The ship landed on Earth (England to be exact), I was thrown out and they left. No explanation, no goodbyes, just a landing and a boot through the airlock. So here I was, back on Earth but by a peculiar aspect of relativity, I had been returned to Earth 150 years or so after I left (no one here knew exactly what year it was). The world had almost been destroyed by wars, disease, ecological disruption and those who now lived were the descendents of the 1% of humanity that survived what happened shortly after I left. I guess I was lucky.
So here I am, wearing human skin to disguise what the Demons made me into (the stuff itches horribly and I feel like I am wearing mittens, sun-glasses, earplugs and weights) and trying to find a job and eat. Desiree, a Senator from Montmeet (what used to be California before half of it slid into the Pacific) had given me a letter of introduction to the British Government and so here I was, a former IRA terrorist about to beg the enemy for a job. Does this not this prove that the Gods have a perverse sense of humor? Fortunately, the war between Irish and Brit ended a century and a half ago and to these people, the IRA is but a footnote in history that not even the new Irish nation remembers. I guess we won our freedom after all.
London was smaller than in my time. Most of the city had been destroyed in the cataclysm that they called the Rapture. The Moslems called that day the Hammer of Allah, the Odinists called it Ragnarok, the Buddhists… well, my only experiences with this time was in Iraq as a Galley Slave, Arabia as a Pirate and Africa as a Mercenary, all as a teen age high-school drop-out. But with a total population of less than a million, the Brits had tried to learn their lessons and worked hard to make everyone happy and well fed.
I sighed and entered the building that housed Military Intelligence. I have no idea of what it used to be in my century but now it was a series of offices that sought to recover the knowledge of the past.
I walked down the hall looking at the window signs. Here was the department dedicated to trying to recover computer technology, there Jet aircraft, here nuclear power and so on. Life the first few decades after the Rapture was so hard that technology simply rotted away. Gasoline turned to shellac in the engines, wire insulation rotted in the machines, battery acid ate through the casings. By the time society had reached the point where they could shift from survival to the more pleasant aspects of life, something as simple as a pocket calculator had vanished from history. Even the books had been burned in an attempt to survive the long mini-ice age that followed.
Here it was, Military Intelligence. In my time we called that an oxymoron. But I entered anyway and told the receptionist that my name was Obrien and I had an appointment letter. She showed me into the office of Sir Harold Thimes. No security clearance, no armed guards, just this man in his office reading reports on hemp paper.
I waited there, a skill I learned living with Demons who lived their lives without regard to human custom, until he looked up and bade me sit. I did so after handing him my letter from Desiree and waited some more as he read the sealed message. Then he leaned back and said, “Miss Whitewater speaks well of you. She thinks that you would be an asset in whatever you do. I’m certain that our historians would love to talk to you as you have first hand experience with history so why here and not the university?”
“Sir,” I replied. “I’m tired of answering questions all day long. They ask the same things and don’t understand that I wasn’t old enough to know how things worked when I left. I never built a jet aircraft or read a computer manual or even understood how to make stainless steel. All my studies were in history and what fiction I read or TV I watched… and no, before you ask, I have no idea of how a TV works.”
He leaned back, looked at me and laughed. “Sometimes it is hard to understand that. I suppose that if I were taken to an isolated island in the ocean, could I rebuild civilization as it is now? Probably not. So what ARE your skills and how can you be of use to us?”
I thought for awhile than answered carefully, “I was a soldier with the Demons during the Kris Wars. Most of that was infantry as I never could understand Demon technology. But I do have some considerable experience in surviving on foreign worlds and dealing with alien sentients.” This was almost verbatim what Desiree had told me to say.
Sir Harold looked at my letter again, then at me then looked out his window for a moment. “Have you ever heard of the planet Barsoom?”
“I’ve heard of it. Back in the early 1970’s I met some people who claimed to have been there. And, of course, I’ve read the life and adventures of Captain John Carter as chronicled by Burroughs so I have some literary familiarity of the place, but I’ve never been there in person.”
“Would you like to go?” he asked without any emotion whatsoever.
This took me somewhat aback. In the 20th century, anyone seeking to work for any intelligence agency would face months of background security checks then years of minor jobs until they were trusted with something important and here was someone offering me a job on another world based on a two minute interview and a letter of recommendation. Life on Earth had definitely changed while I was away. So I relaxed and replied, “Sure, why not? What do you want me to do?”
He opened a file drawer and removed some photos and slid them to me. “Barsoom is an interesting world. We have had intermittent communication with them for some 200 years via Gridley wave but when the Earth was decimated, they were too busy fighting a war with Jupiter to help us recover. A few years ago, we managed to get enough information from the Martians to learn that there were a couple places on Earth where it was possible to transport from here the there and back again. Our scientists call them “wormholes” but don’t understand them. We think it is some form of astral projection. We know one is in America, your former Arizona in fact, but it’s in an area that is still highly radioactive and inhabited by preditor cockroaches and mutant trolls. The other is in France near the Verdunn region. John Carter transferred through the Arizona wormhole in the 19th century and Ulysses Paxton in the 20th century but then no one else crossed over, that we know of, until about ten years ago.
“At that time, the Verdunn wormhole opened and someone crossed here, naked and unarmed, the man collapsed and died of heart failure within hours of appearing. We believe that it was because his body had evolved to Martian gravity and couldn’t survive Earth’s greater forces. So it appears that any travel between Earth and Mars must be one-way.
“To make certain that the radio broadcasts were true, we eventually sent a team of three well-trained agents to spy out Mars and determine if the world was safe for human contact. For all we know, the Martians were using friendship to prepare for an invasion.
“Unfortunately, we quickly lost contact with our people and honestly, we don’t know if they died of natural causes or were captured or murdered by the Martians. I need someone to go through the Verdunn wormhole and find out. Ms Whitewater feels that your experiences with aliens may be useful here. Are you interested?”
Hmmm, obviously their ‘wormholes’ were the Demon Stargates of which there appeared to be many on Earth. The Demons didn’t like people to know about them as they considered humans to be too dangerous to be allowed to leave their planet. After all, the Kris war was mainly human abductees making war on the Demons and their human allies. The question was, did the Demons kill the British spies to keep humans isolated or were there other facets at work here? After three years on a Demon ship, I felt that I was safe from Demon attacks but the Barsoomians were another matter. On the other hand, I first met Brian only a few years before I was taken by the Demons and even then I wished that I had gone to Barsoom with him. “I’m your man” I stated.
And so, just like that, I was a spy for British Intelligence. My mother would disown me for this were she not insane and dead long ago. My training was very simple. I was taught to operate a Gridley Wave radio even though MI said that the Martian version was probably different. They told me everything that they knew about Barsoom which was less than I remembered from reading Burrough’s rewriting of the journals of Carter and Paxton. They tried to teach me martial arts, which I loved and picked up very quickly, both the unarmed and sword styles (I particularly liked Kendo though I was decent in Fencing but Chinese styles baffled me). And they tried to impress on me the absolute need to seek the truth about the Martian attitudes towards Earth. Even when I left, Earth hadn’t the technology to stop an alien invasion and this century, with 99% of the people still trying to just survive, any military force from Barsoom would face limited opposition. In short, the Brits were scared.
When the time came. They outfitted me with more gear than I could carry. I had crossed Africa as a teen-aged Merc with a rifle, scimitar and canteen so most of this junk was going into the moss as soon as I arrived. But the Brits were trying to think of every situation and plan for it. I hadn’t the heart to tell them that I had been kicked out of the cub scouts so never learned that saying about always be prepared.
The nights would be cold so they gave me thermals and heavy clothes and wool blankets (ignoring that I am allergic to wool). A compass in case there was a magnetic field to use. A sextant to find my way back to wherever I arrived. Food and Water. Medical supplies. An old assault rifle carefully restored from an old armory with 500 rounds of rebuilt ammunition. A rapier and saber (depending on what style would be best used) and other things that I liked or hated. Hat & sunglasses, yes! Box of gifts for the local king, no! Water purification tablets, yes! Animal butchering kit, no! Microscope, no! Binoculars, yes! And so on and so on. When I asked for a mule to carry all this gear, I was told that the wormhole was too small for that, it would barely allow me through and we needed to hurry in case it closed.
Closed!?! I could be trapped there? Well, it wasn’t like I’d be on a really bad planet. The fact that Paxton and Carter were able to survive meant that Barsoom was habitable. And I’d been on worse planets.
Finally it was done and we left for France. In my time the English and French were arguing over the possibility of a tunnel under the channel but the Rapture would have destroyed it had they built one and their aircraft technology wasn’t even up to WW-II standards so we took a boat. I spent the time watching the water, remembering my summers aboard my grandmother’s fishing fleet pulling Cod out of the North Atlantic. I hated fishing but loved the sea. Even as an Iraqi galley slave and Arab Pirate, I enjoyed the rocking of the Baghla, the Zarook, the Boom and so on. With the Demons I saw alien oceans, some were living beings but on Barsoom, the oceans had dried up long before humans walked the Earth.
We needed a wagon to carry our gear across France. I could see the damage caused by the First World War when French, British, American and German artillery had torn to ground up so badly that even now, two centuries later, the evidence of destruction remained. When we reached the wormhole/Stargate all my gear was packed into a back-pack and hip-pack and loaded onto my body. “This stuff weighs a bloody ton! I can’t carry it all!” I insisted.
“You only have to get through the wormhole. Once on the other side, it’ll be a third as heavy and easier to carry.” They responded.
Obviously, they had never been in zero-grav where a hundred pounds of weight still takes the same effort to move even if it is technically weightless. A big rock may have no weight but when it hits you at 50 mph, it will still crush you like a bug. So regardless of it being only 30# on Barsoom, it will still have 100# of inertia to overcome every time I set it down and tried to pick it up. Now I was convinced that I’d strip the pack on the other side. I’d even bury the radio and return for it later when I learned about my predecessors.
They had three big men help me carry the pack to the wormhole, then as I stood there trying to stand up, someone simply gave me a push from behind and I fell onto my face with all that weight crushing me as I hit the ground and my pack tried to pass through my body to the sweet embrace of gravity.
I don’t know how long I was unconscious but I woke up having flashbacks. The last time I was unconscious the Demons grafted a tail to my arse! They said it would help me get around in zero-gravity. The time before that, they turned my little fingers into extra thumbs and the time before that my big toe into a tarsial thumb. You never knew what those lizard-things would do next so I took to falling asleep with furniture piled up against my room door.
I do recall that as I awoke I was cold and wet and when I moved, things crawled off me so I jumped up in panic and slammed my head against a branch twenty feet overhead.
I awoke again when it was dark, rolled over and immediately upchucked. My eyes wouldn’t focus and even in my confused state I understood that I had given myself a concussion. So I dragged myself to a nearby tree, leaned against it and passed out again.
This time when I awoke I could see the sun shining through the leaves(?) of the tree. How long I lay there I couldn’t say. But I did feel better save for a desperate need for water. I looked around and saw that I was naked. Even the fake skin I wore to conceal what the Demons had done to me was gone but I couldn’t tell if I had been stripped while unconscious or if my gear, weapons and skin had simply not transferred across the Stargate. Some are like that. Some Stargates are one-way, some two-way. Some allow only living matter and some only inanimate matter to cross. You never know until you actually step through. At least nothing had eaten me while I was incapacitated which was a big plus.
On the other hand, Earth biology was left-hand molecules and if Barsoom used right-hand molecules, I would be inedible and possibly poisonous to the locals. Of course, if that were true, then the local proteins would be inedible and poisonous to me too. But water was water and left-hand water was identical to right-hand water so I could get a drink at least. Hopefully my alien biology would be ignored by the local bacteria and parasites too.
I stood up carefully and noted that although I felt lighter, I wasn’t as light as I should be so my engineered Weir anatomy had probably adjusted my body to the lower gravity. No jumping around like a rubber ball to impress the Tharken Hoards though I did feel lighter and stronger than on Earth.
I approached the water carefully and looked around for preditors just in case and seeing none, knelt to the water. It was clear, mostly, and there were small things that I took to be fish so that meant that I’d be eating whatever was lower than they on the food chain but I was so thirsty, I didn’t care and cupping my hands to catch some of the water, sipped the liquid slowly to allow my stomach acid to, hopefully, kill whatever I was ingesting.
Once I had slaked my thirst, I looked around to see where I was and decided that I was in a swamp of sorts. Ok, if this were really Barsoom, I was probably in the Toonolian Swamp near where Paxton arrived. Interesting that he had arrived naked too so this was probably an animate-only Stargate. Of course he left Earth legless from an artillery shell and arrived intact. Could this be the well-known situation where if you suffer damage, your aura retains the pattern of your healthy self? Then the Stargate feeds you adequate energy for your aura to reconstruct you as your aura believes you to be? It would explain why Carter and Paxton arrived healthy and intact but with old scars intact. Any old injury would eventually force the aura to accept that scar as normal and so the transition would not affect that. But Paxton’s injury that cost him his legs happened moments before he transited so his aura wouldn’t have had time to adjust.
Then that means that my aura had already adjusted to what the Demons did to me so accepted this body as normal. Sometimes I think too much.
I decided to climb the tree(?) and look around which was a simple thing as the changes the Demons made to me to allow me to work in space operated as well in an arboreal environment. There really isn’t much difference between climbing around the struts of a starship and the branches of a tree. Though I did miss the beamer and shield I had hidden in my bracelet when I returned to Earth.
At the top I could see mostly vegetation, reds and greens and even blue. The sky in the ‘west’ had a pink tinge but the ‘east’ was blue so I assumed that the pink color was due to dust as are the Arizona sunsets that are famous for their reds and pinks. I did see a structure towards the direction I believed to be west and it wasn’t too far away so I climbed down and started off, my tail swinging in time to my genitals which were hanging, unsupported. This was going to be embarrassing. I was prudish enough when still human but my Weir adaptions made me doubly embarrassed. I hated to look at myself in a mirror seeing a face that I recognized but with pointed ears, cat-eyes and antennae staring back.
Whenever I approached a water hazard, I climbed a tree and used the branches to pass overhead. Traditionally, stepping into water was more dangerous than climbing a tree. At least I could see what was about to bite me up here. And the birds(?) were beautiful. They had four wings and arms and legs and were of every color you can imagine. Small creatures with eight legs were on the branches and ground and everything seemed to be interested in eating everything else. I saw something that looked like a cross between a centipede and a salamander crawl past on dozens of legs but it was smaller than I was and ignored me.
And on another occasion something like a snake but with ten legs leapt from the water after me and I barely managed to avoid it’s lunge. I leapt into a tree and climbed up but the thing followed until I could go no further then as it reached out to me, I kicked it as hard as I could, heard bones crunch and the thing fell down thrashing as it did so. Now, I decided, was the time to make weapons. The problem was I had no tools to cut wood and the swamp offered no rocks of any sort. I tried to make a rope from the grass but it wouldn’t weave as Earthly grass does.
I was thus occupied when something hit me from behind and before I could react, a mouthful of teeth surrounded my head as a heavy weight held me down. I started to react and push up when a growl made me freeze. I’d heard junk-yard dogs in Arizona make that sound and it meant “move and I’ll bite your head off” so I was very careful to not move.
The thing’s breath was horrible. Hot, humid and I could see three rows of teeth holding my head in place. Then a moment later I heard a man say something and the thing let me go. I slowly looked up and saw three men on what could pass for an eight-legged horse assuming that horses were green with sharp teeth. Each had a rifle pointed at me and the beast that had jumped me was watching nearby. It had ten legs so I knew that I was on Barsoom and my attacker was a calot and the Red Men were riding thoats. I also knew that the rifles they carried had a range in miles and shot explosive rounds so I was very careful to not make any moves that they would misinterpret.
I tried to smile, showing no teeth for Demons had two smiles, toothless which was friendly and toothed (similar to human smiles) that meant that they were about to eat your face. I also held my arms over my genitals until a barked order made me reconsider and hold them up.
One of the men dismounted and approached to looked me over. I considered jumping him and using him as a shield but he never came close enough so I had to wait. Finally one tossed some manacles to my observer who snapped something at me and so I held my hands out for him to cuff. I wasn’t happy about the situation but the three were professionals and I knew that they were waiting for me to do something stupid so they could shoot me down. Dead, I was less of a problem than alive so I cooperated. So long as I was alive and intact, I could eventually escape.
He looked my tail over and the three talked for a moment and I was afraid that they’d solve the delima by amputation but they eventually decided that I was more valuable intact and so tossed me a collar attached to a chain and indicated that I’d better wear the damn thing. I was tempted to take my chances because the last time I was collared I was a galley slave, starved, beaten and gang-raped by the Iraqis who captured me in Africa but as I tensed, three rifles pointed exactly at my chest so I had to give in. I collared myself and recalled that I had escaped from Baghdad by making a set of nunchucks that they thought were a musical instrument. If necessary, I’d escape her the same way, by killing anyone between me and freedom.
So with one holding my chain in the lead and the other two following, we set off to wherever they wished. The route was meandering to avoid as much water as possible and I soon noticed that unlike every other slaver I had met, these were not intentionally cruel. When I stumbled, the one holding my chain would stop and wait for me to stand and then continue on. So I decided to try an experiment. I called out that I was thirsty and motioned drinking. One of my guards then rode up, not too close and tossed a water bag to my feet. They then waited until I had drunk my fill and slung the bag over my shoulder, then we continued on. Burroughs stressed that honor was common among the Red Men and so I was fortunate that he was truthful.
Along the way I began to learn their language. Now I am not a linguist. I spoke Gaelic and English because of my parents and I learned Japanese from when I lived there as a child but my school studies of German, French and Spanish always ended in barely passing grades. I learned Farsi as a galley slave only because I was flogged at the mast if I didn’t (my back still carries those stripes) and Arabic because Pirates had their own way to ensure rapid learning but it took me three years to learn enough Demon to get along. Of course, the Demon language has 37 different ‘S’ sounds and my tongue couldn’t handle a tenth of these. If Chrysiese hadn’t been there as the ships telepath, they probably would have slit my tongue to get me speaking their language. So I settled down to a long period of incomprehension as I asked words, asked the same again and again until I could understand one word in a thousand. Some words I knew from my readings: Jed, Jeddak, calot, thoat a few others but I hadn’t really read the works of Burroughs since I first left Earth some years ago and my memory was foggy on the specifics of the journals.
Eventually we reached a small walled city in the swamps and upon approaching, I was examined by the gate guards who had me taken to a small room and cleaned off. I was scrubbed by naked male slaves until the grime and mud and filth of the swamp was gone then my hair was washed and combed and clean, but still naked I was taken along a main street to a large building that I took to be the palace.
All along the way I was the subject of appraisal for I gather that they had never seen a white man with a tail before. But although many questions were asked of my captors, no harm was done nor any indignity committed.
Finally we reached the palace and after questioning by these gate guards, we entered and waited in a large room until another man entered, spoke to my captors and we entered the main room where a richly costumed man sat on a throne and bade us approach. We came to within a few dozen feet and stopped at which time my captors bowed to the man on the throne who I took to be their king or Jed so I followed their example. Politeness was expected and refusal would just get me a beating so why not render unto Caesar what is Caesars?
When the Jed spoke, my captors spoke at length describing, I would imagine, my capture then the Jed turned to me and asked me questions I could not understand. So I replied in English that I was lost in his country and asked for his assistance in finding my companions. When he clearly didn’t understand my words, I repeated it in Gaelic, then Japanese, then Demon which amazed the court. I recalled that there was only one spoken language on Barsoom so the fact that I was ignorant of their speech proved that I was not one of them. The Jed gave an order and I was taken to a room where my chains, but not my collar, were removed and a harness, sans weapons, was given to me so I spent some time adjusting the meager leather to accommodate my tail and add additional covering to my genital region. As I was thus occupied, a naked female slave entered with a tray of meats and vegetables and set it before me. She was quite the most beautiful woman I had seen after Desiree who had been a professional model. However, I also saw that she had little pubic hair and her breasts were very small which implied to me that she was still a child, possibly born to slavery.
She ignored my nudity and my efforts to hold some silk from the bed over my crotch and she then held each object, said a word a couple of times then looked at me. Obviously I was being given language lessons so I motioned writing and pointed to her then motioned writing again asking in English and Gaelic for a pen and book. She quickly understood and ran from the chamber to return a few minutes later with a pen and blank book. By then I had dressed to the best of my ability and was feeling far more secure in myself with the dangly bits no longer dangling. It is interesting what effect clothing makes in a man.
Now as she said a word, I listened carefully, repeated it often until she was satisfied with my pronounciation then I wrote the word, it’s meaning and a little explanation in my journal. Thus did I spend my first conscious evening on Barsoom. It was clear that I was a prisoner but not completely a slave for although I wore a collar, I also wore clothing but little different from the men I had seen.
When the sun set, and the sunset was even more beautiful than the ones I had seen on Earth, it turned dark almost instantly. One moment the sun was partially above the horizon and I could see, the next it was set and dark almost as if someone had turned a light out. Within minutes, I was also freezing and I wrapped the furs from my bed around me.
The girl followed with other furs and together we watched the lights go on in the city. Looking around I was confident that I could climb the outside of the walls for even before being taken and changed by the Demons, I had some skill at climbing cliffs without ropes or pitons. However, I wasn’t being mistreated and without an understanding of the language, escape, although possible, was inadvisable.
The girl turned the lights on inside my small room and continued with our lessons until it occurred to me that I had no idea of her name. So I touched myself and said, “Jason Obrien!” then I pointed to her and asked her name. She couldn’t understand my words but she did the meaning and replied, “Florina.” So the girl’s name was Florina which was a remarkably Earthlike name for an alien. And so we continued with our lessons until I grew tired and yawning, pointed to the bed. She turned redder than before and dropped her eyes but did nothing else so finally, I opened the door and shoo’d her out so I could get some sleep.
All night I tossed and turned because under the furs I was sweating but without them I was freezing and by the time I was able to find a decent combination that kept me warm and comfortable, it was almost dawn.
I was woken up by someone pulling at me so I got out of bed and Florina screamed and ran off. I had forgotten that I was naked (I usually sleep in pajamas) and my usual morning erection was obvious. I also had to pee badly. I looked around my chamber for a toilet or pot but couldn’t find anything that would work and I had used chamber pots in Arabia, bushes in Africa and something aboard Demon ships you don’t want to know about.
A moment later an armed guard entered obviously agitated so I pantomined peeing but he just looked at me in horror. Damn! I knew how to say ‘drapes’ and ‘window’ and ‘I’m hungry’ but we never covered bodily excretions and neither did Carter in his journals. Finally I took a cup and started to pee in it which caused the guard to break out laughing. He stopped me and took me down the hall to a room that had a bench around the wall with holes at regular spaces and no privacy. There were two men sitting there with their harness aside so I adjusted mine, moved my tail aside (the Demons gave me a universal joint where the first caudal vertebrae meets the lumbar spine) and sat to do my business. Aboard a dhow the head is located amidships next to the galley so if the wind changed, you sprayed the cook and dinner. But everyone there knew what you were like so I was willing to let these Red men watch me pee and shit. It’s not like I had a choice.
The watched me carefully, more out of curiosity than anything else and I saw my guard look behind to see how I kept my tail clear. Finally I was done and looked around until one of them handed me some papers that were very soft and cleaned me much better than any Earthly toilet paper. The other men stared and laughed when they realized that I didn’t understand their words but sometimes it’s better to be thought of as an idiot than a danger so I laughed back.
When my guard returned me to my room, he carefully explained to my slave-teacher what I meant and then he, himself taught me the words for toilet and urinate. Then he left me in her hands and my lessons continued. There was one difference though in that she refused to look at me the entire morning.
And so I passed my first few days on Barsoom. I was locked in a room with a view and taught the language by a young slave who got embarassed at anything I did. Now I admit I am a prude. I lost my virginity at 16 to a bunch of Iraqi sailors who tied me up first. Most of whom suffered unfortunate bouts of bad luck such as falling overboard with an anchor line wrapped around their legs or being crushed as we ware’d the boom or such. My first experience with a woman was an alien girl to whom I was simply something to do at night. And my only other experience was Desiree who was easily twice my age and with whom I fell in love. So now I was on another alien planet and still a horny young man of maybe 24 or 25 (it’s hard to tell time on a Demon ship) whose only opportunity was a girl far too young to touch. In short, I was miserable.
A few days later a guard arrived and he and Florina taught me a short speech and made certain that I was fluent in it along with gestures that made no sense to me. When they were certain that I could speak clearly and easily, they took me back to the throne room where we were presented to the Jed and I gave my speech. The Jed approached, accompanied by his guards with hands on weapons until he was within inches of me. He spoke to me but all I cold do was to point to objects and say their names. He then retorted angrily as if to say, “I know that is a window and those are drapes and this is a floor but what I don’t know is what you are!”
Then he calmed down and examined me in detail. He touched my ears to see if the points were real, stared at my eye slits which were partially closed in the brightness then tried to touch my antennae which retraced before he could feel them. Frankly I was glad the Demons had given me that reflex as my antennae were designed to pick up EM fields and were more sensitive than my eyes.
He then held his hand and compared it to mine, noting that instead of a little finger I had a second thumb. I noted that his hand looked completely human save no hairs and the palm lines were different. I wondered if he had finger prints. He then handed me a cylinder and noted how both my thumbs curled around it opposite from my three fingers.
He then looked at my feet and took me to a pole and bade me climb it. Halfway up he made me stop and examined my feet with their tarsial thumbs around the pole and saw how I used my tail to assist though in reality my tail was designed as a third hand and so wasn’t strong enough to support my weight.
He then handed me a long sword and had me face off against a guard so I went into a fencing stance and immediately was disarmed by the guard whose skill was beyond mine.
At that time he spoke to my guards and to Florina who never looked up from her crouch on the floor then dismissed us.
Now in addition to my language lessons I was given fencing lessons which I enjoyed greatly. I’ve always had skills at martial arts and enjoyed this part very much and I like to think I was an apt student. Regardless, because of the intensity of my lessons and the simplicity of the Barsoomian language, within a week or so I could communicate with the Red Men to an extent.
“Where am I?” I asked Florina. “And what is my status here?”
“Are you from the nearer moon as some think?” replied Florina. “That you are so different from us, speak not our language and do not recognize Ardane, second city of Toonol? As for your status, Gan Kanar, Jed, has decreed that you be kept here until he decides your fate. It is only the fear that you come from Thuria that keeps you alive. More I cannot tell you.”
She refused to say anything else and having been a slave before, I understood her fears of being beaten for disobeying orders so didn’t push the situation but practiced the language as much as I could. I asked questions about Barsoom which she answered in general terms but that was mostly listening so she asked me questions and corrected me every sentence so even simple conversations took forever. But finally she brought a guard in who talked to me and decreed that I was ready to talk to the Jed.
The next day I was washed, given clean harness and sandals that had been adjusted to my unique anatomy and I was brought in before the king of the city. I bowed, knelt and made the same speech as before only this time I understood what I was saying, “Hail,Gan Kanar, Jed of Ardane, Lord of the Northern Toonoolian Marshes, Protector of the Empire, Master of the air and Lord of all he sees.” Well, it was nothing when compared to an Arab Sultan whose introduction took days to recite.
“Rise. Can you understand me now?” the Jed asked.
I readily responded, “Yes I can, O noble Jed! Thanks to thy wisdom in selecting for your humble servant teachers of such skill, I am now able to speak and respond to your inquiries.” One thing I learned as a galley slave is manners. Being overly flattering rarely got you flogged at the mast.
He stepped down to approach but was accompanied by his guards who were alert as always. Although I was certain that I was stronger and faster than they, I was also unarmed and lacking the technology I had taken from the Demons, I really doubted that I could fight my way through them all.
“My questions are simple: Who are you? Where are you from? And Why are you here?” Then he stood waiting.
“Noble Jed,” I started. My name is Jason Obrien, Lord Innis, and I am from Ireland, a nation upon the face of Jasoom, the nearer planet. I am here seeking others from Jasoom who may have visited your nation last year. Other than that, I have no designs at all other than to learn what I can of your race and encourage relations between our two worlds.”
“You Lie!” screamed the Jed. “No Jasoomian looks like you! You are a spy from another world seeking our destruction. Tell me the truth before I have you killed on the spot.” And immediately I was surrounded by steel.
I took a deep breath, centered my self and began, “My Lord, Once, but a few years ago I was as are all Jasoomians. But I was taken by a race who travelled the stars. They wanted to see if Jasoomians could be useful to them in peace for they had discovered our abilities in war. So they .. changed me into what you see here. They changed my eyes to see better, my ears to hear better, my hands to grasp better and my feet to hold onto their ships. They then gave me a tail that I could have another limb to assist in repairs to their ships. Sometimes I think that they saw in me a potential servant, and other times I think they simply played upon me a joke I couldn’t understand. I do wish that they had listened to me and made the changes I asked over the ones they wanted for they did make mistakes.
“Then after three years fighting their wars, serving on their ships, they released me back upon Jasoom with no word or explanation. So I sought employment for my nation was no longer as I remembered it and my title was useless there. My ancestral enemy against whom I had fought for years to free my people offered me a position to seek out others that had come to Barsoom and here I am.”
“You came here naked and unarmed?” he sat upon his throne and his guards stepped back but kept their swords at the ready. “That seems very stupid for a spy and diplomat.”
“Noble Jed,” I explained, “I was given clothing and weapons and tools for the journey but they became lost or destroyed in the process and so, like John Carter and Ulysses Paxton before me, I arrived naked. I was seeking your city when I was found by your noble warriors.”
“Turn around,” he commanded then commented, “Your back bears the marks of an overly-harsh slave-master. How do you explain this, Oh Jed of Innis?” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on me.
“My Lord, My ancestor was the Great Brian Boru, Ard Ri or Jeddak of Erie but then so is he ancestor to half my nation for Obrien means ‘son of Brian Boru’ and millions have that name. By the time my family was born, all that we possessed was a ruined castle, some land, a lowly title of nobility and a very large tax bill. So I sought wealth in another nation and was captured by slavers who decorated my back as you see until I was able to escape and recover my families wealth. Our titles, however, were now honorary for Eire no longer has Royalty or Nobility and they allow us our title as they do our clothes, but give no honor to either. Thus I am Noble in name only. And without peasants to support us with their taxes and tithes, I must seek employment where I can. Even if it is with former enemies against whom I once fought but with whom we are now at peace.”
I hoped that they would respect the title and accept that I was not dangerous. Both would be to my advantage.
As he thought about this, one of his warriors, whose harness was encrusted with gold and silver, commented, “Sometimes when the airships are tossed about, I wish I had a tail and hands at the end of my legs.” To which others laughed. I began to notice that there were designs to their harness that seemed to match their swords. All carried the same basic weapons, Long Sword, short sword, revolver and so on but the man who had recently spoken carried a revolver with a longer barrel than others and his long sword was smaller than the others and more curved. The guards, however, had longer swords that were slightly curved or straight with ornate knuckle guards and their revolvers had shorter barrels. In my days as a pirate in the Indian Ocean and Red Sea, we carried long barreled handguns to shoot across the water to another ship and shorter scimitars that could be used easily on a crowded deck so this man must be an admiral of the navy. The infantry would then use longer swords and shorter handguns for there was more room in the field. The man with a deeper curved and longer sword must be cavalry to allow for a running slash as their thoats passed at high speeds.
My observations were interrupted by the king saying, “I seems that you are an impoverished noble turned panthan. Are you willing to take service with me?”
Well, that was an interesting turn of events. “My Lord, I would be honored to serve such an illustrous Jed as yourself, but I must first finish my mission and locate those who preceeded me and to report to my employers on the possibility of peace between the two nations.” I deliberately didn’t say ‘our’ nations for although it appeared that Ireland and England had been at peace for 150 years and Ulster was now free, I had been raised to hate the British and old habits die hard.
The king thought for a moment, listened to his advisors then spoke again. “I praise your loyalty to your nation though you obviously dislike your task and so will assist you that we may learn about each other. Remove his collar, give him arms and seek the answers to his questions. Perhaps when he has finished his task, he will consider service with a nation that has never warred upon his own people.” And with that I was dismissed.
I was taken to the armory where my collar was removed and I was offered a choice of swords and such, but no revolvers. Aparantly they didn’t trust me that much. So I tested a few swords and chose a curved blade with a longer handle with which I could try kendo techniques. For a short sword I chose one with an 18” straight blade and the others I took whatever I saw for I had no opinions there. My harness was still plain with no embellishments but that was acceptable to me. Then when I returned to my room, alone this time, Florina was there to congradulate me, though now she prostrated herself before me.
“I apologize, my Lord,” she began, “for rejecting your advances and for my familiarity to your noble personage. Please forgive this lowly slave.” I could see she was scared and I could see that were I such as some Arab and European nobles I knew, she would expect a good beating and rape if she were lucky. However, despite the title I so freely tossed around here, I was raised as a commoner and worked side by side with farmers and fishermen so had none of that false ego that is the hallmark of those born and raised to position.
I tried to soothe her fears. I was only 16 when I was a galley slave and I still remembered the starvation, hard work, beatings and rapes that accompanied that situation and I wasn’t going to see this young girl who I guessed to be about 15 suffer the same. So I knelt to her, raised her chin so I could look into her eyes and said, “I know I look strange and my customs are as strange as my appearance, but please know this, by my life’s blood I shall never harm you and shall do everything in my power to protect you.” And then I took my dagger and made a cut across the palm of my hand to seal the vow. My ancestors sealed their vows by swearing on their genitals but I suspected that this action would be taken wrong so I settled for a more modern version.
Regardless, she understood and smiled and thanked me. “Thank you for this courtesy to a lowly slave. I was given to you to serve you in any way you need or desire. Command and I will obey, before from need, now by desire.”
First things first. I wasn’t a virgin, being forced by the slavers then willingly to Chrysiese and Desiree but I was a prude and needed to cover her up a bit. She reminded me too much of Chrysiese who was an adult with the body of a child, so much had her Fairy race adapted to the S’tyr world over the last thousand years. But Desiree who was more than twice my age had taught me about women and I found that I preferred my women to be adult, built like a woman and willing. “Florina, is there a way for you to clothe yourself? Among my people nudity isn’t common and I’d prefer you to cover up a bit?”
“Some slaves are allowed a simple harness and if my master orders, I can find some to wear for him.”
“It’s not an order, just a request,” I said. “Please go and find this harness while I figure out what to do next.
Over the last few years, I had been on a dozen worlds and every time I found a race that looked human, I discovered that they were human. Most had been taken by the Demons and planted here and there and then allowed to change as they adapted to their new worlds but any race that wasn’t derived from Earth, didn’t look anything humanoid at all. Even the aliens on the old Star Trek TV shows must have all been derived from human ancestry so I would imagine that these Barsoomians were the same. After all, they could easily pass for human and John Carter proved that they were, despite their egg-laying system of reproduction, interfertile with humans so they MUST be human derived. I vaguely remembered that they believed that they were evolved from a tree that lived some millions of years ago but then, there were people on Earth who believed that women were cloned from a man’s rib so people had strange beliefs. The Green Men would be the original inhabitants of this world with the humans being planted later. I’d have to talk to their scientists to find out more.
From then on I practiced my sword skills in ernest. There is something noble about three feet of steel in your hand, the jar when it strikes bone, the shine of the steel that made me fall in love with the thing. When I fought in the Kris Wars and in Belfast, we rarely saw our enemy, killing them at a distance so this facing the man who intends to kill you was a new experience. But despite my adapting to the Barsoomian gravity (how long would I take to re-adapt to Earth’s gravity?) I was still far stronger than my opponant and could beat their blades aside with sheer strength alone. Also I began to notice that sometimes I could receive a flash of emotion or intention or sometimes even a picture. The Barsoomians were partially telepathic so I must be benefiting from this.
Then, as an excuse to expand my language skills, I would take Florina around the city and ask questions about everything. Now that I as a free man, she readily answered all that I asked but insisted on walking a couple steps behind me so I often had to turn to speak to her.
The city was interesting. Demons have no cities at all despite their technology and I was never able to figure out how they managed that but the Mon, descended from English just after the Norman invasion, did and many of these had buildings that rose a mile high. Ardane had buildings never more than a half-dozen stories but this was because of the swamp which provided no bedrock to support anything heavier. The city was also like Venice in that there were many canals, as many as streets and boats were as common as fliers or ground cars. I was told that there were screens at the walls to prevent dangerous animals or people from entering but there were many fish in the city canals.
Once I borrowed a canoe of sorts, though this was made of some metal that was white and very light and thin, and I insisted on paddling as in Ireland I had paddled curroughs and in Arizona my father insisted on me learning to row though he had forgotten to teach me how to swim. This made Florina nervous as she wanted to paddle but I insisted and neither of us was comfortable though I loved the sights from below.
Finally after a couple weeks Florina commented that I looked sick and took me to a doctor. I hadn’t paid much attention as I was hot during the day, cold at night and none of the food tasted right so I attributed my weight loss to my body loosing bone-calcium and muscle-mass in the lighter gravity.
The doctor looked me over, examined every part of me, took samples of blood, saliva, lymph fluid and even urine then bade me return in a day or so. Doctors made me nervous. I could never be certain that one would decide to graft wings on my back or dermal plates to my skin or vivisect me to see what I looked like inside.
When we returned he reported that my liver as inflamed due to poisoning and I was suffering a nutritional deficincey. Apparantly I wasn’t doing well with the local foods and he gave me a strict diet that was little more than plant milk and potatoes with a lot of vitamin pills. Then he shoved a needle into my liver to drain the poisons off which hurt a lot. Unfortunatly, since Florina was present at all times, I couldn’t show pain and gritted my teeth and suffered.
In Arabia and Africa I had dysentary which helped me loose that extra hundred pounds I carried and could never loose in our sugar-infested society though my arse was raw daily. Here I was the opposite, constipated and malnurished. This is why human colonists always terra-formed their worlds.
One night I was sitting on my balcony looking at the city, wrapped in my furs when Florina approached and crawled in next to me. I could feel her body heat and as she wrapped my arm around her shoulder my hand rested on her bare breast which made me very nervous. I tried to move but she held it firm so I thought of everything I could to avoid the inevitable reaction to the situation.
“Where did you come from, child? Were you born to slavery?” I asked.
“No, My Lord,” she responded for since learning of my lineage she ceased to call me ‘master’ and used the more honorable title. “I was captured by a raiding party twenty years ago when my husband and I sought to travel from my native Amhor to Jahar. He was killed defending me and I was sold to the palace and have been here since.”
I was shocked! This girl who looked 16 was married and then a slave for 20 years? I knew Barsoomians matured late but…. “How old are you Florina?” I asked dreading the answer.
“One hundred and thirty years.”
I forgot about her breast under my hand and tried to do some calculations…
1.89 Earth years = 1 Martian year so 20 years of slavery equals …37.8 years. She’d been a slave for longer than I’ve been alive. Then 130 Martian years times 1.89 equals…. 245.7 Earth years. She was hatched about halfway between the Salem Witch trials and the American Revolution or just before the Irish famine of 1739. She was definitely NOT a teen-aged girl. Of course the Barsoomians, being egg layers wouldn’t need breasts so what they had would be sexual attractions and not for nursing. And the Barsoomians, being relatively hairless, wouldn’t have much pubic hair in their women. This changed things. At least Chrysiese had really thick pubic hair despite her very small breasts and horse-tail.
“What of you, My Lord? I know of your being taken by another race and changed from Jasoomian to what you are now but what of your life?”
“I was born in Ireland about… 80 years ago. My country was owned by another and I fought to free it but lost. So I searched for treasure to rebuild my family fortune and succeeded there but was taken into slavery until I escaped by killing anyone who stood between me and freedom. Then I became a pirate because the alternative was death and when I killed my captain over a girl, I became a panthan in Africa until I could return home. Shortly after that, I was captured by the Demons who did this to me and I’m still getting used to what changes they made. It seemed like every time I fell asleep, I awoke with another change to my body. Then I was returned to Jasoom and had to find a way to survive and my former enemies offered me a chance to come here and seek others of their race who they sent to Barsoom to establish contact. Unfortunately, the first team was lost and I was sent to find them. When I do, I report back so they can try to make friends again with your people.”
“And, My Lord,” she continued, “What of your own life? Have you a princess at home?”
Princess? That means lover, wife, betrothed? “Florina, I am about 13 of your years old. I’ve never had a chance to settle down but I’ve had two lovers in my life, one left me and the other is still a friend but no longer a lover. I don’t think I am ready to marry for my people, the Irish men, marry late in life. And I won’t marry until I have lands and wealth to support a family.”
“Thirteen?” she laughed but held my hand closer, “We are not fully adults until we are forty. To me you are still a child. I must keep that in mind.”
I laughed at the thought, “And among my people I am an adult but will die of old age around 40 to 50 of your years and you look like one of our children. It’s very hard for me to think of you as an adult who is a widow and three times as old as our oldest possible person.”
“Forgive me for being forward but you are kinder than any Barsoomian I know.” She said. “We are a chivalrous race and protect our women but as a slave I have been shown not much kindness. I am sorry for being frightened by you in the early days. It was your right to use me and when you sent me away, I was glad. Then the next morning when I saw how you were, I was afraid that you’d take me and instead of submitting as I should have, I ran. Now I know that you would never force me or demand from me anything that I chose to not give.”
Drat! For a moment I thought I would get lucky. Now she has to talk about protection and honor. Again I tried to move my hand and again she pressed it closer. “My Lord?” she asked and as I looked down to her she kissed me then snuggled closer under my arm. I never dated either in Ireland or America, being too fat and busy in school, then when I could, I was abducted and the only women I had been intimate with both chased me. I had no idea of what to do here. Was I supposed to kiss her back or treat her like a sister or what. Once again I wished that my father had been around to give me the birds-and-bees talk. So I just sat there, holding her and thinking. I liked her but didn’t love her and didn’t Barsoomian women prize their honor and chastity? Didn’t calling a woman ‘princess’ equal a proposal? If I tried for sex, would that imply rape or marriage? The S’tyr are very casual about sex and I was just something for Chrysiese to do at night. Desiree was passionate and was with me because she liked me and in both cases, they made the moves onto me.
Eventually I yawned and Florina stood up and said, “My Lord, you are tired, you should get some sleep.” And she stood there in a harness that hid her pubic region but revealed her breasts. She looked like a woman now, maybe it was the harness hiding her childish pubic area, maybe it was knowing how old she really was but now she looked different. As small as they were, I found her breasts inviting and wished I could touch them again but dared not. So I bade her good night and waited for her to leave. Then I undressed and crawled under my furs where I spent a restless night.
The next day I was called before the king again who said, “I have sent patrols into the swamp to search for your lost people. I am told that Vad Varo (the Barsoomian name for Ulysses Paxton) appeared in Ras Thavis’ tower and as you appeared only a few haads away, we focused our search in that area. Here is what we found!”
He pointed to a nearby table that held two human skulls or what I took to be human but could have been Barsoomian for all I knew.
“These are not the skulls of a Red Man and they are very similar to yours so we believe that here are two of your three Jasoomians. They appear to have been killed by slilians. I don’t know about the third but naked and unarmed as you were and suffering from our food as you do, I believe that the last is dead. Unless he was captured by someone who cared enough to save them, and be aware that I took care of you only because you interested me, had the third man arrived here, he’d be in chains and dead of food poisoning, he is dead.
“Now, Lord Jason Obrien, you must pay for your life, your room and board and your weapons as well as for the service I did for you. You have no friends here and all would kill you or enslave you if they had a chance. I am the closest you have to freedom so loyalty to me is your best chance for life.
“It is your climbing ability that interests me. You can climb where we cannot and so I wish you to visit Toonol and spy on a certain man for me. I believe that he has an interest in my lands. You can climb the outside of his walls as we cannot and so your path will be unguarded. Then if he is planning any action against me, bring me that proof that I may confront him before the Jeddak. Can I trust you to do this thing for me?”
“Yes my Lord, you can,” I responded, “Provided you give me one boon. My slave Florina, I wish her freed and returned to her home of Amhor. Promise me this and I will gladly serve you in this matter.”
The king laughed then said, “You could have asked for wealth and the power of a real title and yet you care for a slave. How wondrous are you Jasoomians. Very well, upon your return, she will be freed and allowed to return to Amhor. You will leave just before sunset that you arrive in Toonol as the sun sets.”
And with that I was dismissed. I returned to my room to find Florina there and told her of my deal but somehow she wasn’t as thrilled as I thought she would be. “Aren’t you happy to return to your home after all these years?” I asked.
“Very much, My Lord,” she replied, “Though I will miss you and your kindness.”
“Are you afraid that your family will disown you for your slavery?” I questioned. I recalled that when Cornwall had been given control over Ireland he sold one of five Irish into slavery in the New World. Even today the Obregon’s of Mexico are relatives of mine that had once been slaves.
She laughed and answered, “There is a difference between slavery and freedom. What a slave must do when ordered is acceptable. If she were to do the same thing free, she would be disgraced. Sometimes slaves have more freedom than a free woman.
“My Lord, I think I should go with you. You are still ignorant of our customs and may make a mistake that would get you killed in a duel.”
“It’s too dangerous. I’ll attract too much attention as it is and if I do something stupid, I can easier escape if I don’t worry about your life.”
She argued with me and eventually I agreed for we Irish are used to listening to our women. What my American father saw as weakness, I saw as good sense for a cast-iron frying pan is a great equalizer of strength, especially when the man is asleep. So I sent a message to the king and promised to return without the advantage of the hostage he wished to possess and he did agree. Curious this Barsoomian honor. I gave my word and he accepted it. There was no argument or negotiating a new price.
So that afternoon we climbed aboard a flier and left for the east. Unfortunatly I very quickly began to suffocate and collapsed from lack of oxygen. The Martian air was so thin I needed to stay close to the ground to breathe. The flyer dropped to a lower altitude and I soon recovered though Florina cried over me the rest of the trip. I hoped that this man I was to spy upon lived close to the ground or I’d pass out again long before I reached his room.
We reached Toonol at sunset and when stopped by the patrols, we gave our identity papers and they gave us a cursory look then waved us on. Florina mentioned that they never even looked at me and never noticed that I was an alien.
Keeping my problem in mind, the flyer landed on the roof of a low building for all hangers are on the roofs of their buildings to save space in a walled city. Then we dropped in a magnetic elevator to find a room to rent and were separated with Florina sent to the female slave quarters and I and my Red companions to a hall that housed a couple dozen people. Of course, I immediately attracted attention. Part of it was my white skin and light brown hair which implied that I was an Orovar or one of the original races, the rest was because of my feet, tail, ears, hand and eyes. The men and women asked countless questions and I answered them truthfully. I was from Jasoom. I had been taken by Demons who changed me. I was a panthan in the service of Gan Kanar. I never visited Toonol before. Their city was beautiful. I’ve never heard of that poet. I wasn’t staying long. And so on.
Finally I placed my extra gear on my cot and left it alone for thieft was unknown on Barsoom. Demons never stole either but that was because they owned nothing, being socialists, so I had no problem walking away with my entire wealth sitting on a bed in a dormitory for all to see. Florina was waiting for us in the hall and the three of us took a walk through the city where both the pilot and Florina explained about Toonol for me.
There were no temples because Toonolians were athiests though Florina followed the Issus religion that had been discredited by John Carter a century ago. It had re-formed but this time it had adapted to modern conditions and so was not exactly the same as the original so strongly did man need the comfort of faith. As Florina was explaining her beliefs, the pilot was countering them as would any good athiest.
Being Irish, half my family and half my grandmother’s money went to the church but I had been kicked out as a child for asking too many questions like ‘why was my mother excommunicated and damned to hell for divorcing an abusive husband but he was not for killing my brother?’ So frankly, I was on the athiest side of things.
They showed me how the houses rose on poles at night to avoid assassins but the larger buildings could not be so they used armed guards that I’d have to avoid until I could climb the walls. Martians, being poor climbers, wouldn’t look up once I got above their heads unless I was noisy.
Finally my pilot took us into a tavern where we had a meal and wine with Florina serving us both. Then we left and separated with the pilot to draw attention away from us and I took Florina into some bushes until the crowd left. Holding her close to hide better, I was drunk enough to ask why I had a private room in smaller Ardane but stayed in a dorm in much larger Toonol?
“Because, My Lord,” she said as she pressed herself close to me to hide better. I wrapped my cloak around us to add concealment though her pressing against me was distracting. “You have status in Ardane and so are guaranteed a private room. I sleep with a half hundred slaves in Ardane. But here you have no position so must sleep with the men as I sleep with the slaves. In Ardane, you have privacy to do as you wish”
She was whispering into my ear to prevent noise and I found her breath and occasional touch of her lips upon my earlobes to be very sensual. That plus her rubbing against me in the confines of the bushes was exciting me and it took all my strength to push her away before I raped her as we stood. Time to focus. I whispered into her ear that the road was clear and I needed to do my task so she took my cloak and long sword and I climbed a tree(?) to clear the wall then ran to the building before the guards could see me. Once there I hid in another bush and when the yard was clear, I began to climb the wall. Barsoomians decorate their walls and as the Red Men have little climbing ability, they see no reason to change this pattern. Thus I had an easy time climbing. Frankly, anyone on Earth skilled in scaling could easily do this, my feet and tail simply made it easier.
Once at the tenth floor, I moved around to the chosen window and listened for awhile. I heard nothing suspicious so hung there for a couple hours until the lights went out and all left the room. Then I entered and looked around, my enhanced vision allowing me to see in the semi-darkness as if it were twilight. Finally I found some papers that showed a map of Ardane and the surrounding area so being ignorant of the written language, I took photographs of the papers with a camera that I had been given and searched for anything with the name ‘ardane’ or ‘gan kanar’. Finding little else (it would have helped had they taught me to read too) I left as I had entered and returned to the wall where I found Florina still waiting. She hugged me and kissed me in happiness and wouldn’t let me go until I had kissed her in return. I do confess that her lips were very soft.
We then returned to the building where we stayed and I would have gotten lost had Florina not been there to guide me. So we had a late meal and she asked me to take her to the roof where we hid the camera in our flyer and relaxed. I don’t recall us saying much though it was cold and she huddled next to me under our furs as we sat in the flyer. But eventually some other people arrived and she said something that I recognized as an obscenity, though I had no idea of why, and we returned to our rooms.
The next morning we left for Ardane and upon giving the camera to the king, I was released and told that I could free Florina at any time and a flyer would take her home.
When I told her that she was free she simply said, “My Lord, I refuse to be freed.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Is not that your dream to return home?”
“My Lord, you are very stupid to not see what any blind man would see in an instant. Were I free, I must return home immediately and avoid dishonor. But as your slave and with a private room, you can command,” and then she dropped her harness to stand there naked “And I must obey. None would think ill of me to do as you order while I wear your collar. Please, My Lord, order me.”
Ok, I’m a fool but not that much of one. She didn’t have a frying pan or a 2x4 but I finally understood and took her in my arms and gave her the order I had wanted to give for a very long time.
To contact me or to request topics to be covered, send to RikJohnson@juno.com
by: Rick Johnson
PO Box 40451
Tucson, Az.
85717
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