The Japanese Devil Fish Girl and Other Unnatural Attractions Part 22

'We are on Lemuria?' said George.

'In, it seems at the present. But yes, that is what I believe. The remains of ancient Lemuria, a tiny part of a now sunken continent.'

'It is as good a tale as any,' said George. 'And it is my dearest hope that these steps will lead us somehow to Ada. If they lead merely to a dead end, where excavations were terminated, it is going to be a very dismal climb back up again. We have surely been walking for hours.'

'Perhaps Darwin will offer us a piggyback.'

Darwin pinched Professor Coffin's bottom.

'Or perhaps not,' said the professor. 'But look I see a light ahead. What do you make of that that, George?'

And with that the steps simply ended. They had reached wherever it was they led to.

George, the professor and Darwin looked on. The professor extinguished his Lucifer and as three pairs of eyes adjusted to the soft light that offered a gently crepuscular illumination, two mouths opened wide and drew in breaths.

'A subterranean city,' said George.

'Lemuria,' said the professor.

'And more.' And George made gesturings before him. Gesturings that the professor followed.

These were no sunken ruins. No fallen temples and rubble-strewn carriageways. No city gone to dust to haunt the speculations of present-day archaeologists. This was an ancient city, yes, but one most fiercely alive.

This city flowered within a cavern so vast as to seem a veritable hollow Earth. Sleek towers rose towards a rocky ceiling lost to vision. And between these towers moved airships of advanced design.

Design that was not of this Earth.

'Oh dear me,' said Professor Coffin. 'Fiddle de, fiddle dum, fiddle dum-de-dum-de-dum.'

'Why are you fiddle-dee-ing so much?' asked George.

'Because all becomes most frighteningly clear, my dear fellow.'

'Then please take this opportunity to enlighten me,' said George, 'because I am surely all in the dark.'

'The symbols,' said Professor Coffin, 'on the floor of the temple above I told you that I felt I knew them from somewhere. That I had seen them before, but not in a temple.'

'Go on,' said George. 'Please tell me.'

'Recall, if you will, our dear old friend the pickled Martian,' said Professor Coffin. 'When I collected him from the London Hospital, there were various alien artefacts to be seen, which were being studied by the surgeon Sir Frederick Treves. Amongst these were what was believed to be the "user's manual" for one of the Martian warships. The symbols were identical, George. This underworld is peopled by surviving Martians.'

George took in the enormity of this and then he said, 'Hold on there. This is an ancient civilisation. The inlaid symbols on the floor of the temple above, the statue of the G.o.ddess all of this is ancient. Are you saying that the Martians were the original inhabitants of Lemuria?'

'I can only speculate upon what my eyes are telling me,' the professor replied. 'Photographs of the cities of Mars were published in the press. Look at those towers, George, and those aircraft also. Martian in design. There is no doubt.'

'I am well and truly confused,' said George. 'Are you suggesting that the original Martians were born on this planet? That they lived in Lemuria and when it sank beneath the waves, well, they sank with it and here they are?'

'Something, if not similar, then precisely the same.'

'I do believe,' said George, 'that as exhausting as it might be, we might retrace our steps and continue our search for Ada upon a higher level.'

'I am right behind you there, young man. Or possibly even in front of you.'

Darwin now made squealing and squawking sounds.

'Yes, I am sure you agree,' said George, and sought to give him a pat. But Darwin was not to be patted. Darwin was backing away.

'No need to be stand-offish,' said George. 'You know that I am your friend.'

But then George saw that Professor Coffin was also backing away.

And gazing into the strange dim light, George saw just why this was.

Something was approaching them. Something heavily armed.

It pointed its prodigious weapon at George and gargled something in an alien tongue.

Its alien tongue moved within a head resembling the sh.e.l.l of a crab, beneath which trailed and curled many tentacles. The creature gargled something more. Barked and gargled this also as an order.

George Fox dropped his weapon and slowly raised his hands as the Martian with the ray gun slid towards him.

31.

'Cough on him, George,' cried Professor Coffin. 'Give him some of your germs.'

George was about to reply that, in his opinion, these particular Martians had most likely long ago developed an immunity to Earthly bacteria. Further conversation between himself and the professor was, however, staunched by more urgent garglings from the Martian, accompanied by most violent wavings of its gun.

'Yes,' said George. 'I understand you would like us to come with you.'

The Martian now gargled very very loudly and gestured towards the staircase. loudly and gestured towards the staircase.

'And I think that means you too you too,' called George to Darwin.

Darwin peeped out, hung his head and sidled over to George.

The Martian growled and gestured once more with his weapon. Two men and a monkey moved along before him.

'So tell me, young George,' Professor Coffin whispered. 'What manner of plan are you hatching?'

'Me?' said George. 'Plan?' said George. 'Hatching?' said George also.

'Of course, my boy. You are surely one blessed of the Almighty. You have followed where Fate led you. Fulfilled your destiny.'

'I think that you are correct when you apply the word "followed",' said George. 'I have have been been led led. None of this is under my control.'

'You will save us all,' the professor a.s.sured him. 'Did not that prophecy say that the fate of the planets would depend upon you?'

'And I take little comfort from that that.' And George hung his head, with his striking chin on his chest.

The Martian slid and slithered along behind them, occasionally and unnecessarily poking them with his monstrous weapon.

'They really do do pong, don't they?' whispered the professor. 'Alive or dead, they hum like a sewer in summer.' pong, don't they?' whispered the professor. 'Alive or dead, they hum like a sewer in summer.'

'Actually,' George whispered back, 'I wonder if this lot down here know that Mars is now a dead world.'

'Best not to bring it up in conversation with them, I am thinking.' Professor Coffin made a thoughtful face. 'Now, if we could bring back one of these fellows alive alive to London to London that that might pull in the Rubes.' might pull in the Rubes.'

George Fox raised his head and shook it. 'Unbelievable, ' he said.

'I have faith in you, George. We will triumph, I am certain. We have not come so far to just-Oh dear . . .'

And George saw what the professor saw and George said, 'Oh dear,' too.

They had entered the city proper. Sleek towers loomed and soared to every side. There was something of a central plaza here, gained by shallow steps, as Martians, it appeared, moved in the manner of slugs. To the centre of this plaza rose a stepped pyramid of the Inca persuasion. But one not wrought in brick, but built from human skulls.

'Now that that I find I find most most discouraging,' said George. discouraging,' said George.

Professor Coffin nodded thoughtfully. 'The Martians' eating habits have never been particularly endearing,' he said. 'It is to be hoped that Darwin will do what is expected of him and rescue you once more from the cooking pot in the very nick of time.'

But Darwin did not at present appear to have much of the liberating angel about him. He had a downcast and sorry slouch to his gait. Darwin looked a most put-upon monkey.

'We will be fine,' said Professor Coffin. 'Somehow, we will be fine.'

'Pardon me if I do not share your bundles of optimism, ' said George. 'I am not fine now and I have little confidence that I will ever ever be fine again.' be fine again.'

There were many Martians now upon the central plaza.

Gargling away they were and pointing with their tentacles and nips.

There were large and small ones too. And some quite in-between.

But all of equal nastiness.

And smelliness and ghastliness.

For they would eat a fellow up, as one might fish and chips.

George maintained a brooding silence as he moved along before the muzzle of the Martian's monstrous weapon. Professor Coffin found that his feet had altogether lost their dance and Darwin grumbled in Neanderthal tones and scowled at all and sundry.

Onwards they plodded, happily past the skull-piled pyramid. Down broad streets they were urged at ray-gun-point, where curious vehicles, horseless and outre, moved with a silent whiz. Conveying Martians to whatever business it was that they were about.

'One of those would cut a dash in the Mall,' said the professor. 'If we can somehow strike a deal with these fellows that does not involve us lining their stomachs, matters might be adjusted to our advantage.'

'Ah,' said George, as their Martian tormentor drew him, the professor and Darwin to a sudden halt. 'It would appear that we have reached our destination.'

'A hotel, perhaps,' said the professor. 'The prodding about with the ray gun might just be their way of leading us to a suite reserved for honoured guests.'

George had no comment to make.

A building tall and black rose up before them. The Martian urged them all in at the hurry-up.

Within was even dimmer than without, and the reek of Martian bodies overwhelming. George and the professor held their noses and squinted all about.

They stood within a vestibule, blackly walled and floored and ceilinged. Up ahead, a wall of gla.s.s and a wonderful machine.

It somewhat resembled a pumping engine, with many cogs and wheels and big ball governors. There was a big bra.s.s trumpet horn of a thing that strongly resembled the public address system of the Empress of Mars Empress of Mars, with many k.n.o.bs and dials and pressure gauges and all of this merrily in motion.

'Quite a pretty thing,' said the professor. 'a.s.suming of course that it is not not an instrument of torture.' an instrument of torture.'

'I like the champhered grommet mountings,' said George.

'And I the f.l.a.n.g.ed seals on drazy hoops,' said the professor, in an admiring tone.

Both agreed that the burnished housings of the knurdling gears had much to recommend them, aesthetically speaking, yet mourned for the lack of a rectifying valve that would have topped the whole off to perfection.

They would no doubt have continued their discourse on the merits of the gybo-straddling of the instrument panel, discussing the numerous features that indicated that this intricate contraption might well be powered by the now-legendary transperambulation of pseudo-comic anti-matter, had it not been for the Martian, who clobbered George on the head.

'No need for that that!' cried George. 'I was only admiring the piston fillets on the cross-threaded sprocket drive.'

'I do believe,' whispered Professor Coffin, 'that the secret might well be in knowing when to stop.'

The Martian now tinkered at the remarkable machine with a tentacle or two and a couple of nips, which set further wondrous bits in motion, accompanied by the occasional puff of steam.

The Martian now gargled loudly into the bra.s.s trumpet horn affair and then paused as if awaiting some reply.

This came moments later, with less gargled words.

Professor Coffin listened hard. 'j.a.panese,' he said.

George looked on at the wonderful machine. 'It translates language,' he said.

'I once exhibited a lesser version,' said the professor, 'a talking head that could enunciate most clearly, through the manipulation of air-pressure valves and the tuned reeds of woodwind instruments. The Cerebral Prognosticator it was called and-'

Professor Coffin received a buffet to the head that sent him staggering. 'No need for that that!' howled he.

Creaks and groans now issued from the marvellous machine. Clickings of subtle readjustments, hints of finetunings and the rearrangement of things.

'Good afternoon to you, sir,' came a mechanised voice from the bra.s.s trumpet horn affair. 'And how might I be of service?'

'There,' said Professor Coffin to George. 'What did I tell you? We are to be welcomed as weary travellers and offered the best that there is.'

Professor Coffin now addressed himself to the machine. 'My name is King Coffin,' he announced. 'Good King Coffin to my many subjects. I am here upon a trading mission, to share with you the abundant largesse of my lands, in return for a small trinket or two.'