Rebels of the Red Planet | Page 6

door to the building air-lock so they would not have to don
marsuits.
After a few moments, the airlock opened. They passed through it and
were greeted by a skinny, shriveled little man with watery blue eyes
and a goatee.
"I was expecting you, but not tonight," said this person, rather sourly.
"Well, come on in and I'll have the children fix you something to eat if
you haven't eaten."
"I'm S. Nuwell Eli," said Nuwell, holding out a hand which the other
ignored. "This is the terrestrial agent, Miss Maya Cara Nome. You are
Dr. Hennessey, I assume."
"That's right," said Goat. "Do you want supper?"
"No, thank you, we ate on the way," said Nuwell. "I'd like to get started
with the inspection as soon as possible."
"Inspection or investigation?" suggested Goat, sniffling. "Well, no
matter. I have nothing to hide."
He led them down a dim, dusty corridor, stretching deep into the dark
bowels of the building, and turned aside into a paper-stacked room
which evidently was his study. He went straight to a big desk, sat down,
swivelled his chair around and waved them to seats. Nuwell shuffled a
little uncomfortably, then sank into a chair, but Maya remained
standing by the door, her small traveling bag in her hand, indignation
rising in her.

"Before you settle down to charts and questions, Dr. Hennessey, do you
mind showing us to our rooms so we may wash away some of the
travel dust?" she asked icily, black eyes snapping.
At this, Goat jumped to his feet, sincere contrition in his face wiping
out all traces of his irritated gruffness.
"I'm very sorry!" he exclaimed. "I hope you will forgive my manners,
but I've lived and worked here alone in the desert so long that I had
forgotten the niceties of civilization."
This apology cleared the air. Goat showed them their overnight quarters,
adjoining rooms which were not luxurious but were reasonably
comfortable, and after a time the three of them congregated once more
in Goat's study, all of them in better humor.
"Let us have some wine first," suggested Goat. "This is very good red
wine, imported from Earth."
He went to the door and shouted into the corridor.
"Petway!"
Goat returned to his chair. A few moments later, a twittering noise
sounded in the corridor, then a horrible little apparition appeared in the
door. It was a child-sized creature, naked, grotesquely barrel-chested
and teetering on thin, twisted legs. Its hairless head was skull-like, with
gaping mouth and huge, round eyes.
Maya gasped, profoundly shocked. The little creature looked more like
a miniature Martian native than a human, but the Martians themselves
were not so distorted. She saw her own shock reflected in Nuwell's
face.
"Petway, get us three glasses of wine," commanded Goat calmly.
Petway vanished and Goat turned briskly back to his guests.
"Now," he said, "I shall outline the progress of my experiments to you

and answer any questions you may have."

3
Maya's education was extensive, but it did not include the genetic
sciences. She was able to follow Goat's explanations and his references
to the charts he hung, one after another, on the wall of his study, but
she was able to follow them only in a general sense. The technical
details escaped her.
Nuwell seemed to have a better grasp of the subject. He nodded his
dark, curly head frequently, and occasionally asked a question or two.
"Surgery is performed with a concentrated electron stream on the cells
of the early embryo," said Goat. "I call it surgery, but actually it is an
alteration of the structure of certain specific genes which govern the
characteristics I am attempting to change. Such changes would, of
course, then be transmitted on down to any progeny.
"The earlier the embryo is caught, the easier and surer the surgery,
because when it has divided into too many cells the very task of dealing
with each one separately makes the time requirement prohibitive,
besides multiplying the chance for error. The Martians have a method
of altering the physical structure and genetic composition of a
full-grown adult, but this is far beyond the stage I've reached."
"The Martians?" repeated Nuwell in astonishment. "You mean the
Martian natives? They're nothing but degenerated animals!"
"You're wrong," replied Goat. "I know that's the general opinion, but I
had considerable contact with them a good many years ago. Perhaps
most of them are little more than strange animals. No one really knows.
They live simple, animal-like lives, holed up in desert caves, and
they're rarely communicative in any way. But I know from my own
experience that some of them, at least, are still familiar with that
ancient science that they must have possessed when Earth was in an
earlier stage of