Earthling: “That tasted mighty good. Got more of a kick than usual. Yup, sure did. Tasted like maybe somebody put in a wallop of turpentine.”
He seemed perfectly at ease. I turned to Baren Darl and snapped, “The type of poison you recommended seems less than effective.”
Baren Darl was obviously shocked. “It is inconceivable,” he said. “Possibly the fluid in which we dissolved the nark acted as an antidote.”
I turned my back on him angrily. “I begin to wonder about the effect of your other weapons!”
He waved to one of the warriors who had been burdened with the I.Q. Depressor. “We’ll try this immediately,” he said, anxiety in his tone.
While the machine was being readied, Baren Darl explained its workings to me in some detail. Meanwhile, the Earthling continued to sip at the jug which supposedly contained sufficient poison to eliminate an average large Terran city.
“As you know,” Baren Darl told me, “the mind, whether of Earthlings or Martian type, is capable of being either stimulated or depressed. For hundreds of decals our race has possessed chemicals capable of such depression or stimulation. However, to my knowledge, this device is the only one yet developed which can suppress the intelligence quotient of anyone within an area of many square miles.
“The plan for utilizing it is a simple but effective one. When we confront a body of Earthling soldiery, our men need only to turn on the I.Q. Depressor to turn the enemy into brainless idiots. Their defeat would then obviously be quite simple.”
“Very well,” I told him stiffly, “let us proceed to try it on this Earthling.”
The device seemed quite elementary in construction. Baren Darl activated it by the simple flicking of a switch. We ourselves, of course, were immune to its workings since it was tuned only to the Earth type brain.
“It is now in operation?” I asked Baren Darl.
“Definitely. Watch the Earthling.”
“I am watching.”
The supposed top authority on Earth and Earthlings approached the specimen and eyed him carefully. The following conversation ensued:
Baren Darl: “How do you feel?”
Earthling: “Huh?”
(Baren Darl seemed pleased at this response, and, indeed, it would seem that the subject was on the verge of idiocy.)
Baren Darl: “How do you feel?”
Earthling: “I guess I feel fine. Yup, yup. Feel fine.—How’d you feel, stranger?”
Baren Darl (scowling): “Does your head feel somewhat different? Does your mind seem more sluggish?”
Earthling: “Huh?”
Baren Darl: “Does your thinking seem weaker?”
Earthling: “Nope. Can’t say it does, stranger. Fact is, it’d be purdy hard to make my thinking much weaker. Yup, sure would.”
Baren Darl stared at him for a long period, unbelievingly. Obviously, the I.Q. Depressor had been worthless as far as undermining the earthling’s intelligence is concerned.
Finally this alleged authority on Earthlings and upon Earth affairs flashed a look of despair at me, and at the others of us who stood around him.
“The fleas,” he blurted finally, “the lepbonic plague fleas. This weapon alone might well destroy the whole population of earth. Bring the fleas.”
I said coldly, “We shall see, Baren Darl.” Then to one of the warriors, “Bring the fleas that carry this so deadly—so Baren Darl tells us—lepbonic plague.”
The Earthling was ignoring us now and had gone back to taking an occasional drink from his jug. Our warrior approached carefully from behind him and dropped a half dozen of the supposedly deadly insects upon the Earthling’s back.
We then stood back and watched cautiously. According to Baren Darl, the fast spreading disease should take effect almost immediately.
The Earthling sat there, the I.Q. Depressor still tuned on but obviously unable to lower his intelligence an iota. He continued to sip from the jug of white mule, which had enough nark in it to kill thousands. Occasionally, he scratched himself.
“I guess I’ll take me a nap,” he said thickly, his words slurred. He scratched himself once again, yawned deeply, and slumped against the tree, obviously in sleep.
Baren Darl looked at me triumphantly. “The reaction is somewhat different than we’d expected, but obviously the fleas have given him lepbonic plague. This weapon at least is as successful as we had—”
I peered down at the Earthling suspiciously. His clothes were disarrayed and torn. I pointed at a speck on his uncouthly hairy chest.
“And what is that?” I snapped at Baren Darl.
He bent down to see what I indicated.
“It seems to be one of the fleas,” he told me.
“Then what is it doing on its back with its feet up in the air?”
“It seems indisposed.”
“It seems dead you numbskull!” I roared at him. “After biting this Earthling your fleas have died!”
In a high rage, I strode up and down the clearing trying to coordinate my thoughts to the point where I could make an intelligent decision on this situation. Obviously, a crisis was at hand. Using these weapons devised by our scientists, after detailed instructions on their construction by Baren Darl and his group of efficient “experts,” would obviously be suicidal. They were completely worthless.
I came to a snap conclusion. Our plan must be to reveal ourselves to the Earthlings as Martians and pretend to come bearing them only good will and desire for peace and commerce. A few months on their planet, closely—but unbeknown to them—studying their life form, should give us ample opportunity to plan more effective weapons against them.
This then was my decision.
I snapped to Baren Darl. “Awaken the Earthman; tell him that we are Martians and that we seek peace with the inhabitants of Earth.”
There was some difficulty in the awakening, but finally Baren Darl succeeded. The Earthling shook his head groggily and scowled at my interpreter. The following conversation ensued:
Baren Darl: “Awaken. We have a message of great importance for you.”
Earthling: “Huh?”
Baren Darl: “We have a message for you.”
Earthling (Rolling over on his other side): “Oh.”
Baren Darl said impressively: “In the name of the Most High, the Glorious, the Omnipotent, Omnipresent, and Omniscient, the Lord of the Seven, the Leader of the Chosen, Neo Geek XXXVIII; we bring you
