THE MARTIANS AND THE COYS

                           By Mack Reynolds

               Lem didn't like guarding the still while
            Paw and the boys went feuding. He wanted to get
           a shot at some Martins too! Yup, he sure did....

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
              Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
                               June 1951
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Maw Coy climbed the fence down at the end of the south pasture and
started up the side of the creek, carrying her bundle over her shoulder
and puffing slightly at her exertion.

She forded the creek there at the place where Hank's old coon dog
Jigger was killed by the boar three years ago come next hunting season.
Jumping from rock to rock across the creek made her puff even harder;
Maw Coy wasn't as young as she once was.

On the other side she rested a minute to light up her pipe and to look
carefully about before heading up the draw. She didn't really expect
to see any Martins around here, but you never knew. Besides, there
might've been a revenue agent. They were getting mighty thick and
mighty uppity these days. You'd think the government'd have more to do
than bother honest folks trying to make an honest living.

The pipe lit, Maw swung the bundle back over her shoulder and started
up the draw. Paw and the boys, she reckoned were probably hungry as a
passel of hound dogs by now. She'd have to hurry.

When she entered the far side of the clearing, she couldn't see any
signs of them so she yelled, "You Paw! You Hank and Zeke!" Maw Coy
liked to give the men folks warning before she came up on the still.
Hank, in particular, was mighty quick on the trigger sometimes.

But there wasn't any answer. She trudged across the clearing to where
the still was hidden in a cluster of pines. Nobody was there but Lem.

She let the bundle down and glowered at him. "Lem, you no-account, why
didn't you answer me when I hollered?"

He grinned at her vacuously, not bothering to get up from where he sat
whittling, his back to an old oak. "Huh?" he said. A thin trickle of
brown ran down from the side of his mouth and through the stubble on
his chin.

"I said, how come you didn't answer when I hollered?"

He said, "You called Paw and Hank and Zeke, you didn't holler for me.
What you got there, Maw, huh?" His watery eyes were fixed on the bundle.

       *       *       *       *       *

Maw Coy sighed deeply and sat down on a tree stump. "Now what you think
I got there, Lem? I been a bringing your vittles to you every day since
Paw and you boys started up this new still. Where's Paw and Zeke and
Hank?"

Lem scratched himself with the stick he'd been whittling on. "They
went off scoutin' around for the revenooers or maybe the Martins." He
let his mouth fall open and peered wistfully into the woods. He added,
"I wish I could shoot me a Martin, Maw. I wish I could. I sure wish I
could shoot me a Martin."

The idea excited him. He brought his hulking body to its feet and went
over to pick up an ancient shotgun from where it leaned against a mash
barrel.

Maw Coy was taking corn pone, some cold fried salt pork, and a quart of
black-strap molasses from her bundle and arranging it on the top of an
empty keg. "You mind yourself with that gun now, Lem. Mind how you shot
up your foot that time."

Lem didn't hear her, he was stroking the stock of the shotgun
absently. "I could do it easy," he muttered. "I could shoot me a Martin
easy. I sure could Maw. I'd show Hank and Zeke, I would."

"You forget about the Martins, son," Maw Coy said softly. "Yore my
simple son--there's at least one in every family, mostly more--and
it ain't fittin' that you get into fights. You got a strong back,
strongest in the hills, but yore too simple, Lem."

"I ain't as simple as Jim Martin, Maw," Lem protested.

"Son, they don't come no more simple than you," his mother told him
gently. "And mind that gun. You know how you bent the barrel of Zeke's
Winchester back double that time, absent-minded like."

He stroked the gun stock, patted it, half in anger, half in protest.
His lower lip hung down in a pout. "You stop talkin' thataway, Maw," he
growled, "or I'll larrup you one."

Maw Coy didn't answer. She reckoned she'd better set off into the woods
and see if she could locate the rest of the men folks, so they could
eat.

Lem said under his breath, "I could shoot me a Martin real easy, I
could."

       *       *       *       *       *

_To the Most High, the Glorious, the Omnipotent, Omnipresent, and
Omniscient, the Lord of the Seven, the Leader of the Chosen, Neo Geek
XXXVIII:_

In regard to: _Testing of special weapons designed to eliminate present
population of the third planet with the eventual view of colonizing._

From: _Seegeel Wan, Commander of Spacecruiser 12B44._

_Your Omnipotence_:

Upon the receipt of your orders, we proceeded to the planet in question
(known to its inhabitants as Earth, or Terra) first touching at its
satellite (Luna) in order to pick up the observation group which has
been studying the potential foe for several decals.

Commander of the observation group, Baren Darl, has enjoyed the
reputation of being our most outstanding authority on Earthlings. It
has been principally through his recommendations that the secret,
supplementary weapons, worked upon for the past decal, were devised.
Baren Darl has successfully deciphered the principal language of
Earth and though listening to their radio emanations has compiled a
formidable work on his findings. But of his abilities, more later.

It might be added here that Baren Darl and all his group were more than
ready to proceed to Earth and begin the slaughter of its inhabitants.
It seems that these investigators have for decals listened most
carefully to every radio emanation possible to pick up. This has
evidently led them to the edge of complete frenzy--especially those
who have been assigned the morning programs, sometimes known as "soap
operas" by the Earthlings.

Baren Darl inspected the newly created weapons with considerable care
and proclaimed them excellent for our purposes. In particular he was
impressed with the I.Q. Depressor; the deadly poison, _nark_; and the
lepbonic plague carrying fleas. He was convinced that these secret
weapons would give our forces that advantage we seek before launching
our all out attack upon Earth.

Acting on Darl's suggestions, we avoided the more heavily populated
areas of Earth and landed our Spacecruiser in a mountainous area of
the planet known as Kentucky, a sub-division of the United States of
America, one of the more advanced Earth nations.

Our plans did not work out exactly as expected.

       *       *       *       *       *

Keeping well in mind the need for secrecy, we made every attempt to
land the Spacecruiser without detection. We settled in a small valley
near a stream and immediately sent out scouts to determine if there was
any sign that our craft had been sighted in descent.

Evidently, the population of the vicinity was so small that our
plans were successful. Our patrols reported only one small group of
Earthlings in the immediate area.

Deciding to test the new weapons on this gathering, we disembarked a
force of a dozen warriors, all disguised as Earthlings and with myself
as commander and Baren Darl as our technical advisor.

"We must keep our senses alert for Sam Spade, Superman and the Lone
Ranger," Baren Darl said nervously, peering around among the strange
exotic trees and other vegetation that grows on Earth.

I was somewhat surprised at his tone and obvious unease.

"Who?" I asked. "What?"

"Three Terran warriors of amazing ability and viciousness," he told me.
"I have been gathering reports of their activities from the radio for
some time. They seem to have clairvoyant minds; one or the other of
them almost invariably appears on the scene of violence."

I said impatiently, "Without doubt, our weapons would mean the end of
these warriors."

I did not share his belief that any Earthling warriors might be our
equals or superiors, but to remain on the cautious side, I immediately
ordered that the Elect-no be switched on. This weapon, one of the
several designed for the Earth campaign, as your Omnipotence is
undoubtedly aware, is so constructed as to prevent the use of any
internal combustion engine within a dozen miles of the Elect-no. In
this case, no aircraft, nor landcraft, utilizing internal combustion,
could enter our zone.

Baren Darl seemed somewhat relieved at this precaution, but his
attitude to a certain extent began to affect the rest of us. To
prepare for any eventuality, I had the Fission-Suppressor activated.
This, of course, automatically made it impossible for nuclear fission
to take place within a hundred miles of our ship.

       *       *       *       *       *

That measure pleased Baren Darl exceedingly in view of the fact that
the Earth nations seemed to be spending practically all of their
military appropriations on their so-called A-Bombs and H-Bombs.
According to the radio emanations our Luna base had picked up, the
Earthlings were interested in little else in a military way, except
possibly bacteriological weapons, and, of course, we were prepared
to deal them a strong blow along that line with our lepbonic plague
spreading fleas.

At any rate, knowing that we had suppressed the use of their major
weapon, the fission bomb, and had prevented transportation from
entering the vicinity, we proceeded toward the clearing where the
Earthlings had gathered, determined to test the I.Q. Depressor, _nark_,
and the lepbonic plague fleas, for it was upon the success of these
weapons that our Earth campaign depended.

We proceeded with care toward the clearing on the edge of which our
scouts had detected the Earthlings, and carefully approached from
behind the one specimen we saw there. Evidently, the others had gone
off.

Baren Darl, the only member of our little group who was familiar with
the language, acted as spokesman, and we concealed for the moment at
least, the purpose of our "visit." The following conversation was
recorded by Baren Darl himself and later translated as literally as
possible into our own superior language.

[Illustration: Lem held his rifle ready as the stranger pointed the
funny box at him....]

Earthling: "Huh? What's that?"

Baren Darl: "Have no fear."

Earthling: "Revenooers! Paw! Hank!"

(The meaning of the word _revenooers_ was completely unknown to Baren
Darl but from the Earthling's tone of voice it is to be assumed that
the term is a derogatory one.)

Baren Darl: "We are not revenooers. We are friends."

Earthling: "Huh?"

Baren Darl: "We are not revenooers. We are friends."

Earthling (suspiciously): "Well, you can't have no free corn, if that's
what you're looking for. Can't buy none neither. Paw won't sell no raw
corn. Says corn ain't fitten to drink unless it's been aged a week."

(This conversation seemed to puzzle Baren Darl and I was beginning to
suspect already that his knowledge of the Earthlings was somewhat less
than he had led me to believe.)

Baren Darl: "Where are the others?"

Earthling: "Huh?"

(This continual inability on the Earthling's part to understand the
questions put to him by Baren Darl also caused me to wonder whether or
not the decals spent on Luna in observing Earth were quite as fruitful
as they might have been.)

Baren Darl: "Where are the others?"

Earthling: "Oh, you mean Maw and Paw and Hank and Zeke. They're off
looking for Martins."

(Your Omnipotence is of course aware that in the language of the
Earthlings our glorious planet is known as _Mars_, and we as
_Martians_, or, evidently, as this Earthling pronounced it, _Martins_.)

       *       *       *       *       *

This information was, as you can well imagine, startling, since we had
supposed that our landing had been made in the most complete secrecy.
What means they had utilized to discover us is unknown.

Baren Darl: "Ahhhhh. And, er ... what made them suspect there were
Martians in the vicinity?"

Earthling: "Huh?"

Baren Darl: "What made Maw and Paw and Hank and Zeke think there were
Martians around?"

Earthling: "Oh."

Baren Darl: "What made them think there were Martians about?"

Earthling: "Paw says he can smell him a Martin from most twenty miles
away. Paw's got a regular feelin' for Martins, like. Paw'd rather shoot
him a Martin than eat fried chicken. I wish I could shoot me a Martin,
I wish. Yup, I sure wish I could shoot me a Martin. I wish--"

(This sixth sense of some of the Earthlings had been unsuspected by
Baren Darl in spite of his decals of investigation. Evidently, the
Earthlings have an unusual ability to detect the presence of alien life
forms. Also surprising was the fact that the Earthlings were evidently
aware of our plans to conquer their planet and were already worked up
to a pitch of patriotism which made them extremely anxious to destroy
us.)

Baren Darl turned to me and explained that there were four more of the
Earthlings in the woods searching for us and that undoubtedly they
would soon return. He suggested that we immediately try some of our
weapons upon this specimen.

The plan seemed feasible enough so I ordered one of the warriors to
find a suitable liquid in which to place a portion of the poison _nark_.

Ultimate plans, as you are aware, had been to drop, by spacecraft,
small containers of _nark_ in the reservoirs, rivers and lakes of the
Earthlings. One drop was designated to be, as your Omnipotence knows,
sufficient to poison a reservoir capable of supplying the water needs
of a hundred thousand Earthlings.

Although water was not available, the warrior was soon able to find
what was obviously a container for some type of beverage. It was
nearly full of a colorless fluid.

The following conversation then took place between Baren Darl and the
Earthling:

Baren Darl: "What is this?"

Earthling: "Huh? Oh, that's _white mule_. Yup, sure is."

Baren Darl (puzzled): "I thought a mule was a four legged animal of
burden particularly noted for kicking."

Earthling (vaguely): "Paw's white mule's got lots of kick in it. Yup."

       *       *       *       *       *

Upon finding it was a beverage, as we had suspected, a small quantity
of _nark_ was quickly inserted.

Baren Darl: "Try a drink."

Earthling: "What say?"

Baren Darl: "Have a drink?"

Earthling: "Uhhhhh. Maybe I will, but don't tell Paw. Paw says I'm
simple enough without no white mule."

(Here he took a long draught without seeming effect, although we were
expecting him to fall dead at our feet. We stood there staring at him,
unbelievingly.)

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
greetings from the Martians."

Earthling: "Huh?"

Baren Darl: "We Martians offer you the friendship and the good will of
a people that--"

Earthling: "Martins! Are you'uns Martins?"

Baren Darl: "That is correct. We Martians come with the greetings and--"

At this point, your Omnipotence, my account must of necessity be
somewhat vague, for even after we had made good our escape back to the
spacecruiser, bearing our more serious casualties with us, we were
unable to agree among ourselves on just what had happened.

Baren Darl, who is now under arrest and in the darkest recess of the
Spacecruiser 12B44 laden down with chains, is of the opinion that the
Earthling was none other than either Superman or the Lone Ranger in
disguise. He contends that both of these earthling warriors are prone
to adopt disguises in this manner, revealing themselves only at the
last moment to their enemies.

Suffice to say, however, that we were all successful in making good our
retreat to the spacecruiser although all of our equipment and supplies
were destroyed in the melee. Upon regaining the spacecraft we blasted
off hurriedly, to return to our own sacred planet.

I recommend, your Omnipotence, that the plans to subjugate the planet
Earth be indefinitely postponed in view of the fact that our specially
designed weapons proved worthless and in particular view of the
abilities of Earthling warriors.

I further recommend that the unspeakable Baren Darl, who obviously
frittered away his time during the decals spent on Luna supposedly
studying the Earthlings, be sent to the Nairebis Salt Mines.

                                                            Obediently,
                                                            Seegeel Wan
                                                              Commander
                                                    Spacecruiser 12B44.

       *       *       *       *       *

Maw and Paw Coy and Hank and Zeke came back into the clearing wearily.
The boys had done a lot of tramping and were hungry for their vittles,
and Maw was feeling bodacious about their taking off to go hunting for
Martins. Paw had told her to shut up two or three times but it hadn't
been much use.

Lem was sitting on an upended mash barrel loading his old shotgun and
grinning vacuously. He seemed unaware of the fact that the stock of the
gun was a splintered ruin.

"Guess what, Paw," he yelled. "I got me a Martin. I got me a whole
passel of Martins, Paw, I sure did. Yup, I--"

Paw Coy grunted, and started poking around in the vittles Maw had
brought up from the cabin.

The boys leaned their rifles up against the oak and each picked up a
handy fruit jar of corn squeezins.

Hank said nastily, "Sure you got a whole passel of Martins, Lem. In
yore sleep, you got a passel of Martins."

Lem said belligerently, "Don't you go a talkin' thataway Hank, or
I'll ... I'll throw you up into the tree the way I did that time you
hit me with the ax. I did so get me some Martins. I was a sittin' here
when a whole passel come outen the woods. Didn't know they was Martins
at first. Then--"

Maw Coy handed him a chunk of corn pone. "Now you be quiet, Lem, and
eat your vittles. Sure you got yourself a Martin, Lem."

A thin trickle of brown ran down from the side of Lem's mouth. He spit
on the ground before him, with an air of happy belligerence.

"I sure did, Maw. I sure got me a passel of Martins. Yup, I sure did."