Classic Audiobook Collection - Mr. Zytztz Goes to Mars by Noel M. Loomis ~ Full Audiobook [scifi]

Episode Date: March 18, 2025

Mr. Zytztz Goes to Mars by Noel M. Loomis audiobook. Genre: scifi When strange, plantlike visitors from Mars begin turning up on Earth, the worlds governments are left scrambling for answers: Are these silent newcomers scouts, refugees, or the opening move in an invasion no one understands? Two unlikely investigators, Healey and Browne, believe the only way to solve the mystery is to go straight to the source. Their chance comes in the form of the Phoebus, a salvaged, half-forgotten spacecraft that might still have one impossible voyage left in it. As the pair gambles everything on a hastily organized expedition, tensions flare among the humans involved, and old prejudices prove as dangerous as any mechanical failure in deep space. Then an unexpected passenger enters the story: Mr. Zytztz, a baffling presence whose very existence challenges what the crew thinks it knows about intelligence, life, and intention. On the Red Planet, the line between flora and fauna blurs into something unsettlingly mobile, and the search for the origin of the Martian plants becomes a race against misunderstanding, fear, and the thin margin of survival between two radically different worlds. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:11:25) Chapter 02 (00:23:04) Chapter 03 (00:35:14) Chapter 04 (00:49:36) Chapter 05 (01:02:50) Chapter 06 (01:16:23) Chapter 07 (01:29:53) Chapter 08 (01:45:13) Chapter 09 (01:55:41) Chapter 10 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Mr. Zitzitz goes to Mars. Chapter 1. Men without standing. Commander Pickens stared at Cadet Healy across his desk. His face was smiling, but his eyes were like blue ice. We are a legion of the condemned, the commander said. Cadet Healy answered, Yes, sir. Pickens leaned forward.

The rocket service is a dumping ground for men who get taken off active duty. There are no criminals or no goods. That kind never have gotten into the Air Marines, but these are men who, for one reason or another, have hit bad luck. It isn't their fault, but the tradition of the International Air Marines is that no officer ever loses a ship except by enemy action. Yes, sir. He's bumped back to his cadet rating, which is no rating at all.

He's not an officer, and he's not an enlisted man. He can never win a commission again as long as he lives. Calling him a cadet is just a way of labeling him a failure. You know that, don't you? Yes, sir. They're miscarriages, like me. Pickens' blue eyes had lights in their depths now. He was a man of a little under average height, middle-age, solidly built, smooth-faced, and half-balled.

We come out here to work it out. secretly, every one of us hopes that he will break the iron-bound tradition. We don't generally admit it, and we know that nobody ever has broken it. We have our lives to lose in the rocket service and nothing to gain, not even our former ranks. So long as we live, we'll officially be branded cadets and we'll get cadet pay. The rules say that no man needs more than one chance. You see, don't you, Cadet Healy, that there is no use even hope. hoping? Yes, sir. That there's no use risking our lives trying to fly to the moon and back?

Pickens insisted. Yes, sir. Commander Pickens leaned forward. Now his eyes were intense. Then you understand this from the start. Cadet Healy, we're going to Mars. Healy opened his eyes and looked straight at Pickens for the first time. "'You almost make me feel that we are going to Mars,' he said slowly. "'There are two hundred of us out here who have that one idea.' Healy was awed a little at the intensity of the commander. Things weren't turning out as Healy had expected, when the gyro pickup had met him in Wamsutter and flown him across the desert,

northwest of Rollins. He had thought vaguely that the rocket base would be a bunch of zombies, But now, as he looked at Commander Pickens, he was impressed with the feeling that they were very much alive, and more than that, that perhaps he himself was alive once more. Pickens had been telling him there wasn't a chance to break through the 200-year-old regulations of the Air Marines. But now, in spite of that, Healy began to wonder how the Marines could ignore the men who should make the first flight to Mars. "'We make our own ranks out here,' Pickens said.

"'They're unofficial, of course, "'but since you were in the top ten of the class of 2117, "'I am promoting you to junior lieutenant.' "'Thank you, sir.' "'Now then,' Pickens picked up a heavy file folder. "'You are a healy. "'For five straight generations, "'the heelies have furnished admirals

"'in the international air marines, "'and you expected to be the sixth.' He did not wait for an answer. But you picked an unfortunate subject for your thesis, and so you were graduated as a cadet only. Yes, sir. Pickens looked at him keenly. I suppose your father couldn't even attend the exercises.

Regulations would prohibit an admiral shaking hands with the graduated cadet. That is right, sir. Pickens looked at him steadily. Then his voice went soft. We are going to Mars, Lieutenant, and we'll see if the Air Marines can ignore that. The brass hats think they buried us out here. Twenty-two ships have left this base in 150 years since it was established in 1960. None has ever come back and landed safely.

They've crashed, blown up, or disappeared in the void. No man on any one of the twenty-two has lived to return to Earth. But we are going to Mars. There was defiance in his voice and deadly determination in his blue eyes. Healy straightened. His eyes opened a little. "'Yes, sir. I'm in favor of that, sir.' "'Now then,' said Pickens, "'I'm interested in this paper that got you in bad at school.'

Healy began to look alert. "'Yes, sir. It was about Atlantis and Lemuria. I know, anything but original.' You reviewed some evidence that has been common property for thousands of years, tending to show that some heavy runaway body passed close to the earth around the year 9,000 BC, and caused upheavals which left both Atlantis and Lemuria at the bottoms of their respective oceans. Yes, sir. For the first time, a lightness of tone came into Healy's voice.

But when the paper reached Senator Romulus P. Philopuster, chairman of the military Affairs Committee, there was even a greater upheaval. Pickens chuckled. I can well imagine. He looked off into space. Old Senator Stevens was quite a patron of research. He sponsored the government's submarine expedition to Atlantis, and I guess he put a good deal of his personal fortune into it. But along came a filipuster, young and ambitious. Stevens was known as a hard nut to crack, but Philippauster picked the most likely weak spot and conducted an economy campaign. He ridiculed Stevens for spending money on a world of fantasy.

And one night in a speech made the remark that there was not an Atlantis and never had been one, and anybody who doubted that could go look for themselves. He was probably just trying to be funny, but it caught on. Philiposter became known as the man who proved Atlantis was a myth, and he was elected. He probably wished sometimes he hadn't made that crack, but he couldn't back down because the party wouldn't let him. Then you came along and threw it in his face. The party leaders were indignant and demanded that Philipustard do something, so you were

chosen for the sacrifice. Is that about it? It seems that way, sir, Healy said morosely. Pickens' face was grim when he uttered the next words. A man should always be careful what he says, even in the heat of argument, because there always is a chance that somebody will believe him. He looked keenly at Healy. The worst of it is, any of us may do the same thing as Philippuster when he least expects it.

"'Not I, sir,' said Healy earnestly. "'I've learned my lesson. I'll never make an idle remark that might hurt somebody else. Well, let's hope so.' By the way, your paper offered considerable proof that the Limerians, so-called, possessed the secret of counteracting gravity. Yes, sir. Pickens eyed him.

If we had that secret here, Lieutenant, what a time-saver it would be. Healy's eyes began to glow. You're right, sir. I hadn't really connected it up. Rocket travel would be a cinch, wouldn't it? We'd go to Mars fast. Pickens nodded. "'I wondered just why Philipuster had you sent here,' he said. "'Is he deliberately putting you in a place where you can fight back?'

Healy looked at Pickens. The older man was not bitter or cynical, as he might have been. He was fighting back, yes. He was a rebel with bared teeth. But he wasn't fighting filipuster or even the big brass in the air marines. His fight was with the hidebound customs of the Marines. Healy, too, began to see beyond any doubt that the only hope of beating down the two-hundred-year-old tradition was to do something extraordinary, something constructive,

and something which the whole world would talk about and would respect. Yes, sir, he said, and his voice for the first time was vibrant with hope. Perhaps he is. When do we start from ours, sir? But there followed three years of hard work before they could get started. Commander Pickens knew his business. He was thorough, and he was a driver and a leader. Young Lieutenant Healy found that out very soon.

And he also discovered that every man on the base was fighting for the right to go up with Pickens and the ship. The World Council allotted them plenty of money in the interest of research. Pickens hired cowboys from the ranches, miners from the mountains, and farmers from the dry land of Wyoming to do the manual labor, while they, the 200 former officers, and Healy, who never had been an officer, were day and night and in-between times. They got the ship ready. It was a big one, close to 800 feet long, and they had built it in an enormous launching rack out in the middle of the desert, where it wouldn't hurt anybody if it exploded. Atomic power had not been adapted for air travel. Propulsion was from the conventional rocket-type engines,

but with improved nozzles and new nitrogen-based fuel that had more walloped than nitroglycerin ever produced. Threaded through all their work, Healy saw, was the secret hope of each man that, if they were successful, they would break down the steel-bound tradition of the air marines. Perhaps others beside Healy had fathers in the service. Healy didn't know. None of them ever talked about it. They only worked. As for the ship, they knew they could get off the ground, and they knew they could pass critical speed. It was getting back to Earth alive that was the problem.

End of Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Of Mr. Zitzitz- Goes to Mars. This Libervox recording is in the public, domain. Mr. Zitsits goes to Mars. Chapter 2. Venture into Space. It was not until 2120 that they loaded material for the take-off. The 200 former officers of the finest military organization on Earth climbed up the ladder. Healy was with Pickens in the control room. He heard the commander give the order to seal the hatches, and then he realized that the depressed feeling he had was due to the fact that there had been no word from his father, not even good wishes. He hadn't heard from the Admiral since graduation day, and it hurt. Of course, the old gentleman was saving trouble for both

of them by forgetting their relationship, but it hurt. And the Lieutenant knew that it probably hurt the Admiral a lot more than it did him. They got into the air, but that wasn't anything unusual. Remember, Pickin said grimly to Healy. We're the 17th to get safely off the ground. All this fire and thunder is just as dangerous as it looks. Yes, sir, said Healy. But in his heart was a song, a virile song of spaceways and man and the stars, such a song as a new man would sing for a billion years.

They had christened her Phoebus, the sun god, and she lived up to her name. Within eight hours they were spotting a landing place on the moon. In another hour they were sitting down. The Phoebus handled like a dream. She snuggled down on the bare volcanic rock, and Commander Pickens calmly wrote a message for the radio officer to transmit to Earth. Phoebus reached port according to orders,

all hands safe, and he added two words that were grimly remindful of the fate of former ships. Ship intact. Yes, Pickens looked calm enough, thought Healy, except for his eyes. The rest of his face was bland, unemotional, but the eyes had a fierce, eager fire in their blue depths.

Lieutenant, he said, and he could not keep the jubilence out of his voice, We are here. Then he said proudly, Lieutenant, you will take a party of six men and plant the World Council flag. With nervous fingers, Healy fastened up his bulky pressure suit, led his men into the airlock, marched up an outcropping of granite with the feel of the moon substance under his feet, put the flag pulled into a crack and wedged it there with loose rocks, while the honor guard stood at attention. He stepped back and saluted the flag, then they went to the

Phoebus. The entire ship's company stood at attention when Healy marched in from the airlock, and he could read on every face the thrill of knowing that they were a non-terrestrial soil. In a lot of faces, too, mostly those of the younger men, he saw the hope that had been with them all from the start, that this was it, that the air marines couldn't ignore them any longer. Two hours later, Healy took out the rocket gyro runabout and investigated the three wrecks of previous flights. The bodies had mummified from the lack of air and moisture. They gathered the ship's logs from two of the wrecks. The other ship had exploded and burned, or rather it had fused. It was one solid mass of metal, like ice cream melted down in the sun.

They took out all the bodies they could recover, for burial back on Earth. They left a cache of supplies for future travelers. They gathered information. They painted an enormous aluminum cross on the rock that the 100-inch scopes back on Earth could see, so that even the most skeptical of their critics back home would be unable to deny that Pick and Ship had landed. at the very last Healy painted a small face making a long nose. That, he said judiciously, ought to give the scientists at the four-hundred-inch bowl on Akanagua something to think about. All the while, Commander Pickin sat inside the Phoebus with a grim look on his face and a far-away light in his blue eyes. They made ready to take off, and Healy said,

"'Sir, aren't you going to put foot on the moon?' Pickens turned to him with a look almost of fanaticism. "'The moon is small stuff. I don't step out of this ship on another planet until we get to Mars.' They took off. It was a little rough getting into the air. The Phoebus stern dragged a little on the upthrust and opened a few seams against the ridge where the flag was planted,

but the flag wasn't disturbed, and they welded up the cracks on the way back, closed bulkheads. Eight hours after take-off, they were settling down again over the Wyoming desert. Again, they landed safely, and this time the whole world was there to meet them. The whole world, that is, except the International Air Marines. If there was an officer of the Marines present, he must have been masquerading as a sagebrush, but there were 300,000 insane civilians out on the desert and almost that many reporters. And to report, and to report, reporters who hadn't had a real news story since the atomic bomb back in 1945,

this was a video scanner's dream. Well, they had gone to the moon, and they had come back. They were summoned by the President. They got medals. Congress voted them the pay of their inactive statuses and raised everybody's rank. They got everything except what they most wanted. Apparently, the big brass in the Air Marines didn't watch the video reports. Lieutenant Healy and the rest of the 200 were disappointed and discouraged,

all but commander, now Captain Pickens. "'No,' he said, "'I didn't think a little trip to the moon would change anything. "'But wait till we come back from Mars.' Healy looked thoughtfully at the captain. For the first time he realized that Pickens too had his heart set on reinstatement. But Pickens was more practical than the rest of them. He had been a captain in the air marines.

He knew how tough they were to crack. They went back to work. Captain Pickens paid no attention to anything but the Phoebus. The gleam would come in his blue eyes and his jaws would clench and he would say, We are going to Mars! And everybody knew they were. They made several trips to the moon in the next two years, acquiring information and experience and dexterity in handling the Phoebus.

They received an assignment of 500 sailor technicians through the Bureau of Meteorology to help build a bigger ship, and the keel was laid. But Captain Pickens couldn't wait for the bigger ship. In 21-22 they took off for Mars. Pickens had called to Healy the night before. You're a Marine in every sense of the word, Healy. I'm making you Lieutenant Commander. You will continue to be my adjutant.

Thank you, sir. "'I've put it on the video so your father will see it,' Pickens said, suddenly soft-voiced. "'I know he'd like to know.' Healy was startled. "'Did you know him, sir?' Pickens' jaw clenched. "'I've skippered a cruiser under your dad. He's a million percent.

He fought for me all the way through. And he used to dream of the time when you would have a ship of your own, Commander.' "'Yes, sir,' Healy was. whispered. It was hard to talk past the lump in his throat. It was a smooth trip, almost monotonous. Nine days later they brought the Phoebus down on the red alkali of Mars. It was afternoon, and the sun was overhead, clear and distinct, but its light was pretty feeble. Healy was trembling with excitement, but trembling inwardly. He kept his face calm as he looked around him, and he knew that every man of the 200, even though they were hardened spacemen by now, felt just as he did.

The officers on the bridge looked at Pickens. The captain took a deep breath and said to Healy, Commander, the lock will not be open until morning. The chemists and biologists and so on must have time for their tests. This isn't the moon, you know. He looked piercingly at Healy. Healy nodded. No, sir, it isn't. That last line of Pickens expressed the feelings of all Healy knew, although nobody commented. The moon seemed like small-time stuff now. The moon was really a part of Earth, but Mars. Mars was a real planet in its own right, not a satellite of Earth. Now they were really interplanetary travelers,

and it was a little frightening. There were issues of rum that night, a hangover from the old British Navy, and each officer on the captain's staff killed a pint of the best scotch, and nobody slept. Everybody pretended to have too much to do. By daylight, every man who could get near a quartz porthole was trying to see outside, and the old man, they had assumed the prerogative of referring to Pickens behind his back with that respectful term of disrespect. The old man was staring at the ground-glass screen of his video. "'Commander,' he said to Healy, "'what do you make of this?'

Healy stared and frowned. Yesterday there had been nothing but red alkali. This morning the big ship was surrounded by hundreds of what looked like giant sentry plants. They were as tall as a man, and their leaves were waving ceaselessly. "'I don't know, sir,' Healy said in a moment. but it doesn't look any too dangerous.

After some discussion in a staff meeting, Pickens ordered the airlock opened, and Healy was set out with a landing party in pressure suits to set up the first World Council flag on a strange planet. When they got outside, they were completely ringed in by sentry plants. Healy was too scared to be thrilled. He didn't see how the sentry plants could harm him, unless they were poisonous, but this was a strange land, a different world, and it didn't resemble the moon at all. But Healy didn't want to let the men see he was scared.

He said, businesslike, "'We'll find an opening here and go through these plants and set up the flag up far enough away so it won't be scorched by the rocket blast.' They approached the wall of plants warily. Some of them were taller than Healy. He looked for a break in their ranks. It would simplify things if they would move, he thought, and at that moment a path formed unexpectedly before him.

The plants moved back on each side and left a path for them. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of Mr. Zitsitsch goes to Mars by Noel Loomis. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 3. Moving Plants Gingerly, the party went out a couple of hundred yards, with Healy walking confidently so the men wouldn't guess how he felt. After all, he was only 26, and he wore commander's stripes,

even if they were unofficial. A seaman with a sledge drove an iron stake into the hard dirt. They raised the flag and presented arms, then they marched immediately back to the Phoebus. As before, the plants opened a path for them. Healy drew a deep breath of relief, but he felt uneasy, and stayed on the ground until the other men were inside. He was ten feet from the Jacob's ladder, and just ready to follow the men inside, when he heard a soft shuffling and looked around to see the plants crowding in on him. It was eerie. The long leaves waved and danced, and a noise came from all of them that sounded like the wind sighing through the pine trees.

Commander Healy was terrified. He took a step backward, and one giant of a plant, nine feet tall, slithered over the alkali and came to a stop in front of him, between him and the latter. Its leaves were gesticulating, and that odd rustling noise came from it in a broken stream, with breaks and pauses and variations that made it seem almost like a person talking. Healy had a sudden nightmare vision of being captured by creatures that were not even of the earth. He ducked under a waving leaf and ran for the ladder. He shot up it and snatched it up after him and slammed the hatch.

Five minutes later, still trembling, he reported to the staff. He was quite aware that for a moment he had lost his head. He had run, and he wondered what the old man thought. Now that he faced the captain, he thought it would have been better to be a captive of Mars than to have the old man think he was a coward. But Pickens merely looked at him casually. "'Quite a sensation, isn't it, Commander? Being on a strange planet,' he observed.

Healy breathed easier and began to get control of himself. Now that the old man had forgiven him, he was able to compose himself. The old man was the first to cross-examine him, then the ship's biologist took over. The biologist asked questions about the plants. I am trying to decide whether they should be classified as human, he explained to the old man. They're unquestionably mobile and probably sentient. Somehow the word human struck Healy wrong. He was a commander in the rocket service, and could he let it be said that he had run from anything human?

He spoke up fast. They couldn't be human, he said. They haven't got eyes. The old man stared at Healy. Probably the biologist had his own definition of human, but he didn't get a chance to say anything. This was a brand-new experience for Earth people, and since there was no precedent,

the old man made his own precedent right on the spot. I think the commander is right, he said slowly. I don't think a creature would be human unless it had eyes. And there it stuck. They didn't have eyes, so they weren't human. During the next two weeks, the Phoebe set out exploring parties. The geologists located some promising deposits of plutonium,

but there was no sign of life anywhere except the sentry plants, who were at once labeled Martians. Captain Pickens himself finally left the Phoebus to feel the earth of another planet. He tried to pick up a handful, but it was caked and hard. The entire crew was under strained. orders from the World Council to cause no harm to any living creature, and especially not to bring back any specimens of living creatures or plants. Any man who would have tried to touch one of the Martians would have been court-martialed. A young Ensign, Marvin Brown, complained to Healy that they were in port

and the old man wouldn't even let him get a telephone number. Never mind, said Healy, it's a big universe. The Martians always crowded up and tried to get into the ship when the lock was opened. The tallest one, the one that had frightened Healy the first morning, was especially persistent, and that annoyed Healy. The tall sentry plant shuffled about the ship all day long. The earthmen couldn't find out where it went at night, but they disappeared, making that odd rustling noise, until finally Anson Brown called him Mr. Zitzitz, and from then on his name was Zitzitzitz.

To keep from frying the Martians in the rocket blast, the Phoebus left one night at midnight while the Martians were out in the desert. "'Mr. Zitzits will be lonesome when he comes back in the morning and finds us gone,' the old man said thoughtfully over a sky-chart. The comment struck Healy as wrong. He wondered if he were getting touchy. "'He can't be lonesome, sir. He hasn't got eyes.' "'What has that got to do?'

with it. That annoyed Healy still more. The old man had upheld his definition the first day. If he hasn't got eyes, he can't be human, and if he isn't human, he can't be lonesome, Healy said defiantly. The old man looked at him and said, Hmm. It took them eleven days to make the trip back, but they were busy every minute. They had made exhaustive notes and had taken thousand, thousands of pictures with X-ray, infrared, gamma-blue, beta-yellow, and with every known filter and device, and several hundred reels of microfilm. They had air samples, tons of geological specimens, core drillings, temperature records, humidity readings, radiation records, and cosmic ray counts.

The biologist had accumulated an astonishing mass of data for a man who had not been allowed to touch the subject, and he and the botanist section were busy together. The WC radioed that they had prepared a base for the Phoebus at Havana, because Table Rock was too far out in the wilderness. They estimated that millions of people would be wherever the Phoebus might land, and to avoid a major disaster, they had to keep the crowds in a populated center where they could be handled. When the Phoebus reached Earth, the reception was tremendous. The ship landed at the new spaceport that had been made over from an old transatlantic airfield near the world capital. and the video said that

fifteen million persons were in the streets when the men of the PEPas marched to the assembly hall. But of the fifteen million, not one was an officer of the international air marines. It was something of a blow to healing to realize that the air marines were still ignoring them. Captain Pickens noticed it too, and the old gleam came in his eye that meant,

We aren't licked yet. We'll go to Andromeda and back if we have to. He formally presented his report, which included all the written material and physical evidence from Mars, 12,000 pounds of reports and photographs alone. 32 scientists and their staffs had done a lot of speculating. Then the Council President informed them that every man on the phoebus had been raised two grades, unofficially, of course, he hastened to add, but they had also, in view of facing unknown dangers, etc., etc., been granted a lifetime allowance of full pay at the rate of their new respective ranks

without regard to any subsequent circumstances. "'They've been mighty swell,' Admiral Pickens said, when he and Captain Healy went to their suite in the International Hotel. "'Yes, sir.' Healy was glum. Pickens glanced at him. But the truth is, Captain, there isn't a man of the entire crew they wouldn't give it all back for a welcome home from the one place on earth where they didn't get it.

"'It's hard for me to understand,' Healy said, and a little bitterness crept into his voice before he could stop it. Why can't they loosen up?' Pickens nodded. There was a hard glitter in his eyes. "'It's getting a little hard even for me to swallow,' the old man said. "'I guess there's nobody funnier than people, unless you're a little bit more than people, unless you're at Zitzits'es." Healy felt a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he suppressed it. "'Sometimes,' he said, "'for two cents I'd throw it all over and organize my own air service.' "'You'd better raise your price,' the old man said wisely,

"'because in spite of its stuffiness and its rigid discipline and its unbending traditions, I suppose one might in honesty say, possibly because of those things, the International Air Marines is still the most glorious and the most exclusive military organization ever on Earth. You should know. You would have been the sixth Admiral Healy. The old man studied him for a moment. You're still hoping, he said. So do we all. But it's getting slimmer every time we cross an orbit. I'm beginning to understand now what I should have seen long ago. The Air Marines won't risk giving approval for a flash in the pan.

Maybe if we stick at it all our lives. He didn't finish. The next night, Captain Healy was having a relaxing drink in the patio, minus his braid, because the pariahs of the Marines did not wear their stripes in public. A very large man came by and dropped into the seat across the table. Well, he said between Hicks, "'Wonder what the Air Marines think now that the poor cadets have swiped their glory. "'Parias of the Spaceways! He-he! That's a good one.

"'Parias of the Spaceways make Air Marines look shick.' Captain Healy rose to his feet and stood solidly in his blue-green uniform, minus stripes, minus decorations, minus everything but the solid gold buttons of the Air Marines. "'Sir, you are drunk,' he said. "'You don't know what you're saying.' The big man got to his feet, and he was a head taller than Healy, and twice as broad. Astonishingly enough, he didn't wobble when he stood. Look, mister!

He put a massive forefinger on Healy's chest, and if Healy hadn't been braced, he would have been pushed over. You've been handed a dirty deal by the Air Marines, and I, for one, I'm glad you showed him up. The dirty... He did not finish. Healy stepped back, calculated the range and the resistance, and let the big man have one on the button. It was a very solid punch, so solid, in fact, that the big man relaxed at full length on the

floor. He insulted the Marines, Healy said ruefully when Pickens bailed him out that evening. Can't they understand we're not sore at the Marines? We're trying to get back in the Marines. Pickens sighed. People probably lack understanding more than anybody, he said. End of Chapter 3. Chapter 4.

Of Mr. Zitzitz Goes to Mars, by Noel Loomis. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 4. Mr. Zitzitz comes aboard. A week later, the World Council organized an interplanetary bureau, and one of its subdivisions was the classification. section. The old man was asked for a recommendation for membership in that section, and he recommended Healy. It's mostly in honor, more than anything else. But at the first meeting, Healy was elected chairman, and then he suddenly discovered that the classification section had the

task of determining whether non-terrestrial beings were anthropomorphic, or in other words, human. They had Healy on the spot. He couldn't back down, so he suggested. He suggested, that no being should be called human unless it had eyes, and that rule passed unanimously. Next day, he read that the ethics section, to forestall trouble, had passed a rule that no non-terrestrial creature of any sort might be made the subject of a post-mortem examination for the next fifty years. Apparently, the entire population of the earth was extremely conscious of the danger of offending unknown creatures, that pressure was brought everywhere, to provide a set-up of laws that would absolutely preclude injury or offense to the Martians

or any other inhabitant of a non-terrestrial planet. Senator Philpuster announced that he had received four tons of telegrams on the subject, which, after being duly counted, were carefully burned. "'I shall support protection for all non-Earth creatures,' he announced, "'at least until we learn more of their background.' In other words, Healy comments. until he knows just how far he can safely go. The World Council then commissioned the Phoebus to bring back three Martians on the next trip,

provided they were entirely willing to come. The sentry plants were waiting for them the morning after the Phoebus landed. The biologist and his staff spent two weeks investigating their lives, but they did not find out much. Squads were detailed to watch them. They followed the Martians at night when the Century's. plants went off into the desert, but the plants didn't go anywhere in particular. They went out into the desert and crulled up like honest-to-goodness sentry plants into

little balls as protection against the cold, apparently. But apparently they did not sleep. The squads could not get any closer to them than they could during the day, without the plant's leaves starting to wave and that peculiar rustling noise arising from somewhere in them. At the end of the two weeks, he concluded they were harmless. And that was about all. No earthman ever saw a Martian eat or sleep or open its eyes. Finally, the biologist and the botanist got together and decided to surround them with everything the phoebus had to offer

in the way of artificial food, which was considerable. They even had artificial puffed wheat for breakfast. Then the old man said to Healy, "'Get us three of them.' Healy went outside in his pressure suit. It was just before sundown, and Mr. Zitzitz and his fellows were all there in their eternal ranks about the ship, as if they were waiting for something. Healy thought, almost as if they had been waiting for a long time, as if they knew they would get what they were waiting for by the power

of sheer patience, patience that might stretch into thousands of years. Captain Healy stood there in front of Mr. Zitzitz for a moment, and Mr. Zitzitz began to move and to whisper. almost as if he knew they wanted him and he was eager to go. Healy started up the Jacob's ladder. Mr. Zitsits, as always, plotted toward the ladder. But this time, Healy waited when he reached the outer part of the airlock. Mr. Zitsits' nine feet of waving leaves reached the ladder. Mr. Zitzitz did not hesitate.

He started up, and Healy could have sworn there was eagerness in the way the leaves wrapped their ends around the rungs of the ladder. By that time the whole desertful of Zitzitsitses was weaving toward the ladder. Healy was a little scared, but this time he knew what he was going to do. He let two more of them get on the ladder, and then he signaled for a quick pull away. He had been a little worried that the Zitzitzis would get frightened and perhaps drop off, but if they weren't at ease, he couldn't tell it. The only reaction he got was that the Zitzitzis left on the ground acted as if they were

they were disappointed. Their leaves drooped a little when the ladder got beyond their reach, and they stopped, hundreds of them in one motion. How they knew the ladder was up was a mystery. When the three were in, Healy ordered the airlock sealed and escorted the Martians to their special room. Mr. Zitzis's leaves were moving everywhere, softly touching strange articles and strange materials, or Healy supposed they were strange to him, because after all Mr. Zitzitz had lived on Mars all his life, and they didn't have anything like steel or brass or polished mahogany on Mars. They had nothing there but alkali and rocks and plutonium and Zitzitzes. Healy left them to be on the bridge at the takeoff. The Phoebus was in the air as soon as the

other Zitzis went back to the desert, and then the old man turned to Healy. "'Captain, bring in Mr. Zitzitz.' "'Yes, sir.' Haley drew a deep breath and went to the special room. He opened the door gingerly. They had a big box of Mars Desert in one half of the room, but the three Zitzis were huddled together in the porthole, watching the stars, and they were intent about it,

Healy thought, as no plant would ever be. Healy didn't exactly know how to get Mr. Zitzitz to the Admiral without taking the other two, but as he opened the door, he expected to say something calculated to be funny, like, all right, you egg-plants, get rolling. But Mr. Zitzis turned toward him, that is, Mr. Zitsitschitz revolved in a half-circle, and Healy had the queerest feeling that Mr. Zitsits was watching him. Healy looked hard, but evidently there were no eyes. "'Sir?' said Healy. "'The admiral wishes to see you.' "'Only you,' he said.

"'Of course Hilly did not expect them to understand. "'He just didn't know what else to do, "'and maybe if he went through the words, "'his motions or something would give the general idea. "'Well, they understood, "'so well that it scared Haley half to death. "'Mr. Zitz had started to shuffle toward him. "'The other two did not move.

"'Helie wiped the sweat from his forehead "'and turned and led the way down the corridor to the bridge. Mr. Zitzitz followed, bending and weaving considerably to keep his leaves from scraping against the ceiling. He stood patiently in the center of the room and faced the admiral. That gave Helia start. How did Mr. Zitzitz know which was the ranking officer?

Nobody had said a word. How did he know that there was anybody in the room? How did he even know this was the room? Maybe it was an accident. Presently, everybody was walking around him, looking him over and talking about him in a way that would have been very impolite if he had been human, but Mr. Zitzitz stood very calm and patient on his stalk and did not even resist when the botanist felt of his leaves. Once in a while, after somebody made a remark, that strange rustling would come from Mr. Zitsits

almost as if he were trying to answer. Well, they got back to Earth in fourteen days. They delivered the three Zitzitzes to the World Council, which during their absence had been renamed the Interworld Council, and already the videocasters called it the IWC. There was a great banquet at which the three Zitzitsitses were treated as formerly as if they were diplomats from a powerful nation. They were at the banquet table, but they stood, they didn't sit. They listened to the speeches, or at least they were quiet during the talking, even when old Senator Philopuster rolled sonorous phrases like,

The dawn of a new era in interplanetary goodwill, off his tongue for two hours and a half in his official capacity of U.S. delegate at large to the IWC. But after the senator sat down and everybody was thinking, Thank goodness, Mr. Zitzis' top leaves dipped toward the floor, and he made those rustling noises. The Zitzitsitses were exhibited in New York, London, Moscow, Sydney, San Francisco. But after three months, they didn't look very good.

They seemed to be wilting a little. Their leaves didn't look as fresh and green as they had, and they drooped more and more as they went along. Captain Healy was in charge of them, and he saw that they were surrounded with every condition they had known on Mars, even to a vacuum chamber with air of exactly the same proportions as that on Mars, and at the same pressure and humidity and with the same variations of temperature, but it didn't help.

The only thing he could figure was that they were lonesome, so he persuaded the IWC that they should be taken back to Mars. On that trip they were allowed the freedom of the ship, and it did not take long to discover that they were born space travelers. Mr. Zitsitsch stayed on the bridge with Heli a good deal, and when Lieutenant Brown the navigator was off due, duty, Mr. Zitsits would study the stars for hours, and presently his leaf-ends would delicately touch the controls as if he were suggesting a change in course.

"'And confound it all,' Healy told the old man, "'he's always right when brown checks on us.' Ether travel in those days was very much dependent on navigation, for machinery had not yet been developed to allow for all the forces exerted by the various gravitational pulls, the solar drift, centrifugal inertia, strange magnetic currents, velocity, trajectory, planetary, planets, and the still unexplained ether drift. Or rather, the machinery could be made, all right, but one ship couldn't carry it. Whether Mr. Zitzitz could see or not, he knew how to reach Mars, even though by that time the red planet was much farther away, and it took over a month

to get there. Mr. Zitzitz would hover over the video screen for hours, and then he would go to one of the portholes and stand for hours more, facing the Constellation Vila at about 50 degrees minus declination. Sometimes he varied this by standing at the sky chart and flipping its heavy linen pages with the tips of his leaves. Captain Healy led him strictly alone, at first watching him, but presently not bothering to do that.

Mr. Zitzitz learned what a pencil was for, and he would find a scratch-pad and make notes or calculations, consisting mostly of various arrangements of dots and straight lines. Apparently this was for his amusement only, for he would always crumple the sheets and toss them into the waste-basket. And whether he could see or not, he had an excellent sense of perception, for he never missed the basket. Captain Healy envied his accuracy. But Healy discovered one thing. The Zitsits'es were not artisans. One day Mr. Zitsits was using a mechanical pencil, and it ran out of lead,

and he worked at it for an hour without discovering what was wrong or even how to take it apart. He just stood there turning it over with the tips of his leaves and examining it aimlessly, touching it here and there or pulling on it gently, but obviously as helpless as a baby. He finally gave it to Healy to feel. fix, and the captain decided Mr. Zee wouldn't be much good on an atomic toaster. It was when Healy gave the pencil back to him with a new lead that he discovered Mr. Zitzitz could talk. A rustling came from somewhere within his leaves, and it said, Thank you, very clearly. Healy had become so used to him that he said,

You're welcome, before he realized what had happened, and then stared at the plant with his eyes wide open and blurted out, "'You can talk.' Mr. Zitzis' leaves nodded, rather complacently, Healy thought, and the rustling came again, and Healy distinguished more words. They sounded like,

"'I'm glad you understand. Our renunciation isn't very good, but I will try to do better.' Healy's mouth was open. Yes, Mr. Zitzis could talk. His words were accompanied by that rustling that made the sounds fuzzy and not too distinct, but by listening carefully, as one would when hearing a foreigner speak an unfamiliar language, one could understand. Healy was quite

unable to see where the sound originated, but the thing that dumbfounded him was that, without coaching or teaching, Mr. Zitzitz had learned to speak the so-called English language with grammatical perfection in a few months, and not just stock phrases either, like, give me a ham on rye or how about a shot in the arm, buddy, to sweep the cobwebs out of my brain, but abstract concepts. My enunciation isn't very good, Mr. Zitsits had said. End of Chapter 4. Chapter 5 of Mr. Zitsits goes to Mars by Noel Loomis.

Chapter 5. For the sake of harmony. Healy took a walk. He went down to the bar for a slug of tequila. The bartender mixed him a couple of atomic busters, and he took a fresh grip on himself and went back to the bridge. He told the old man about it, but Pickens wasn't so young anymore. He refused to be startled by anything.

Lieutenant Brown, who had been Ensign Brown, was elated. Maybe, he said while Mr. Zitzitz was standing before a porthole across the room. Maybe our vegetarian friend could dig up some numbers for me when we get to Mars. Mr. Zitsitsch revolved halfway on his stock. The lieutenant's mouth opened a full six inches. Mr. Zitzis's leaves dipped gently and lifted in what seemed very much like a smile. Yes, Lieutenant, he said in his fuzzy voice, I know some very hot numbers back home.

Then his leaves seemed to do. droop for an instant as if he was sad, and he turned back to the porthole and faced the constellation villa. Brown swallowed, and Healy said dryly, Down the hall to your left, Lieutenant, and tell Joe to put them on my bill. Brown stared at him, and then said, Yes, sir, saluted stiffly, and went out almost on the double. A soft rustling came for Mr. Zitzitz.

Impetuous, isn't he? he said without turning around. He's just learned, Healy said, that his mother-in-law is an angel. Sorry, murmured Mr. Zitsits, and then he turned to Healy hesitantly. Don't you think those religious concepts are a little outmoded? What could you do with a precocious four-year-old

who would insist on exposing the fallacies of the Stork story? That's what Healy did with Mr. Zitzitzitz. Nothing. "'Look,' he said, "'I'm sorry about that. I was just trying to be funny.' Mr. Zitz's leaves were still for an instant, and then they moved sharply,

and they crackled for all the world like laughter. "'Oh, I think you're very funny,' he said softly. Healy took a deep breath and went over to write up the orders of the day. He looked up once to see Pickens watching him. and the Admiral kept his face straight, except for a crinkle at the corner of his mouth. They landed on Mars that night. Mr. Zitzit said he and his companions would like to be allowed to leave ship at once, so they opened the lock and let them go.

Mr. Zitzitzit's promise to be back in the morning. But it wasn't until Healy saw him and his two companions shuffle across the red alkali in the glare of the landing lights, that he realized how very tired and shrunken they were. Mr. Zitsits wasn't over eight feet tall. But the next morning they were back. Mr. Zitsch climbed the ladder and wrapped on the airlock door, and Healy led him in.

Healy was astonished when he saw him. Mr. Zitsits was fresh and green and, well, plump. He sensed Healy's astonishment apparently because he said, Ah, the desert air is wonderful, my friend, especially at night. He answered only vaguely when Healy tried to find out what had made the change, and Healy was forced to the conclusion that it was the quiet and solitude and so on, in other words, the psychological effect of the surroundings. That, of course, assumed that Mr. Zitzitz had a mind like a human's.

Mr. Zitsits asked to see the old man. "'Some of my fellows,' he said, "'would like to work on your ship.' The old man was stunned. "'Work?' "'They will work well for you,' Mr. Zitsitsch promised. The old man sputtered, "'Well, Nell's bells.

I don't need any helpers. I... "'What do you think, Captain?' Healy hesitated. Then he said, "'What do you think, Lieutenant Brown?' "'Sir,' said the lieutenant, speaking only to Healy. "'I say a little fraternization would be conducive to better inter-terrestrial relations.'

Healy turned back to the old man with a perfectly dead pan. "'Sir?' he said. "'I say a little fraternization would be conducive. to better inter-terrestrial relations. The old man glared at them both, and then at Mr. Zitzitz. Mr. Zitz's leaves were quivering gently. We'll take six of them, the old man sputtered,

but you'll be held responsible. Yes, sir, Mr. Zitzis said promptly. And we shall receive the usual rates of pay, I suppose? The old man's eyes narrowed. "'Yes,' he said thoughtfully. "'At least on this first trip. "'After that, it will be up to the IW.C.' "'Thank you, sir.'

One leaf raised and dipped in a salute, and Mr. Zitzetsets shuffled out fast. The old man growled at Healy. "'For a plant that isn't human, your Martian friend learns fast.' Healy winced. He had already done a lot of thinking about that. The Zitzis made perfect workmen. They were competent, strong, and tireless.

But some things they couldn't do. They had to have help for even a simple repair job, but otherwise they had good brains. They followed orders even better than the robots back on Earth. On the trip home, Healy discovered how they had learned the language. They, in effect, read the minds of men. When a man spoke, they got the mental picture from his mind. Healy remembered some of the choice remarks he had made

in Mr. Zitz's hearing before he had any idea about their understanding, and it was, to be conservative, disquieting. He remembered when he had first denied them the right to be classified as humans, and when they reached Havana again, he called a meeting of the classification section and proposed that the Martians be reclassified. But the other members voted him to down, quoting his own law. They must have eyes. Healy offered an amendment to repeal that law, but he found out that the bigger an organization is, the more ponderous it is. The section rejected his amendment coldly, and there was nothing else he could do, but go down to the bar and initiate an extended research into the efficacy of atomic busters. He would have given his

unofficial rank in the rocket service to correct the injustice he had done to the Zitzis. In the next few years, a good many Zitzis worked on spaceships, of which there got to be quite a number. The only catch with the Zitises was that they had to go back to Mars every six months or so to refresh themselves. Otherwise, they were perfect workmen. They never caused any trouble, and they were never ill. One summer, the fever. One summer, the fever was making a trajectory shot over the sun when Healy spoke to the old man about the Zitzis. "'There is no doubt in my mind that they are human,' he said. "'A human being has to have a soul, doesn't it?'

The old man looked at him sharply. "'That is not the same definition you offered a few years back.' Healy blushed. "'No, sir. I was wrong, and I'm sorry.' "'They have souls all right.' Any kind of creature that loves the ether as the Martians do, he simply has to have a soul.

The old man nodded. I think you're right. No matter what else a man may be, if he hasn't got that spark inside of him, space travel would give him the wiggles. The Zitzis had that spark, Healy knew. From the way they had taken to it from the first, Healy could not escape the impression

that they must have had indelible memories of days in the dim past, when perhaps their forefathers had traveled in space. "'It's funny,' Lieutenant Brown said one day. "'You think they'd been so long on Mars they'd have taken root, but they don't even get space-sick the first time they fly.' "'There are a lot of things about them that I don't understand,' Healy said. "'In 2125, the IWC ordered a census of the... the Martians. There were exactly 777. There were, oddly enough, no young ones. All were adults.

In another five years, every single Zit-Sits had a rating of semen, first class. Only one had advanced beyond that, because space travel very quickly had developed the most rigid caste system of all history. It was an anomaly, being as it was, developed within the ranks of men who themselves were discriminated against by the air marines, or perhaps it was because of that. At any rate, space sailors and space officers were exclusive far past anything the air marines could offer. Perhaps it was because of the glamour lent by the proximity of sudden death, but no earthman would take orders from a non-human. The one who had gone beyond seamen was Mr. Zitzitz, who had been made a chief Boeson's mate, and that promotion had precipit

a riot and near mutiny on the crack passenger run to Luna. By intercession of Admiral Pickens, Mr. Zitzitz was not demoted, but his authority was rigidly limited to Martians. No one had any complaint whatever against Mr. Zitsits, except that he was a century plant, and presently there was an IWC rule passed that no earthman could be put under the supervision of anybody but an Earthman. That made it official.

But the Zitzis took it and minded their own business and did their work. Mr. Zitzitz asked Healy what to do with his pay. The captain suggested he opened a savings account in the Interplanetary National Bank. The next time Healy dropped into the bank, the cashier astonished him with the information that every one of the 777 Zitzis had ordered their pay deposited in Mr. Zitzis' account. In the year 2130, the regular census was taken, and it showed 777 Martians. No young ones, all adults, no deaths, no births. Healy could have asked Mr. Zitsitsch about that, but somehow he never quite had the nerve.

That was odd, too, because Healy gave Mr. Zitsitsch's duties that kept him on the bridge most of the time, and Healy asked him practically everything, and always got an answer. There were no evasions. But there were a few personal subjects on which the captain would think of talking to him, and he would turn to him to speak and something would stop him. Somehow or other, Mr. Zitsits emanated quiet reserve that no sensitive men would try to penetrate under ordinary circumstances. Then Pickens retired.

He wasn't an old man, and he had had a complete Osterhuss rejuvenation, and was good for sixty years more, but he was a defeated man. A dogged look was in his eyes when he told Healy, I thought we be recognized by the Air Marines when we went to Mars, but it's no go. I'm giving up. I guess there's nobody more hard-headed than people. Healy and the rest of the pariahs had given up too by now, but no one but Admiral Pickens would admit it. They just didn't think much about it anymore. End of Chapter 5. Chapter 6.

Of Mr. Zitsits Goes to Mars, by Noel Loomis. This Liberbox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 6. Wall of Prejudice. Finally, Healy was promoted to rear admiral and put in charge of the expedition to Jupiter. They built a newer and bigger ship, and Senator Philipuster's niece, Clarissa,

christened it, the twinkling star, with a bottle of champagne, that made Commander Brown, Healy's adjutant now, lick his lips. They made a couple of shakedown cruises to Luna, and then provision for the trip to Jupiter. Healy asked Mr. Zitzis to act as his escort, or a valet, as they had said back in the 1900s,

and they set off one night in a blast of green rocket flames that must have lighted up the entire island of Cuba. Everything went according to plan. Jupiter turned out to be a pretty solid planet with a terrific gravity that was going to strain the twinkling stars power plant to get away. But the methane gas and so on was in clouds hundreds of miles above the surface, and they landed nicely and planted the IWC flag in the name of God, the IWC, and Senator Philippust. They did some exploring and located ores and lots of them, including sources for both amorycium and curium, numbers 95 and 96 in the periodic table, but there was no living creatures or growing things of any kind, and Healy was relieved that there would be no necessity of deciding whether anybody was human or unhuman.

After three weeks he called in the two scout boats and took off with considerable groaning of the power units. After they passed critical velocity, they eased up on the pounding of the engines and relaxed. Commander Brown and Mr. Zitzitz and Admiral Healy were in the control room. "'Well, Mr. Zitsits, Healy said, glad that the strain was over. What are you going to do now?' Mr. Zitzitz revolved on his stock where he had been watching the constellation Vila. His leaves were rather still. "'I'm going to apply for reclassification,' he said. said, when we get back."

Healy frowned and tried to think of something to say. "'Yes,' Mr. Zitsitsch went on in his fuzzy voice. "'I know you have tried, but perhaps if they hear me, well, I don't think they will turn me down.' "'Why do you want to be reclassified?' Healy asked. "'You hold a bosun's grate already.' Healy could have bit in his tongue when Mr. Zitzitz answered, I want an officer's ticket." Healy stared at him, and Commander Brown looked at Healy and nodded

as if to say, Why not? And Healy thought, yes, why not? But Healy jumbled those thoughts hurriedly, for he had learned how to scramble his mental waves so Mr. Zitzitzitz wouldn't understand them. He looked at Brown, and Brown was doing the same thing. Whenever Commander Brown made those faces, he was engaged in some pretty heavy celebrating. When they got back to Havana, Healy skipped the ceremonies. It was old stuff by then. He sent Commander Brown as a stand-in and thereby earned his undying wrath, for Senator Philipuster was just back from a month's vacation

at Space Travel Inc.'s Lunar Vacation Ground. Healy went with Mr. Zitsitsch to the offices of the classification section. section. Healy turned in his resignation, and Mr. Zitsitsch applied for reclassification. As the originator of the I's rule, Healy argued its lack of ground. He cited his long acquaintance with Mr. Zitsits. He made him perform all sorts of mental feats that involved perception that could not be construed as anything but seeing. He indulged in the only real oratory of his life. But the bearded members of the section were anything but vacillus. We cannot see any eyes, the chairman said.

So it is fair to conclude that he has no eyes in the human sense of the word. They voted Healy down unanimously. The chairman asked Healy into his office to look over some matters that had come up during Healy's absence on Jupiter, and when they were inside alone, with Mr. Zitsitsit's waiting patiently in the reception room, the chairman turned to Healy. "'Look, Admiral, we respect your opinion and all that, but don't you see the—ah, fellow, if you wish, the fellow just isn't human.

It wouldn't do, you know. After all, they're only plants. We must preserve the superiority of the human race.' Healy looked at him hard. "'What superiority?' he said, and turned on his heel. He and Mr. Zitzitz went back to quarters, and Healy said, "'I'm really sorry, Mr. Zitsits.

It was my fault in the very first.' "'Forget it,' Mr. Zitsitsn murmured softly, like a breeze through the palm trees. But there isn't any reason. Perhaps there is. They have little to go on but past experience, and they—' "'Yes, they're thick from the collarbone on up.'

Mr. Zitzis turned to him, and there was the hint of a chuckle in his word. "'Let's not be insubordinate, Admiral,' he said gently. "'There are a few of us who don't sometimes make a mistake that inadvertently causes trouble for others. The human organism is so complex and so primitive really. Things are done or said where the motivation is not what it seems. A tiny bit of anger or fear creeps in,

perhaps fear of losing one standing in the eyes of others, and the act is performed or the words are spoken without a great deal of logic. Healy stared at him. On second thought, he said soberly, perhaps it is an injustice to try to classify you as human. A year later, Admiral Healy, on an extension of his unofficial leave from the Space Marines, was reassigned to Space Travel Inc. to command their new and still bigger ship, the crack, passenger, and perishable goods liner, Clarissa.

Yes, that was in honor of Philipuster's niece. And was Captain Brown, they had all been promoted again, ever annoyed when he saw her desecrate the second bottle of champagne in less than two years? If she was forty years younger, he grumbled, I'd take her out and let her find out how much better that stuff works on porcelain plates than it does on beryllium plates. Healy was now a full admiral and a wealthy man at 42.

He could retire in 20 years more on full pay, and he would then be only 62 and in the very prime of life. He could buy a country estate on Akanagua and devote his time to checking Captain Brown's telephone numbers. In 2140, the IWC census showed Martians 777. Some persons were very careful. curious about that, but the Martians didn't talk.

The one man who could have found out, Admiral Healy, saw no reason for prying into the affairs of the Zitzis's. Anyway, Mr. Zitzitz wasn't on the Jupiter run, for in those days the trip was too long for him. A couple of years later, Healy met Mr. Zitzitz shuffling out of the port captain's office at Havanaport. Healy wished Mr. Zitzitz had possessed a face because Mr. Zitzitz would have been grinning all over. His leaves were waving and bending and almost dancing in the sunlight. One of the leaf-ends was curled around a small book.

"'Admiral,' he purred, "'congratulate me. I have just received my coveted officer's license.' Healy looked, and sure enough, Mr. Zitzitz had a third mate's ticket. How he'd done it, Healy didn't know, but probably he had pestered the board until they decided to put him through, and if Healy knew those face-seemed old examiners, they must have given him everything in the book. Mr. Zitsits had his ticket, and Healy guessed the examiners figured they were through with him. "'Why did you want a ticket so much?' he asked.

"'You're making a lot of money, and you don't need any.' But Mr. Zitzis was exuberant. "'Some day, when I get my master's ticket, I'll have a ship of my own. I couldn't command my own ship now without breaking the regulations, you know. Healy was not surprised to see Mr. Zitzitz down at the spaceport a few days later, shuffling along the corridors, watching the ships come in, hoping each time that here was the one where he would get a third mate's birth so he could start working up.

But it was hopeless, and Healy knew it. Mr. Zitsits had been labeled not human, and nobody was going to hire him as a third mate. They didn't dare to. Their crews would have jumped ship. Three months later, Healy dropped him off at Mars on the way to Jupiter. Mr. Zitsits was pretty wilted and limp-looking, but he said, Thanks, Admiral, see you in Havana.

On the way back to Earth, a shuttleboat met them out from Mars, and Mr. Zitzitz came through the airlock. I have just talked to Mr. Morgan, who represents Ether Fleet In. "'He said happily. "'He has practically promised me a birth "'if I can get a master's certificate.' "'Healy gasped. "'A master certificate?'

"'Yes,' Mr. Zitzitz-purd proudly. "'He said, "'All their mates hold master's certificates. "'So I am going back to Havana.' "'He didn't actually promise you, though, did he?' "'No, sir, but that was the implication.' Healy thought that over for a while. Morgan had given Mr. Zitsitsch the brush off with that phony story about all his

mates holding master certificates. But why had Mr. Zitschitz read his mind and known that? One day, Healy asked him, "'Don't you still read minds, Mr. Zitzitzitz? Oh, no,' Zitzitz said pleasantly. "'I quit that years ago, because it embarrassed so many persons when they later discovered I could do it. Healy sat in on the examination. That board of gray-haired men were grouped around Mr. Zitzitz, like hawks around a day-old chick. Healy took one look, and he knew Mr. Zitzitz

would not pass this time. They asked Mr. Zitzitz about his ether time, and he produced a sheaf of discharge slips that would have made most captains envious. Then they began to throw questions at him, questions that came like red-hot rocket jets. They set him adrift in the asteroid belt. They fused his rear jets. They burned out his front jets. They choked up his instruments with ether dust. They put his chief engineer in bed with space vertigo.

They threw out his navigation officer and gave him a black spot over the entire star system. They clipsed the sun. They punctured his hull with meteorites. But Mr. Zitzitz wasn't perturbed. He stood there on his stalk in the center of the room, and listened attentively and courteously to each question, and gave the answers in his soft, unruffled voice. He sent a man outside to burn off the fused portions of his rear jets.

He took what was left of the front jets and welded them together. He sent the first mate to the engine room. He navigated by watching the stars, and when they covered the stars, he proved to the board that he could draw a line within thirty minutes of True North or within thirty minutes of any given right ascension without instruments of any kind. That was magnificent. Mr. Zitzitz had what might be called absolute orientation. They even put him in a seamless room and revolved and rolled him,

and each time his sense of direction performed more accurately than any earth compass, because it was built inside of him, and it was right. He had them on all counts. The one thing they could have stuck him on, the actual detail, of repairing a piece of machinery they didn't ask about. He got his ticket. He got it and set off for the administration building as fast as he could shuffle. The precious book clutched firmly in his leaf-ends. No, he didn't get a ship. He offered to take a third mate's birth, but they said they didn't

have anything open. He wound up working for passage to Mars. End of Chapter 6. Chapter 7 of Mr. Zitsits goes to Mars by Noel Loomis. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 7. Philipusters belong outside. Several months later, Healy heard on the video that his father, Admiral Healy of the Stratosphere fleet, had retired. It puzzled Healy, because his father was not an old man, and it wasn't like the

Healy's to retire so early. Healy saw Pickens on his next landing, and Pickens gave him the story. Your father has tried for years to soften up the air marines, so that you and all of the men who distinguished themselves in the rocket service could be restored to active status in the Marines, but they stalled him by saying that he, as an active officer, could not in good taste ask for anything of that sort. So he has retired, and he is devoted to a very good way to be able to the rest of his life to bring about a revision of the regulations. "'It could be, Admiral, that he is very proud of you.' Pickens said the last words very softly.

"'Yes.' Healy was thoughtful. He'd like to see his father. He hadn't seen him since 21-16. But if the old Admiral didn't have any better luck with the Air Marines board on discipline than Healy had had with the classification section, it would be wasted time. Healy saw Mr. Zitsitsch many times in the next several years. Everyone in the space lanes knew the Martian. He would ship out as a seaman, or sometimes as Bosun's mate with a crew of Martians, and when he reached port, whether it was on Mars or Luna, or Jupiter, or E.O. or Colisto or Ganymede,

he would make the rounds, carrying his master's license hopefully. with him, but getting nowhere. It hurt Healy, and the ironic twist of the whole thing caused him a good many restless nights. Then men in the rocket service, themselves outcasts of the air-marines, had tried long and vainly to be recognized. Failing, they formed their own rigid cast. And now Mr. Zitzitz was battering his head against the same stone wall of indifference,

because he, Healy, who had been one of the most ardent, in trying to re-establish himself in the air-marines, had damned the Zitzis'est as the first day he had seen them. It caused Healy a lot of serious thought and a lot of self-reproach. As a matter of fact, he would have done anything within his power to make things right for Mr. Zitzitz. But the wall he himself had created was as stony as the one that had created him. He was arguing one day with the port-captain on Luna,

who had been first made on the old Phoebus. Finally, the port captain said, "'I can't give him a ship, Healy. You know that. He's a Martian.' "'Well,' said Healy stubbornly, "'what's wrong with being a Martian?' The captain exploded. "'You know as well as I do that he isn't human.

You said yourself the first time you saw him!' In 2150, the census showed Martians, 777, all adults. It was odd. Didn't they ever die? Some years later, Mr. Zitzitz came back on the Clarissa again as escort for Healy. One night he was standing at a porthole watching Vila when he said, Admiral, why don't they give me a birth?

Healy thought it over. He decided it was time to tell him. It isn't any compliment what we facetiously call humanity, but it's time you should know, so you won't keep batting your brains out. Yes, Mr. Zitzit said quietly. They won't give you a birth because you're a Martian, Healy said flatly. I don't understand, Mr. Zitzit said slowly. And Healy knew he would never understand.

It wasn't Mr. Zitzitz's code. He didn't realize how small Earthmen could be. Well, it's like this. Any Earthman is afraid of anything or anybody that he thinks might outdo him, physically, mentally, emotionally, artistically, or what have you. He resents it. And as long as he can hold the other person down, he's likely to. The Zitzis are the best people in my book.

Healy went on warmly. But that just makes it tougher on you among those who don't know you. If you weren't so intelligent and unassuming and so temperamentally perfect, maybe Earth men would like you. The way it is, you haven't got a chance. Mr. Zitsitschets absorbed all that in silence. Finally, Healy said as a clincher, You may as well give it up. You'll never get a ship.

He studied him then, and again he caught the strong feeling. feeling of that tremendous, illimitable patience that would conquer anything. Healy did not retire in 2158. Atomic engines came out in a form adaptable to spaceships. Space Travel Inc. built a new ship called the Philippuster, and to Captain Brown's great disgust, the senator's niece splashed a third bottle of champagne on its magnificent burnished hull. They talked Healy into staying on. It wasn't the money that influenced him, but the fact that there was nothing else for him to do. He had seen Admiral Pickens from time to time, and there was no denying that Pickens was lonely. He had plenty of friends, yes, but he couldn't go down to the officers' club and swap stories with the air marines.

So Healy stayed on. It was about this time that the air marines became the space marines. The new atomic engines required computers. imperatively nothing in the way of fuel, where previously 90% of a ship's load capacity have been used for fuel, now a few thousand pounds of plutonium or a few hundred pounds of Americum from Jupiter, could drive the filipuster almost as far as a catboat could sail under the breeze from the Senator's speeches. Space Travel Inc. thoughtfully doubled he at his pay, because by now he was an institution. He told Brown the act of being

the first man to step on Martian soil, had given him more eminence than he could have earned in a thousand years. Sometimes after that he would see Mr. Zitzitz shuffling in or out of a port captain's office or round the administration building at Havanaport, carrying his worn master's ticket in a leaf tip. Sometimes he would look haggard and limp, but always he seemed to hope. Healy would have bought him a ship and given it to him, but he knew that he knew that he would have Mr. Zitzitz would refuse it. He wanted, well, what did he want anyway? He wanted to be the master of his own ship, and he had to earn that himself. In 2160, the census showed no change in the Martians. In 2161, the space marines converted all their drives to Atomics. Even the old Phoebus, now an

antiquated tub used mostly for patrols to the moon and back, was equipped with brand-new, late type-atomics that very nearly jerked her stanchions loose the first time they tried her out. So it went until 2170. Healy had an ostrichus and was beginning to think seriously of retiring. Captain Brown ran the filipuster, and Healy used to Josh him whenever he showed signs of taking his duties too seriously. "'Some time I want to borrow the telephone of those three redheads you know back on Earth,' Healy would say to Brown. The Philippuster was a big ship.

They had a crew of nearly two thousand, and on their quarterly trip in the fall of 2170, shortly after the senses turned up the customary Darth of births among the Martians, Healy had aboard some fifty Zitzitzis as crew members. They made much faster trips with the atomic drive, and so the Zittances could stand the jaunt to Jupiter without any trouble. One night, they called at night because the ship's chronometer showed past 2100, although it was always dark in the ether.

One night Mr. Zitsits was standing at a porthole looking in the usual direction of the sky. Heedy was sitting back in his padded chair, smoking a good cigar, and Captain Brown was glancing over the reports prepared by his staff. A rustling came from Mr. Zitsits as he said, "'Do you know, Admiral, that in two years the law against post-mortem examinations of non-terrestrial creatures will expire?' Healy stared at him. Mr. Zitsits was not yet past, startling him. "'Well,' Healy said finally, "'maybe it would be a good thing. Maybe a post-mortem would show that you have eyes, and then you would be reclassified as humans.'

Mr. Zitzitz answered slowly. Yes, a post-mortem would reveal eyes of a kind that would startle earth people, but before one holds a post-mortem, one must have a body. Oh, sure, he said, but someday a Martian will die. Deliberately Mr. Zitzitz had turned clear around. We never die, he said quietly. Healy grabbed at his cigar as it fell out of his open mouth.

Captain Brown stared at Mr. Zitzitz. "'No,' said Mr. Zitzitz. "'For practical purposes, we do not die. Our span of life is very long. Eleven thousand years is nothing to us.' "'Eleven thousand years?' Healy frowned. That figure struck a court somewhere in.

in his mind, but he couldn't bring it to light. Healy looked hard at Mr. Zitsits. Is that why there are always 777 Martians? The leaves nodded. Yes, but I am afraid, after the law becomes inoperative, there will be accidents and Martians will be killed. Captain Brown rubbed his chin. I don't believe you trust us, Mr. Zitzis, He said gently. Mr. Zitzitz seemed to sigh. Humans are ruled so much by emotion, and so often those emotions are obscure,

he observed. I guess you're right, said Brown. They aren't all as obvious as Senator Philipuster. Um, ahem. There was a tremendous snort behind Healy and a great clearing of a throat. Healy spun around in his chair, and his mouth dropped open again. "'Senator, Philipuster, I didn't know you were on board.'

"'Just traveling, ahem, incognito, as it were. "'Don't like to attract so much attention, you know.' "'I can well imagine,' said Captain Brown, "'and Healy thought he detected a slight note of dryness. "'I—ahem—' "'The senator's bushy eyebrows raised toward Mr. Zitzis, "'This fellow, he isn't an officer, is he?' "'He holds a master's ticket,' Healy said sharply.

"'But surely he's not an officer in the employ of My, of Space Travel Inc.' "'No, he is not,' Healy said. "'And, ahem, isn't there a ruling that none but officers are allowed to loiter on the bridge?' "'There is,' Healy said. and glared at him. Then, ahem, well, that rule, Healy said firmly, applies to civilians as well. The senator blinked. You impertinent young whippersnapper, how old are you?

Nighty last May. Why, ahem, I'm old enough to be your grandfather. I'm a hundred and thirty-two. Healy got up from his chair. Nevertheless, Senator, the rule says, No loitering, as you pointed out. Healy ushered him to the door. End of Chapter 7. Chapter 8 of Mr. Zitsitsch Goes to Mars by Noel Loomis. This Libervox recording is in the public domain.

Chapter 8. Derelict in Space When the door was closed with the Senator on the other side, Captain Brown walked gravely up to Healy and made motions of pinning something on the lapel of his uniform. "'Your medal, Admiral,' he said. Mr. Zitsitsch started to shuffle out. "'No,' Healy said. Don't go. Sit down. Or stand up. Hang it, stand here while we talk over the price of old ivory.' Mr. Zitsitschitz hesitated, then he seemed to smile, and he moved back to the porthole. Now, your senator there, he's not at all an obscure person.

He is ruled by comparatively uncomplicated motives, and, the first ten of which, Captain Brown said assiduously, in order of importance, are, get the dough. Mr. Zitzis seemed to go through the motions of a frown. I don't wish to be a skeptic, Captain, but—unidentified object on the port bow, sir— came the voice of the lookout in the nose of the filipuster. A red light flashed. Captain Brown sprang to the video screen. Healy watched at his side. "'I don't make it out, sir,' said Brown. Mr. Zitzis was still at the porthole.

"'It's a ship,' he said softly. They watched. The lookout's voice came again. "'Unidentified object appears to be an abandoned ship, sir,' he sang. Give position, Healy snapped. Asimuth 353 degrees. Ascension, 5 degrees plus. Distance about 3,000 miles. Plain of travel, approximately zero with this ship's course.

Angle of orbit, a pause, estimated at four degrees from the forward extension of this ship's course. Velocity, another pause. Difficult to determine, but not great. direction of velocity into the angle. Brown relaxed. We'll miss easily, unless the velocity turns out to be more than expected. Watch it, Healy ordered the lookout. A banded ship believed to be the IWC explorer Phoebus, sang the lookout.

Healy's eyes popped wide open. He stared at Brown. What's the dope here? What happened to the Phoebus? Brown thumbed through the status reports. Mr. Zitzitz has shuffled over toward them. Here, said Brown looking up, Phoebus, condemned two days ago and set adrift with a cargo of high-explosive.

Latest report is that the ship was not destroyed but only damaged. The tow ship Ramsey's is on the way to drag her from the space lanes until further disposal is ordered. Mr. Zitzit spoke, and for the first time in all the 50 years he had known him, there was sharpness in his voice. How is she classified? He asked Brown. Darylicked, temporarily.

Mr. Zitzitz wheeled to Healy. Derelict, he rustled, and it had a throaty sound. She's a derelict. I claim her as salvage, with you two as witnesses. Mr. Zitzitz was all business. That is the law, isn't it? Healy stared at him. "'Well, yes.'

"'Will you give me permission to take all the Martians aboard your ship to man the Phoebus?' "'Well, sure, we can get along, but—' "'Then put us off, please, Admiral,' Mr. Zitsit said eagerly. "'Well, now look!' Healy was frowning hard. Captain Brown moved to the speaker and looked at Healy. Healy sighed and nodded. "'Reverse fields, and prepared to execute 360 right-hand turn to full stop, Brown ordered.

Mr. Zitzitz was positively beaming. Thank you, sir, he said warmly. A leaf raised in salute, and then he revolved and shuffled off down the corridor at high speed. Bells began to jingle and whistles to blow, and signs appeared in the corridor on ground-glass screens. Quiet, please, there is no danger. It was no small feat to stop a big ship in the ether,

especially on such abrupt notice, and Space Travel Inc. claimed it cost them in the neighborhood of $40,000 to make a stop like that, in fuel wasted and damaged to furnishings. There was one consolation voiced by Captain Brown, as he braced himself. Maybe Senator Philipuster will fall and sprain his voice box. That comes under the head of wishful thinking, Healy observed. They stopped. Healy himself took Mr. Zitzin.

and his 50 or so fellow Martians aboard the derelict. She was in pretty bad shape in the afterhold. A gap as big as a railway locomotive showed in her hull. Things have been shaken up pretty badly. The pumping system was severely damaged, and the oxygen pipes destroyed, controls beaten up, audio and video screens dead, but the atomic engines, for some reason, were not injured.

Well, Mr. Zitzitz, it can be done, Healy said after an inspection. It can be fixed up, and it'll be your ship. But do you think you fellows can do it? You're not very handy at things like that. Want me to send you some help? No, Mr. Zitsit said decisively. Healy knew what he was thinking.

If they took an earthman with them, the earthman would have an equal share in the salvage, and Mr. Zitzitzit's one of the ship for him and his race alone. Healy said, Okay, good luck, and went on back to the filipuster, but he was very thoughtful. The senator asked several times on the way to Jupiter

for an audience, but Healy had no intention of explaining why they had stopped at the height of trajectory, and so he evaded him. They made their call at Jove and delivered 300 passengers, mostly employees of Adam Power, Inc., to work in the Amaricium mines,

and a couple of hundred thousand tons of food and supplies, and took on a load of passengers going back to Earth for a rest. Three months' work on Jupiter with its high gravity and artificial air required a man to rest three months on Earth before he could go back. The Philippuster picked up nearly a hundred tons of pure amorycium and some plutonium, which had been produced as a by-product. Healy did not know what they would do with all the amorycium because they claimed the new atomic engines, attained 90% efficiency from atomic fission,

and Healy knew that they could fly the philipuster to Jupiter and back on no more amarycium than a strong man could carry on his back. On the way to Earth, Captain Brown said, Do you suppose we might go anywhere near the Phoebus, sir? We ought to, Healy growled. You've been resetting the course every night to try to meet it. Captain Brown turned a delicate shade of P. Green. Sorry, sir, he said.

Skip it. Just be sure you don't lose them. Captain Brown was a good navigator. Eighty days later, the lookout saying, Unidentified object on the starboard bow, sir. Asimuth, four degrees, ascension two degrees plus. Distance, ten thousand miles. Healy was amused when a minute later, the lookout called the Phoebe's name. Apparently, the lookout, too, had been expecting to sight her.

The philipuster was already reversing fields. They stopped and tied the phoebus onto them, and Admiral Healy and Captain Brown went aboard. The Martians were glad to see them, Mr. Zitzitz especially. They crowded around close, and Mr. Zitzitz offered the tip of one of his leaves, and Healy shook it firmly. How's it going? asked Healy. You look a little droopy. Very nicely. said Mr. Zitsits. Very nicely.

Healy looked things over. They had patched up the oxygen system. They had juice and the batteries. They had tried to weld some plates over the big hole in the afterhold, but they hadn't been able to make the patch stick, and so they had sealed the bulkhead doors and were using only the forward two-thirds of the ship. They had tried to repair the pumping system,

but the main pump was jimmied up and needed some pretty careful lathe work. Healy could see they had been trying to cut some bushings for it, but they all looked like scrap. The lathes that had been left on the Phoebus were relics anyway. Healy looked at Mr. Zitzitz again. You're withered as the devil, he said. Why don't you give this up and go back to Mars? You'll cave in if you don't.

Mr. Zitzitzitz faced Healy for a moment. Then he seemed to come to a decision. He led them into the control room. room, and they sat down while he paced the floor, shuffling back and forth on his stock. "'You two men,' he said presently, looking at Healy and Brown, "'have always been friendly to us, and you two have done more to help us than all the others put together. So, I suppose, I may as well be frank with you. You think we're crazy for wanting a ship so much.' He paused. Then a sound like a sigh came from him.

"'Well, I'll let you decide for yourself. We've never told the whole story, because Earth people are—' Well—' He searched for a delicate word. "'Unpredictable.' Healy nodded grimly. Mr. Zitsch shuffled over to a porthole and looked out toward the constellation villa. Then he turned toward Healy and Brown, but one of his long leaves pointed through the

porthole. We came from there 11,000 years ago, he said. Healy was not surprised. He had expected some such thing. That is, you mean your forefathers? No, said Mr. Zitsits, his leaves rustling. I mean we.

The 777 of us who are still alive. Healy blinked. That's right, Healy said. You told me before that you live a long time. But you wouldn't if you were kept away from Mars all the time. Zitsits answered, I don't know. I only know that so much contact with humans

wearies us with its— Forgive me, with its pettiness and selfishness. We can't endure it without a pause. You've been alone here on the Phoebus. Mr. Zitzitz looked embarrassed. I hesitate to say this, but humans leave their mark on everything they associate with. A small amount of their dominant emotions is absorbed even by metal and so on. Then, when you get to Mars, you don't do anything mysterious at all, said Healy.

You just go out into the desert and rest. Wonderful relaxation, said Mr. Zitsits. That's all we did for eleven thousand years on Mars. Mars. And you don't have to eat? Practically speaking, no. We can get along very nicely for a hundred years or so of active life, just absorbing what energy we need from the sunlight and the air. Of course, the way we were living on Mars before the Phoebus came, we could live forever. What planet did you come from? Healy asked, looking through the porthole. The fourteenth planet of what you know as the star Gamma Velorum.

It's a great deal like your Earth, physically speaking. Why in heck did you leave? asked Brown. To hunt up some new telephone numbers? Mr. Zitzis's leaves rustled softly as if he was smiling. Not exactly. Our scientific counsel heard rumors from the exploration committee of a planet in the system of Pais and Taurus that Earth people were developing a highly organized social and political system

with a complex arrangement of strata in regard to persons themselves. You mean class distinction? Healy said dryly. Yes, that's about it. Well, you see, on our planet, we never had been inclined to differences in position. We are not a highly organized people. In fact, there never has been any need for organization at all. Our physical wants are almost nil, so there has been no incentive for one to get ahead of the others.

But our progress committee wanted to become familiar with Earth's system, because we work on the theory that everything of that sort has advantages. So 777 of us were sent on a rocket ship which we bought from the robots of the eighteenth planet to investigate Earth's social system. Wait a minute, said Healy sitting up. Did you say eleven thousand years ago? Mr. Zitz nodded. We landed on Earth and found a rather highly developed civilization,

that is, compared to what you have now, of course, because I have no other standard. We became acquainted. One second, said Healy, sharp. What part of Earth did you visit?' There were only two continents that interested us. One and what is now approximately the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and the other in what is now the Southwest Pacific.

Healy jumped up. You don't say. Atlantis and Lemuria! That's what I argued in my thesis fifty years ago. That's what got me kicked out of active duty in the air marines. That's what made me an outcast. Those are the two continents that Senator Philipuster maintained were nothing but myths. They were quite real then, said Mr. Zitzitz.

Well, I'll just be plain scuttled. End of Chapter 8. Chapter 9 of Mr. Zitsitsch goes to Mars by Anole Loomis. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 9. Friends Indeed. Eyes flashing with eagerness, Healy sat down again because he was weak from excitement. After all these years, his graduation thesis had been vindicated by Mr. Zitzitz. There was only a chain of islands where your eastern mountains are in North America,

and there were some primitive peoples in Egypt and southeastern Europe, Mr. Zitzitz went on. But the peoples of Atlantis and the Muri, who had some interchange and seemed to have developed concurrently, had quite a modern civilization. They had extensive family relationships, marriage, religion, and so on. But the thing that interested us most was the eminence given to persons of education on the one hand, and persons who, in one way or another, had accumulated more possessions than they needed for their personal use. That hasn't changed, Captain Brown observed. "'How long did you stay there?'

"'Almost a year. The so-called rulers took us in charge "'and just about convinced us that their system was a good one, "'and that we could profit by adaptation of it. "'What do you sometimes call California Chamber of Commerce tactics, I believe?' "'Admiral Healy leaned forward. "'Tell me just one thing, Mr. Zitsits. "'Did they really have the secret of counteracting gravity?' Oh, yes, they did.

Their methods of propulsion were crude compared to yours, but they had discovered how to control gravity very completely. Do you have that secret? Healy and Brown both held their breaths for the answer. Well, no, I don't, but I think I know where it is, Mr. Zitzit said slowly. Can you get it for me? asked Healy. Yes, I think so.

Healy relaxed, his fingers drumming on the chair arm. "'Go on,' he said. "'How did you get stranded on Mars? You had a ship.' "'I'm getting to that. We weren't satisfied with what we had seen on Earth. Something seemed, as you say, phony. So we decided to get away from the nervousness of Earth and think it over.

We left, but a stow away from the Limerianch turned up almost as soon as we were off the ground. He had been working in the factory where they made their crude aircraft. He was very excited. He told us we hadn't gotten the true picture at all, that there were ten unhappy and underprivileged persons to every one of the class we had known, that the ruling class had deliberately misinformed us

and kept us from seeing the truth. He was perhaps a little fanatical, but he impressed us. We started to take him back to Earth, because obviously he couldn't go to Vila with us. But that excited him. He seized our controls. We operated on a beam that focused on the gravitational power of a body and either attracted or repelled. He tried to do both at once, and the controls went completely haywire. Pardon my Earth's slang. Quite all right, he breathed, his eyes fixed on Mr. Zitsits. We swung into an orbit around Earth.

We tried various things to get away, and we aren't very handy at such things, you know. We somehow got our beam focused on Earth, with all other gravitational influences nullified, and we circled Earth at terrific speed, with our centrifugal inertia counteracting the attractional force of the beam focused on Earth. We had to go faster and faster, and after a few days we approached the speed of light. That gave us tremendous mass and pulled the earth a little out of its regular orbit. We were circling Earth across the poles,

and presently the continent, now known as America, was pulled up out of the ocean bed by our mass, and the two continents of Lemuria and Atlantis were completely inundated by the tidal waves, and both continents disappeared under the water. Healy took a deep breath. So that's the story, he said. said at last. "'Yes,' said Brown,

"'but how can you prove it?' At this Mr. Zitz's leaves perked up. "'Oh, I can prove it,' he said. "'We broke loose from Earth and finally landed on Mars. The Stoway spent all his time until he died from lack of nourishment, writing the records of Lemuria. He told all he knew about their science, including the secret of counteracting gravity.

Great sea of fire, said Captain Brown, and Admiral Healy's eyes were gleaming with a strange fire that had not been there for many years. Brown looked at him. But would even that be enough to swing the space marines? He asked Healy. Healy's eyes narrowed. It had better be. With the heat I could put on Senator Philipuster and threw him on the board of discipline, Philipuster is one of the biggest shots in the world now, you know. Yes, he nodded with sudden conviction. We can swing it, Captain. He looked up suddenly.

Who has this manuscript? He asked Mr. Zitsits. It's in the Limerian's grave back on Mars. Healy was on his feet, his eyes blazing now. Oh, brother, he murmured over and over. Things are going to pop now. Presently, he turned to Mr. Zitsitsits. So, you crash-landed on Mars, and you fellows couldn't fix up the ship because you're not

so handy with tools, and the Lemurion didn't live long enough? That's about the story. The ship rusted in spite of all we could do, and gradually disintegrated. And you've been waiting ever since to hitch a ride home, said Brown. What else was there to do? asked Mr. Zitsits. I suppose that you've made up your mind about class distinctions by now. Healy said a little assiduously. Mr. Zitzitz was slow in replying.

"'I think,' he said finally, "'that it is still short of perfection.' Healy snorted. Brown said thoughtfully, "'I can understand all this stuff about Lumuria and anti-gravity and so on. That's plain enough. But what I can't understand is,

you've had eleven thousand years with nothing to do but wait. Why didn't you ever have any offspring on Mars? Healy imagined Mr. Zitzitz was smiling softly to himself. Because we're all males. Our wives and sweethearts are all back home in the Velorian system. Brown gulped and stared at Healy. Well, no wonder they want a ship, he said. After eleven thousand years on Mars,

I'd want to get back home and raise some little Zitzitzis as myself. Healy could not speak for a few minutes. So that was why they wanted a ship, to go home. Home to wives and sweethearts and children and families. Home! Home! Home to a place that was very much like Earth, after 11,000 years of patient waiting on the red alkali of Mars. How tremendously glad they must have been to see the Phoebus when she came down the first time. How they must have felt when Healy slammed the airlock hatch on Mr. Zitzis's

face. Healy stood up. I'm sold, he said quietly. I'll see that you get her in, Captain Brown. Yes, sir. Mr. Zitzitz was murmuring softly. I shall be very grateful. Captain Brown, send me some equipment over from the filipuster, one complete machine shop, a small forge, a plastic press, steel and brass stock, food and water. Make up a list. everything you can think of. Send us all you can find on the philipuster, and as soon as you reach Havanaport, ship the rest to Mars,

and include ten tons of amoreseum. That will be enough to take us, to take them to the edge of the universe and back. Brown swallowed. Ten tons, sir? That stuff is worth roughly a million dollars a ton. I've got three million dollars put away. Here, I'll give you a letter to my attorneys.

Maybe. Mr. Zitsitsch interrupted softly. We Zitzis have several million dollars. It is magnificent of you to do this for us, but let us expend our common funds first. Yeah, Healy growled. I guess you'll have to do that. And we'll still be short a few million dollars.

But get it shipped anyway, Captain. My credit ought to be worth something. I'm willing to lend you what I have. "'But that isn't very much,' said Brown. "'And Atomic Power Inc. will take a mortgage on your soul for the balance.' "'Don't worry me with details,' said Healy. "'Get the stuff.' "'Yes, sir.'

Captain Brown took the letter from Healy and one from Mr. Zitsits and went back through the airlocks. Presently, equipment began to stream across the gangplanks. Everything went well until the ten tons of amorycium began to come over in small black boxes that held twenty-five pounds each. Healy was a little surprised to see it, for he had figured it would be necessary for Captain Brown to do so fast fanagling on Earth to get that. But apparently, Brown was taking things into his own hands on the theory that possession is pretty good title.

End of Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Of Mr. Zitzitz Goes to Mars. By Noel Loomis. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 10. Mr. Zitzitz goes to Mars. Brown was moving pretty fast, but Senator Philopuster moved almost as fast. In no time at all he came stamping aboard, not so impressive in a space suit and oxygen mask.

I'll have you know, sir, you can't tamper with private property this way. He snorted after he got off his oxygen mask with jerky fingers. I'll have you know that I am master of the filipuster and all aboard her. Healy told him. I deemed this fuel necessary to save this crew of Martians from disaster. There, he felt better. He already had cleared Brown. The Senator sputtered.

But! The Martians came from our own ship! Perhaps they did, but Mr. Zitzitz here claimed the Phoebus as salvage, before witnesses. The senator exploded. His face was red. But ten tons! of amorycium. It will be paid for, Healy said. It's outrageous. They don't need that much to get to Mars. I deem it necessary for their salvage operations. Mr. Zitzitz shuffled up. The senator was swelling. Mr. Zitz is captain of the Phoebus now, Healy said pointedly. The senator glared and turned

purple. I'll have your ticket for this, you whippersnapper. He burglersed. He barked at Healy and stamped back across the gangplank. The Philipuster pulled away in charge of Captain Brown, and Admiral Healy rolled up his sleeves and went to work on the Phoebus. At nighty he wasn't ancient, but he wasn't as young as he had been, and he was soft. Nevertheless, he worked long, long hours showing the zitsitses how to fix things. When his muscles got stiff he worked to limber them. He got the pumps going.

He himself went outside in a space suit and welded up the hull. They tore out the damaged partitions. They replaced pipes for water and compressed air, and Healy tested and checked the communications. The Zitzitzes worked tirelessly. They could do things if someone would show them how. And one day, three months later, they turned on the power and straightened the Phoebus out of her lazy end-over-end floating

and took off for Mars. They reached the red planet in size. six weeks and landed at the spaceport. Captain Brown was already there with a load of supplies he brought himself on a special trip. He told Healy the money situation wasn't too good. Adam Power Inc. wasn't sticking out its neck yet by refusing delivery, but they were firm in asking full payment for the amorycium. It worried Healy a little.

That is, he worried for fear that Atom Power Inc. would attach the Phoebus before they could get started for Gamma Valorum. But he didn't say anything about it to Mr. Zitzitz. He went ahead and turned the Phoebus over to a repair crew at Space Travel Inc. Spaceport, so the Phoebus could be made really ship-shape. That would cost money, too, but the Zitzis couldn't start a 60-year trip in a ruptured duck. Then Healy said about getting legal title to the Phoebus in the name of Mr. Zitzitz. As soon as the repair work was finished, Healy started loading operations. It would take about three days to get the Phoebus loaded,

with trucks running in and out of her hole like yellow ants, so Healy turned the job over to Captain Brown, who was waiting for orders, while he and Mr. Zitzitz took a trip into the desert to find the Lemurian's grave. That was no trouble. The Zitzis had buried the Lumurian in a solid rock cavern, and then had cemented it so it was airtight. A couple of sticks of dynamite opened it. When the dust cleared out, Healy and Mr. Zitsitsch went inside.

They found the body, or what was left of it, a faint white outline of a skeleton, formed in bone dust on the rocky floor. They also found the lead casket that the Zitzis had sealed shut. In it was a manuscript written in ink on fine parchment. Some 200 pages, but Healy shook his head when he saw the writing. It was faint but still legible, but he was faint but still legible, but he was a little. Healy said. That's almost identical with Mayan hieroglyphics, but it doesn't do us any good, because nobody

has ever been able to decipher Mayan. They're probably the same language. Mr. Zitsitsch wiggled his leaves. That needn't bother you. I can remember enough of Lemurian writing to compile a key. In fact, if you'll give me a stenographer who can understand my speech, I think I could translate this for you in a couple of days, roughly at least. Healy stared at him. You're a wonder if you can do that. When they got back to the spaceport, Brown was worried.

A man came in the liner from Earth looking for Mr. Zitsits. He appeared to be a process server. Healy looked haggard. He mustn't find Zitzitz. Keep him away. Tell him, Mr. Zitzis has gone to Pluto to sell toothbrushes to Earthworm. "'Tell him anything. And whip up this loading. How much longer?' Brown shook his head. "'Two days more anyway, I'm afraid. There's a load of stuff, sir.' So Healy isolated Mr. Zitzitz in an office at the back of a drugstore under the spaceport, with a stenographer who had enough imagination to understand the Zitzitz language, while he himself went to push the loading. But next morning Mr. Zitzitz had word for Healy to come.

When Healy got there, Mr. Zitzis handed him 90 pages of teller-written copy. Healy was amazed, but he was not surprised. He leaped through the manuscript, and when he found the section on anti-gravity, he uttered a yell. What this won't do to people like Senator Philpuster? he said and chuckled. Simple too, don't you think? asked Mr. Zitzitz. Healy clucked his tongue. far easier than atomic power, and you can see that it will have to work. It's really nothing but an electronic adaptation of an old type of video circuit.

What it does is get inside of gravitational power instead of trying to fight it. Healy left Mr. Zitsitsch in hiding while he went to the video office and transmitted a long message to the discipline board, including the information on anti-gravity, and asked them formally, to investigate his claim that this was a genuine Lemurian manuscript. That was enough. The Discipline Board knew the angles. They would get the picture, but fast. Two days later, from over the desert, came the Zitzitzis, 776 of them, streaming into the Phoebus to go back home. They counted them seven times to be sure, because there wouldn't be any refunds on that trip. They had just finished the seventh count when Healy turned around to face a man in a brown suit.

"'Mr. Zitzitz here yet?' "'No,' Healy said grimly. "'He isn't here.' "'Well, I suppose he will be pretty soon. "'Looks like you're getting ready to take off.' Healy growled in his throat. He wondered how this fellow would like to take a long one-way trip, but he knew Mr. Zitzitz would never approve violence.

if he knew about it. They warmed up the engine with the brown-suited man standing fast in the control room, although Healy did his best to walk all over him every time he turned around. Finally, Healy went outside and got Brown. Bring Mr. Zitzitz, he said grimly. I may have to give this bird a tap on the jaw

and take him with us, but get Mr. Zitzitz. The Phoebus is ready to roll. Yes, sir, said Mr. Brown with a lot. Lackrity. "'He who skunk,' Healy said softly. "'You'd like to see some violence.' "'Could be,' Brown said. Healy went back to the ship.

Now there was a messenger in a blue suit waiting for him. "'Sign here, Admiral,' he said. Healy signed. He tore open the envelope with nervous fingers and read the single sheet. John Healy, Care, spaceport Mars, have investigated claim of Lemurray and manual. script. Electronics experts verify gravitational synchronizer. This board considers your claim established. On recommendation of Senator Philip Puster, you are hereby restored to active duty in the

International Space Marines with the rank of Admiral. Report for duty with Stratosphere Fleet within 30 days. Jennings, Captain ISM, Secretary of Board of Discipline. Healy blinked. He read it again. Then he drew a tremendous breath, and his chest began to fill with a feeling that he had hungered for since 2117. He was an admiral in the Space Marines, the sixth Admiral Healy. The goodness of the feeling flowed over him like the morning sun, and he wanted to shout it to all of Mars. But the brown-suited man was waiting on the bridge.

Healy looked through the port, and he saw Mr. Zitzitz shuffling rapidly up the gangplank. Healy looked at the brown-suit-suffling rapidly up the gangplank. Healy looked at the brown-suited man and drew back his fist. It was ironic that his first act as an admiral in the space marines would be an act of lawlessness that would damn the memory of Heelies forever. The brown-suited man turned, his chin in exactly the right spot. He looked puzzled at Healy's drawn-back arm. There was a shout from the airlock.

Captain Brown rushed in, waving a message. "'They restored me to active duty!' he shouted. They're restoring everybody who was in the rocket service at the time we first landed on Mars." He read from the message, "'For meritorious service in advancing the cause of science!' He pounded Healy on the back. "'I'm a full-fledged captain in the space marines!' Healy straightened and glowered at him.

"'I am your admiral,' he said stiffly. Brown gulped, then he straightened and saluted. "'Yes, sir. "'Sorry, sir.' "'And besides,' said Healy, "'you blame near knock me over.' He grinned and put out his hand. "'Shake, Captain!'

Mr. Zitzis was shuffling excitedly in the control room. He was waving some papers, too. "'They've just handed me a receipt for all supplies and all work done on the Phoebus. "'What does this mean?' "'Mr. Zitzitz,' asked the man in the brown suit and shoved an official-looking paper at him. Healy took the papers for Mr. Zitsits and scanned them.

"'Holy jumping!' he stopped. It was too much for him. "'Senator, Philipuster,' he said finally to Brown, "'has personally paid or guaranteed all bills incident to the outfitting of the Phoebus for the trip to Gamma Valorum.' Brown stared in his mouth dropped open. "'Well, I'll be scuppered.'

He said slowly. The man in the Brown suit was already gone. Admiral Healy, ISM, looked at Captain Brown, ISM, and blinked his eyes and shook his head. Brown took the paper, served him, Mr. Zitsitsch. I'll have these cancelled. Mr. Zitzitz came up softly. I'm very glad for both of you, gentlemen.

Thanks, they said. Mr. Zitzis's leaves were waving and dancing. "'You've been more than kind, Admiral. "'Thank you very much for everything. "'And that is very small, thanks.' "'Skip it,' Healy said gruffly. "'One of Mr. Zitz's leaf tips took Captain Brown's hand. "'You, Captain, have done more than your part, much more.'

"'That's okay,' Brown said casually, "'and Healy knew he was embarrassed. "'Brown turned and said to Healy, "'Let's be going, sir.' Healy held out his hand to Brown. The captain took it before he realized what he was doing, then he laughed. Brown said, "'See you at the spaceport bar tonight.'

"'No, Captain, I guess not,' Healy answered. He turned to the desk and wrote something on a sheet of paper. He handed it to Brown. There was a puzzled frown around the captain's eyes. "'What's this?' Healy swallowed hard. That captain is my resignation from the space marines. Brown's eyes popped open.

What the devil are you saying? Are you crazy, sir? I'm going with Mr. Zitsits, Healy said. Brown reached blindly for a place to sit. He sat down and began to mutter and shake his head, as if to clear away the cobwebs. They've got to have somebody, said Healy. doggedly. If anything should go wrong on the trip, they'd be utterly lost. They can't make

things or repair things. The Phoebus is an old ship. There'll be lots of little things go wrong. They've got to have me. Don't you see? His tone was almost pleading. Brown looked at him. Healy knew that Brown was thinking of that day when they had planted the flag on Mars, and Healy had slammed the airlock door in Mr. Zitzis's face. Brown stood up. He took the resignation in his hand, snapped to attention, saluted smartly. He started to speak, but there seemed to be something wrong with his throat. He wheeled and marched stiffly into the airlock. Mr. Zitsits seemed to be studying Healy. You may do this if you wish, Admiral, but it really is not necessary.

You know mighty well it's necessary, Healy said. Besides, maybe I can pick up a few phone numbers when we get to Vila." Mr. Zitzis's leaves rustled softly. "'You will be an old man when we reach home. You'll never live to get back to Earth.' "'Close the hatches,' Healy ordered. "'Prepared to take off. It's a long trip.' Mr. Zitsitschitz hesitated. Then one leaf raised in a regal salute. They lifted her off the concrete.

She slanted up and up and up at tremendous speed, and then, free of Mars gravitational influence, curved downward into the 60-year trajectory that would bring them to gamma-valorum in the southern skies. The next day they were out far past Uranus and still accelerating at a constant two gravities. Two faint messages came on the video phone. One said,

"'Contradulations, Admiral, and best wishes. I guess there's nobody funnier than people. Pickens, Admiral ISM, retired. The other said. John Healy, Admiral, ISM, retired. Congratulations on becoming the sixth Admiral. I wish I could have shaken your hand, but you know what is best.

Good luck from your dad. Mark Healy, Admiral, ISM, retired. Healy looked up. Mr. Zitzitz was on the bridge. He was facing Vila. His leaves were rustling gently. He was going home. And from the way he was staring through the porthole, Healy knew his eyes were open. Healy softly folded the last message and put it carefully in his breast pocket. He walked over and stood beside Mr. Zitzitz and looked toward Vila. Healy's eyes were open too, but they were wet.

of chapter 10. The end of Mr. Zitsitsch goes to Mars by Noel Loomis.