The Worst Man on Mars

“Hmm,” muttered Willie Warner to himself, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. He realized there was something odd about the readings he was getting from the infra-violet scanners. They were showing about a dozen of the 12-foot aliens, plus a handful of smaller ones – possibly their young – but that was all. All within a very small region. Whenever he directed the scanners anywhere else, he got nothing. No signal at all. The aliens were all clustered together in a single place, about two miles from Botany Base, but nowhere else on the planet.

He could think of two explanations. Either these were the last Martians alive – the last of their kind – or these were visitors from another world, maybe another star system, attracted to the base.

“Gulp,” he said, staring through the cockpit window, down at the Red Planet below, absorbed in thought.

A beep in his pocket jerked him out of his reverie. It was a text message: “Lieutenant Warner. Report immediately to Dr Faerydae for your pre-landing medical.”

Willie huffed in frustration. Before he left the cockpit he switched off the infra-violet scanners, copied all the log files to his own personal directory and cleared the screen. It was too soon for him to reveal his discovery.

As he left the cockpit a female voice announced over the ship’s tannoy, “Important message for Lieutenant William H Warner. Please apply anti-infestation cream to the rash on both your moobs before seeing the doctor.”

“I don’t have moobs!” retorted Willie.

From somewhere nearby he heard the sound of a snigger.

“Willie, how are you?” Dr Adorabella Faerydae purred in her low, husky voice, flicking her head to make her thick and wavy auburn hair cascade in weightless ripples behind her.

“Fine,” Willie grunted.

“You’re looking great! Have you been taking those special homeopathic Spider Monkey-nut hormones I prescribed?”

“Yes,” lied Willie, closing the door behind him.

“Thought so! I can tell from your recharged aura.”

Without responding, Willie strapped himself into the examination couch.

“Not so fast, Willie Hilda Warner. I want you stripped down to your underpants.”

With a sigh, Willie removed his utility belt and slid off his space dungarees, allowing his bare legs to float free. He removed his top to reveal an emaciated torso that looked like a mummified corpse with the wrappings removed. He floated wearing just his Y-fronts, the ‘William Warner’ nametag his mother had stitched on visible on the waistband.

“And how’s the rash?” enquired Adorabella, scanning his pale flesh.

“I’ve never had a rash.”

“Oh? Haven’t you?” Adorabella put a finger to the side of her mouth and tilted her head. “Must be the other one. I’m always getting you two confused.” She flashed him a smile.

“Zak Johnston?”

“No. Emily Leach.”

“The whole ship now thinks I have one.”

“Do they? Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Willie scowled and strapped himself back down to the examination couch.

“Hmm,” mused Adorabella as she continued to look him over. “You have the body of an anorexic chicken that has been rather badly plucked.”

“Thanks.”

“We must do something about your muscles, you know. Severe wastage and atrophy. Even with the reduced gravity on Mars they’re not going to hold you up for long.”

Willie looked down at his paper-white skin and weedy limbs and could see her point.

“Now,” Adorabella was saying. “A conventional medic would probably prescribe anabolic steroids.”

Images of Mr Universe flashed through Willie’s mind and he nodded vigorously.

“Ugh, nasty things. Aren’t you glad I’m not that kind of doctor?” She turned and floated to the cupboard frontages of her medical stores and retrieved a tub of something foul-smelling and what looked like a roll of green moss.

“A giraffe manure poultice should coax out the muscle-building energies, while a moss wrap will provide an aura-shield and stop the negative forces feeding on the new flesh.” She began liberally smearing the foul smelling mixture up and down his skinny legs.

“Can I have the anabolic steroids instead, please?” pleaded Willie, fanning his nose at the stench.

“You’ll get used to the smell,” she assured him. “The others might not – but what’s important is to build you up. We don’t want people kicking Martian sand in your face.” She wiped her hands on a towel and started strapping the moss around his calves. “Are you excited about Mars?”

Willie had covered his mouth and nose to stop him gagging from the overpowering stink. All he could manage was a nod.

“Thrilling, isn’t is!” Adorabella enthused as she started on his thighs. “But what excites me most is that there’s life down there.”

Willie froze. His eyes widened. He managed to utter a single word. “What?”

“I can sense it. There’s life on Mars, Willie. I’m picking up the vibes. I can feel their presence. Reaching out to me. Calling to me. Trying to communicate.”

Willie was staring at her, a chill running through him, far greater than that from the giraffe dung. He lifted the hands from his mouth, but still kept his fingers clasped over his nose. “How do you know?” he asked cautiously, trying to make his interest in the matter sound casual.

“I just know. That’s the way it is when you have psychic powers.”

“What kind of beings are you ‘sensing’?”

Adorabella’s eyes sparkled. She closed them as though to bring back the memories of what she had been sensing. When she opened them again she said, “Wind spirits!”

“Come again?”

“They’re the spirits of the long-dead wind-people of Mars.”

“Long-dead?”

“Yesss.”

“Ah,” said Willie, finally beginning to understand. The tension in his body eased and his teeming mind relaxed. He even began to enjoy the application of moss bandages over his legs. “Wind spirits.”

“Morloth, Thelezor, Serenthia and Bernard.”

“OK.” He nodded slowly. “One of them is called Bernard?”

“Yesss.”

Willie gave a polite cough. “How did you learn the names of these long-dead Martian wind-people, Dr Faerydae?”

“Surely you’ve read Rudolf von Bollikan’s The Long-Dead Wind-People of Mars? They communicate with him through the magic crystal of Knib! And I, too, can now sense their presence on the planet below.” Adorabella finished securing the moss leg-wraps with strings of garlic.

“You know, that’s really very impressive and exciting, but I think we shouldn’t tell anyone about this. Not a soul. You haven’t told anyone, have you?” he asked.

“No, no. Who would believe me?”

“Right.”

“So, it’ll be our secret, right?”

“Yes, our secret.”

Adorabella pulled away and appraised her work. She clapped her hands together at a job well done. “Would you like me to do your arms as well?” she asked.

“No,” responded Willie before she’d even finished the sentence.

He unstrapped himself from the couch and started dressing. Pulling his dungarees over the moss leggings was the trickiest part, particularly in zero-G, but once he had, it felt surprisingly nice. Adorabella tidied away all the floating bits and pieces.

He headed for the door. “Thank you, Dr Faerydae. And not a word about the windy things.”

She tapped the side of her nose. “Our secret.”

Willie closed the door behind him and rested his head on it, breathing deeply and letting waves of relief flow through him. “Gone,” he said to himself, tapping his forehead against the door. “Completely gone.”

Then he set off, shedding dung-encrusted moss behind him.