Across the Zodiac: The Story of a Wrecked RecordGreg, Percy
Science
Across the Zodiac: The Story of a Wrecked Record
Greg, Percy
Science fiction
"Throw yourself upon me, and sit firm, if you value your life," I
cried, and I relaxed my hold on his arm, stretching both hands to
grasp Eveena. I felt the man's weight on my body, and with both arms
extended to the uttermost hanging over the edge, I caught firm bold of
the girl's shoulders. Even now, with any girl of her age on earth, and
for aught I know with many Martial damsels, the case would have been
hopeless. My whole strength was required to raise her; I had none to
spare to force her loose from her hold. Fortunately my rough and tight
clasp seemed to rouse her. Her eyes half opened, and semi-consciousness
appeared to have returned.
"Let go!" I cried in that sharp tone of imperious anger which—with
some tempers at least—is the natural expression of the outward
impulse produced by supreme and agonizing terror. Obedience is the
hereditary lesson taught to her sex by the effects of equality in
Mars. Eveena had been personally trained in a principle long discarded
by Terrestrial women; and not half aware what she did, but yielding
instinctively to the habit of compliance with imperative command
spoken in a masculine voice, she opened her hands just as I had lost
all hope. With one desperate effort I swung her fairly on to the
platform, and, seeing her safe there, fell back myself scarcely more
sensible than she was.
The whole of this terrible scene, which it has taken so long to
relate, did not occupy more than a minute in action. I know not
whether my readers can understand the full difficulty and danger of
the situation. I know that no words of mine can convey the impression
graven into my own memory, never to be effaced or weakened while
consciousness remains. The strongest man on Earth could not have done
what I did; could not, lying half over the precipice, have swung a
girl of eighteen right out from underneath him, and to his own level.
But Eveena was of slighter, smaller frame than a healthy French girl
of twelve, while I retained the full strength of a man adapted to the
work of a world where every weight is twice as heavy as on Mars. What
I had practically to do was to lift not seven or eight stone of
European girlhood, not even the six Eveena might possibly have weighed
on Earth, but half that weight. And yet the position was such that all
the strength I had acquired through ten years of constant practice in
the field and in the chase, all the power of a frame in healthful
maturity, and of muscles whose force seemed doubled by the tension of
the nerves, hardly availed. When I recovered my own senses, and had
contrived to restore Eveena's, my unwilling assistant had disappeared.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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