Nobody had ever flown through space, still I was supposed to do it and bring back an alien for Marsten's circus. Nonsense, you say? Meet-- MARTY THE MARTIAN By Arnold Marmor [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy August 1954 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] It's still very clear in my mind. The whole episode. The afternoon visit to Marsten's office, the trip to Mars, and the journey back. It was one of those warm summer afternoons. All one craved for was a patch of green grass to recline on and maybe a faint breeze to tingle one's forehead. I was sure of the grass and hopeful for the breeze. But one of Marsten's messengers popped up and the grass and the breeze would have to wait. After all, Marsten was my boss. He had his office in the Empire State Building. Norbert Marsten was the owner of the Marsten Circus, the greatest, biggest, loudest circus in the world. And if you don't believe it, ask Mr. Marsten. "Sit down, Nick," he invited, speaking from one corner of his mouth as the other corner was busy chewing a dollar cigar. Marsten was a small man with sleek black, hair. A small man with big ideas. I sat down. "Nick, you're the best 'bring 'em back alive' man I've got. The best." This was very true. "You've got a job for me," I said. "That's correct." "So why the buildup? Tell me what you want." "I want something that no other circus has." "You must be kidding. You have every known animal there is. Why, the bushmaster I brought you two months ago is the longest--" "It isn't exactly an animal I want." "Oh? You mean you want a performer? What the hell have I got to do--" "What I want is out of this world." "A different kind of act? I still say--" "I want a Martian." I was glad I didn't have a mirror in front of my face. I could imagine how foolish I looked with my mouth hanging open. "I even have a name picked out for him," Marsten persisted. "Marty, the Martian. What do you think of that?" I stood up slowly. "Let me know when you've recovered." Marsten came around the desk. "Sit down. Now listen to me. Did you ever hear of a man named Hendrick Ritter?" "No." "The greatest scientist in the world. He's been working for me for over a year. I hired him to do one particular job for me: to concoct a fuel that will get a space ship to Mars and back. Well, it's done. Did you ever hear of a man named Sam Young?" "Same answer as before." "He's a designer for air ships. The best in the business. He's finished a job for me. And, Nick, it's already built. And I've got Joe Roane working for me." "I've heard of him," I said. "The greatest pilot in the world," Marsten said.