In 2015 Mars had dispatched a ship for Earth with a crew of five men
provisioned for ten years. It was hoped that with good luck the trip
might be made in something less than five years, as the craft had
developed an actual trial speed of one thousand miles per hour. At the
time of my graduation the ship was already off its course almost a
million miles and generally conceded to be hopelessly lost. Its crew,
maintaining constant radio communication with both Earth and Mars, still
hoped for success, but the best informed upon both worlds had given them
up.
We had had a ship about ready at the time of the sailing of the
Martians, but the government at Washington had forbidden the venture
when it became apparent that the Barsoomian ship was doomed—a wise
decision, since our vessel was no better equipped than theirs. Nearly
ten years elapsed before anything further was accomplished in the
direction of assuring any greater hope of success for another
interplanetary venture into space, and this was directly due to the
discovery made by a former classmate of mine, Lieutenant Commander
Orthis, one of the most brilliant men I have ever known, and at the same
time one of the most unscrupulous, and, to me at least, the most
obnoxious.
We had entered the Air School together—he from New York and I from
Illinois—and almost from the first day we had seemed to discover a
mutual antagonism that, upon his part at least, must have been
considerably strengthened by numerous unfortunate occurrences during our
four years beneath the same roof. In the first place he was not popular
with either the cadets, the instructors, or the officers of the school,
while I was most fortunate in this respect. In those various fields of
athletics in which he considered himself particularly expert, it was
always I, unfortunately, who excelled him and kept him from major
honors. In the class room he outshone us all—even the instructors were
amazed at the brilliancy of his intellect—and yet as we passed from
grade to grade I often topped him in the final examinations. I ranked
him always as a cadet officer, and upon graduation I took a higher grade
among the new ensigns than he—a rank that had many years before been
discontinued, but which had recently been revived.
From then on I saw little of him, his services confining him principally
to land service, while mine kept me almost constantly on the air in all
parts of the world. Occasionally I heard of him—usually something
unsavory; he had married a nice girl and abandoned her—there had been
talk of an investigation of his accounts—and the last that there was a
rumor that he was affiliated with a secret order that sought to
overthrow the government. Some things I might believe of Orthis, but not
this.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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