After the Martians

By Steven R. Southard

In 1901, the Martians attacked Earth, but tiny bacteria vanquished them. Their advanced weaponry lay everywhere—three-legged fighting machines, heat rays, and poison gas. Now, in 1917, The Great War rages across Europe but each side uses Martian technology. Join Corporal Johnny Branch, a young man from Wyoming, as he pursues his dream to f

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gypsy Shadow Publishing
• Release date: Mar 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781619503830

Steven R. Southard

A naval engineer who grew up reading Jules Verne and Tom Swift, Steven R. Southard is fascinated by technology and man's relation to it. Our tools can expand the good we do, but also multiply evil. This theme is apparent in each story of his series, What Man Hath Wrought. Steve has written in the historical, fantasy, science fiction, alternate history, horror, and steampunk genres. Visit his page at the Gypsy Shadow Publishing website and his own site at www.stevenrsouthard.com to better understand his intriguing characters and their amazing machines.

Book preview

Contents

Copyright Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

About the Author

After the Martians

by

Steven R. Southard

All rights reserved

Copyright © November 29, 2015, Steven R. Southard

Cover Art Copyright © 2016, Charlotte Holley

Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

Lockhart, TX

www.gypsyshadow.com

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

ISBN: 978-1-61950-383-0

Published in the United States of America

First eBook Edition: May 3, 2016

Dedication

To Andy Gudgel, friend and fellow scribbler, who conceived the idea of this book. I kept inquiring (well, bugging) him about when he’d complete it. At last he tired of my nagging and said, It’s now yours. You write it. Greatest gift one author can give another! Andy, I not only dedicate this book to you, but have included you as a character.

Chapter 1

Wishing the thrill of danger and power would never end, Johnny Branch guided the huge fighting machine across a burned-out olive orchard.

Yee-Haw! he whooped. He remembered training on the machines back in the States, but back then he hadn’t felt this giddy anticipation of real battle.

Seated to his right in the cockpit, First Lieutenant Henry Wagner twirled one end of his wide moustache. Just keep your eyes open, Corporal. Stay in formation.

Other machines in Crazyhorse Troop marched abreast with Johnny’s, spaced a quarter mile apart. Each one-hundred-foot tall machine lurched in an alien, three-legged gait among the blackened tree trunks. In this sector of Alsace in eastern France, a broad, once-cultivated valley spread before them. Only a few miles ahead lay the Rhine, the border recognized by the Allies. That border was in dispute, and the Central Powers claimed this area as German territory.

"I don’t reckon my eyes have ever been more open, L-T. I’m just a little excited, I guess."

Sixteen years earlier, in 1901, Martians had attacked Earth, and then succumbed to terrestrial diseases carried by microbes in the air and water. But their technology remained. Astronomers kept a wary eye on the red planet, but so far the Martians had not sent a second invasion force.

Don’t you ever feel that way, sauntering along in these things? Johnny had to control each of the machine’s hydraulic legs individually, using Martian knobs and switches. The aliens had managed with just one creature per fighting machine, and the control panel had been designed for their tentacles. But two humans were required, one for machine movement, and the other for weapons, leaving the cockpit quite cramped.

Maybe back when I started, Wagner answered, but I guess I just got used—

Hold up, L-T. I just hit something solid. Johnny stomped one fighting machine leg on a nondescript stretch of dirt. He heard a metallic clang. Lemme see…

Metal hatches, Johnny knew, often concealed underground bunkers. He bent the machine’s ‘knees’ to lower it and seized the controls of one of its dangling metal tentacles. He stretched the tentacle down to brush dirt off the metal plate beneath them. The use of heat rays in this war had made above-ground structures vulnerable. Each side now focused on discovering and destroying the enemy’s underground dugouts.

Without warning, a dozen German-made walkers rose from concealed underground locations, surrounding them.

Sound the alarm. The lieutenant spoke in a flat, professional tone, and spin the carapace.

Feeling his excitement grow, Johnny pulled a cord to trigger a loud series of odd, warbling sounds. Aloo, aloo, aloo! resounded from the klaxon, a summons for the rest of their platoon.

He caused their cockpit to rotate, while Wagner sprayed rounds from his Hotchkiss machine gun at the walkers around them.

Americans used Martian fighting machines, since the aliens had abandoned so many there, all in good working order. Germans built their own fighting machines,