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Updated: June 12, 2025
The assault team on the lander disagreed; anything that delayed Thark worked in their favor. "How long till launch?" someone asked Nevan. "Eight minutes. Then about three to land." Corina was aware of her team, so she heard the estimate, but her main attention was still on Thark. He and his people were on their way to the Throne Room, hoping to find the Emperor there with his staff.
Jamar followed, stopping to raise the ramp and close the lock. Thark went on to the cockpit and secured himself in the pilot's seat, scanning his instrumentation. He was an accomplished pilot, and rather to his surprise he found that the pre-liftoff routine did ease his mood, even under such unpleasant circumstances. His ears went forward in satisfaction.
Since you're sure Thark will be leading the attack, we'll be using Jim's plan: I want Thark to land and take action against the Palace itself, and to prevent unnecessary damage, I'm making it as easy for him as I can. As a ruling noble, he'll have no trouble getting through the Complex's weather dome, and he'll find the Palace's security screen has somehow been left off.
We sought them at the command of the Father of Therns. One was white with black hair, the other a huge green warrior," and here the fellow cast a suspicious glance toward Tars Tarkas. "Here, then, is one of them," spoke Thuvia, indicating the Thark, "and if you will look upon this dead man by the door perhaps you will recognize the other.
"Two of them are of Helium's noblest family. Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of Thark, is Tardos Mors' best beloved ally. The other is a friend and companion of the Prince of Helium that is enough for me to know." "It is not enough for me, however," retorted Zat Arras. "More must I hear from those who have taken the pilgrimage than their names. Where have you been, John Carter?"
In honor, that was the only way she could decide. Irschcha had made more progress in its forty-three years since joining the Empire than in any span ten times that long under the Order. Once her decision was made, she did not hesitate. She stood, then said with a return to strict formality, "I can regard your Crusade as nothing but treason, Thark. I can no longer call you Master."
A Ranger's interference, especially this early, could be disastrous! "Ranger Medart's orders, Master. He is on convalescent leave, recuperating from the injuries he sustained just prior to the end of the war. He did not wish to be bothered by official functions." "If he is injured," Thark said thoughtfully, "he should be no problem to eliminate." "I said he is recuperating," Kainor corrected.
But enough of these useless memories, Thark told himself sternly. What had happened could not be changed. He should join his passengers. He rose, giving his instrument panel an automatic scan as he rose. Urrr the proximity alarm! He'd forgotten to turn it on, a mistake he'd not have made but for Corina's defection.
She was also less cold and cruel than most green Martian women, and caring little for their society, she often roamed the deserted avenues of Thark alone, or went and sat among the wild flowers that deck the nearby hills, thinking thoughts and wishing wishes which I believe I alone among Tharkian women today may understand, for am I not the child of my mother?
Our animals had been two days without drink, nor had they had water for nearly two months, not since shortly after leaving Thark; but, as Tars Tarkas explained to me, they require but little and can live almost indefinitely upon the moss which covers Barsoom, and which, he told me, holds in its tiny stems sufficient moisture to meet the limited demands of the animals.
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