Mars Needs Women
Summer, 1968. America's top scientific minds gather in Houston
at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration headquarters after
receiving an urgent call from their nation's leaders. Taken to an office
backroom where armed guards stand vigilant outside the doors, the who's
who of researchers, professors, and doctors are told of a radio
transmission intercepted and translated by NASA just a few hours ago. A
message only three words long, sent by Earth's next door neighbor: "Mars
needs women." As military personnel begin planning for a potential
invasion, among the stunned and silent scientists in the small boardroom
sits one Doctor Marjorie Bolen, one of the nation's leading experts in
genetics.
In the long days that
followed, a string of kidnappings swept across Texas like a wind. Women
from all walks of life were vanishing in the night without a trace.
While the public ran wild with conspiracy theory after conspiracy
theory, only a select few knew the unsettling truth behind the
disappearances. As the sun set on the Lone Star state sky, a weary
Marjorie returned to her small home on the outskirts of Houston after
another unsuccessful day of tracking these Martian invaders. Sleep
deprived and operating on the last fleeting fumes of a coffee from
earlier that morning, she fails to notice the slightly ajar window on
the back of the house as she trudges her way to the bedroom.
The
midnight silence of the house was broken by the sound creaking wooden
floors, to which Marjorie's heavy eyes open to investigate. Mere inches
away, silhouetted by moonlight breaking through the window's thin
curtains, was a strange figure. Her eyes went wide as the shadow quickly
raised a small rectangular shape to her face, her vision quickly
blinded by a crimson light from the tip of the strange device. She felt
herself slipping back into the land of nod as another intruder's
silhouette came into view, her body paralyzed by fear as she went to
sleep once more.
The chilling
touch of the steel bench on portions of skin not covered by the
nightgown stirs Marjorie from her unwanted slumber. Rubbing the sleep
from her eyes, she sits up and examines the confines of this unfamiliar
room. With walls of a faded dark yellow and a single door on the wall
adjacent to herself, the small room is no bigger than that a jail cell.
Besides the bench on which she sits, the only other object within the
room is a simple grey box by her side. Marjorie opens the metal
container, removing the contents from inside. It's a suit, made of a
smooth material and dark silver in color. Reluctantly, she slides her
body into the uniform, finding it to be the better alternative than
running around here (wherever "here" was) in her nightgown.
After
sitting alone with her own racing mind for several minuets, the door of
the cell opened, and Marjorie gasped. Standing on the other side of the
threshold were two little aliens, Martians, to be exact. With bulbous
heads, black eyes, and short lanky bodies no bigger than that of a child
or teenager, she instantly recognized them as her bedroom intruders by
their unique outline. While the two spoke in an unfamiliar language,
their gestures indicated they wanted her to follow them, and led her
through the winding halls of the spaceship.
In
another room stood dozens of women, each wearing their own silver suits
of identical design. The Martians motioned for Marjorie to step up to a
black square embedded on the floor between them. She stood motionless
in the center of the square as the aliens spoke to their captive
audience, trying their best to convey their message with hand signals.
One of the Martians turned towards a control panel nearby, flipping
several switches as the air in the area of the square became energized.
Marjorie's suit seemed to buzz with electric as the machine scanned her
head to toe. Behind her, monitors flicked on with images of x-rays of
muscle and bone and vital sign statistics, all written in the strange in
the alien language. The electrified air died down and the screens
flashed a bright green, indicating to it's views the test results were
satisfactory. Before Marjorie could step off and disappear into the
crowd, the closest Martian to her pointed to a doorway to their right
with it's long skinny finger. She nervously stepped closer to the
threshold, feeling the eyes of the human audience on her as she
disappeared into the next room and the next woman stepped up...
Inside was what Marjorie could only assume was a laboratory, if the
large computer equipment and the numerous glass vials spread about were
any indication. Lined against the walls of the long room were what
looked like hair-drying chairs from a salon, all of which, save for one,
were occupied by other human females. Attached to the shoulders of each
chair were two glass containers no bigger than the size of her fist,
each one filled with a glowing orange substance. Massive helmets the
same dark silver as the women's metallic suits hung above the seats,
held in the air by steel arms and cables leading into the ceiling.
(Above): Alien technology alters Marjorie Bolen's body into one suitable for not only living on Mars, but now able to carry the offspring of the dying race.
On
the opposite side of the room from Marjorie stood another little
Martian creature, examining a switchboard of flickering lights, buttons,
and knobs. It turned it's attention away from the board, and began to
speak in it's garbled language directly to her before pointing at the
lone empty chair. After Marjorie sat down upon the steel throne, the
Martian pressed a button on the switchboard, and metal clamps slid up
and around from the arms of every chair, locking down around the wrists
of the women. At the flick of a switch, the helmets descended from the
ceiling, encompassing the human heads from above the neck. The
restrictive view of the helmets blinded the females to the small
syringes on metal arms approaching from either side. Marjorie winced as
the needles pierced the skin of her neck, feeling it's chilling liquid
contents slowly being injected into her body. Her eyes rolled back as
she struggled to hold on to conscious, putting up a valiant fight
against the chemical's effect, but it was a battle soon lost.
The
silver helmets seemed to buzz with life as it translated the incoming
radio signals into telepathic messages which beamed directly into the
minds of their wearers. Thousands of images bombarded their brains, that
of orange-colored rocky valleys and complex civilizations masked by the
cover of endless cloudy red skies, locations they were coming to know
as well as the mountain ranges and sprawling metropolises of Earth they
were accustom to. The psychic signals proceeded to educate them on
Martian culture and language, turning them into fluent speakers of the
alien tongue, though it came at the cost of completely erasing their
native languages from memory.
The
next series of telepathic signals was a history lesson, showing that
thousands of years of evolution has inadvertently led the men of Mars to
develop a genetic deficiency, one which has left them with the ability
to only create male offspring. If left unchecked, this would lead to the
extinction of the Martian species as a whole by the end of the next
generation's lifetime. Semiconscious throughout her re-education, the
mysterious message of "Mars needs women" suddenly made sense to
Marjorie. They weren't just looking for women to just experiment on,
they were looking for mates.
As
the helmets continue their work on the minds of the females, the
chemical compound flowing through their veins began to activate. The
first stage of the transformation started in the lungs, adapting them
for the carbon dioxide-heavy atmosphere of the red planet. Stage two
tackled the reproductive system, altering it to only be compatible with
Martian DNA before the third stage and most radical of the alteration
began. Several thick layers of golden cells formed over her fair skin,
coating her body in it's entirety and allowing her to withstand the
constant freezing temperatures that plagued the planet year-round.
The
rumble across the skies of the approaching ships drew the attention of
the Martian capital city, prompting it's residents to rush to the edge
of the landing field on the city outskirts. They watched with
anticipation as the dozens of saucers spread out across the empty zone
before the rounded undercarriage of each ship opened up to reveal a
brilliant white light. In the center of each gravitational beam was a
glowing angelic figure, bathed in the illumination coming from above.
Bare feet touched down upon the alien soil, stirring up a small cloud of
red dust around each woman as they made contact. The woman once called
Marjorie Bolen raised her head, looking out among the spectators with
her obsidian orbs where soft eyes of blue once sat mere hours ago.
Completely stripped of the traits that made Marjorie unique among her
kind, the nameless drone steps forward as her "sisters" continue to
descend from the spaceships overhead. As each step brings them closer to
the city, the drones give no thought of the blue and green marble that
was once their homeworld, only focused on the mission which they have
been reborn for...
My twist on the 1968 B-movie Mars Needs Women, where the Martians (who look nothing like Tommy Kirk) were successful in their mission to abduct Earth females. I wanted the abductees to be given a more "alien" appearance, so I put my recently discovered "metallic skin" effect to the test on something other than my usual "Cyberwomen" series.
Comments
Post a Comment