Malcolm Taylor’s friends doubt his claim of having invented a time machine, all except for Griffin, a selfish and mean-spirited man—the soon-to-be invisible man, to be precise. When Griffin coerces Taylor for help with his experiments, they end up in the middle of a Martian invasion, soon realizing that the fate of all of humanity, past and future, rests in their hands.
“In the Time of the Martians” first appeared in Turning the Tied, a charity anthology from the International Association of Media Tie-In Writers, of which I’m a member due to my Star Trek writing. All the stories feature characters from popular works in the public domain. I chose to weave together elements from three iconic H. G. Wells novels: The Time Machine, The Invisible Man, and The War of the Worlds. It’s now included in my short story collection The Sad Rains of Mars with additional scenes, a director’s cut, if you will. The excerpt below is from the opening of the expanded story.
In the Time of the Martians
London—1895 MALCOLM TAYLOR stood upon his threshold bidding a
subdued good night to his departing dinner guests. They huddled in a clump at the end of his walk, opening dark umbrellas against the pattering rain, casting soft shadows under a nearby gas streetlamp. Filby, the last to step out, paused and turned back toward Taylor. “Right, you’ve had your fun,” Filby said. He put his bowler on and leaned in closer to Taylor. “So just between us, how’d you do it?” “It’s no parlor trick. As I said, the machine has been sent through time.” Filby held Taylor’s gaze a moment longer, then winked and touched the brim of his hat before turning and heading after the others. “Hillyer, care to share a hansom?”
AFTER CLOSING THE DOOR, Taylor sighed. He’d made his miniature invention disappear in a well-lighted room to unquestionably establish it had traveled via previously unknown means. Yet his guests thought he’d pulled some sort of sleight of hand. No wonder they’d been unimpressed upon seeing the nearly complete full-scale machine. Taylor returned to the drawing room and the octagonal table recently vacated by the miniature machine. He put the lamp from the table on the mantel, then moved the table farther from the fireplace. He added a log to the fire and snuffed the candles on the mantel. “Finally, they’re gone.” Taylor quite jumped at the unexpected voice, then his eyes focused on a pale figure sitting in the corner. “Griffin! I didn’t see you there. I thought you’d left with the rest.” “I needed to speak to you—but preferred to avoid the small-mindedness of the others.” “That’s uncalled for.” “Is it? You showed them a machine that travels through time. They treated it like a card trick.” Taylor slumped into the chair opposite Griffin, eyeing
the other man closely. “You believe me then?” Griffin leaned forward into the light cast by the
fire. The orange glow softened his nearly albino-pink complexion but heightened his pale red gaze as he stared unblinking at Taylor. “I do.”
. . .
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