the Red Planet, by Charles Louis 
Fontenay 
 
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Fontenay This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and 
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Title: Rebels of the Red Planet 
Author: Charles Louis Fontenay 
Release Date: March 4, 2007 [EBook #20739] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REBELS 
OF THE RED PLANET *** 
 
Produced by Greg Weeks, Janet Blenkinship and the Online Distributed 
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net 
 
REBELS OF THE RED PLANET 
by
CHARLES L. FONTENAY 
 
Charles L. Fontenay has also written: 
TWICE UPON A TIME (D-266) 
 
Copyright ©, 1961, by Ace Books, Inc. All Rights Reserved 
Printed in U.S.A. ACE BOOKS, INC. 23 West 47th Street, New York 
36, N.Y. 
 
MARS FOR THE MARTIANS! 
Dark Kensington had been dead for twenty-five years. It was a fact; 
everyone knew it. Then suddenly he reappeared, youthful, brilliant, 
ready to take over the Phoenix, the rebel group that worked to 
overthrow the tyranny that gripped the settlers on Mars. 
The Phoenix had been destroyed not once, not twice, but three times! 
But this time the resurrected Dark had new plans, plans which involved 
dangerous experiments in mutation and psionics. 
And now the rebels realized they were in double jeopardy. Not only 
from the government's desperate hatred of their movement, but also 
from the growing possibility that the new breed of mutated monsters 
would get out of hand and bring terrors never before known to man. 
CHARLES L. FONTENAY writes: "I was born in Brazil of a father 
who was by birth English and by parentage German and French, and of 
a mother who was by birth American and by parentage American and 
Scottish. This mess of internationalism caused me some trouble in the 
army during World War II as the government couldn't decide whether I 
was American, British, or Brazilian; and both as an enlisted man and an 
officer I dealt in secret work which required citizenship by birth. On
three occasions I had to dig into the lawbooks. Finally they gave up and 
admitted I was an American citizen.... 
"I was raised on a West Tennessee farm and distinguished myself in 
school principally by being the youngest, smallest (and consequently 
the fastest-running) child in my classes ... Newspaper work has been 
my career since 1936. I have worked for three newspapers, including 
The Nashville Tennessean for which I am now rewrite man, and before 
the war for the Associated Press." 
Mr. Fontenay is married, lives in Madison, Tenn., and has had one 
other novel published by Ace Books. 
* * * * * 
 
1 
It is a sea, though they call it sand. 
They call it sand because it is still and red and dense with grains. They 
call it sand because the thin wind whips it, and whirls its dusty skim 
away to the tight horizons of Mars. 
But only a sea could so brood with the memory of aeons. Only a sea, 
lying so silent beneath the high skies, could hint the mystery of life still 
behind its barren veil. 
To practical, rational man, it is the Xanthe Desert. Whatever else he 
might unwittingly be, S. Nuwell Eli considered himself a practical, 
rational man, and it was across the bumpy sands of the Xanthe Desert 
that he guided his groundcar westward with that somewhat cautious 
proficiency that mistrusts its own mastery of the machine. Maya Cara 
Nome, his colleague in this mission to which he had addressed himself, 
was a silent companion. 
Nuwell's liquid brown eyes, insistent upon their visual clarity, saw the 
red sand as the blowing surface of unliving solidity. Only clarity was
admitted to Nuwell, and the only living clarity was man and beast and 
vegetation, spotted in the dome cities and dome farms of the lowlands. 
He and Maya scurried, transiting sparks of the only life, insecure and 
hastening in the absence of the net of roads which eventually would 
bind the Martian surface to human reality from the toeholds of the 
dome cities. 
In that opposite world which was the other side of the groundcar's seat, 
Maya Cara Nome's opaque black eyes struggled against the surface. 
They struggled not from any rational motivation but from long 
stubbornness, from habit, as a fly kicks six-legged and constant against 
the surface tension of a trapping pool. 
Formally, Maya was allied to Newell's clarity and solidity, and she 
could express this alliance with complete logic if called on. But behind 
the casually blowing sand she sensed a depth. The shimmering 
atmosphere, hostile to man, which sealed the red    
    
		
	
	
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