A Princess of Mars: The Last Breath

The Last Air

The egg tapped beneath Dejah's hand. Their child was ready to hatch. The air gauge was falling.

Across Helium, lamps died and airships lost lift. By dusk, every city on Mars would be gasping.

A Plan Without Time

Dejah knew the atmosphere plant. John remembered its three sealed doors—and almost remembered the nine sounds that opened them.

John asked her to stay with their child. ‘There is nowhere safe to stay,’ she said. She placed the egg beside Woola. ‘Guard him.’

The Flight

Their flier skimmed the red sand, racing the setting sun. Every breath felt borrowed.

At the edge of the desert, the atmosphere plant rose like a second city. Its blue conduits were dim. Its doors were shut.

The Thought-Key

John reached for the first lock. Eight lights answered his memory. The ninth stayed dark.

‘Look at me,’ Dejah said. ‘Breathe with me.’ John heard the missing sound. The ninth light woke.

One door opened. Then another. Then the last. Beyond them, the silent pump waited.

One Pump

The reservoir was full, but the feed was closed. Dejah found the first wheel. John found the second. Together, they forced the machinery awake.

The great machine caught. Blue light surged through the pipes. Dejah felt the first current of air against her face.

The Cost

John fell as the air returned. Dejah reached for him, but his hand faded from hers.

The pump kept turning. Dejah was alone. Far away, their child was still waiting for a breath.

A Red Star

John woke beneath an Earth sky. Mars shone red above the desert. He could not know whether the air had reached Dejah, Woola, and their child.

A Princess of Mars: The Last Breath
By An illustrated adaptation after Edgar Rice Burroughs
The egg tapped beneath Dejah's hand. Their child was ready to hatch. The air gauge was falling.
Across Helium, lamps died and airships lost lift. By dusk, every city on Mars would be gasping.
Dejah knew the atmosphere plant. John remembered its three sealed doors—and almost remembered the nine sounds that opened them.
John asked her to stay with their child. ‘There is nowhere safe to stay,’ she said. She placed the egg beside Woola. ‘Guard him.’
Their flier skimmed the red sand, racing the setting sun. Every breath felt borrowed.
At the edge of the desert, the atmosphere plant rose like a second city. Its blue conduits were dim. Its doors were shut.
John reached for the first lock. Eight lights answered his memory. The ninth stayed dark.
‘Look at me,’ Dejah said. ‘Breathe with me.’ John heard the missing sound. The ninth light woke.
One door opened. Then another. Then the last. Beyond them, the silent pump waited.
The reservoir was full, but the feed was closed. Dejah found the first wheel. John found the second. Together, they forced the machinery awake.
The great machine caught. Blue light surged through the pipes. Dejah felt the first current of air against her face.
John fell as the air returned. Dejah reached for him, but his hand faded from hers.
The pump kept turning. Dejah was alone. Far away, their child was still waiting for a breath.
John woke beneath an Earth sky. Mars shone red above the desert. He could not know whether the air had reached Dejah, Woola, and their child.
Did the air reach them?

A Princess of Mars: The Last Breath

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