He doesn’t like that one little bit. “Get out of my skull, dammit.”
Why is the human mind so fragile?
“Stop it. Just… stop. Talk normally. Like Holtz. Open your mouth and speak.”
Parxotic seems genuinely surprised by Borman’s objection, but she does as the astronaut suggests. “Is this better?”
Relieved, Borman assures her it is. Of all the strangeness he has experienced on Mars, this must surely take the cake.
“It may be good for you,” says Parxotic, staring intently at Borman’s companion, “but to us it is crude. Words are too easy to misinterpret.”
“Maybe so,” says Borman, “but on Earth they lock you up in a padded cell when you hear voices in your head.” It makes him doubt himself, like maybe he’s starting to lose it. “Where are you taking my friend?”
“You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
“Then why not tell me now?”
“I can make you see, if you’ll let me.”
“Not if it means what I think it means.”
“Telepathic connection is the most efficient way to answer your question.”
“Stay out of my head.”
Parxotic merely studies him in silence, leaving Borman feeling like a lab rat facing imminent dissection. He knows he’ll be helpless to resist if they decide to drag him away too. What must it feel like to have that much power over another person? Do the Martians treat one another like this?
Borman is wondering why Parxotic is showing any restraint at all, when Holtz appears like an answer to the question.
“You will not do this,” Holtz commands, stepping in between them. “He is my guest. He remains with me.”
Parxotic stands her ground, examining Holtz with an expression Borman figures as something close to sympathy. “This matter has gone too far,” she replies.
“He has not come here to harm us,” says Holtz. “He has no weapons. He’s shown no sign of violence. It is beyond acceptance for you to treat his kind this way.”
Parxotic shows what must pass for a smile. To Borman, it’s more like a grimace, but he senses the emotion behind it. She says, “Be it upon your head when he turns against you.”
Borman is about to speak. Holtz holds up her hand to stop him, and he actually feels his jaw clamp shut. She’s still facing down her fellow Martian. “Leave us now, Parx. Do not make me take this further.” Like she’s spoiling for a fight.
Parxotic looks primed for physical confrontation, but apparently thinks better of it. Without another word, she turns and walks away. In three steps, she is gone. Vanished, like a ghost. Somewhere in the back of his head, Borman recalls they can do that.
“What about my friend?” he asks Holtz.
“He won’t be harmed. I’ll make sure of it.”
He says, “You could have asked them to let him go.”
“You I can defend. Your ‘friend’ I don’t know.” She starts to walk away.
18
She saved him. But from what? And where have they taken Menzel?
There is something about it he’s missing that remains deeply troubling. He’s angry with Holtz. Though he can’t be sure whether it’s his own anger, or the residual effect of locking minds with her Martian cohort. She knows it; there’s no hiding it from her. Then there is the nagging question of whether she drugged the fruit, but he quickly dismisses it. His life is entirely in her hands now, one way or another. If he trusts her, maybe she’ll return the favor. “Donald Menzel is my ticket home. If you want me to leave, the easiest way is to get him freed from captivity. Just let us leave and we’ll never come back.”
She scowls at him. “How will you leave?”
“Menzel. He can get us home.”
She shakes her head. “I know you believe that. But it’s not true.”
She believes she knows more about all this than he does.
Admittedly, Borman cannot say for certain how Bermuda will react to all of this. What troubles him most of all, is why they sent him here with both arms tied behind his back. Why did nobody, Menzel especially, trust him enough to keep him in the loop? Unless they knew all along he’d never agree to what they had in mind.
“Why would you want to leave?” she asks him. She poses her question like she’s asking him what he has to hide. “You only just got here.”
She has a string of questions about Donald Menzel. Odd questions. About his mental state, his education, even the color of his eyes. Which is odd, because Borman is able to tell her they are blue. He has no conscious awareness of previously noting the color of the scientist’s eyes, but the knowledge is there, just the same.
He tells her all he remembers, which isn’t much. How Menzel was instrumental in his journey to Mars, how he’d come here specifically to get Borman home. Which, come to think of it, does seem strange. He admits he can’t explain it.
“You are not making this easy,” she says. “There are those among our people who will listen closely if my brothers and sisters declare you and your friend enemies of the Martian people. You must stop this pretense and tell me why you are here.”
“I’ve told you everything. You watched me land. You saw my ship. I didn’t land here with an army — why are you so afraid of us?”
“The Outliers are defenders of our people. The front line. All who arrive must go through us.”
He gives her his full recollection of his arrival on Phobos, trying his best to leave nothing out. “At first I thought I was on our Moon. I had no idea where I was, let alone what I would find. Next thing I know, I’ve triggered a dimensional gateway and I’m in a different universe.”
“And you think your friend knows more than he told you? Do you think he knew what you would find on Phobos?”
“I have no idea. Maybe. If so, he didn’t let me in on the plan. Someone has tampered with my memory — my money is on the Russians.”
“Humans love secrets, don’t you? What you fail to grasp is the freedom in truth.”
“Telling the truth all the time is easier said than done. Some things are kept secret for a very good reason.”
“We have dispelled with secrets, and made this the founding principle of our world, in the hope we shall avoid ending up like the world we left behind.”
“Tell me about that old Mars,” he urges. “What happened?”
“If not for our scientists, the Martian race would no longer exist. At that time, our world was much like yours — beautiful and fragile in its imperfection. We were at peace with one another, although war was not unknown to our kind back then.
“And we knew of life on other worlds. There was movement between the planets. My ancestors even visited Earth, long ago. Tens of thousands of years ago. What you call humanity did not exist then… At least, this is what Martian history tells us.”
“You didn’t seek to colonize Earth?”
“There were those among us who chose to stay, but they were not many. And their colonies did not last long. They found the Earth gravity harsh and they found they missed home. Also, they noticed a peculiar change had come over them. They were different people. Their personalities, their feelings, their innermost desires began to change. Some thought this was a form of madness, but it was found to be something far subtler, the effect of the Earth’s magnetic field.”
Borman frowns. “How is that even possible?”
“Like so many things, magnetism plays a key role in consciousness and memory. But more than that, it’s tied to the magnetism at your place of origin. The place of your birth. At least, this is the case for Martians, but I believe it to be a universal principle and thus also true of humankind.”