“Isn’t that just called feeling homesick?”
“Memory and emotion are connected, but there is more to it than that. This was an important discovery for us, one that ultimately led to the salvation of our people.”
“How so?”
“It led us to discover a way to interact with radical energy — all around us yet all but impossible to detect. This, in turn, brought Martians into contact with people from other worlds. First among them was a nomadic people known to us as the Befalyn.”
“Nomadic? How does that work on an interplanetary scale?”
“Their planet passes briefly through our solar system, though ours is not the only sun it orbits. It is a small planet, not much bigger than the largest moons of Annulus.” She assumes Borman is likewise familiar with this planet, but his blank expression warrants further prompting. “The ringed giant.”
Finally, he gets it. “Saturn.”
“Their world, we call it Turatine, it wanders through our planetary system on an elliptical orbit that carries it all the way from the binary star.”
“You mean Sirius.” She blinks at him in affirmation. “How come nobody on Earth knows of this planet?”
“Turatine’s orbital path takes thousands of years to complete. It is many hundreds of years away from returning. The Befalyn were known to Earth long ago, though not by that name. This is the name we chose for them. It’s a very old Martian term of derision, it means ‘infestation’.”
“You really don’t like them, do you?”
“No. But still we traded with them. They brought us rare minerals obtained from across the solar system, which we traded for gold.”
“There is gold on Mars,” he notes distantly.
“The old world, not this one. We made sure of that. The Befalyn also shared with us their most advanced science, and at one time maintained a presence among the Martian people. Then one day their presence began to grow. They had come to believe they were welcome among us. But the Martian people had only tolerated their presence for the purposes of trade. The war between our two peoples started on a small scale.”
Like all wars, Borman thinks.
“One of their kind was killed. Then two of ours, followed by five of theirs. And so it went. Our leaders sought to call a truce, but urged them to leave for their own safety. The Befalyn said they had already traded their way onto the Martian surface and had every right to stay. Many among us agreed. And so, we worked hard to make peace. For a long time, we succeeded. This was a period of great advancement for Mars. We could not know it was the beginning of the end of life as we knew it. But this was when we developed the abilities that ultimately saved us from extinction.”
She has his attention now. “I’d very much like to hear more about that,” Borman says.
“We began examining the interplay between large magnetic fields and consciousness, how thought and memory are linked to magnetics. This in turn broadened our understanding of radical energy.”
“Yes, you mentioned that before…”
“It is the force that binds the universe — all universes. But it also defies logic and the uniformity of principle. It is malleable. Changeable. It responds to intention.”
“What… like magic?”
“In a way, yes. This is the discovery made by us. But it came as a result of the crude principles taught to us by Befalyn scientists.”
“I think I see where this is going.”
“As I say, there was peace for many years. Until a Martian woman was taken by a group of their men. They were new arrivals. Turatine had reappeared on its journey through our solar system. These visitors had no respect for Martians. Especially for our women. They treated us with contempt.”
“They raped her…”
Holtz nods. “And tortured, and finally killed her. Hatred between our two people reappeared quickly. It had always been there, I think, just below the surface. But now it spread like disease. This was when the visitors were branded Befalyn — it is, I think, a term that belittles us both.”
Her story is at once intriguing and draining of his mental resources. As much as he wants her to keep talking, he finds he is barely able to keep his eyes open. She sees this and stops.
“We will talk more,” she assures him. “Now you must sleep.”
Even as she says the word, he feels himself slipping deeper into unconsciousness.
19
Borman can hear strange animalistic noises. Scratching sounds. It’s dark. He’s lost in the trees. Nothing looks familiar and he can’t remember how he got there. He sees something bloody and mangled on the forest floor. The remains of an animal. It’s being torn apart by a horrific looking creature — some brutish mutant crossbred wolf and bear. Sensing his presence, it turns on him, blood and gore still dripping from its fangs. Though its appetite has been sated, it looks ready to rip his throat out.
He runs. Faster than he could ever run on Earth. He feels himself speeding up as adrenalin drives him forward and he knows he has to outrun the creature. But which way? He’s still lost. For all he knows, he’s running further away from safety.
There is a voice in his head. A woman’s voice. He remembers her. It’s like he’s known her all his life. Not Susan. It’s nobody he can recall from Earth, yet remember her he does. And he loves her. He really loves this woman. Her voice is soothing. He can’t see her face. She is little more than a dark outline, a silhouette.
It’s safe.
The same two words again and again. When he asks what she means, she says them again. He doesn’t know what she means. He’s longing for her, wants to draw her close, but she’s always out of reach. Unattainable.
The wolf-bear is ahead of him now. It leaps down from high in the trees and lands in front of him. All this time it has been watching. Waiting.
The shock of imminent death shakes him from his sleep and almost immediately the dream fades from his grasp. He can sense the fear, feel his heart pounding, but all he can remember are the woman’s words. It’s safe. Despite all evidence to the contrary.
It takes him a good five minutes to work out where he is. The room is strange. It looks suspiciously like a den. He is inside someone’s house. There are no photos. No trophies. Just a bed and a bare table with a single chair. The walls are smooth. Polished stone. But when he puts his hand to it, the wall is warm to touch. It’s like the house is alive.
The sensation is so startling, he recoils instinctively and gets to his feet. He tests his foot. Hadn’t he had a problem with his ankle? It feels fine now. He does a few stretches to wake himself up.
The room has no door. It’s still dark outside, but he senses dawn is close. Wide awake, he sets off to explore the house.
It’s huge. A network of rooms expands out from the center in a series of radial corridors. Several of the larger rooms are adorned with sculptured twists of wood, lit from odd angles by skylights and windows in the strangest places. A sense of familiarity returns to him, although for a minute or two he is half convinced this is yet another dream.
Then he reaches the terrace overlooking the forest. The first light of day glow in the sky above the darkened forest. It fills him with an extreme sense of wonder to think he has awoken on a different planet. Wonder underpinned by trepidation, because still nothing makes sense. His past has been taken from him; his present circumstances are entirely out of his control.
Holtz arrives at his side without a word, seemingly happy to join him in silent contemplation. She stands so close he can feel the warmth of her body and he remembers the other woman’s presence in his dreams. Holtz is reading him now, he can tell. She sees it.