“You’re saying the Monument just conjured up an Apollo Command/Service Module…”
“Because it saw that this is the ship you could fly, and it was necessary for your arrival on Mars. There were other ways of getting here, but none of them were known to you. This is why our prophecy was not fulfilled to the letter.”
“Where’s it gone now?”
“It no longer exists. It has been consumed by the forest because it is no longer needed.”
“When you say the forest…”
“I mean us. It was absorbed back into the Martian etheric.” She’s talking about the Martian collective unconscious. “This world is one of our creation. We are the forest. We are all things. But we do not create with our hands. We do so with focused intent.”
“So, if you want something bad enough, it just appears.”
“It is not done on a whim. We built the Monument on Phobos, and it embodies all of us. It thinks, behaves, and interprets like a living Martian. Because we knew there would be a day when someone from Earth came to us.”
“Donald came to me last night in my dream. I’ve been remembering things he told me on Earth. Then in my dream, he reminded me about the disc. It’s a locator. I don’t know how it works, it’s this secret technology used by Menzel and his cronies. But it could get me home.”
Holtz nods, but it’s like she’s simply trying to placate him.
“Before I left Earth, he gave me the disc and said it would allow him to find me. Which is strange — because that must mean he didn’t know where I was going either.”
“Perhaps he was merely acknowledging you were the one who didn’t know?”
“I don’t think that’s what he meant. It’s hard to explain, but the context, the inference, is tied up in my memory of that conversation. I don’t think either of us had any idea I would be flying to Mars.”
“What does this mean?”
“Donald didn’t trust Bermuda. But he’s important to them. It doesn’t make sense that they’d keep him in the dark about my mission.”
Holtz says, “Perhaps Bermuda aren’t the ones who sent you to us.”
“Who then?”
“Your memories. They have been taken away to hide the truth from Mars.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You were delivered to us. By somebody who knew of the Monument, and knew it was a gateway into our world. Do you believe Bermuda knew of its existence?”
“Anything’s possible. If the Russians knew.”
Holtz appears unsettled. “The Russians… did not bring you here.”
At that moment, he knows she’s telling the truth, although he has no idea what could have led her to that conclusion.
Behind them, twigs snap somewhere close by in the forest. He turns. There’s nobody there, but he knows someone is coming. He can sense it. He takes in a deep breath. It helps ease the twist in his gut, but he’s all too aware he’s still trying to play a game without knowing the rules. He stares deep into her eyes. “Then who did?”
“We think you were sent here by the Befalyn.”
Borman’s eyes widen. “That’s ridiculous. Now you’re sounding paranoid.” He turns around to see Skioth and Menzel standing at her side. In the company of the Martians, the scientist looks like a little boy. Like their little boy. “Tell him Donald. It’s impossible, right?”
“Maybe not,” says the scientist.
Borman feels a rising stab of anger in his gut. “Well for God’s sake, if you know what’s going on here, please tell me and then we’ll all know.”
Menzel responds quietly and calmly. “Neither of us will be leaving Mars until we fully comprehend the risk faced by the Martian people.”
26
“Who is Ningal?” Menzel asks. “I’ve been trying to work it out. I feel like I should know her, but I just can’t put a face to the name.”
He sounds like he’s trying to be cute. It’s too much for Borman; something inside him snaps. Blind with a bewildered fury, he leaps at the scientist and punches him in the nose. It’s not really a fully formed punch. As an astronaut, he’s dedicated himself to exploring space in peace — it’s been years since he’s taken a swing in anger.
The Martians appear horrified by this sudden move to violence, like this is a side of Borman they have not seen before. Their self-righteousness is not galling as much as it’s hypocritical. Though he knows he’s made a mistake, he is too angry to back down. It’s only Holtz holding him back that stops him throwing a second punch.
“Please Frank Borman, stop now,” she implores.
Menzel touches his nose and his fingers come away bloodied. He seems saddened by the insult, but unconcerned by the blood flowing freely down over his lips and into his mouth. Then he waves his other hand across his face and, as if by the magic hand of a conjurer, the blood disappears. A nice trick they’ve taught him. Somehow, it makes the sight of him even more infuriating to Borman. “You can go straight to hell, Donald. You drag me into this, leave me for dead, then you want to start playing the accuser? I’m not telling you a damn thing.”
“There’s so much going on here you can’t begin to understand, Frank. I’m not the man you think I am.”
“You got that right.”
This is apparently enough for Holtz and Skioth, who push Menzel behind them and close ranks like a pair of bodyguards. Borman looks around, instinctively searching for an exit point. Parxotic and two other Martians — the pair he watched dragging Menzel away into the forest — are stationed at the foot of the stairs leading from Holtz’s abode into the forest. In case he tries to run. But where would he go? The whole damn planet is one giant prison, and his jailers can manipulate matter and space with the wave of a hand.
Holtz repeats the question. “Who is Ningal?” She clearly believes he must know the answer.
Borman smiles ruefully. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. I don’t even think I’m surprised.”
“Skioth is my husband,” she says, “but our tie is severed because of you. Because I need to see you for who you really are, not what we fear you might be.”
Skioth adds, “We need you to tell us the truth. It is our sworn role to protect Mars from all incursion. We value peace above all things, but we will do everything necessary for the protection of the Martian people.”
“You think I’ve been lying to you?”
Holtz shakes her head. “You are telling the truth as you remember it. But the best way to enact a lie is to believe it yourself. And when it comes to believing lies, humanity is the master race.”
Skioth says, “We needed to test the possibility that you possess far greater mental power than we had previously believed and had perhaps masked your true nature from us.”
Borman laughs humorlessly. “Surely your little double agent has told you that’s not the case. I mean, sure, maybe some people on Earth have the mental stamina to mask their innermost thoughts from detection… But it’s not exactly a skill we’ve needed to master in the space program.”
Skioth says, “The Russians have entire facilities devoted to the study of mind control. They have made great progress. We also know America has its own program.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Borman tells him truthfully.
“You believed you were working with the Russians,” says Skioth. “I merely acted on the assumption this belief was correct.”
Borman takes a step toward them. He feels like he has nothing to lose at this point. If they’ve decided to kill him, there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “Weren’t you worried, Skioth? Leaving your wife alone with a dangerous visitor?” He turns to Holtz. “Do you know everything your husband has done in pursuit of his cause?”
Her expression remains unchanged. Of course she knows. Martians have no secrets. “Skioth does not fear for me,” she replies. “He knows I am stronger than you.” She means mentally, though Borman has no doubt she would also best him in any physical contest.