“There are a couple of open places in the town where we can land,” I said. “Or we can use the beach.”
“Use the beach. It feels safer.”
“We’ll have a fifteen-minute walk.”
“That’s okay.”
While we made our final approach, I kept the scope on the house with the lights. House might be a bit of an exaggeration for the structure. It was a two-story shanty, typical of the town, run-down and in need of paint, with a sagging front porch. Curtains were pulled across the windows. One of the shutters was broken. The place had a chimney, but there was no sign a fire was burning.
But Alex never looked up from the screen. And as we dropped toward the sand, he caught his breath. “Something moved inside.” He spoke in a whisper, as if concerned that he might be overheard.
I was still talking to the Martian, which was how I’d begun to think of the owner of the voice. We are coming down on the beach. See you in a few minutes. The view out here is magnificent.
“Look,” said Alex.
“What?” He was pointing at the screen while I tried to make sure we didn’t land in the ocean.
“Belle, rerun that last segment.”
We were looking at the house. And a shadow moved across the curtains.
I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. We’d known all along that maybe this was what Rachel had found, that she had come across someone.
Something.
When I shut off the engine, the gravity came back. My weight jumped by about seventeen pounds. Alex’s went up by roughly twenty-seven. It’s a feeling you never get used to.
I released my belt. “We’re here,” I told the Martian.
Alex was surveying the outside. Moonlight. Incoming tide. Forest. “But no movement.”
“Alex, what do you expect? He couldn’t understand a word I said.”
I told him we were coming, that we’d be there in a few minutes. We put our helmets on and went for the airlock. With a hole cut through the outer hatch, it was of dubious value. We got into it as quickly as possible and closed the inner hatch. (Belle would check to ensure that no dangerous bioorganisms had gotten into the cabin.) The sound of insects and the rumble of the tide were audible through the hole in the outer hatch. I opened up.
The beach was narrow. Long lines of waves were rolling in. Alex insisted on going out first. He stood in the hatch, and I asked whether he had a memorable comment to make before he took his first historic steps.
“Sure,” he said. “Let’s hope that the place is friendly.” He climbed down. Having learned my lesson, I closed the hatch before following him. There was something about the beach that left me not wanting to keep talking. But I didn’t think it would be a good idea to sign off. Keeping the conversation going seemed like the right approach. So I simply lowered my voice and said that we were on the beach and were getting ready to enter the forest. And what a beautiful island it is. The sand was damp, and we both sank a bit. Seaweed and shells were scattered around. We got our bearings, which consisted of Alex pointing into the woods, and saying, “That way.” But he had an impeccable sense of direction.
We switched on our wrist lamps, crossed the beach, and plunged into the trees. Some were hardwood, others were a bright green, with pliable trunks and branches, and long, spear-shaped leaves. They seemed permanently damp, and I recalled the predator plants on Echo II. It’s not a good idea to make unnecessary noise while walking through a strange forest. I told the Martian I was going to disconnect for the moment. “Will see you shortly.”
He replied with enthusiasm, the voice rising to an even higher pitch.
Getting through the woods wasn’t easy, but at least nothing made a grab for us, although the foliage covered the ground so thickly we had trouble finding our way.
There were thick bushes, some with bright flowers of various colors. (It seemed too cold for flowers.)
Something growled in the treetops, and occasionally we heard movement. I touched my scrambler. Good sense of security there.
Alex grumbled that maybe he’d been wrong, and we should have landed in the middle of the town. “No more night hikes,” he said.
“Promise?”
Belle broke in: “The light just went off.”
“Okay. Thanks, Belle.”
And, seconds later: “It’s back on again. But a different room this time.”
Eventually, we broke out into the town.
The houses did not look as if anyone had lived in them for a long time. Rooftops were worn away. Stairs had collapsed. In some places, vegetation had begun to overwhelm the structures.
They were not arranged in any kind of symmetry. There was no appearance of streets. They were simply scattered across an open area at random.
And there, along the edge of the forest, was the light.
It filled the windows at the back of the house. The rest of the building was dark. Alex checked his link: The light we’d seen from orbit had been in the front windows.
I was about to speak to the Martian again, to tell him we were there, but Alex indicated I should stay quiet.
Curtains were partially drawn. He signaled for me to keep back. “Be careful,” he said.
“Okay.” We were whispering.
We walked quietly up to the window and looked in.
Something sat in a chair with its back to us. It was decidedly not human. I saw a fur-covered skull with raised ridges and horns. And long claws. But it wore a robe, and it was reading a book. One wall had been converted into bookshelves. Music was coming from somewhere. It was rhythmic, pensive, sensuous.
I think my eyes were coming out of my head.
Then Alex pressed my shoulder. “That’s odd.”
“You mean that he’s not out looking for us?”
“Look at the books.”
“What about them?” Alex turned away and studied the woods. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Stay close.” He started to remove his helmet.
“Alex,” I said, “what are you doing?”
“Belle says we don’t need it. Why wear it?”
“She suggested we take no chances.”
“My feeling exactly.” He put the helmet down and began to climb out of the suit, unsnapping the wrist lamp and putting it into a pocket.
“Whatever you say.”
“You too,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Alex, what’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. Get out of your suit.”
I removed it and took a deep, but tentative, breath. A cold forest has a distinctive scent, even when half the trees look as if they’re made out of green rubber. That place had it, too.
My head spun momentarily, and he asked if I was okay.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Okay. If you feel ill or anything, let me know.”
We put both pressure suits behind trees, well away from the house. “It’s not an appropriate way to show up,” he said. “We don’t want to scare our host.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
The front door looked as if it had been yellow or orange before the color faded. It had probably matched the shutters and would have given the place a faerie-like appearance. The door was about the same size as a door back home. And the house’s dimensions generally could have accommodated human occupants.