“Ow. God damn it.” Ordinarily, not the words he’d have chosen to greet someone from another planet.
She’s tall and thin. Her eyes are big and wide, her head elongated. She seems to have no ears — at least, none that he can see. She looks humanoid, but is most definitely not human. She wears no shoes, which only serves to draw attention to the strangest part of her anatomy — her feet. They are massive and V-shaped. Ten toes split five aside on each branch of the V. She must be a good runner. They also look like the perfect feet for tree climbing. At first glance she looks naked, but he realizes she is actually garbed in a skin-tight garment that itself is the purplish color of her skin.
“You missed your mark,” she says.
He blinks, half wondering if she’s a hallucination. “I’m sorry?”
She looks young. There is a child-like wonder in her green eyes. But the tone of her voice suggests she is either knowledgeable beyond her years, or much older than she looks. Her body seems out of proportion. Her long and skinny arms and legs without doubt a product of the planet’s lower gravity. A smaller muscle mass must function more efficiently.
She raises a small elfin hand and beckons him to follow. “I’ll show you.” She starts to walk away.
“Um, I’ve got a bit of problem. With my foot.”
She turns, walks back to him, and leans down to peer at his ankle. Which is when he sees two holes set aerodynamically into the top of her skull. Those must be ears. “There’s nothing wrong with your foot,” she says.
“It’s broken.”
“Stand up,” she demands.
He looks down at his leg, realizing at that moment it’s no longer hurting him. “What did you do?” He examines the area of the break more closely. The redness and the swelling have disappeared.
“You need to walk.”
Not yet willing to chance another agonizing collapse, he uses his crutch to climb back on his good leg. Slowly and gingerly he puts his broken foot on the ground and starts to gradually put weight on it, clinging to his crutch and waiting for the pain. There is none. He puts his full weight on it. Still nothing.
“How did you do that?” Somehow, she has healed a broken bone in a matter of seconds. She says nothing, simply stands facing the other way, waiting for him to join her. He walks over to her.
His foot feels perfectly normal. In fact, it’s like he can barely even remember it was ever broken — all signs of the trauma are simply gone. He finds he’s able to take remarkably large steps. He can walk — and run — faster than he’s ever done before. It’s fun. Without even realizing he’s doing it, he starts to laugh in sheer relief. Beyond all reasonable hope and expectation, he’s going to stay alive a while longer, and he’s not alone. Who knows what else may be possible?
She leads him back past his space capsule, still suspended in the tree, and then on for another minute or so to a massive clearing in the forest, as large as several football fields.
She says, “You were supposed to land here.”
Borman can’t help laughing. “Was I? Sorry about that.”
“You think I’m joking. I’m telling you, Frank Borman, this is your proper destination. The place we prepared for your arrival.”
“Well golly… How was I supposed to know that?” says Borman.
“Knowing does not make it so. But it is the reason for the delay in welcoming your arrival.”
“Delay? I can’t have been here for more than half an hour. I’m amazed you found me so quickly.”
“It had been my hope to be present at the moment of your arrival.”
Borman scratches his head. “Are you telling me you knew I was coming?”
She laughs at him — at least he thinks that’s what she’s doing. Her face is oddly contorted. That noise she’s making could easily be a growl, but she’s definitely not giving off an aggressive vibe. “You were hard to miss,” she says. “You blew up the moon.”
“Yeah, but you made this clearing. And you know my name. Plus, I get the impression you put that moon up there just for me, or at least for someone you knew would come here one day. That monolith, or museum or whatever you wanna call it — I mean boy oh boy…” Words are starting to fail him.
She says, “I’m glad to finally see you.”
Borman is no giant, and this Martian female towers over him by a good three feet. Her eyes are her dominant feature. Big emerald ovals that stare at him with the same curiosity he has for her. Her nose is flat on her face, her mouth small. There is elegance and beauty in her demeanor. She is certainly no child.
To his list of strange things, he now adds their ability to converse. She is speaking English. Not French, not Arabic, not ancient Mesopotamian… English. That is quite clearly beyond the realm of mere coincidence. Yet he is also unsurprised by this, as if a part of him has always known such things were possible. Nevertheless, the scientist in him feels compelled to ask, “So how is it that you can speak my language?”
“I speak Martian.”
“Well heck, if that’s true then Martian must be what we’re speaking on Earth.”
She tilts her head to the right. “Our languages have nothing at all in common. We understand one another because this is my intention. Though in truth, this is more than I have spoken aloud to anyone in a long time.”
“Are you saying you’re all alone out here? I thought you said there were others.”
“I am not alone. But our people are scattered. We are not what you would call populous, yet there are enough to stand guard against all past and future outcomes.”
He doesn’t know what she means by this.
She says, “We have been here a very long time.”
He can tell her words carry with them a weight beyond his comprehension. “Will you tell me your name?”
“Holtz.”
“Pleased to meet you, Holtz.”
She holds up her hand and waves it slowly in an arc, like it’s her version of a handshake. “Very well, Frank Borman, lead the way.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You must choose your direction.”
“I’m not sure I follow…”
“No,” she says firmly.
“Sorry… What?”
“You must not follow. You must lead.”
“But you came here to meet me. I should follow you. Surely you know which way to go.”
“It is not a question of knowing the way.”
He stares at her, trying to work out if she’s making fun of him. Her face is a blank canvas. “You wanna give me a clue?”
“I will tell you this. There is no wrong decision. But you must be the one who chooses.”
He shakes his head. “I’m dead, aren’t I? You’re an angel sent here to test me.”
She walks over to him and takes his hand in hers. Five fingers and an opposable thumb. Her hand is long, her grip warm and firm. “Do you feel that?” He nods. She places his hand over his heart. “Now can you feel the beat of your heart?”
He smiles. “I’m surprised it’s not pounding.”
“You are not dead. Far from it.”
“Why do I feel like you’re about to send me on a wilderness survival course?”
“Choose a direction.”
“I just did that. You told me I was going the wrong way.”
“This is the place from where you must start.”
“Why?”
“It was ever thus.”
He’s running out of patience. “What the hell is going on here?”
She stares at him implacably. “Make your choice. Or I will leave and you’ll be on your own.”
“Oh, for God’ sake…” He starts walking back across the clearing toward the capsule. As it comes back into view, it’s as if his foot hits an invisible trigger. The tree limb supporting the capsule gives way and it crashes to the ground right beside where he’s standing. It shocks him to a standstill. The impact is heavy enough that Borman feels certain he’d have been seriously injured if he was still inside.