“This is humanity’s greatest dilemma. Your beliefs cloud your judgment. They blind you to what is right in front of your face.”
His head is spinning. Almost as if the fruit is having some sort of narcotic effect. “I think I need to take a walk.”
She appears to understand and is happy to let him leave. He starts walking and as he places one foot in front of the other, suddenly overcome by the need to get away from her. “I’ll try not to get lost,” he tells her.
Holtz replies, “Your destination is never in doubt.” Borman retraces his steps back through the forest in the direction they came. She watches him disappear into the trees.
When she is certain he cannot see, she nods and Skioth emerges from inside the house to join her on the terrace. He touches Holtz on the shoulder and she reaches for him hungrily, like they haven’t seen one another for months. For the longest time, they remain embraced in silent communion. But events of this magnitude demand that certain matters are placed on the record.
Skioth opens his eyes wide. They speak, though neither says a word. He is not being truthful.
Holtz shakes her head slightly. It’s only because he is not being truthful with himself.
You cannot leave him alone for too long.
He is no danger, she insists.
You are wrong.
She looks at him sharply, eyes wide open, like his blunt opinion is a slap to her face.
He continues. Borman is corrupted. Imperfect. He spreads imperfection like a disease. I will not let this go on for much longer.
We need more time to understand, Holtz pleads.
The simplest solution to a problem is to eliminate the danger.
She stares back at him in genuine horror. He means no harm. He has no weapons.
We are the guardians of our race, Skioth reminds her. We must act decisively. We cannot allow purpose to be undermined by sentiment. He is a bigger problem than he seems.
There is a gulf between them now. One of Skioth’s making. Their union is severed. She feels it keenly, realizing she can no longer be sure if it is only the Arrival standing between them. I will not countenance excision.
Skioth stands his ground. Then you must allow me to act.
She stares into his eyes with a sense of loss and long-forgotten loneliness, nods her head to assure him the necessity is agreed upon, then turns away.
When she turns back, he is gone. For the first time, she doesn’t know where.
16
Alone among the trees and the wilderness, Borman starts to feel things differently. A fear inside him starts to grow. There is a buzzing in the air above him that comes and goes. He looks up, but sees nothing. He begins to develop the overwhelming sensation he is being watched. Once again, a path seems to appear before him, but now he is also aided by the memory of the steps he has taken before. He follows the path, half driven by the familiar, half by his desire to get as far away from Holtz as he can. Something in that fruit has definitely had an effect on him.
After a few minutes, he realizes he knows exactly where he’s going. Back to the space capsule. He wants to see something familiar, and also try to get the radio working. He slaps his neck, feeling something bite him. When he pulls his hand away, there is a smear of blood on his fingers. He has just killed a large mosquito.
There is a dull thump somewhere on the forest floor. It sounds like it should have been a long way off, but it’s heavy enough for him to feel the vibration in his feet. He hears an animal roar, as if in response. It’s a terrible sound, like nothing he’s ever heard before. It jars with the sense of safety he had felt on his arrival, makes him wonder what deadly Martian wildlife is lurking out there just out of sight.
The light changes, like a cloud passing over the sun. He looks up and is surprised to see the orbiting Monument once more, streaking across the upper atmosphere, leaving behind it a fiery red trail. It reminds him of a comet. How it is still in orbit, he has no idea. It’s as if the Monument and the planet are attracting and repelling one another in equal measure, in obstinate defiance of the laws of physics.
As he winds his way back along the riverbank, he becomes mildly concerned that he could miss the turning point. But when he sees his own footprints in the mud, he can recall every step. He finds the very place he had stood skimming stones. When he looks up, he can see the tree that had shown him the way. From here, it’s a straight line back to the capsule.
He climbs back inside and examines the interior. Everything is exactly as he left it. His space suit is still crumpled up in the corner right where he threw it before he leapt out of the hatch. It occurs to him there will probably be food stowed here. Earth food. He pulls open a compartment and chows down on a candy bar. The taste reminds him of home. He tries the radio, calling to Houston. To anyone.
No response.
Someone or something bangs on the outside of the capsule. It’s incredibly loud. The shock of it makes him sit up and he bangs his skull on the bulkhead. He climbs back outside, half wondering if he should look around for a weapon to defend himself.
“Frank?”
A familiar voice. But it couldn’t be. “Donald?”
Menzel steps out from behind the capsule in relief. “Oh, thank God. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I saw the empty capsule and feared the worst.”
Borman hugs Menzel like a long-lost friend. He has never been so happy to see anyone in his life. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Donald. But how did you get here?”
Menzel smiles, pausing as if to remember. “Your spacesuit. I had a locator disc attached to the side of your PLSS. But when I got here and I saw you’d left your space suit behind… Well, I figured I’d wait here and hope you came back.”
“Do you know where you are?”
Menzel nods, smiling.
“There are people here, Donald. Martians. One of them is helping me. You need to meet her.”
“No,” Menzel says firmly. “It’s not safe to stay here anymore. We have to leave. It’s a miracle you’re still alive. We need to come back in greater numbers. You can’t do this on your own. You don’t know their intentions. You don’t know anything about them.”
“They seem to know a lot about me.”
“All the more reason to back off and regroup. Come back when we’re good and ready. With more of a show of strength.”
Borman frowns. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea. If Holtz is anything to go by, they’re not belligerent.” He hears the snap of a twig on the ground behind him, and turns quickly to see two Martian figures about twenty feet away and walking towards them.
Behind him, Menzel starts struggling. Two other Martians have appeared as if from nowhere to grab the scientist by the arms. They start to drag him away into the forest. His struggles and protestations make no impression upon his captors, both of whom are twice his size. They carry him away like a child having a tantrum.
Borman considers running after them, but before his brain can tell his feet to move, the idea is supplanted by the compulsion to remain where he is standing.
Someone else is inside his head. Someone he can’t resist.
17
Your friend will not be harmed.
Parxotic is her name. She speaks without opening her mouth. Her thoughts beam straight into Borman’s skull loud and clear, like they’re a radio signal and his brain is the receiver. As if that isn’t strange enough, Borman realizes the voice comes embedded with a certain knowledge of the speaker. It imbues him with the instinctive understanding of which one of the two is speaking to him now. He stares into Parxotic’s eyes and sees immediately they understand one another, that this is a two-way process.