“I must be patient. You do not know what you are saying, because you do not yet understand. Come; I will show you.”
Kyr strode off on his long legs at a ground-eating stride. Spence had to jog along behind just to keep up. When they reached the krassil Spence was wheezing and puffing, and dizzy from the exertion in the oxygen-weak atmosphere.
Kyr entered the krassil and Spence followed with a hand pressed to his side, doubled over as if with a stomach ache. “Sit down here,” instructed Kyr, and Spence saw a semicircle of indented hollows shaped into a low bank before a flat portion of the curved wall of the hive. He sat down in one of the hollows and waited.
Almost at once the interior of the hive darkened and a sound, eerily sweet, like violins with the voices of birds, or the songs of whales, filled the chamber, rising and falling in regular rhythm like breathing. It was, as Spence had come to understand, Martian music, and like their architecture and everything else of Martian design, it was free-flowing and organic.
In a moment the portion of the wall directly before him dissolved, becoming transparent, and he was gazing out a huge window into a lush, tropical landscape beyond. A soft breeze stirred the leaves of extremely tall, spindly shrubs while a flock of storklike crimson birds flew overhead in a sky of shining blue. Low mountains glimmered in the distance and raised rounded peaks skyward.
Everything he saw was tinged with a golden aura; the light itself shimmered with a golden hue, enriching all it touched. Then he saw a herd of long-legged grazing animals with giraffelike necks and small round heads moving as one across a vast open plain. Behind them, carrying slender poles, he saw Martians, tall and lithe and bronze in the sun, running with the herd.
The amazingly lifelike images on the screen pulled Spence immediately into the drama of this scene. He realized that he had embarked upon a journey back through the ages of an alien planet and its vanished life. The holoscreen spun out its stream of magic images in a sweeping pageant of color and beauty he could never have imagined.
He saw the formation of the first cities and the panorama of a civilization blossoming unhindered in a world of peace and harmony. The cities grew and water vessels traversed the globe, plying the great waterways, the Martian canals, and linking the gleaming white cities in commerce. Later, airships filled the sky and great colorful objects that looked like giant kites or winged dirigibles elegantly plowed the air.
Next came a parade of the most fantastic creatures he had ever seen’, all strangely familiar, bearing at least the rudimentary resemblance to the animal life on Earth, but unique and wholly different at the same time. Birds and fishes and mammals of an endless variety appeared in their natural habitats as the music swelled and sang and the procession continued.
Spence saw the Martians themselves in their cities and in their homes—engaged in various inexplicable occupations which he guessed to be working, playing, and learning. These were not separated or isolated tasks, but apparently went on simultaneously, children and adults together all the time.
He felt a tug of longing and a sharp regret that he had not known this Mars, though he knew he must be seeing it exactly as it had been millions of years ago.
Then the sky darkened and the ground shook with violent explosions. Fire swept the planet as huge flaming meteorites rained down. Gradually the vegetation browned, withered, and blew away. The broken cities crumbled to dust and the once-lush landscape was transformed to desert. The great circling bands of water shrank away and dried, leaving huge canyons and flat lake pans of cracked, baked mud. The birds and animals disappeared.
The scene shifted and he saw the excavations of the tunnels and the vast underground chambers which would house the cities. He saw a job of construction on a scale he could not conceive. He witnessed the rebirth of life beneath the surface of the planet and saw these cities flourish after their own fashion.
Still, he could not forget the stirring beauty of the planet that had been. It haunted the soul with a felt presence.
At last, he saw the gleaming starships rise like silver orbs from the dead flatlands of the Red Planet. By the thousands they floated up like bubbles hung in momentary farewell and then streaked off into the black sky above.
And so they were gone. The music, a soft sight of mourning, drifted away and Spence sat staring at a blank wall once more.
He did not move or speak for a long time. He let the memory of all he had seen wash over him and carry him in its flood. How long had he been sitting there, he wondered. A few hours? It seemed a lifetime.
Spence heard a soft snuffling sound nearby and turned to see Kyr kneeling on the floor behind him with his face raised upwards, his eyes closed, and damp trails of tears streaking his angular cheeks.
Spence wanted to weep, too; he felt a sense of grief at the loss of what had been, yet he had never known it.
“I weep for the dead,” said Kyr at last. “And for those who never saw our world as it was in its beauty.”
“Did you see it? I mean, in the good time? Did you?”
The Martian shook his head. “No. My father’s father may have lived through the time of the fire, but most likely it was his father before him. Many great dynasties were wiped out. The fire rain lasted for many Earth years.”
“Kyr, how old are you?”
The Martian thought and said, “Your question does not have a ready answer since we measure our lives differently than you. But I think you would say two thousand Earth years.”
“Counting the sleep?”
“No. Only counting the time I have been alive. You see, a Martian may live ten thousand of your years or longer perhaps.”
“You don’t grow old and die?”
“I don’t know what you mean. We grow, yes. We develop all our lives, not physically—that takes only a little time. Several of your Earth years. But mentally and spiritually we grow always. Our vi grows with us.”
“Vi? I have not heard you speak of that before.”
“Vi is our …” He paused, searching Spence’s vocabulary for the proper word. “Our true selves. Our souls.”
“No one on Ovs ever dies?” Spence’s voice rose incredulously. Even granting the fact that the lower gravity on Mars might have the effect of radically increasing the life span of its inhabitants in the same way it increased their stature, Spence could not believe they did not know death.
“Death? No. We can be killed—disease, accident—the burning killed entire cities. Or we may simply cease to be. Those who have grown great in wisdom may decide it is time to take up their vi and join Dal Elna. It is a choice everyone must eventually make.”
“Then what happens?”
“I do not know. I have not undergone the change. But a wise one may call his friends around him to celebrate his decision and he then imparts all he has learned in his life to those he loves. In a little while no one will see him anymore. He becomes one with the dust and goes to be with Dal Elna, the All-Being.”
Spence glared at the alien in disbelief. “Then why didn’t you join Dal Elna when you ceased to be?”
“When did I ever cease to be?”
“When you were in the growing-machine.”
“The emra?”
“Yes, that box of yours where I found you.”
The Martian made his laughing sound. “I had not ceased to be. I was …” No word came.
“Sleeping?”
“No, it is not the same thing.”
“Dormant?”
The creature waved his head and contemplated the meaning of the word. “Yes, dormant.”
“But I looked in there and saw nothing but dust and dry fibers.”
“The material of my body can be reborn many times.”
Spence could not fathom such a possibility, but then reflected that there were plants on Earth, desert plants, that possessed the same abilities. Several lower life forms also carried the seed of life with them even though they remained paper-dry and dormant for years between cycles.
“What h
appens to you while you are dormant?”
“I do not understand your question. I exist, but I do not exist in the same way as before. I am not conscious.”
“But what keeps you from dying? And why do you wake up knowing who you are? If you are recreated, why do you remember your past life?”
Kyr spread his hands wide in a gesture of great humility. He said, “The questions you ask are questions for Dal Elna himself. Are all Earthmen as inquisitive as you?”
Spence admitted that there were many things he had trouble accepting and that the All-Being’s role in creation was one of them.
“So I have come to believe. But I will find a way to help you see.”
“You have already shown me much.” He gestured toward the blank screen where only moments before the splendor of a glorious past had unfolded before his eyes. “I understand now why Tso must remain a secret. The sudden explosion of interest would destroy it.”
“One day, when your world has regained the peace that it lost long ago, Tso will be revealed. Until then it is better that such secrets remain hidden.”
“And you trust me with this secret?” Spence experienced a fleeting doubt that perhaps the Martian had no intention of allowing him to return to tell the tale.
“Yes.” Kyr reached out a long hand to him. Spence took it. “I must trust you, for how can it be otherwise? I cannot prevent you. Dal Elna himself will hold or give as he sees fit.”
“Kyr, how much do you know of Earth and its people? Have you ever been there?”
“No, but others have. In the days before the starships your planet was visited. Many times. But when we discovered it inhabited by sentient beings, not unlike ourselves, we knew that we could not look for a home there. No one ever went back after that; it was forbidden.”
“Forbidden? Why? I would have thought friendly contact with a higher intelligence could have been very beneficial to primitive Earth societies.”
“There were those among us who took that view. But in the end the leader of the Earth expeditions argued very persuasively against going back. His name was Ortu, and he was one of the great leaders of his day. It was his view that the primitive Earthmen should be allowed to develop in their own time. Dal Elna, he said, had not meant for us to interfere with others of his creations.”
“So no one ever went back?”
“Never. Even the watcher ships were withdrawn. Ortu said that was necessary if we were ever to keep peace here on Ovs. Otherwise the temptation to step in and save Earthmen in times of distress would be too great. They had to survive on their own, if they were to become strong.”
“And then the migration began?”
“Exactly. With Res destroyed, we knew there to be no other inhabitable planets in this solar system. The stars offered our only hope. Again, Ortu led the development of the starships and even led the first wave to leave Ovs.”
Spence nodded slowly. “And now I, too, must think about leaving Ovs.”
Kyr turned and led them out of the krassil. “I have something to show you before we talk of leaving. Come, there is much more to see.”
Spence followed his lanky host through the silent, vacant pathways of Tso and tried to imagine what it had been like when the tall, graceful Martians had lived there and the narrow trafficways rang with the chirrup of their voices and the floating sounds of their eerily beautiful music. He was immediately overcome with a heavy sense of loss and loneliness, as if someone he loved very much had died.
11
THE LAST THREE DAYS had been a blur of activity to Spence. He felt as if he were a sponge that had absorbed ten times its weight, he had seen and experienced so much of ancient Martian culture. Now he and Kyr stood looking at a large model of the Red Planet which had the area of the underground cities marked on its surface.
He frowned as he looked at the terrain. “I don’t see anything I recognize.” The model, of course, had been made before the Martians left; it was several thousand years old. “The surface features have changed a lot.”
They walked around the perimeter of the sculptured replica.
“Wait a minute,” said Spence. “Where is that great volcano?”
Kyr thought for a moment about what the word meant and then pointed a long finger to an area between two dry canal beds.
“At the time of the Burning, several small volcanoes erupted in this area. It is not far from Tso.”
“Could it have been active since then? I mean, really active?”
“It is possible, yes.”
“Then I think that is what we call Olympus Mons. That is the mountain I was walking toward when I got lost.” He studied the model carefully, noting the huge canyon directly to the west of the giant Mariner Valley, a hole so big it could have swallowed the entire Rocky Mountain range and still have room for the Grand Canyon. According to the model, the outskirts of Tso lay near one of the tributary troughs which fed into this canyon system.
“I think this is where I came upon the tunnels. Right here. Since I didn’t tumble into the canyon, the installation must lie somewhere in this area.” He pointed to the smooth plain eastward.
“Kali,” said Kyr.
“What is that?”
“It is a smaller underground settlement which housed the workers building the starships. It is not shown here. The plain is where the starships were built, and from there they left Ovs forever.”
Spence had the picture in his mind of hundreds of ships rising like silver balloons into the pink sky of Mars to disappear like fragile bubbles into the void. “Then this is where the last of the Martians left and the first of the Earthmen came. Because, unless I miss my guess, this is where the installation is.”
“Kali is connected by tunnels with Tso, as are the other cities. I will take you there.”
Spence had been feeling a greater and greater reluctance to leave Tso and its lone inhabitant. He wanted nothing more than to stay and learn all the secrets of the vanished race.
“I wish I didn’t have to go,” he said. “I would give everything I own just to stay here with you.”
“Then you must return one day when you can stay.”
“I will come back. I promise you that. There are treasures here worth more than anyone on Earth can imagine.” He meant the remark as a compliment, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Kyr. The alien began waving his head from side to side.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“Your words remind me that I will be alone …” He turned away before finishing the thought.
“What will you do when I leave? Go back to sleep?”
“No, I will not sleep again. Contact has been made between our planets. I must now begin the vigilance.”
Spence realized the sacrifice Kyr had made to remain behind. “I will come back, Kyr,” he vowed. “Somehow I will.”
Kyr looked at him closely and said, “No creature knows his destiny. Even rivers change their courses in time. I will not hold you to your promise. It is not yours to make.”
The Martian turned and placed his hand on a smooth, globe-shaped object and it opened, revealing two small disks. Kyr handed one of them to Spence, who took it and turned it over in his hand.
It was a rather flat, roundish thing which looked like nothing more than a seashell which had lost its grooves and fluted edges. It had a warm feeling in his hand.
“Do you feel the power in it?”
“I feel a warmth from it. What is it?”
“This is a …”—he searched for the word—“a bneri—a signal device. I am a Guardian. Now that you have awakened me I must guard you, too. If ever you have need of me you have only to hold this in the palm of your hand, think about me, and I will know of your need. I will come to help you.”
This mystified Spence more than anything he had seen on Mars since he arrived.
“How is it possible?”
“I could explain the … the science of the device to you, but it would take time. As for the other—tra
veling to Earth is no problem. The vehicles of the old explorers are preserved here; I can travel anywhere I wish to go.”
“But why would you want to protect me?” He still could not believe it.
“Because you know the secret of Ovs, and of its cities. And because you are my friend, and the first to have joined our civilizations. In time that will be an important thing to both of our worlds.”
Spence did not know what to say. “Thank you, Kyr. I will take this and use it if ever I have such need.”
“Now we will eat together once more before you go. I will prepare for you a real meal. Yes,” he replied to Spence’s surprised look, “the first of the rhi has been grown. We will eat our first real Ovsin meal together.”
“But not our last,” said Spence. “Not our last.”
THE GLEAMING DOMES OF the installation shimmered in the hard, bright light of the sun. Overhead a rosy pink tinge crept into the sky. The dull red dust lay powdery and still. Not a whisper of a breeze stirred so much as a particle anywhere. Nothing moved around the installation and for a moment he feared the work-and-research party had gone back to Gotham.
The air on the surface had less oxygen than Tso, and Spence felt himself growing lightheaded and decided to sit dovra and rest before continuing on toward the base only a kilometer further.
Kyr had left him slightly less than three kilometers away. Spence had not wanted Kyr to come too close lest they be seen and the secret exposed. So, after a sad parting he had begun walking alone.
He wished he had his helmet at once. He had set off at too quick a pace and almost fainted. After a brief rest he adjusted his stride accordingly and drew near the cluster of buildings in agonizing slow motion. Now he was almost there. And he wondered why he saw no signs of activity—recent or otherwise—anywhere around the installation.
He climbed back to his feet and struck off again feeling tired for his short walk, and very apprehensive.
As he came nearer, he noticed a red plume of dust rising high into the air on the far side of the base. It looked like a dust geyser or red smoke drifting on the wind, but there was no breeze.
In a moment the plume had come near the cluster of domes and stopped there. Spence guessed a vehicle of some sort had driven up. Soon he saw a tiny figure moving among the buildings. It disappeared inside.
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