Alexander Kazantsev - The Destruction of Faena

“No,” objected Ave firmly. “If a great sacrifice has to be made in the name of Reason, then the continued Faetian civilisation on Mar can only be headed by Faena’s Great Elder, Urn Sat, its first man of learning.”

Toni Fae buried his head in his hands.

Dm Sat looked at him with compassion and said:

“I am old and ill. Is it worth counting on me when you speak of a new civilisation on Mar?”

“Surely it is not for a Great Elder to live like a savage in the primeval forest?” objected Ave. “That is the lot of the younger ones.”

“I agree to anything,” said Toni Fae in a dead voice.

“I swear it’s not going to be like that!” Gor Terr suddenly banged his fist on the table. “Urn Sat will, of course, fly on Quest to head the civilisation of the Marians. They’ll have to apply the technology of the space stations. Without technology, the Marians won’t survive. However, it is not Engineer Gor Terr who will fly to Mar with the great scientist, but his fr-riend Toni Fae.”

“But I can’t fly spaceships!” exclaimed the agitated Toni Fae.

Mada looked admiringly at Gor Terr.

“I’m r-right, am I not?” continued Gor Terr. “Those who stay behind on Terr won’t have it any easier than the ones flying to Mar. They’ll have to fight for every step they take in this confounded forest. Toni Fae would find it hard protecting the family of Ave and Mada here.”

“But I can’t fly spaceships,” repeated Toni Fae sadly.

“You’ll learn. Let the first university also start work in this first house, knocked together on Terr. It will have only one student, but three professors: the gr-reat scientist Um Sat, his celebrated pupil Ave Mar and the modest engineer, Gor Terr.”

“Two professors will eventually become savages,” said Ave Mar with a smile. “Gor Terr has just shown us what true friendship is. I will undertake to help Toni Fae in every way so that he can fly to Deimo with Um Sat”

The Elder rose from his bench.

“However hard the history of future generations of Terrans and Marians may be, it is a good thing that it begins with such noble sentiments!”

Tears were trickling down the old man’s wrinkled face.

There was never a more terrible day than the one when Quest had to lift off from Terr for space.

Left behind on Terr, Ave Mar, Mada and Gor Terr tried not to show what it cost them to see the others off.

The giant rocket loomed above the forest like a pointed tower. The last farewells were imminent.

The Elder embraced in turn each of the two sturdy, strong Faetians who were staying behind on the alien planet. Would they be able to survive?

Then Mada came up to him. Resting her head on his white beard, she raised her head and said something. The Elder drew her close to him and kissed her hair.

“Does Ave Mar know about it yet?”

“No, not yet,” replied Mada.

“May Reason remain to live on in your descendants!”

Ave Mar, who had just come up, understood everything without having to be told. He hugged his wife in gratitude.

When Um Sat followed by Toni Fae, climbed with difficulty up the vertical ladder, he looked round and called:

“At least teach them how to write!”

Gor Terr understood and smiled bitterly.

“They’ll have to learn hunting, not writing. And how to make stone axes!”

The Elder disappeared through the hatch.

As the engines fired, the three Faetians moved away from the rocket and raised their hands in a last farewell. They were seeing off forever those who, in the name of Reason, were taking away with them the heritage of Faetian civilisation.

Clouds of black smoke burst out from under the rocket.

In the dense forest, the trees were dotted with shaggy Faetoids. With malignant curiosity, they watched their two-legged victims, who were to be eaten in the gully.

The strongest of the Faetoids would seize the hairless ones and not let them return to their “cave without rocks”.

Suddenly, under the smooth stone tree into which two of the hairless ones had disappeared, such a terrible thunder roared that even the fiercest of the Faetoids fell from their branches. Then, from under the smooth stone tree, black clouds billowed forth, as before the water falling from above, and flames gushed forth.

The beasts fled helter-skelter in all directions.

The path to the house of the depleted Faetians on Terr had been cleared.

This time they were able to return to their refuge, not suspecting that, in dispersing their enemies, their departed friends had rendered them their last service.

After picking up all the Faetians from Station Deimo, Quest was approaching Phobo. An increasingly brilliant star was already conspicuous in the porthole.

Vydum Polar, Phobo’s engineer, had become the new station chief.

When the disintegration war began on Faena and when Phobo and Deimo each sent out two torpedoes, the young Faetians on Phobo, insisting on a peaceful visit by spaceship to Deimo and outraged by the station chief’s conduct, had replaced Dovol Sirus even before the destruction of Faena and before communicating with Deimo about the changes on Phobo.

Dovol Sirus had not resisted. He had even willingly surrendered his powers to Vydum Polar, believing that at last he was going to get some peace of mind and all his worries would be shouldered by the inventor. He was, however, cruelly mistaken.

Quest flew to Phobo with all Deimo’s Faetians and with Dm Sat and Toni Fae from Terr.

Vydum Polar and Ala Veg had to sit with Dm Sat in order to pass judgement on the war criminals. Um Sat named them as the Lutons and Dovol Sirus.

The concave cabin walls were hung with landscapes of Faena—forests, meadows, rivers, towns and seas that did not exist any more.

Terrified and outraged, totally unprepared for such a state of affairs, the accused sat before the judges on a black bench and behind, against the silvery walls, stood all the Faetians left in space.

The space station always turned on its axis. The gigantic sphere of Mar kept appearing in the portholes and floating away again with inexorable regularity. The baleful, reddish-brown colours of the planet during the strange, swift-passing night alternated in the cabin with the daytime glow of Sol.

Um Sat proved to be a Faetian with a will of iron. He had been seriously ill on Terr and had only fully recovered on the journey. Now, enormously tall, white-haired and white-bearded, he had vigorously taken charge of the Faetian colony. The first thing he had done was to put the war criminals of space on trial. He now sat calmly at the table, rhythmically tapping it with his finger.

The interrogation began. Vlasta Sirus, smirking nastily, put up an evasive and spirited resistance.

“The self-appointed court has no right to try us. There are no laws in space and you cannot pass sentence.”

“The law is the will of the Faetians here,” replied Um Sat firmly. His knitted brows boded ill for the accused. He glanced significantly at the landscapes in their frames, which were now black in token of mourning.

The old scientist inspired Vydum Polar with great respect. He did not look like the other men of learning who had refused to recognise him. On the contrary, Um Sat was interested in Vydum’s inventions and immediately invited him to implement Brat Lua’s project.

In spite of her assumed arrogance, Vlasta Sirus had the shivers. She looked pathetic, although her tone of voice was defiant.

“Then look for war criminals among the chiefs of the space stations, not among the serving girls.”

These words aroused general laughter among the Faetians, who knew the real part played by Phobo’s greenhouse nursery-woman.