Alexander Kazantsev - The Destruction of Faena

Yet she was the first to call Tome Polar into the Cave of Youth.

Tome Polar was overjoyed. He was no longer hoping for mutual vows at the monument to the Great Elder. He simply wanted to see her.

Ena came to her beloved fully armed with the cunning of her great-grandmothers, who had not lived solely on Mar. She knew perfectly well about his unsuccessful attempts to equip a cave and make the instruments he had invented. She brought with her a flower grown at the oasis.

“Isn’t it more important for the Marians to devote all their energies to the struggle for water?” she said, ruffling the petals with her fingers. “I would like my Tome” (she said MY TOME, and his heart missed a beat) “to lay the foundations of an enormous task for the future—to create a river deep underground that will bring the melted waters from the poles to new oases. Isn’t that more important than seeking the conditions for the disintegration of matter, forbidden by the Great Elder? Leaves, flowers, fruits…”

Tome Polar had a lively mind. One hint was enough for him to imagine the vast installations of the future irrigation system, as fabulous as the ice caps at the poles. Moreover, he was game for anything just so long as it would bring Ena back to him.

“I surrender, my incomparable Ena,” he said, taking the flower from her. “Rather let me leave for the poles in search of melted water than lose you.”

So Tome and Ena were joined after overcoming the obstacle that had come between them, and in this way was buried the idea of the disintegration of matter that had arisen so unexpectedly among the Marians. The Great Elder’s behest had been fulfilled.

…The struggle for power on Phobo was fought between Vlasta Sirus and Mrak Luton. It ended in favour of the intractable Faetess when Mrak Luton, skilfully driven by her to a heart attack, suddenly died.

Next, Nega Luton, who did not wish to yield her supremacy, was poisoned by a fruit specially grown by Vlasta in the greenhouse.

Left on Phobo, its native inhabitants, the Siruses, lived for many cycles, sick to death of each other’s company.

When Dovol Sirus, at an advanced age, fell ill, Vlasta, “desirous of relieving his sufferings”, reduced the oxygen supply to his cabin and then, to put an end to them, turned the tap right off.

Vlasta Sirus continued her husband’s memoirs and, reduced to despair, with no one left on the station to order about, took her own life by jumping outside without a space-suit. Her rigid corpse, preserved by the absolute cold of interplanetary space, became an eternal satellite of Station Phobo.

Av had not yet reached maturity and still bore his father’s abbreviated name, but his younger brother still went by the child’s name of Avik.

Av was a strong, graceful boy and resembled his father, from whom he had inherited the long, powerful neck, like a tree-trunk, the curly head and the firm, dimpled chin. The slightly uplifted eyebrows and the clear gaze made his face calm and quizzical. He loved wearing the skin of a spotted predator, slinging its fanged head over his shoulder onto his chest.

Av became first helper to his father, who was finding it increasingly difficult to feed his big family by hunting.

Av was a skilful archer, able to pierce any branch on a tree without missing. The boy made himself a sharp stone knife which was in no way worse than his father’s metal one. He taught himself to wield a spear with a sharp stone head that he had fashioned himself. He also had a replaceable metal spear-point with a silvery blade and brown prickles. He didn’t know where his father had obtained such a strange spear-point and he kept it for exceptionally difficult duels when he had to fell his dangerous enemy with a dexterous blow. His mother cautioned him against these fights and could not in any way get used to the idea that her son was in constant danger when hunting in the forest.

The boy merely laughed, which threw Ma, his sister, into raptures.

One day, an enormous reptile with a powerful long body but no legs fell onto him from a tree. It coiled itself round the boy several times, crushing him in a deadly embrace. Av was out hunting alone, a long way from his father. It was no use crying and it was impossible anyway—he couldn’t even gasp for breath. Then he acted as his father had taught him: he tensed all his muscles, not letting the serpent crush his ribs in its coils.

It was a silent struggle. The boy realised that he was doomed. He had often watched from the undergrowth as a serpent crushed its victim to death. The boy didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. There was a crack as the spear, pressed against his side with his arm, snapped in two.

The fanged head of the spotted predator slung over his shoulder was used by Av as a kind of pocket or bag. A spare spear-point was kept between the jaws. If only he could get at it!

The serpent, its coils wound round his body, was rolling over the ground with him.

The boy was still alive, straining muscles that were on the verge of giving way. He was also watching out for a moment when the maw of the spotted predator was facing the ground.

Fortunately, the serpent itself was rolling its victim over in order to exhaust him completely. Ave’s hope was justified: the spare spear-point fell out.

He could see it quite near him, but could not reach it with his hand pinned to his side.

From time to time, the serpent loosened its coils to deceive its victim, let him relax and then squeeze him with renewed force.

Av waited for the moment when he could move his wrist and snatched up the spear-point with the sharp prickles on its end.

At this moment, the serpent evidently decided to finish off its obdurate prey once and for all; it tightened its coils so hard that Av fainted.

When he came round, he felt that he was being crushed as before by a long, muscular body, but it was not throbbing as it had done during the struggle. There was indeed something dead about its death-grip. It turned out that even when unconscious, Av had continued straining his body to resist being crushed. Now he relaxed, trying to make himself as thin as possible and began gradually crawling out of the dead serpent’s rigid coils.

And so, after surviving and beating in single combat a terrible serpent, Av could receive on coming of age a name associated with his victory.

But he was still just a brave, agile boy for whom manhood was yet to come. He used to dream about this time, developing his own courage and strength.

Although he had become a hunter, he grew up to be kind-hearted nevertheless and he never killed animals except out of dire necessity.

He enjoyed watching from a tree as the little animals frolicked about near their lair.

They were four-footed beasts with mouths full of teeth and they could not climb trees. They had long muzzles, erect ears and bushy tails. They only attacked small animals. In case of need, however, they could hunt in packs and set upon the big denizens of the forest.

Av thought it might be a good idea to train these little animals. His father, after all, had mentioned the domesticated lizards on Faena, which Av imagined to have been a faraway, fabulous land from which his parents had flown like birds.

The little animals were playing on the glade, in full view of Av up in a tree-top.

The little grey balls of fur were rolling over the grass, somersaulting, growling and fighting endlessly with one another. Or they chased one another tirelessly across the glade.

Av saw a cub he liked the look of. He jumped down from his tree no less nimbly than a serpent and seized hold of the terrified little animal. It clawed and bit him, but Av clutched it to his chest and ran off, stuffing its sharp-toothed little muzzle into the spotted predator’s skin that he wore for camouflage.