The Maur-tans
An auburn red haze rose from the desert floor as the sun crested over the horizon. On Mars, the burning iris in the sky did not sneak up to join the day but appeared all at once. The rays slapped the dunes, bursting into a clear brilliance, illuminating everything.
A twenty-year-old male Martian named Bend Namdstahl crouched down digging by a boulder on the Western plateau. Referred to as a Maur-tan in the native slang, he was the product of generations of inhabitants living on the red planet. His people were a subset of the pure-blooded humans on Mars called Er-trals, their evolutionary origins were lost in the Before Times.
In contrast to humans, Maur-tans breathed unaided in this environment. He had an angular face and a high jawline, making his chin seem almost pointed. His lengthy, narrow nose drew in close with small nostrils that angled upwards. The bridge expanded out wider and flatter than humans arching out over large eye sockets. Heavy eyebrows shielded dark gray eyes from the harsh Martian sun. The tall forehead, topped by a typical blondish-white wispy mane, stood out. Hair color varied among the Maur-tans, occasionally showing hints of orange or brown. He knelt by a boulder, digging at the end of a dirt road winding its way up from the canyon floor.
Working in the hot sun caused his deep bronze skin to glisten. Using a rock pick and an excavation brush, he swept away the particles of sand and stone. Something beneath the top layer became visible. Being very careful, he found the edges and dug around, defining the shape of the item. It measured two inches square and had a solid, smooth surface. Running his finger across the top, he discovered it to be black and buried in several inches of earth. He used the pointed end of the hammer wedging it underneath before prying it free from its little tomb. The object was feather light. As he dusted it off, a sudden flash inside his head forced him to sit back.
The sensation lasted only a second or two before he shook it off, taking it as a warning not to linger in the heat. He examined the object, turning it over. It resembled a solid block made of something unfamiliar, perhaps remnants of building material from a construction project that fell off a contractor’s transport. Not spectacular, but interesting enough to add to his collection. He rose, stuffed it into his backpack, and zipped it up. Bend slung the bag over his shoulder and tucked the hammer and brush into his work belt loops.
From his position, he had a fantastic view of Olympus Mons, whose name meant the Home of the Gods. The gigantic bulge of rock pushed itself up from the desert floor and loomed over everything. It rested there, impassive and eternal. The mysterious Maur-tan Monks revered the mountain and made frequent pilgrimages to it. According to their beliefs, the Mons held a special power to purify the soul. It reminded him of the tales of the Before Times and how his ancestors had fought to survive. Bend embraced the rich oral history of his people, preserved not on paper but passed down through the trail of myth.
The view across the desert had a flaw: a man-made river called the Mars-E’las Aqueduct, spoiling it. It snaked down from the polar ice caps providing water to the planet. The concrete and steel structure measured a half mile wide and twenty feet deep. It led straight to the Er-tral colony of New Armstrong. The aqueduct featured a series of underground pipes extending in various directions. Like tributaries, it filled the wells of the Maur-tan villages. The moisture it gave off imparted a primitive thin but breathable atmosphere. Bend and his kind had adapted to it. Humans only survived outside by taking the drug Tri-Ox or by using “Breather” masks. Although the aqueduct provided the liquid to sustain life, it also disturbed the natural beauty of the landscape.
Deep in thought, a male Vrill cat wandered into his vicinity, surprising him. The feline made a shrill hissing noise, looking at him. The animal can be dangerous if cornered or hungry. He had never seen one up close. They were skittish creatures just like their ancestors, the house cat on earth. Some were brought here by earlier colonists as pets. Over the years a few had strayed off. Some had survived in the wilderness and adapted. Those now roamed around Ferrell in the desert. It stood a half meter tall and about a meter long. His lengthy wiry tail had an almost regal look. Bend recognized the importance of sitting, waiting, and letting the beast examine him. It would move on once it perceived he did not pose a threat. Bend admired the sheer beauty and elegance of its moves. No mechanics of Maur-tans or humans have the shock-absorbing power of a Vrill cat in stealth mode. Its back arched up higher than a normal feline, but its head stayed closer to the ground. The rear haunches, longer and more muscular, allowed it to leap as much as fifteen meters. The short forepaws let it pick up even the faintest scents from miles away. Long, razor-sharp claws protruded from its paws. A thin layer of golden yellow and tan striped fur covered its sleek body. Its piercing bright orange eyes stared right at him, the irises tightening and scrutinizing everything. It had a stoic seriousness to its gaze, combining confidence and unhurried grace. The animal paced in front of him and sat down. Bend surmised he’d made a friend. He heard a vehicle approaching but remained concealed by the large stone as he poked his head out to see.
A solar pod convertible sport rover sputtered into view. The vehicle sounded in distress and clanked to a stop. A young female human, about his age, sat in the driver’s seat. It was odd seeing an Er-tral this far out by themselves.
The girl removed her mirrored goggles and unstrapped herself in a huff. She jumped out, walked to the front, and lifted the hood. She tried to lean over and examine the engine. When she did, Bend found himself captivated by her human beauty. She sported long, blond hair tied in a ponytail. Her complexion, smoother and paler than his from living in a biodome, had a clear radiance.
Being a good-natured soul, Bend came out of his hiding place and walked over to see if he could help. He cleared his throat, and the girl spun around, looking at him wild-eyed. Softly arched eyebrows framed her green eyes, while her delicate jawline led to a rounded chin. Every aspect of her suggested a sheltered, pampered life. He held out his arms in a non-threatening manner.
“Easy, I won’t hurt you. I just came over to see if you needed help. My name is Bend Nandstal. I’m from the clan of the Red Sands.”
The female’s breathing slowed as her fear subsided. Calmer and realizing Bend didn’t mean her any harm, she began to speak.
“Uo-es tanku,” she uttered in the unique slang language crafted by the Maur-tans. This linguistic amalgamation blended English and their distinct interpretations of various words. It created a language carrying the essence of their culture and identity.
“You speak Mars-talc?” inquired a surprised Bend.
The girl responded in casual confidence. “Of course, I was born here.” she said in defiance. The sudden surge of adrenaline forced her to lean against the rover, momentarily shaken. “My name is Aeneas Mendez.”
Bend gave her another quizzical expression, one of recognition.
“Is your father Governor Mendez of New Armstrong?
“Yes, he is. Do you know him?”
“My parents are Ren and Entu. I’ve heard them mention his name,” he explained.
Aeneas thought for a moment. “You’re right. I believe they know one another. It’s a small world, isn’t it?”
“No, it is actually rather large,” Bend responded, confused.
“It’s just another expression.”
“You Er-trals always talk in riddles.”
The two of them stood facing each other. They are both children of this world, but strangers, not just to each other personally, but in the way they viewed themselves and this planet, as different from each other as night or day.
“What brings you out this far?”
Aeneas gestured to the Mountain of Olympus Mons in the distance.
“This is one of the best views of the Mons. I just came out here to get away for a while, but I didn’t know my rover had other plans.”
“Well, I can look,” Bend said.
Bend laid his backpack down and ventured over to the rover. Aeneas stepped back as he examined the motor. He quickly saw the problem.
“Here’s the trouble; your timing belt slipped off,” he explained, pointing it out before pulling it back into place. He straightened up and wiped his hands on a cleaning cloth draped around his belt.
“Try it now,” he said.
Aeneas climbed into the driver’s seat and pressed the starter. The vehicle roared to life, and she smiled. She turned it off and stepped back out. Bend closed the hood, hearing it latch in place.
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”
“Do you have a transmitter?”
“Yes, but now I do not need to use it. What are you doing out here?”
“A little digging, I’m an amateur archeologist,” he told her.
“Me too. It has always fascinated me. Especially the tales of the first colonists and the mystery behind their disappearance.”
He studied Aeneas. Like him, he sensed she understood and respected nature's outstanding power. Her free spirit and fearlessness shone clearly; she wouldn’t be out here alone after all.
Her clothing appeared new and imported from Earth. Er-tral garments stood out compared to those his people crafted by hand. She had a pair of binoculars, which intrigued him, although Bend’s people had greater vision than Er-trals. They could see a lot further and in lower light. Aeneas’ eyes had an honest quality about them. Little green windows, he thought, reflected a decent soul. Reading a person depended on intuition, and Bend trusted his feelings. This girl may be from a society that looks down on him, but she wouldn’t. It seemed strange, almost prophetic, for them to stumble across one another in this remote spot.
Off in the distance, a surreal, dreamlike melody came echoing out of the deep desert. It rose and dipped in a steady rhythm. Bend turned in the sound's direction and so did Aeneas, also hearing it.
“Is it the Maur-tan Monks?” asked Aeneas.
“Yes, it's the night blessing,” he answered.
The intermittent wind disturbing the sand caused the rhythmic lines of verse to vibrate across the plains, rising higher as each chant echoed out into the desert.
“The us Strom les fallõod of Ausé-Dom.”
“I can’t make out what they’re saying,” said Aeneas.
“It’s the sacred poem of Ausé-Dom.”
Bend gazed out upon the desert in reverence. Respectfully, Aeneas remained silent and listened as Bend recited the mesmerizing hypnotic chant.
Tell us of the strong and faithful oh Ausé-Dom
Because the telling makes us strong
Your wisdom came down from the mountain,
It purifies our souls so we may do no wrong.
Ausé-Dom the faithful in a vision came the words
And he saw they were true
In truth, there is wisdom.
There will come a “Time of Awakening”
When it will make all his people anew.
Bend bowed his head and closed his eyes. Aeneas reverently did the same. After a respectful moment, they both looked up.
“What does the Time of Awakening mean?” she asked.
Bend gazed out at the open desert. His neck muscles tightened and his eyes squinted looking for an answer.
“It is an old prophecy predicting our future will get better. They’ve repeated it every day for two hundred years, and it hasn’t happened yet. I don’t believe it ever will.”
“Sometimes the words can be more important than reality.”
“Maybe so, but most of us believe in the practical and the here and now. Life is a struggle and you have to work hard to stay alive, not put your faith in some kind of fantasy.”
“But you bowed your head anyway.” Said Aeneas, pointing out he wished, in some way, it would come true.
Bend turned, she had sparked another thought in his head.
“It is said the Monks possess the ability of telepathy. They can sense when someone is in danger. Those who become part of the order are born with this ability and can communicate with one another by simply thinking about them.” said Bend.
“Amazing! Does each monk have to be close to the other?” she asked.
“No, I believe they can talk over great distances, but who knows.” Bend said before adding, “I need to be going. It’s a long way back, and I need to get back before dark and do my chores.”
“Hop in, you’ll get there much faster.” Aeneas offered.
“You don’t have to. I am used to walking.”
When Aeneas insisted he accept her invitation, Bend gave in. He took his goggles from his bag and hurled the backpack onto the rear seat before clambering inside. Aeneas joined him in the rover’s cabin and strapped herself in. Both donned their protective goggles, preparing for the journey ahead. As she engaged the gears, the vehicle surged forward, moving back down the road and out into open Martian terrain.