'So that's why the farms don't have irrigation systems.'
The captives had eaten their noon lunch, and then put the dirty dishes on trays into a wall-slot. Now they watched Martians driving up in two automobiles towards them. These disappeared below the porch, and presently the heads of those in the first vehicle appeared. There was a road leading up alongside the prison. But these people seemed to prefer walking to driving whenever possible.
So far, Orme and Bronski had no complaints about ill-treatment. They had been given thorough physical and medical examinations and had been interrogated, but they were well-housed, well-fed, and given plenty of privacy.
The six Martians paused while the shatterproof glass front of the room rose into a slot overhead. Orme knew that the transparent stuff was unbreakable because he had tested it with various chairs, his booted foot, and a heavy bronze vase.
Three of their captors were Homo sapiens, very tall, well-built, and wearing flowing robes. Two of these had long dark hair and full beards and were dark-skinned. The third had light skin, dark-blue eyes, and a golden-brown beard. All wore long curly sidelocks.
The other trio were humanoid, but a glance showed a Terrestrial that they came from another planet. They were almost seven feet tall, no unusual height for Terrans in 2015 AD. This, their slimness, their long arms and legs, and their quickness would have qualified them for the best basketball team on Earth. They had five long-nailed fingers and toes and aside from their faces resembled humans closely. Their skins were a light bronze; their eyes, almost purplish; their hair was feathery. One was yellow; one, Titian; one, black. Both the female and the two males had hairless faces. Whether it was because they just lacked hair or because they shaved, the Earthmen did not yet know. Like their human companions, they sported long curling earlocks.
Their ears were much larger than any human's, and the convolutions were baroque, from a Terran's viewpoint. Their chins were huge, reminding Orme of photographs of people suffering from acromegaly. Their noses were very large and extremely aquiline, and the nostrils were edged in blue-black. Their lips would have been human if they had not been lined with a black-green pigmentation. Otherwise, they closely resembled Homo sapiens, even in the shape of their teeth.
All the newcomers wore robes, single-piece garments of a light thin material. Some were sleeveless, some had low collars, other were V-necked. The colours ranged from solid black, orange, and green to stripes of many colours. Most were ankle-length, but a few came to just below the knee. One male wore a cloak with clusters of four tassels at each corner. Their footwear was sandals or buskins, all open-toed. The female's robe was heavily brocaded with abstract designs, but she was not alone in sporting many jewelled rings, gold or silver bracelets, and earrings. The latter were secured by little screws.
All wore headpieces of different sizes and designs, one looking like a cowboy's ten-gallon hat and two like 18th-century tricorns, one of which flaunted a huge feather.
The female exuded a musky perfume, and her upper eyelids were coated with blue and her right nostril with a semicircle of yellow.
Hfathon, the chief of the non-humans, who were called Krsh, walked in first. Close behind him, as befitted the second in importance, came Ya'aqob Bar- Abbas, a human. He had a large aquiline nose, a bull neck, and extremely broad shoulders. He looked as if he was forty-five Terran years old. But if what he'd told Bronski was true, he was one hundred and thirty.
The other nonhumans were Hmmindron, a male, and Zhkeesh, a female. Yirmeyah Ben-Yokhanan and Sha'ul Ben-Hebhel were human.
Hfathon greeted the prisoners with a raised right arm, two fingers forming a V and a thumb extending at right angles to them. He smiled, exposing teeth blue from some sort of chewing gum. He spoke to Ya'aqob, who then said something in Greek to Bronski. Orme didn't understand more than a word of it. Bronski, the linguist, had discovered that neither Aramaic nor Koine Greek was the common speech, but scholars had preserved them and were quite fluent in both. Bronski could read Koine, or New Testament Greek, with ease, but he'd had little practice speaking it. However, if his interrogators spoke slowly, he could understand most of what they said.
There was a number of Krsh loan words used because the original Greek had no words for advanced scientific or philosophical concepts. These had had to be explained in Greek to him.
Orme was glad that at least there was one language available to both groups. Otherwise, it would take many weeks before they could communicate to any extent with their captors. Meanwhile, Danton and Shirazi were stuck up in the ship. If they didn't hear from their colleagues in three weeks, they'd be forced to return to Earth.
Or so he thought. For all he knew, the Martians had already sent up one of their own vessels, or ascended in the lander, and captured the two. Bronski had asked their captors if they had done so, but he had received nothing but a smile in answer.
As the questioning proceeded, Bronski interpreted some of the sentences for Orme.
During the first two days, they had been isolated from their interrogators by the transparent wall. But today the Martians had entered. This meant that the tests run on them had given them a clean bill of health. Physically, anyway. From what Bronski told him now, their captors were not so sure about their mental health. Or perhaps it would be better to say their theological state.
Ya'aqob said, 'Then on Earth lesous ho Christos is worshipped as the son of the Merciful One? And he is also the Merciful One? Is this belief held by everybody or are there dissenters?'
Orme got the impression from the man's narrowed eyes that he did not like even to say the last sentences.
Avram Bronski said, 'As I have said, there are perhaps four billion or so Christians on Earth, but these are split into many groups, all holding many different views on the nature of ho Christos. The orthodox believe that lesous ho Christos was conceived through the will of God by a virgin, Mariam. Moreover, Mariam was herself immaculately conceived. That is, her mother bore her free of sin. So, in a sense, her mother was the grandmother of God.'
The eyes of all six captors rolled, and they uttered a word which even Orme recognised was not Greek.
Bronski said, 'I should confer with Captain Orme on these matters. Though I've read much about Christianity, I am not a Christian. I am a Jew. The captain is a Christian of a sect called Baptists. He is a devout man and much more qualified than I to speak about the subtleties of his particular dogma.'
The Frenchman had been translating everything he said to Orme. 'That isn't right!' Orme said. 'You tell them that you're much more knowledgeable about comparative religion than I am. If you make any mistakes about the Baptists, I'll tell you so.'
Ya'aqob spoke machine-gun-fast Greek. Bronski asked him to slow down. Ya'aqob repeated.
Bronski said, 'Captain, he asked me how I can call myself a Jew when I don't believe that lesous is the Messiah. Anyway, he says, a Jew wouldn't be cleanshaven. He'd have a full beard. And sidelocks.'
Orme felt both confused and frustrated.
'You tell them we'll argue religious matters later. There are more important things to find out now. Hell, we don't even know where Hfathon and his kind came from! Or how the humans got here! And it's vital that we communicate with Danton and Shirazi!'
'That's right - for us,' Bronski said. 'But the religious issue, I'm afraid, is the most important one to them. I can't make them talk about what interests us most, you know.'
Bronski looked as troubled as Orme felt.
Orme threw up his hands. 'Who would have believed this?
Hfathon said something.
Bronski translated, 'He wants to know what's wrong with the brown man?'
'Tell him I'm black, not brown.'
Hfathon rattled off something, and the others laughed.
Bronski said, 'He wants to know why a colour-blind person would be selected to lead a space expedition.'
'Tell him that "black" is a manner of speaking. If you've got kinky hair and everted lips and a d
ark brown skin, you're black. It's a... uh... semantic matter. Political. You can have straight hair and blue eyes and thin lips and still be black. Oh, what the hell!' he said, throwing up his hands. There they were, the first humans on Mars, or so they thought, and they were discussing religion and semantics.
'I don't think I'll interpret that,' Bronski said. 'We're confused enough without going into that sort of thing.'
Hfathon spoke again.
Bronski said, 'He says his skin is the same colour as yours, and he's definitely brown.'
Ya'aqob spoke sharply then, as if he realised the interrogation was going astray. Bronski answered the question that followed.
'To explain why I consider myself a Jew would take even longer, and be as detailed as explaining why Orme is a black man. Can't we get down to more immediate issues? Won't you tell us something of yourselves? Once we understand how you came here and why you're still here when it seems, to me at least, that you could leave this planet, why, then we can get back to your line of questioning. We'll have a clearer idea why you are so interested in our theology. Rather, theologies, for there are many on Earth. Thousands, perhaps.'
The six Martians went into conference then, speaking the language which Hfathon had said was Krsh.
When they were through, Ya'aqob said, in Greek, 'You are probably right. Please pardon us for what must seem to you an excessive curiosity about certain matters. It is not excessive for us. Indeed, it is the only thing that really matters in our world. But if we're going to get any place we should proceed from the simple to the complex so that we may understand each other.
'But I do have a few questions which may seem irrelevant to you but which we'd like to have answered before we start our mutual education. For one thing, why, if the black man is a disciple of Christ, and therefore Jewish, is he not Jewish? Would a Gentile be circumcised?'
'It has long been the custom to circumcise male infants in the Western world,' Bronski said. 'Not because of religious reasons but for sanitation. Of course, the Muslim religion, which stems from the Jewish religion in part, also requires circumcision. Also, the ancient Egyptians, who held our fathers in bondage, circumcised.'
Ya'aqob looked blank, then said, 'Muslim? Well, you are right. One question only leads to a hundred others. But there is one more on this subject.'
He gestured at the blondish Sha'ul, who opened the box and removed a pile of rations from the lander. So the Martians had entered the vessel. Danton and Shirazi must have seen this and so would all of Earth. He could imagine the consternation, the wonder, the frustration. Perhaps the two had tried to communicate with the invaders, but they would not have known, of course, that only New Testament Greek would be understood. Not that it would have done them any good. Neither could speak it.
Sha'ul held up a can of meat in his gloved hand. The top of it had been removed. Its casing was a thermoplastic hydrocarbon. It could be boiled in water to make a nutritious soup.
'What is this meat?' Sha'ul asked sternly.
'Ham,' Bronski said.
Looking disgusted, Sha'ul dropped the can on the table.
'At least you told the truth,' he said.
Bronski had guessed that the meat had been analysed. He had also anticipated the man's reaction.
After hearing the translation, Orme said, 'So what's the big deal?'
'The Martians are orthodox Jews,' Bronski replied.
4
Fifteen minutes before 'noon', five of the captors left. Sha'ul had departed immediately after ascertaining that the can contained unclean meat. Even though he had not directly touched the ham, he might have had to be ritually cleansed.
As they had done at 12:00 every day, the sirens began wailing. People poured out from the buildings and stood looking up at the burning globe. After three minutes, the sirens moaned off into silence. Another minute passed and then loudspeakers began a chant quickly joined in by the crowds. This was short, perhaps fifteen lines, after which the people dispersed, the office workers to their homes or to tables in parks where they ate, the residents to their houses.
Bronski shook his head. 'They look as if they're worshipping the sun. Its equivalent, I mean. But they can't be. No Jew would even think of worshipping an idol.'
'We'll find out in time,' Orme said. He sat down at the table and began cutting into the ham left by Sha'ul.
'They're watching you,' Bronski said. 'I think they left the ham to see if you'd eat it.'
Orme chewed vigorously. 'Man, that tastes good! I'm crazy about ham, bacon, sausages. Anything that comes from a pig, including the feet.'
'You mean hoofs.'
'We call it pig's feet.'
Bronski gestured irritation. 'I don't think you should have accepted it. It might make a difference in their attitude towards us.'
Orme looked surprised. 'Why? What do they care what I eat?'
'The ancient Hebrews wouldn't eat at the same table with a Gentile. My parents wouldn't either.'
Orme forked in another large piece. 'Something like in my grandparents' day, when whites wouldn't eat with blacks?'
'No, it's not the same thing at all. Gentiles ate ritually unclean food, tabu food. So, to keep from being unclean, the Hebrews refused to eat with Gentiles. They could become impure just by proximity.'
'But they did regard Gentiles as being inferior, didn't they? Gentiles were not the chosen people of God:'
'Not theoretically. All people were equal in the eyes of God. But practically, I suppose, the Hebrews couldn't keep from acquiring an attitude of moral superiority.'
A series of short whistles announced that lunch had been delivered. Bronski removed the two trays from the recess, put one on the table, and took the other to a chair.
Orme grinned at him. 'You aren't going to sit at the table with me?'
'I've been sitting with you at mealtime ever since the launch,' Bronski said. 'Even when you were eating the flesh of swine. Don't make light of this, Richard. It may seem a ridiculous matter to you, but to these people it is a very serious business. I'm not taking a chance of... uh... getting contaminated. One of us has to have some credibility. I mean, be looked at with some respect. They might not want to deal with you, so...’
'Just remember that I'm captain,' Orme said.
'To me you are. To them, well, I don't know. So far you're just a prisoner who offends them because of your diet preference.'
'Yeah, but you've offended them, startled them, anyway, because you aren't a disciple of lesous ho Christos. Of Jesus Christ. How do you reconcile their Jewishness with their statement about Jesus?'
'I don't. I don't know what's going on here.'
Orme ate the bread (there was no butter), beans, peas, and an apple. Bronski finished his mutton, lettuce, bread, and apple.
After a sip of the wine Bronski smacked his lips. 'Very good.'
The captain grinned again. 'Maybe we could get a monopoly on Martian wine. We could really clean up on Earth.'
He rose and went into an inner room. Shortly after the sound of flushing water reached Bronski, Orme reappeared.
'I've been watching them closely, but I never see them do anything or say anything to open the door.'
'A monitor must do it,’ the Frenchman said. 'What would you do if you could get out?'
'Take off like a stripe-assed ape.'
'That'd be foolish. You wouldn't get more than a few steps.'
'Maybe. But I'd give it the old college try. Wouldn't you come along?'
'Not unless you ordered me to,' Bronski said. 'And I'd protest. Anyway, these people don't seem to have any sinister motives.'
'Not that you know of. But as long as we're being held in jail, we have a duty to try to escape.'
Bronski gestured impatiently.
'They have to quarantine us. We'd do the same if they had landed on Earth.'
'Yes, but you heard Hfathon say we had a clean bill of health. So why don't they let us out?'
'We can't learn the language if we
're acting like tourists.'
'That's the best way,' Orme said. 'Talking to the people themselves. Anyway, they haven't even started giving us language lessons.'
Ten minutes later, he admitted that he'd been wrong, at least, in his guess about the Martians' intentions.
Immediately after entering, and making sure that the container of ham was disposed of, Hfathon sat down, holding a box with a large assortment of artefacts. He held up a fork with three very long tines. Articulating slowly, he said 'Shneshdit.'
Bronski, the linguist, succeeded in reproducing the word after only two attempts. Orme had to try four times and only succeeded when Bronski told him that the d was pronounced with the tip of the tongue touching above the gum ridge and the t with the tip of the tongue against the roof of the mouth.
But they still didn't know if Hfathon was saying 'fork', 'a fork', 'the fork', or 'this is a fork'. Bronski asked Sha'ul to explain in Greek. He expected some difficulty because, as far as he knew, Koine Greek had no word for fork. That instrument had not been invented in the first century AD.
Ya'aqob protested that Bronski should be addressing his question to him, not to Sha'ul. He, Ya'aqob, was the chief human interrogator and was therefore the proper one to carry on this lesson.
Bronski smiled and said in English, 'Captain, whatever else the Martians are, they're jealous of their authority. They've got the same old Homo sapiens pecking order.'
'You can take the Terrestrial from Earth, but you can't take Earth away from the Terrestrial,' Orme said.
Ya'aqob asked Bronski what he had said. Bronski replied that he was merely translating for Orme. Ya'aqob said that he didn't think so. They were smiling, but there was nothing funny in anything they had said.
Bronski shrugged.
Hfathon spoke somewhat angrily in Greek. If these interruptions kept on, the lessons would be far behind schedule. From now on, if Bronski wanted to know the Greek equivalent, he could ask him about it. He was as fluent in that language as anybody else in the group.
Jesus On Mars Page 3