The side facing him bore a deep V-shaped depression, symmetrical and running the length of the pyramid, from bottom to top. Between the arms of the V, Kane saw great flights of steps leading up from the desert floor.
The pyramid exuded antiquity, a history so incalculably ancient that it couldn’t be measured by millennia and perhaps not even aeons. Fragmented memories of the Anasazi’s Cliff Palace, the Black City of Kharo-Khoto and the tumulus of Newgrange flitted through his mind. He knew, without knowing how he did, that by the age standards of the immense pyramid, they had been built but an hour ago.
He heard a hissing sound behind him, but he did not, could not turn, not even when Sindri’s amused voice said, “Welcome to my hometown, Mr. Kane. Welcome to Cydonia. Welcome to Mars.”
Kane was so dazed, his thought processes so frozen into immobility, he allowed Sindri to nudge him gently away from the window and guide him to the hatch with gentle taps of his walking stick.
“Don’t act so startled,” Sindri said as they stepped from the room into a narrow, tunnel-like hallway. “I certainly mentioned my birthplace enough times for you to get used to the idea.”
Kane didn’t reply. Intellectually he had accepted Sindri’s claim of extraterrestrial origin, but to wake up on another planet was an emotionally stunning experience.
Hoarsely he said, “You brought us here last night, while we were unconscious?”
“Partly correct and partly incorrect,” responded Sindri blithely. “You were definitely unconscious, but I brought you here two days agoMartian standard time.”
Kane’s mind reeled. Lakesh had probably given them up for dead by now. “Why?” he rasped.
Sindri, walking a few paces ahead, stopped and turned to face him. “Why did I bring you here or why did I keep you unconscious?”
“Both.”
“Remember me saying I had to show you my reasons rather than tell you?”
Kane nodded.
“There is your answer.”
A hot flush of anger burned away the last of the paralysis gripping Kane. Teeth bared, he lunged for Sindri, hands outstretched to secure a stranglehold.
Sindri sidestepped with a gliding grace and speed that deceived the eye. The silver knob of his walking stick drove deeply into the pit of Kane’s stomach. His breath burst from his lips in an agonized grunt.
Stumbling, Kane tried to keep from bending double. From the corner of his eye, he saw the silver-tipped cane descending. The blow to the back of his head, delivered with a sharp economy, knocked him to his hands and knees, multicolored pinwheels spiraling before his eyes.
The walking stick cracked against his wrists, sweeping his arms out from under him, and he fell face-first to the floor. He struggled to rise, but a bone-deep boring pressure on the clump of ganglia at the base of his skull kept him prone. Sindri leaned his weight on his stick, the ferrule pressing into the back of Kane’s neck.
“Very foolish of you,” he said in a low voice. “Your reaction is understandable. Naturally you resent the liberties I have taken with you, but cooperation will be in the best interests of all.”
Sindri whipped away the stick, taking two swift steps back as Kane pushed himself up by shaky arms. “Besides,” he continued, “you are very weak. Other than receiving fluids intravenously, you’ve had nothing to eat or drink for two full days. I’ve no wish to take advantage of a man half-dead from want.”
Kane climbed to his feet, refusing to give Sindri the satisfaction of seeing him rub the sore spot at the back of his neck. “Where are Baptiste and Grant?”
“Here, where do you think? I’m taking you to themthat is if you can stop being bellicose for just a few moments.”
He turned and strode purposefully down the hall. After a moment of glaring after him, Kane followed.
“You brought us here with a gateway?”
“How else could I get you to Mars in less than a year?”
“You kept all of us asleep for two days?”
“It wasn’t an arbitrary decision, Mr. Kane. It saved me and my aides a considerable amount of time and trouble.”
“You might have asked us,” Kane grated, “rather than abduct us.”