Moura-weit, whose power of telepathy surpassed that of any of his fellow men, now had the opportunity to attempt a thing that neither he nor any other had tried before. Could he project his own thought-images into the mind of a being of another world? Could it be done at all? He knew already that the brain of this woman differed somewhat from those brains of his own race. The two main lobes were of different shape and thickness, and their convolutions took a different form.

  Leaning forward, he reached for her hands, and by magnetism of his eyes forced her to look into his own. She did not remonstrate; caught by his stare, she looked back. Moura then attempted to fill her mind with his thought-images. He began with something she was familiar with, the rocket.

  Dana Gleason knew no emotion when the silver man took her hands in his. She did recognize that some bond existed between them; for even in her wild dreams her subconscious mind had been aware of his searching eyes. She was without thought, unable to think, as if her mind had been literally washed clean. Then her thoughts became clouded. She began to recognize that this cloud was night with stars twinkling.

  For a time she tried to fight against the cloud, but it was mastering her. When she at last gave in to it, she became aware of a darker spot in the cloud. Gradually the night passed, and she saw the dark spot taking shape. It was long and cylindrical, and it was black and ugly and fiery. It was smoking, it was burning. Now below the rocket appeared a landscape, an inhabitable land bathed in a reddish light. Three times night descended upon the rocket, and on the third night it was evident that the rocket was about to fall on the ground. She saw it fall; she saw its fiery course, the explosions, the flying debris, her own fall!

  She saw Ubca-tor pick her up and carry her to the flyer. She saw the plane circling the wreck, searching; and she knew they were searching for another body. None was found! It showed her the heart of the burning rocket, flames leaping up fifty feet. Now she saw the approach of the Gora, and recognized them for barbarians. Then the retreat of the plane. With that the vision vanished. Moura dropped his hands, freed her eyes.

  For several minutes she did not move. Her eyes said nothing. She was remembering the last minute on the rocket before that awful explosion that had torn her from Richard Dorr’s arms. “We can at least die together,” said Dick. “He can’t take that away from us!” Only He had taken Dick’s life and given her hers. Dick dead! Impossible. Something, a feeling, a voice, was telling her that he lived. Still, no man could live in that conflagration she had just seen. Had she really seen all that happened? Was it all? Could not Dick have been thrown out just as she had been? Those brown men, the barbarians—perhaps they found Dick? If only it were so.

  She could not cry, tears would not come. A cold lump lay where her heart had been. She now remembered that this strange man with his stranger eyes had come into her mind and pictured to her all that had gone before. What manner of man was this? Where was she, then? When she and Dick thought they were about to die, they had already reached another planet that was waiting for them. If only they had known, and could have landed in their waiting plane.

  That was over, however, all over. Happiness, it seemed, was not for her. What was there for her? Existence on a strange planet, a new life, new interests? What new interests could she have? Oh, she wanted to cry, to turn her face to a blank wall. And since she could not cry, since she could change nothing, there could be naught for her to do but to accept things as they came. She sighed deeply, then turned her interest again on the two men and the chamber in which she lay.

  She saw that the walls of the cabin were of glass, and above her she could hear the beat of wings. A few yards from her was set an instrument board on which were a series of levers, dials, and strange instruments. A carpet covered the floor, and there were several low easy chairs and the couch upon which she was lying. Through the glass she could see the black shapes of mountains below and an occasional light shone out. Above was a moon, a moon that sent out rays of weak light. Myriad stars glowed brilliantly.

  She turned now to Moura-weit. Her eyes asked a question, and, understanding, the man formed the word “Abrui.” She repeated the word, and in turn pointed to herself and thence out into the dark sky. She pronounced the world “Earth.”

  She realized the necessity of learning the language of the people among whom she had descended. Pointing to herself again, she next said, “Dana Gleason.” Moura said the name after her and, pointing to himself and then to Ubca, gave their respective names. The next half hour was spent in pointing to objects about them and calling them by name. Dana repeated each word. Taking a small notebook from a pocket, she jotted down each word, spelling it as it sounded to her ears. The little book and pencil interested Moura, and he asked to examine them. Taborans write on sheets of thin metal, and in writing use a brush and a thick paint. They have no printing presses. From the original hand-painted copy subsequent copies are photographed.

  Feeling in her pockets, she now discovered that she had about a half-dozen packages of cigarettes left, also several cakes of chocolate. She offered a cake of the latter to the two men, and they enjoyed the taste. Next she extracted a cigarette, found that her patent cigarette lighter still contained some fuel, and lighted it. She extended the package of cigarettes to Moura and Ubca. They each took one.

  At the flash of the lighter, both men drew back. They exclaimed aloud when they saw the woman put fire to her cigarette and breathe the smoke from her mouth, for on Abrui there is no fire! However, that statement is somewhat misleading; for instantaneous combustion is known and understood, and Taborans are familiar with the fact that the great bright stars are flaming; they themselves, however, have no use for fire. In a world that has radium for fuel, heat and light, it is unnecessary to produce fire for man’s use.

  Therefore it is easy to picture the wonder of the Taborans, to whom fire is merely an accident, at seeing Dana Gleason deliberately set fire to her little paper tube and breathe in the smoke. Their wonder was greater even than that of the first European who saw American Indians smoking their pipes.

  Rather gingerly Moura accepted the lighter. Dana showed him how to light it, and he was careful that the flame did not reach him, for Abruians know how painful fire can be, even though they work with an element that can burn and hurt far more severely. He managed to light the cigarette, but one mouthful of smoke was enough, and the woman could only laugh at the ludicrous face he made. Ubca made no attempt to light his cigarette but returned it to the Earthling.

  She smoked her cigarette with rare enjoyment, but seeing that the smoke of it distressed the two men, she quickly extinguished it. Moura had taken his cigarette apart, and he saw that it was made of some sort of dried leaf. He slipped it into the small pouch he carried hanging from his girdle. Later he would analyze it and see what it was. He was glad for the little incident, for he saw that the laugh had done the woman good, making her forget for the moment her past experiences and bringing color to her cheeks.

  Ubca arose and went to a small cupboard, whence he brought out some pellets of highly condensed foodstuffs containing all the ingredients necessary to the body. A traveler always carries these instead of being bothered with more bulky supplies.

  Dana’s attention was now caught and held by something outside the plane. To the right of them she had suddenly become aware of a change taking place in the landscape. From beyond the irregular shapes of the mountains a grayness was pervading the sky. As she watched the grayness it turned to a watery pink, then to red. And over the edge of the mountains Tradr, the satellite sun, began to rise. At first a joy came into her being. The sun! The one familiar object that spelled “home” to her. She had left Earth without qualms, joyously, as a traveler leaves familiar scenes with the prospect of viewing new ones. And like the same traveler, she was knowing homesickness for those same homely familiar things.

  Yet, as the sun rose higher, she became puzzled. Sol had never appeared so large and so brilliantly red from Earth! Then he turned a lavenderish pink. What had happened to him? Here she was many millions of miles more distant. It couldn’t be possible that he … No that was not Sol. She stared in wonder, almost in fear. Her eyes sought Moura’s.

  He knew what was passing through her mind. Pointing, he showed her Sol high in the sky; it was the sun she had mistaken for a moon. Then she understood, and her wonder grew greater as she stared at the strange sun at which she could gaze directly without blinking.

  They were now on the edge of the pretty country of rolling hills, large forests, wide estates, and serene meandering rivers. The second sun was not rising high in the sky. Dana Gleason saw all this with a disinterested eye. With the coming of the sun she had sunk into an apathy from which she could not arouse herself. The first excitement of the landing was gone; the strangeness of the things around her had lost their interest. Her heart was cold and her eyes dry. The landscape looked barren, the sun’s bright light weak. She had won love on a gamble and lost it. She wanted to die, but was living. Life was giving her another chance, and she did not want it now.

  Moura now suggested that she lie down and sleep. He did not like the look that had suddenly come into her eyes. He wanted her to be fresh for her interview with the king. By motions he expressed what he wanted, and without a word of protest and as docile as a child, the woman acquiesced. Moura recognized the fact that this woman was going to be as putty in his hands, and he smiled to himself as he thought of what would come.

  Lucky that Ubca-tor could not read his thoughts, for the youth knew nothing of the brain of Moura-weit. He could only admire him, glad to shine in his reflected glory. Ubca-tor, the son of a minor prince, had no ambition. From childhood he had been taken by Moura-weit, and he was happy when that man accepted him as a companion, though he was never a confidant. He did not realize the fact that his hero accepted him only because of the advantage it would mean to be associated with a prince and in order to let the masses know that Moura-weit could pick his followers from the princely body. And had he known, it is possible that he would not have remonstrated. He feared, and at the same time loved, the one he fondly called master, and gladly he did what the other directed.

  Now as he gazed on the youth, Moura-weit saw that he was staring with intent eyes upon the sleeping woman. He was attracted by her strange coloring, her red lips, her distant air. And in the boy’s unguarded mind Moura read an awakening, a fascination for the stranger being. Moura chuckled to himself.

  THE TABORANS

  So came Dana Gleason to Doata. The capital lay on the bank of the Fierutl River that ran down to the ocean. The city was built, as all Taboran cities are built, on a promontory. One side was a gentle sloping hillside that rose a thousand feet, and the other side a sheer bluff rising straight up from the wide river.

  On the cliff’s crest, a space almost a mile and a half long and half as wide was given over to the palaces of the Kirada, the royal heir to the throne, together with the great Council Chambers, the government courts, and the barracks that housed the members of the Royal Guard.

  Below its crest the hill had been cut by terraces, terraces that marked the ranking of the people who inhabited them. The first two terraces were given over to those of royal blood, the taiis (crown princes and crown princesses) and the tors (lesser princes). A wall, moss-grown and vine-covered, separated these terraces from the next below. Ten such terraces lay in order, all joined together by wide flights of stairways, the center one rising directly up to the palaces on the top.

  The last terrace belonged to the rank of the Weitas, and here dwelt Moura-weit in the home of his fathers. A high, straight, unclothed wall divided this from the city below, where dwelt the commoners. Rarely did a commoner ever climb the steps that led over the wall separating the lower and upper cities.

  Among the commoners were as many classes and castes as among the nobility, if not more, from the commonest laborers to the skilled artisans and the foremen and superintendents who directed their labors.

  As for the houses of the Taborans, none was built taller than one story, and all were of uniform stone with glass roofs, and each had a bit of garden surrounding it. No house in the whole land rivaled that of the Kirada, nor did any other house rival those occupied by the taiis. The size and beauty of the home was entirely determined by the rank of the family to which it belonged. So were the furnishings that went into it, the food, the clothing, the fittings, the slaves.

  One can liken the social system of Tabora to that of Peru, under the Incas, since all men work for the state and their worldly goods are meted to them according to their standing in the community. And no man is a slacker. Each is given the work that is best suited to his temperament; he is given the right to choose his vocation and is taught his profession in the state’s universities.

  Nor are the Taborans held by ironclad rules of class. Let a man prove himself worthy of a higher position in life and he is given it gladly. A laborer may become a superintendent, a mason, an architect, a miner, an engineer. Even princelings gain a place in the sun only by their own efforts.

  Dana Gleason had awakened from her nap and saw the strange city stretching below. On the wide plain surrounding the sloping hill were thousands of small houses, each set in its own plot of ground with proper regard for the general symmetry of the city. The glass roofs shone brightly in the sunlight, glowing like thousands of jewels. The plane had been hovering over the city, and it could be seen that its presence was noticed by the people in the squares below.

  It would be well here to describe the Taboran plane, built as it is along the lines of the one bird of Abrui, the oc, a waterbird that has no feathers and whose wings are batlike. The wings of the plane, like those of the bird, beat the air, and both wings and tail are controlled in a natural birdlike manner. By simply balancing the machine by a gentle motion of the wings, the plane can be held in one position, can rise straight up into the heavens or drop straight to the ground. Ubca had pulled a lever, and by tilting the wings they now were dropping gently.

  It was the rest hour in the city, when all work is suspended for a fourth of a ro;* and people were stretching themselves and chatting together in the sunlight. Immediately on recognizing the blue of the plane with the emblem of two staring eyes on the underside of the wings that Moura-weit affected, a great halloo came up from the city to their favorite.

  In answer to the salutation, Moura dropped on the heads of the populace a basketful of artificial flowers that Ubca had taken from a cupboard earlier, and in the midst of this shower the plane descended to the terrace upon which Moura-weit dwelt.

  There is no need of describing all that took place in the next few hours—the visit that Moura-weit made to the palace to inform the Kirada in person of his find, the great reception that was given the Earthling in the palace, to which the flower of all Tabora hurried on summons, or the garments into which Dana Gleason was put or the homage that was done to her by all.

  A small throne had been placed for her beside that of the Kirada and Kiradaf (queen). The great throne room, whose walls were lined by solid slabs cut from semiprecious stones, was filled to overflowing. Rare tapestries, exquisite pieces of carving, wonderful plaques of rare metal hung on the jewel-encrusted walls that sparkled and glowed. Moura-weit had taken his place at the foot of the dais, and in a voice that held the attention of all and with well-chosen words, he described all that had taken place. At a sign from the Kirada, a tapestry high on the wall was drawn aside, revealing a large plain metal disc. The light was made low, and the weit was commanded to project the scene of Dana Gleason’s descent upon Abrui for all to see.

  THE MOVIE ON ABRUI

  Facing the screen, Moura-weit proceeded to describe the scenes that had actually taken place, and before the assembly, the same events that Moura-weit had shown to Dana Gleason earlier were broadcast. At the same time every house in the land was given the same vision on the sensitive vision screens. Only a few men in the realm were able to do what Moura-weit was doing, and he was an acknowledged master of that art.

  It is in this manner that most of the news of Tabora is broadcast over the land, and men are trained for this work alone. Sometimes it takes several men combining their efforts to project their thoughts, so that all can see. Strange as it may seem, Tabora does not broadcast the voice as we do on Earth. Instead, the actual scenes are thrown on the screen, and by way of explanation, words are also sent out in the same manner.

  The reception ended after the Kirada had presented Dana Gleason with a mansion on the terrace of the taiis, the terrace that heretofore had been occupied only by the direct descendants of the royal family. To her were given all its privileges with jewels, fine clothing, and great riches. To Moura-weit was given the right as her guardian to dwell in the palace of Dana Gleason.

  The Earthling gave thanks in her own tongue. Later it was arranged that a great teacher was to instruct her in the language of Tabora.

  For many days thereafter Dana Gleason’s reception room was filled with callers, men and women who had been absent from the great assembly in the court. The women were anxious to have a glimpse of a woman from another world; the men were fascinated by her strange coloring.

  Several noblemen also sought the hours when Rieuta-Dak (Dak-master) was with her teaching her the Taboran tongue. This group of men elected to learn her language even as she learned theirs, so for every Taboran word she learned she gave its English equivalent. And by the time she showed some proficiency in Taboran, her pupils were almost as proficient in English. Moura-weit and Ubca-tor were often present during the lessons, but they did not take part in the little club these men decided to form. And they gave their club the name that meant Earth Club, Roata, for by this time they had discovered that Dana Gleason was from the planet that was third from the sun and was called Rui in their language. It was greatly due to this lighthearted little gathering that Dana Gleason got back her heart, enjoying it all as much as they rejoiced at speaking her mother tongue.