Marin and Eos led me through a cluster of the squat, rectangular buildings—they almost looked like the longhouses I’d seen in archaeology documentaries—and down a path that wound its way along a small, burbling creek. I could hear the noises of animals in the trees overhead, like the whistling of birds, but different somehow. A gangly mammal with a long striped tail skittered through the branches, watching me with wide orange eyes.

Mom would have a field day here, I thought. I remembered how hard she struggled to get things like tomatoes and squash to grow in our garden, with nothing but modern, invasive spider weeds to graft with. In the farm outside the village, I’d seen what looked like beans climbing up stalks of maize, like they grew them in the milpas on Earth. Mom had tried that in her garden without much luck. But these plants were native to Mars, not Earth. If she had access to native species like this, her job would be so much easier.

“This place is incredible,” I breathed. “How long did it take to build?”

“More than the whole of our lives,” said Eos. “It had already begun before I was born, and Marin and I are the oldest citizens still alive.”

Marin smiled wistfully at him, her green eyes seeming to hold a secret behind them that I couldn’t begin to grasp. Something about the way Eos and Marin interacted reminded me of my grandparents—the easy affection born of a lifetime together.

“How old are you guys, anyway?” I asked.

Eos chuckled. “I lost track many years ago. But I’d say I was close to your age when Marin and I first came here, and that was at least three decades ago.”

Thirty years ago… If that was the case, in Earth years—annums—they must be in their eighties now, or close to it. Older than Abuelo.

“So you two are the leaders?”

“No, no.” Marin waved her hand dismissively. “We have no leaders. There’s no need for it. Eos and I are the eldest, so people will often come to us for advice, simply because we have that experience. But if someone chooses not to heed that advice, that’s none of our concern. As long as no one is endangering the community, people essentially live as they please here.”

I nodded thoughtfully. It sounded nice. Of course, everything about Elytherios seemed like a vast improvement over the torquing Orwellian scenario going on in the citidomes. I knew Nadin didn’t trust the people here. And she was right that what had happened with Ceilos—and even with Gitrin—didn’t make any sense. But I still couldn’t help but believe that the Elytherians were telling the truth. Even apart from the fact that they wanted to use me as a guinea pig for an invasion on Earth, I could never trust the geroi. They were like GSAF on steroids.

“So, where are we going, anyway?” I asked as we crossed over a small footbridge spanning the creek.

“There is someone that I would like you to meet, speak with if you can,” Marin said. “We have been having a difficult time communicating with him.”

I frowned. “But what makes you think I’m going to be able to help you?”

Marin stopped at the door of one of the longhouses and leveled her gaze on me. “You’ll see.”

She pushed the door open and I stepped inside. It had a single room, long and narrow, lit by windows and several large skylights in the roof. Living trees made up the longhouse’s support beams, growing into each other so fluidly that it was hard to see where one ended and another began. Two rows of beds lined the walls. In the back corner, a dark-haired man sat on one of these, looking out the window, his back to me.

“This is our guesthouse,” Marin said. “It’s where our new arrivals live until we can find a household for them to join. You’re welcome to stay here—”

She said something else, but I didn’t hear what. The man turned around to look at me and my ears just completely shut off. There was no sound. Everything was muffled, like Tierra Nueva when it snowed. No one in the room but me and him. And seeing him now, right in front of me, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hug him or punch him right in the jaw.

“Dad,” I blurted. “What the hell are you doing here?”

◦ • ◦

He looked confused for a moment, like he didn’t recognize me. Well, it had been two torquing annums. I had grown almost fifteen centimeters in that time, and my voice had gotten a lot deeper. Dad, on the other hand—he didn’t look like he’d aged a day. The only difference between the last time I’d seen him and now was that his face was covered with messy stubble, thick enough to almost be a beard, but not quite. He was even still wearing his factory uniform, though it was completely filthy.

He stared at me for a long minute, then recognition flashed in his dark eyes. “Isaak?” he whispered, his voice gravelly and thick, as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

“Yeah,” I said, clenching my hands into fists, trying to choke down the emotions roaring in my chest. I hadn’t expected to feel this angry when I saw him again, especially after finding the time postern. I’d been telling myself that maybe it wasn’t his fault—maybe he hadn’t meant to leave us—but the built-up rage of two annums of being on my own, having to be the man of the house, never knowing what the hell had happened to him—it was like a living thing now. I couldn’t shut it off.

Maybe if he’d say he was sorry. Maybe if he’d apologize for leaving me to grow up on my own while Mom had to struggle, working day and night to keep Celeste and me healthy and fed and clothed on just one income… if he’d just acknowledge it, I could forgive him. But he just stared at me, stupidly, not saying a single word.

Finally he stood up, looking me up and down like I was a stranger. “You can’t be Isaak,” he said.

I laughed. It came out sounding strangled, hysterical. “What do you mean, I can’t be Isaak? I’m Isaak.”

“But you can’t be! How did you get so big so fast?”

“So fast? Come on, Dad, it’s been two annums. Did you think I wasn’t going to grow?”

“Two… annums…?” Dad choked on the words, coughing violently to clear the dust out of his chest. Then he shook his head. “No. That’s not possible. I’ve only been here two, maybe three weeks at the most.”

His sentence was like a punch to the gut. It knocked the wind clean out of me. “What?”

Eos cleared his throat. I turned, wild-eyed, to see him standing in the doorway of the longhouse. Marin was there, too, just a meter or so behind me, watching our conversation with fretful eyes. I’d completely forgotten they were there.

“Do you know him, then?” Marin asked. “I thought you might. There’s… a resemblance, between the two of you.”

“How long has he been here?” I asked, voice ragged.

“Twenty days or so,” Eos said. “One of our runners picked him up. He’d collapsed outside Hope Renewed with no breathing apparatus. He regained consciousness not long after we got him back here, but no one has been able to understand him. He finally gave up talking altogether several days ago.”

Dad was watching me, eyes narrowed. “You can understand what they’re saying?” he hissed.

I glanced at him. “Yeah, but…” The room was spinning. “You can’t have only been here a few weeks. You were gone all that time…” I sank down onto the bed, slumping forward, my elbows on my knees.

Dad crouched in front of me. “You came through the arch?”

I nodded.

A noise like a growl came from the back of Dad’s throat. “That bastard Emil. This is all his fault.”

“It’s not Emil’s fault, Dad,” I snapped. “He didn’t tell you to go through that arch. I know you stole his key. Besides, Emil at least has half a brain stem. I’m sure he wouldn’t have just blundered right through a time machine without testing it first.”

He crossed his arms, leaning back on his heels and glaring at me. “‘Half a brain stem’, huh? But I see you blundered through same as me. Looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, mijo.”

I almost did punch him that time, but managed to hold myself back. I’d almost forgotten, in two annums, what a complete dick my dad could be.

Dad ran his fingers over his chin, picking at the thick almost-beard thoughtfully. “A time machine, you say? So this isn’t just some alien planet. Incredible. Wait a minute!” He slapped his hand on my knee, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Ancient stuff sells for thousands in our time. Maybe even millions. If we could bring a few things back with us—a few trinkets here and there—we’d be set for life!”

I shoved his hand away and jumped to my feet. “What the hell is wrong with you, Dad? These are good people. They’ve been taking care of you for weeks without even knowing who you are. And now you want to steal from them?”

Dad frowned. “Not necessarily steal, just—”

“No, you know what? Shut up. Do you know I’ve spent the last two annums worrying about you? I thought you might be dead, or sick, or hurt. When I wasn’t torqued off at you for ditching us without a word, I was completely miserable at the thought that something might have happened to you and we’d never know what. And now, after all this time, I’ve finally found you”—my voice caught on a lump, but I forced it down—“and you don’t even say that you’re glad to see me. You don’t even ask me how Celeste is, or Mom, or anything. Why did I even waste my time?”

I stormed off, across the longhouse and out the door. “Isaak! Wait, don’t be like that,” I heard Dad yell, but I ignored him.

“Isaak,” Marin called, hurrying out the door after me. “What’s the matter? What did he say?”

I froze midstep, realizing I didn’t know where I was going, where I was running to, anyway. I just wanted to get away from him.

“Isaak,” Eos said in a softer voice. “Who is he?”

I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes trained on the road ahead of me, snaking between the longhouses. In the distance, I could hear the familiar trill of a gurza. I wondered if it was Tuupa. If I followed this road, maybe it would lead me to their stables. It wasn’t Escalante Bay, but I realized with a sudden certainty that I’d rather spend the afternoon with a friendly T-Rex than with that man in the longhouse any day.

“I’m sorry to say he’s my father.”

Eos didn’t reply. He merely tugged his earlobe, and his expression seemed to say it all. I nodded, then turned to make my way down the road, following the winding creek and the sounds of the animals.