"Don't you think the Martians would know about it if humans left Earth at some point in its history? Or if humans arrived on Earth from some other place? Don't you think something like that would be stored somewhere in their vast archive of knowledge?"
"We say it because it's true!" The captain objected. "The time that has passed since the Martian era of exploration is significant at even astronomical scales. It's enough time for entire classes of life forms to evolve and go extinct, for astral bodies to form and dissolve."
"Like that moon?" Lamont asked, nodding his head more or less arbitrarily in the direction of the ship's port side. "Phobos mentioned to me that it doesn't appear on the charts at all."
"Right," agreed Francis. "The charts are a rough sketch. The best we can do is look at what was observed back then and extrapolate the data to predict what planets might fall in their stars' habitable zones now. It's far from an exact science."
Lamont glanced at Rosemary, who was regarding the captain with an expression that he interpreted as sympathy.
"Here's what I'm trying to understand," Lamont pressed. "For some reason, the Martians were inspired eons ago to explore the universe. They developed Escherspace and sent out probes. We're told that they didn't plant colonies because that's 'not the Martian way,' but the machines on Epiphany Rex cast a lot of doubt on that assertion. In any case, that era of exploration lasted, what, a few thousand years?"
Francis shrugged. "A few tens of thousands. A brief fad by Martian standards."
"Right, so for this comparatively short time, they were out exploring the universe. But here's my point: We were neighbors the whole time."
Carter looked at the newspaperman blankly, and Rosemary turned her expression back to him with a curious expression.
"Mars had advanced technology at the same time that life was just beginning to emerge on Earth," Lamont reminded him. "Don't you think the Martians would know about it if humans left Earth at some point in its history? Or if humans arrived on Earth from some other place? Don't you think something like that would be stored somewhere in their vast archive of knowledge?"
Abruptly, Francis rose from his seat, retrieving his cane from where it was propped against his desk. He looked past the pair, through the translucent wall behind them, visibly agitated. "Yes, I'm sure that it would be. But you've got to understand that Phobos hasn't absorbed that whole library, or even the tiniest fraction of it. What he knows are the things that are relevant to this mission. His job is to get us out here. That's all."
"Who gave him that job?" Lamont asked. "And shouldn't it include preparing us for what—or who—we might find?"
The captain's long legs carried him a few limping paces to the far end of his office and back again. His brow furrowed. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully now. "What the people of the Free World need, Lamont, is a vision of the future. They need to know that we can make a place for ourselves out among the stars. They need to know that whatever happens, humanity will survive. Our job is to show them that. And nothing else."