Staang rose to his feet with evident effort. "Moving," he grunted, "how I detest moving." He took a box from an indenture in the wall and began eating the contents, apparently a type of meat. He ate the bone and all. Staang glared at his guests through shaggy eyebrows and smiled. "You're puzzled," he said. "You don't understand my knowing about you, do you?" He seemed extremely pleased with himself.
Nance began doing the talking. "Do you mean Martians have visited the Earth?" he asked.
Staang chuckled loudly. "Yes ... yes, I do mean that. Come, let me tell you a story, my friends. I am sure you will find it most interesting."
"Wait a minute," Boone barked, his hand now touching his gun. "We're here for facts. You're coming back to our ship—peacefully or by force."
"Peacefully, I assure you, Commander," Staang said. "But my story—"
"Let him tell it," Braun said. "Maybe it will explain things. And a lot needs explaining. He seems to have been expecting us."
"I have, I have," the Martian muttered, disposing of the last of his food. He threw the box into a corner already piled high with rubble. "You saw the buildings here in this ... what was once a great city. These buildings are a few which are left of a civilization which grew weary. 'Twas not a young race as the one which fostered your world, but an old race which tired of working—even of thinking. The civilization went untended, until finally my ancestors decided they would have to invade another world to find servants to relieve Martians of the work—and the thinking—which they had grown to dislike so much. They reasoned that with proper servants they would have nothing to do but eat and sleep as they wanted.
"So my people invaded another planet."
"You had space travel then?" Boone demanded. "How long ago was this?"
"Three thousand ... maybe four thousand years ago as you count time."