Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Beasts in the Void by Paul W. Fairman (spicy books to read txt) 📖
- Author: Paul W. Fairman
Book online «The Beasts in the Void by Paul W. Fairman (spicy books to read txt) 📖». Author Paul W. Fairman
"I said get out! I wouldn't touch you regardless."
"But you just did."
"It was a mistake. I—"
"Look—I'm a woman. You're a man—I think. We're alone in space and life is short. Let's have fun and then forget about it."
I slapped her across the mouth. A skipper can be jailed for life for striking a passenger. Even with cause. But I slapped her and I'm setting it down in the log....
ennedy looked up from his reading. "Jane Kelvey—she is the dead one?"
Mason nodded.
Kennedy looked at Holloway with marked severity. "Are you sure you only slapped her?"
Mason exploded. "Good God, man. Did you see the body? You're not implying he did that to her, are you?"
"I'm not implying anything," Kennedy said within a restrained grimness that infuriated Mason.
"Why don't you finish the log before you start passing judgment?"
Kennedy leafed through the pages. "I—wait a minute! This log doesn't cover the whole cruise! It breaks off in the middle of a sentence!"
"Read what's there, man! Read what's there."
"Very serious—very serious," Kennedy muttered. "Not completing a log. No license should have been issued this man. Lax! Very lax." He sat back to make himself more comfortable and prepared to go on with his reading.
June 30th—3 hours
Course 29.341 by the Virgo angle. I think that's the course. The instruments are acting funny. In fact a lot of things seem to be wrong. Some of the constellations aren't in the right places anymore.
I began noticing these things a couple of days ago and spoke to Murdo. I suggested we turn back. I told him it was my duty as a skipper to look out for the welfare of my passengers. And that included not continuing if vital instruments showed signs of failure.
He sneered at me and said, "I thought you were a big game hunter, Holloway?"
I told him I'd hunted big game—yes.
"It doesn't sound like it. You sound like a timid old woman. So you've made some miscalculations. The course is still right. It's on the flight pattern in the automatic control board and I know it's correct because I gave it to you."
"But if instruments fail nothing stays right."
"Okay—you're the skipper. If you've turned yellow and want to show your tail I guess there's nothing I can do about it."
He almost got his jaw broken, but I was able to hold myself. Then, suddenly, I didn't care. I didn't care whether Murdo stayed alive or got killed. As to the others—they'd come on the cruise with their eyes open. They deserved whatever they got. And I certainly didn't give a damn about myself. Guess I wasn't cut out to skipper a ship. A skipper should care. That's all he should do. Just care. I'd rather dream about Melody.
I don't know what the date is. The chronometer stopped so I don't even know what time it is. But what does it matter about the time if you don't even know what day it is? We just go on and on.
Murdo—I can't figure out. Windbag or not—braggart or no—he has an iron will. I think he's scared but he won't admit it. And some stubborn streak inside him won't let him turn tail and run. He hides his fear behind long accounts of his hunting trips. He describes the vicious animals he's killed. He bores us with accounts of his skill as a great hunter.
The rest listen because they have to. I go to my cabin and remember Melody.
The rest are scared too, but they're too scared of Murdo to let him know it. That's an odd one. Scared for your life but afraid to tell the big man because he might kill you. Would Murdo kill in a fit of rage? I don't know.
Keebler stays drunk so none of it bothers him. Keebler's wife, I think, is in love with Murdo but it's a kind of little-girl love. She never quite grew up. Kelvey glues himself to Murdo and sticks like a plaster. He seems to consider Murdo a haven, as though Murdo's bulk will make everything all right.
Jane Kelvey hasn't quit making passes at me but they're half-hearted. She bothers me. I'm uneasy when she's around. I get the feeling that any minute she might drop to her knees and beg. What do you do with a woman on her knees before you, begging? Maybe before long her husband will look good to her. Maybe she'll be able to get him away from Murdo's side for a while.
I look at both these women and realize what I lost. Melody.
ane Kelvey came to my cabin. It's hit her that things aren't right. She's scared. She asked, "Why did you tell Murdo you wanted to turn back?"
"Because I thought we'd come too far."
"Do you still think so?"
"Everything will be all right."
"The instruments—are they working again?"
I lied to her. "They're working."
"Do you think it's really as Murdo says—that there are animals out in space?"
"I don't know."
She looked wan and forlorn and I was sorry for her. She said, "I've only been on one hunting trip in my life."
"Is that so?"
"In India. A boy carried my gun for me. When the tiger came the boy handed me the gun and told me where to point. I fired but I didn't hit the tiger. Somebody else shot it."
"That was too bad."
"No, it was all right. He was such a big beautiful animal. So sleek and powerful."
I saw her body tremble as she closed her eyes. I said, "You better get some rest."
She passed a hand over her eyes and then gave me an odd wistful smile. "Animals are smarter, I think. We do make awful messes out of our lives, don't we?"
"I'm afraid we do."
"But is it our fault? God makes us this way. We can't help that."
"No, I guess we can't."
"Why did God make us like we are?"
"I don't know, Jane. Let's hope He does."
"Isn't that sacrilege or something? Doubting Him?"
"I guess it is."
She reached out suddenly and touched my face. "You're a nice guy. I don't blame you for slapping me."
"I'm sorry. You're pretty nice yourself."
The smile faded. "I'm not," she said miserably, and left the cabin.
Poor kid. I forgot her and thought of Melody.
Something's gone wrong with everything. Not a very scientific statement for a skipper to make but that's how it is. The stars have disappeared. The instruments jumped around as though they had minds of their own. The dial needles spin around like crazy.
And something else—something even worse. Space has changed. I mean there's something out there in space. First I just felt it. A raw uneasiness. Then I trained a light through the port and I could see it. Stuff that looks like dust but isn't. It's hazy and yet it sparkles and you have a sense of being on a ship that's pushing its way through a fog so thick the friction holds you back. And there's something more about this sparkling fog. You look out at it and it seems to be looking back at you. Or maybe I'm losing my mind. Anyhow, that's the way it seems. As though it's waiting for you to speak to it—say hello or something.
I guess I'm going crazy.
The sparkling fog is affecting the others, too. They've all quieted down and they slip along the bulkheads as though they were being followed. Only Murdo blusters back. He says, what the hell? We expected something different, didn't we? Well, this is sure different enough, isn't it?
I'd turn back but I don't know how. I have nothing to go by. The instruments make no sense.
I am going crazy. I looked out the port just now and saw a water buffalo. It was standing right out there in space with its head down looking at the ship! I had a light turned on it and suddenly it charged and hit the port headon. It bounced off and went staggering away and disappeared.
But it left a big white scratch on the quartz outside. At least I think it did. Wait. I'll look again. Yes. A big white scratch. It's still there. So how can I be mad? Maybe it's a new kind of madness....
ome of the sparkling fog has penetrated the ship. Turn out the light and you can see it in the cabin. Not as thick as out in the void but thick enough to see; thick enough to stand there and ask you to talk to it.
Murdo is ready to turn back. He came to the control room and said, "I saw it out there."
"You saw what?"
His face was pale and his hands twitched. "A boa-constrictor. Exactly like the one I killed four years ago on the Amazon. It came to the port and looked in at me."
"It must be your imagination."
"No. It was there. Let's turn back. Get out of this."
"I wish we could."
"You mean—?"
"I don't know where back is. We might just as well go as we are. Changing course doesn't help if you don't know your directions. Our only hope is to drive on out of this cloud. If I turned I might go right back into it."
"Then one direction is as good as another?"
"That's right."
His mind wandered as he turned away. "I didn't know it would be like this," he muttered. "I thought it would be fun—sport. I thought we'd put on space suits and go out and make a kill. I thought—"
"The space suits are ready. Do you want to try it?"
He shuddered, his hanging jowls almost flapping. "You couldn't drag me out there."
The stuff is getting thicker in the ship.
Jane came into my cabin. She had an odd look on her face. She said, "There's a big tiger in the companionway."
I got up from my bunk and suddenly she seemed to realize what she'd said. She repeated it. Then she fell down in a faint. I put her in my bunk and looked out into the companionway. The sparkling fog glittered but there was no tiger.
When she came to, she didn't seem to know where she was. Then she smiled. "I must have been drinking too much," she said. Then she realized where she was. "But look where it got me? Into your bunk."
"Do you feel all right now?"
"I guess so. I can get up now. I do have to get up, don't I?"
"I think you'd better."
After she left I did some thinking. The sparkling haze had been outside the ship and I'd seen a water buffalo through the port. Murdo had seen a boa-constrictor. Then the haze penetrated the hull and got inside the ship. And Jane had seen a tiger in the companionway.
Were they phantoms? Was Jane's tiger a tiger of the mind? Murdo swore his snake had been real and my buffalo left a mark on the port. I sat there trying to think. With the sparkling fog drifting around me. It seemed to be trying to tell me something.
Things grow worse. Today, at mess, Murdo was holding forth about a Plutonian ice bear he'd killed. I think he was trying to cover the gloom that has settled over us. Anyhow, he'd just got to the point where the bear was charging down on him when we heard the roar of thunder from outside. Maybe I'd better repeat that for the record. We heard a roaring through the walls of the space ship. In the void. Nothing goes through the walls of a space ship in the void but we all heard it and jumped to the port. And we all saw it.
An ice bear as big as ten of the largest that ever lived in the Plutonian ice flows. A huge ravening beast that rushed through the void at the ship and tried to tear the port out of its metal seat with teeth as big as the height of a man.
The women fell back, screaming. Keebler, in his usual stupor stared blankly as though not realizing what was going on. Kelvey looked to Murdo for guidance. When none came he crouched behind a chair.
Murdo fell back slowly, step by step as though his eyes were fastened to the quartz and it was hard to pull away. I don't remember what I did. Murdo was saying "My God—my God—my God," as though chanting a ritual. He tore his eyes from the sight and looked at me.
"You wanted big game, buster," I croaked. "There it is."
"But it can't be real. It can't!"
"Maybe not, but if that port gives I'll bet it won't be from vacuum pressure."
"Vacuum draws. It doesn't press," Kelvey babbled inanely, but nobody paid any attention to him.
The beast
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