Lovable little balls of fur, incongruous on
this bleak asteroid, forlorn and lonely ... who
could be blamed for picking one up to take
along—or for what happened thereafter?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
At first, it was only a spider thread of sound. It was so soft, socaressing that it was like some healing unguent to the throbbing,burning boil that was Kent Knight's brain.
Tender and soothing as a wind-wafted melody in the first hush ofevening, his grateful mind whispered. Then his mind was screaming asthe spider thread grew jagged edges that clawed open the first painwounds and tore them wider.
Knight lay on the hot rocky plain of the asteroid, sprawlingconvulsively where he was thrown when the first sharp hurt slashed athis mind.
And it was such a lovely little beastie. All furry and round andsoft. What awful power did it hold? I just touched it. Like an Earthlykitten, a little furry butterball. I should have known better, but itwas like being on Earth again.
That faint wondering thought whispered through the pain. But it wasflung from him as his pain-frantic brain raged at his nerves, knottedand twisted his muscles.
There was too much agony for his mind to absorb. Knight sensed thewaning of his mind's last resources with relief. The mental shocksceased, his nerves and muscles quieted, and he drifted into a gentledarkness where there was no pain....
... It's gone, his mind observed gleefully. The thankful knowledgethat wakefulness did not bring renewed pain smothered the otherthing. But only for a moment.
Kent Knight. I am Kent Knight, I must remember that. I mustn't forgetit. I mustn't let It make me forget. I am a man. My shipmates and Icrashed on this asteroid in the Star Climber.
The other thing laughed at him—in him. The wee bit of Kent Knightwhich the other thing couldn't take or didn't want urged him to hisfeet. It didn't seem to mind his doing that much.
Knight drew his lean, rawboned frame erect. His muscles didn't hurtany more, he realized. He ran his strong fingers—which were shakingnow—through his brown hair, ruffling the rock dust out of it. Helooked toward the green oasis on the far side of the rocky plain wherehis friends were.
It's hard to remember that I am Kent Knight. It doesn't really matteranyway. No, Kent Knight, that's the other thing! I am six feet tall.I weigh one hundred and seventy pounds. I have brown hair. My eyes arehazel with funny blue flecks in them. Remember? Looks like somebodypunched at them with a sharp blue pencil—that's what Mary Jo said.
I wonder if Sammy's drunk. That last time just before we crashedshould have been a drunk to finish even Sammy, his big, broken nose,shiny, bald head and all.
Yes, I know you know my every thought, Thing! You've stolen my mind.But you cannot steal me. I am Kent Knight. I am a man. You, Thing,are my enemy and man's enemy.
It chuckled in Knight's mind.
"You are whistling in the dark, fool. Have you not wondered why youcrashed on this wandering asteroid? We Arkkhans willed you here. Therewas nothing wrong with your ship—we willed you to crash because wewanted weak creatures like you.
"You are the first we found whose minds are strong enough to contain uswithout destroying the motor impulses."
The Thing filled Kent Knight's mind with a thousand scenes and chuckledas the horror