The Little Pets of Arkkhan
BY VASELEOS GARSON
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, so caressing 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 of evening, his grateful mind whispered. Then his mind was screaming as the spider thread grew jagged edges that clawed open the first pain wounds and tore them wider.
Knight lay on the hot rocky plain of the asteroid, sprawling convulsively where he was thrown when the first sharp hurt slashed at his mind.
And it was such a lovely little beastie. All furry and round and soft. What awful power did it hold? I just touched it. Like an Earthly kitten, a little furry butterball. I should have known better, but it was like being on Earth again.
That faint wondering thought whispered through the pain. But it was flung from him as his pain-frantic brain raged at his nerves, knotted and twisted his muscles.