by H C Turk
Parno could not look away from her face. That smile. He could not wait to touch her teeth with his lips, his tongue.
“I hint at sexuality,” she told Parno. “You’re voluptuous.”
Inches away now, he saw her pupils. They were grey, not black, the color of smoke.
“When you touched your phallus, you were thinking of sex,” Kathlynn murmured with that fantastic smile. “Ladies can pee and have sex at the same time.”
Parno nearly felt angry at the perverse light of the parlor that caused such a horrid cast in lovely Kathlynn’s eyes. Kathlynn then spoke with her lovely voice. Her lovely human voice, English words not produced by the sex lips he saw.
“Let me in,” she pleaded, her voice nearly desperate. “Parno, please let me in.”
Passion and science have different truths. Parno achieved no formula describing the verity of this suited woman in the language of mathematical fact. He felt the purest conviction that his lover called him from another realm.
He gave his good-bye before leaving.
“Bitch,” he snarled, then ran.
Parno turned to lunge for the warehouse panel, but Kathlynn raped him. At her first touch, Parno’s alien suit fell away. Learned Kathlynn had become expert in this alien attire. Without a word or sound, she leapt against Parno’s back, wrapping an arm about his neck. She began strangling him. Parno pulled at her arm but could not release that grip. This average woman had the strength of space armor. Though Earth ground suits provided a flex leverage that increased the wearer’s effective muscular strength, they contained no technol that changed flesh into plassteel, changed human into demon.
By violently twisting his neck, Parno reduced the killing pressure on his throat. Breathing remained painful, partial, for the fem’s other arm contracted against his chest. With peripheral vision, he saw her face, her skin having the pallor of ashes. Parno then fell to the floor, for Kathlynn had encircled his legs with her own, becoming a literal demon on his back. He felt a foreign strength in her legs bend his knees sideways, causing him to gasp and grimace, but Parno felt scant weight against his back. This Kathlynn massed no more than ashes.
His greatest fear came with death’s color. Losing his breath, Parno’s vision dimmed. The universe turned grey, and he panicked. Parno’s dangerous passage through this vessel had brought horrid visions of dying by fire. Now that he was losing consciousness, Parno most feared that death would come without his witness. He feared that his last moment would not be a resignation to death’s eternal rest, but the ultimate anxiety of not sensing peace, only finding despair. The product of such dead unsettling was killing him.
Breathless Parno ended his struggle. His limpness caused a shift in the suit’s grip on his life. With his face now pressed against the demon’s shoulder, the pressure on his throat commencing, Parno managed to slip his hand to the suit’s back pad. Then he stretched with his ending strength, reaching for the cords that would release the plasfab.
The ground suit fell away, not exposing a humanoid, but releasing a stench. Rolling away, Parno smelled smoke. A dry, grey mist filled his eyes. Rising, stumbling toward the warehouse door, Parno did not choke on the smell, and his eyes did not water at the pollution. Ghosts are no more tangible than death. Before Parno could crawl through the panel, the dead volume behind coalesced into a shape. Though humanoid, the shape did not resemble Kathlynn. Kathlynn was a vision; Parno saw a nightmare.
He grabbed a suit packet and pressed through the panel. As Parno collapsed to the ribbon rug, breathing deeply, devoid of any effort, he saw the panel left behind. He saw protrusions on the surface, graspings caused not by wicked hands, but the evil of unsettled passion.
* * *
Stepping from the creativity cusp, Kathlynn could not discern whether her confidence were sourced in feeling or knowledge. Regardless, she was certain of success.
“When we open the outer door,” she concluded to Parno, “we’ll see pink sand and a glorious ocean!”
“I’m on my way, Kathlynn!” she heard, smiling at that happy, boyish sound.
Never would she see those bodies on the floor, despite their obscuring cover, without feeling an eerie sorrow. Never while alone. Stepping quickly past the prostrate function retainers, none settled in a graceful pose, Kathlynn entered the translation arena. There, she saw sunrise. Yes, that was her feeling. She felt wondrous awe at a vast event filling the sky. This sunrise, however, resembled dusk, being dark. Stepping quickly, Kathlynn viewed the open airlock. Inside, she saw blank walls the height of a shade tree. Blank, but beautiful.
Kathlynn proceeded to that inner airlock door, remaining in the greater translation arena. Looking carefully within for smoke, ghost ends, or ashes, she saw only space. How artistic, she thought, that both of the airlock’s doors depicted deep space. Kathlynn viewed the handsome image, all serene in its points of bright white and swirls of translucent nebulas. To Kathlynn, the latter suggested a colorful cloud, not smoke.
She thought of Parno. Feeling that the guidance cell was not a sizable chamber, Kathlynn presumed Parno would leave and rapidly gain the ribbon conveyor. After crossing the parlor, Parno would again travel the ribbon, enter the translation arena, and run—perhaps awkwardly—to Kathlynn standing by the great airlock.
Turning, she saw him approach, wearing an Earth ground suit, accompanied by zombies.
In its new attire, the ghost did not have to claw the insubstantial air with his immaterial limbs to make progress. He only had to walk. Like an unpracticed Earther, he could not walk quickly, but did not have far to travel. He only had to venture a few perverted paces to kill Kathlynn.
Without feeling foolish, she looked beyond, toward the entry panel, not finding a savior.
Kathlynn experienced fear as a type of numbness. She did not cry out for Parno. Her eyes did not water. She did not gasp ragged breaths. Her heart did not thump like a creature crushing her chest with its claws. She did, however, feel a trembling in her throat that seemed a unique verbal response, perhaps translated from the alien.
If not suffering an alien state, Kathlynn would have understood that struggling with fear while longing for peace is perfectly human.
Though the suited ghost moved toward Kathlynn, she saw that it might not arrive first. Resurrection proceeded in the process margin. There, dark shapes lost their stiff lethargy. Every prostrate suit stood, achieving new life as abetted by the dead. With no word spoken, the smoke ghost directed them to create further peers.
All those moving limbs seemed distressed by locomotion. Every undead body seemed dragged along the floor by dismay. Kathlynn saw no comfort in the zombies’ proceeding as beckoned by the failed master of flames.
Had he merely succeeded in dying, the ghost would now be engaged in blissful repose, not murder.
She could not judge if the ghost moved its arms to improve its balance or to direct its army. Regardless, like a bad leader, it struck one of the walking dead. Though Kathlynn expected conflagration, she saw a collapse. The suit halted, split at the seams, and collapsed to the floor along with its contents: not incendiary gases, but ashes.
The phalanx continued, and Kathlynn turned away. She felt dizzy, aware that she had not been breathing for alien moments. Turning to avoid seeing her own death was no intent within her. Kathlynn would flee, even if it meant running into a corner. After one blink, she crossed the airlock’s threshold.
Behind her, the light changed. Looking over her shoulder, Kathlynn saw that the inner door had dilated closed as quickly as a flash of light. She took one step inside, no more. Kathlynn would have run to the outer door, but her feet no longer touched the floor.
She needed no alien education to recognize artificial gravity. Even Terran space boats could generate positive or negative art grav fields. With certain equipment, a zero G field aided unloading massive gear on a planetary surface. Kathlynn considered herself special. After all, the vessel provided her with free fall and an army whose only goal was to kill
her, and her friend.
As though a whisper in her ear, Kathlynn heard a voice: Parno’s. His words were alien.
Momentum carried her toward the outer door. Not near any surface, Kathlynn could not control her direction. Being an experienced spacer, however, she knew how to twist her limbs around her center of gravity in order to turn in mid-air. Though she overadjusted, rotating slowly along the axis of her spine, Kathlynn passed the inner door, which had yet to open, yet to transmit the unresting dead and their doom.
Turning slowly as she floated, Kathlynn passed the perpendicular wall, then faced the outer airlock door. There she saw a changed visage. This view of space differed from the original, depicting no spiral nebula, only a scattering of stars. As Kathlynn extended her hands and feet to arrest her rotation, she saw that the appliquéd stars on the outer panel did not change in orientation as she neared.
Kathlynn had to decide. Either turn and watch the inner door for the entry of her killers, or prepare herself to land in case the outer door opened, opened to the island of Kapnos 3 and to gravity.
Then she received an attack. The assault striking her was not physical, but verbal. An unseen entity spoke a single English word, perfectly human, profoundly unkind.
“Bitch.”
With that sound, the aliens proved themselves perverted, translating a hero’s voice into a demon’s curse.
Kathlynn faced the outer door, waiting for the sight of lahar or the ocean’s edge, the call of harmless insects, the smell of forest blooms. In the next moment, she had to focus carefully, confused by her view. Yes, the door had opened effortlessly, Kathlynn seeing that night had fallen on the island. Eternal night. Night with no gravity, having all the substance of space.
As though an angel blessed with restful death, Kathlynn floated effortlessly into eternity, leaving all of her demons behind.
Chapter 14
The Anima Of Empathy
One hour in an average, space-spec infirmary would have rejuvenated him. Though the alien-spec hospital might adequately assuage his injuries, Parno had no time. Not a sidereal hour, a spare minute, or loose seconds. Parno could not rest as long as Kathlynn was busy waiting for release.
He remained on his knees until the ribbon slid him to the opened warehouse door. He rose, still holding the environ abettor packet. Though moving without the alien suit would be easier, Parno longed to hear Kathlynn’s voice, if she called out words of safety. He did not want to hear further piteous moans, any sad failures, or inaccurate, alien interpretations of their semi-successes. He wanted to hear green waves rush down harmlessly at his feet, a satisfying sound so loud he could not hear Kathlynn beg for entry. Not when Parno could not help her.
His feet would do better stuck in the sand rather than moving across this floor. Though not encumbered by the alien suit, Parno had to drag one foot as he walked, no running. Attempting to straighten that twisted knee delivered more pain than progress. A soreness deep in his throat caused him to cough, each breath coming as a wheeze. His shoulders hurt, and his neck seemed bent. His ribs were tender, which did not aid his affected breathing. The worst pain was pervasive and unplaceable: the self-punition of guilt from not helping Kathlynn while she waited alone, in jeopardy, perhaps genuinely injured, not merely bruised.
Those people ahead were not in jeopardy, being dead. Long dead, temporarily dead. On the warehouse floor between process margin and airlock lay six dark shapes. Parno saw no ghost, whether dressed in smoke or a Terran ground suit. Looking toward the ghost paths, Parno saw no approaching danger. The horror he found was a different void. He saw no Earth fem, and the airlock door was closed.
Running painfully to the process margin, he saw only waiting suits on the wall. No Kathlynn, but Parno knew where to look.
He pulled at the environ abettor’s sack, allowing the net-like fab to fit itself around him. His purpose was not protection, but communication.
“Kathlynn?”
A beautiful alien word entered his hearing, beautiful due to its source: Kathlynn’s voice, unstressed, unpanicked.
“Kathlynn, that was not English.”
The sound returned, still in the wrong language. Before Parno could speak again, he heard his name.
“Parno, can you hear me?”
“Yes, Kathlynn, can you hear me?”
“Repeat please.”
“Kathlynn, I hear you perfectly. Where are you? What happened?”
He knew to face the airlock when speaking with his friend.
“Parno, where are you now?”
“I’m ten feet from the big airlock.”
“Parno! Get out of there now! The smoke ghost is in our suit, and chased me with an army of work suit zombies!”
Parno looked around while speaking.
“Kathlynn, the suits are right at my feet, dead static. I haven’t seen the ghost since arriving.”
“Parno, I was so terrified. I, I think they’re beating me. When the ghost and the work suits came after me, I felt horrified at first, then nearly resigned. I’m so glad to hear that you’re safe. I just want to be safe again, every moment, not in between disasters.”
Hearing Kathlynn’s sadness, Parno decided not to mention the sexy, doppelganged gal.
“Kathlynn, where are you now, in the airlock?”
“No, they chased me through, then all the way out.”
“Out? Kathlynn, you’re outside now? Fantastic! You’re on the mountain slope feeling the breeze, the forest ten paces beyond?”
“Parno, I’m outside the vessel, feeling the pressure of gas nebulas ten parsecs behind. Parno, I’m in space. I think, I think…. Remember when we tried to open the airlock, the first time, and something happened, a thump throughout the ship? That’s when we lifted from the planet.”
“What? Kathlynn, this vessel is in orbit?”
“Parno, I don’t see the planet. I don’t know where we’re situated, but it’s not on Kapnos 3. I hope the vessel is between me and the planet. Parno, what if we’re no longer in the Kapnos system? Then what will we do? Oh, by the way, I’m drifting away from the vessel.”
“That’s no problem, Kathlynn. I only have to enter the airlock, push a pad, and a flex rod in the hull will extend, wrap around you, and pull you back. Except I’m not inside a Terran space boat, but an alien coffin. Kathlynn, how do I open the airlock alone?”
“I don’t know.”
She did not sound fearful, perhaps dejected.
“You are the supervisor, Kathlynn.”
“I’ll supervise your rescuing me from this removed, objective vantage.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, stepping to the process margin.
“Thanks. Oh, Parno, you should see the vessel. In space, it’s no longer disguised. It’s…it is huge, and has a wonderful shape. Like steep hillsides made of spaceplas. The large airlock is like an enclosed porch, it juts out invitingly.”
“It sounds nice. I hate it.”
“So do I.”
“Kathlynn, I’m going to wrap on a work suit and try to learn something.”
“I’ll try to help,” she said. “Parno, I miss you.”
“Kathlynn, you’re only saying that because we’ll soon be separated by light years.”
“I know, you bastard. Parno, I feel free to call you bad names, because you called me a bitch.”
“I wasn’t talking to you. Don’t ask any more.”
“Parno, do you have a new fem friend?”
“Yes, but her breath smelled like smoke. I dumped her.”
“Parno—”
“Kathlynn, don’t ask any more.”
Parno felt better because Kathlynn did. Despite her initial dejection, Kathlynn had shown more life in her last speaking.
He did not want to look down to the suits as he passed. He did not care to feel further poignant sorrow because their new poses seemed less restful than the last. But he had to look. No longer so anxious and ignorant about Kathlynn’s distress, Parno noticed an a
berration. One suit lay open, supporting a pile of ashes.
Despite curiosity, Parno, with his awkward gait, would not step near. He would have found difficulty avoiding the suits had they still lain in the process margin’s confines.
Proceeding to the compartment and pressing the wall open, Parno placed too much weight on the wrong leg, causing his knee to buckle and the entire ship to shudder.
An alien exclamation with Kathlynn’s voice sounded.
“Parno, what happened?”
The shuddering subsided. Parno no longer noticed the pain in his knee. He felt confusion because the two unrelated events had occurred simultaneously.
“Parno, I see the steel wool tree floating toward me!” Kathlynn exclaimed. “I hope it misses.”
“What?”
“Parno, the vessel’s hull just…dissolved in one place. In a moment, I saw light from inside, then saw the closet’s stores, all those vast piles…melting. Then the hull closed over like a curtain, though it’s now dented in that area—above and beyond the warehouse, on top of another ‘hill.’ Some equipment and bins floated out. I don’t think anything will strike me.”
“The smoke ghost is in there again trying to destroy the ship. It must have failed. If it had set off a chain reaction, the effects would increase.”
“Maybe it killed itself,” Kathlynn submitted. “You know what I mean.”
“Kathlynn, try to do a better job of supervising. I’m going to wrap on a function retainer.”
“Affirmed.”
Parno had lied to Kathlynn. He did not hate this vessel. When not in jeopardy of turning to carbon, he found the structure enthralling. Standing in the small compartment, he that saw that the low ceiling suggested the texture of off-world, cirrostratus clouds, their density stretched by alien weather. Reaching to the surface, he felt rigidity. The juncture between wall and ceiling resembled mountainside against sky in a 3D painting. He nearly reached to finger this joint, then quit playing.
