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. There was too much agony for his mind to absorb. Knight sensed the waning of his mind's last resources with relief. The mental shocks ceased, his nerves and muscles quieted, and he drifted into a gentle darkness where there was no pain.... ... _It's gone_, his mind observed gleefully. The thankful knowledge that wakefulness did not bring renewed pain smothered the _other thing_. But only for a moment. _Kent Knight. I am Kent Knight, I must remember that. I mustn't forget it. I mustn't let_ It _make me forget. I am a man. My shipmates and I crashed on this asteroid in the_ Star Climber. The _other thing_ laughed at him--_in_ him. The wee bit of Kent Knight which the _other thing_ couldn't take or didn't want urged him to his feet. _It_ didn't seem to mind his doing that much. Knight drew his lean, rawboned frame erect. His muscles didn't hurt any more, he realized. He ran his strong fingers--which were shaking now--through his brown hair, ruffling the rock dust out of it. He looked toward the green oasis on the far side of the rocky plain where his friends were. _It's hard to remember that I am Kent Knight. It doesn't really matter anyway. 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 are hazel with funny blue flecks in them. Remember? Looks like somebody punched at them with a sharp blue pencil--that's what Mary Jo said._