Science fiction; Short stories; Smugglers -- Fiction; Space ships -- Fiction
McFeen turned on her fiercely. "You blasted fool," he said, "don't you
know how it is with us? Is something the matter with your head? I've
been blacklisted. There isn't a place in the system I could get a job.
There isn't a man in the system I could borrow money from. If this trip
fails I'm sunk, done for, finished. Get rid of the Hyra! You brainless,
blathering idiot! Do you want to starve?"
Alice shrank into herself. "But, Mac--"
"If we can get through to Varro with the Hyra we've got, the big bosula
groups will make us rich. We can have everything we've ever wanted. Now
shut up."
He went to a locker and began getting equipment out of it. Alice
watched him, running her tongue over her swollen lips. "What are you
going to do, Mac?" she asked at last.
"Rig up an electro-magnet around the Hyra," he said without turning.
"It might help. It's got to help."
It didn't work. Whether or not McFeen's theory was at fault, the
apparatus he rigged up around the cage of Hyra did no good. He tried
chemical solutions, sprays, hard and soft radiations--nothing helped.
He took to spending most of his time in two hold, trying desperately,
with the help of the auto-weld, to keep the eroded patches on the
hull under control. Without telling Alice, he made experiments
designed to "get rid" of at least some of the Hyra. These too failed.
The silicious, gelatinous bodies of the Hyra were extremely hard to
destroy. Short of methods which would have endangered the whole ship,
there was nothing he could do.
McFeen's natural moroseness was changing rapidly into an inflammable
desperation when, quite abruptly, the increase of the Hyra stopped. At
first he was incredulous. He tried over and over to count those in the
cage, and gave up in disgust. More convincing was the evidence of the
hull; no more eroded patches were appearing. For some twenty-four hours
he held on to his incredulity; then he allowed himself to be conquered
by relief.
He went to Alice with the news and found her as incredulous as he
had been. He had to take her into two hold and show her the hull's
gleaming, intact sides piece by piece before she would be convinced.
Then she began to giggle in hysterical relief.
"Poor old Hyra," she said, "poor old things. I guess I was pretty
mean about them, Mac. I'm sorry. Poor old things!" She looked toward
the crowded Hyra cage and then, rather hastily, away again. "But
everything's going to be all right now, isn't it, Mac? Now they've
stopped increasing, everything's going to be all right."
"You bet it is," McFeen said expansively. "Nothing more to worry about.
Say, listen, Alice...."
"Yes?" She was still looking obliquely toward the Hyra cage.
"What do you say we go back to the cabin and have a little drink? To
celebrate."
"That's a swell idea," Alice answered warmly. "I always said you were
smart, Mac. Let's go celebrate." She glanced once more toward the Hyra
and then followed him out of the hold.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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