Alexander Kazantsev - The Destruction of Faena

Embarrassed, Mada turned away.

“There must be cultured Faetians after us,” confirmed Ave Mar, “and our duty is to preserve for them the knowledge we possess.”

“High-flown r-rubbish!” bellowed Gor Terr. “I hate those words and I hate all those instruments. Even touching the damned metal drives me frantic.”

“Gor Terr will have to pull himself together,” said Ave Mar, raising his voice. “He’s an engineer, and he’ll stay an engineer to the end of his days.”

Gor Terr roared with laughter.

“So that your sons can learn how to make r-rockets out of wall partitions? So that they can learn to slaughter animals, and then their own kind?”

“Never shall the Faetians on Terr learn how to kill their own kind!” exclaimed the outraged Ave Mar. “It will be the most terrible thing if we bow down in our grief. No! Only energy, faith in ourselves and resourcefulness will save what is left of the Faetian race.”

“For what?” asked Gor Terr gloomily.

“For the triumph of reason!”

“High-flown words again! What d’you want?”

“I want you to think about what kind of building the Faetians are going to use when they’re in the forest, what apparatus and parts will have to be taken from here to the new house, and how we can gradually dismantle the rocket: it’s the only source of metal on Terr.”

“Dismantle?” echoed Toni Fae in fright.

“Yes,” confirmed Ave Mar. “We won’t need a spaceship any more. The Faetians will use its walls for axes, knives, spear-points and arrows. We have enough metal to last us several generations for that purpose. By that time, Gor Terr’s pupils and their descendants will have learned to prospect for ore here and to smelt it. Civilisation must be preserved!”

Mada looked at her husband with rapture. How many times had he presented himself to her in a new aspect, stronger, firmer, as one who knew which course to adopt!

“Filthy despot!” roared Gor Terr. “He wants to make us serve his unborn offspring! I’ve had enough of blind obedience to a Dictator who aimed for a disintegration war and achieved it! No! I won’t tolerate any authority over me! I don’t want to obey anybody’s orders, least of all those of an offspring of Danjab’s R-ruler!”

“Gor Terr, my dear,” intervened Mada gently, putting her hand on his massive hairy arm. “Think what you are saying. We have no dictators here, or rulers, or their children. There are only Faetians, united by common grief and a common fate. Weren’t you the one who dreamed of workshops on Terr? You shall have workshops here in which we, your comrades, shall work for you, and then…” She looked into his eyes and added, “I shall raise helpers for you.”

Gor Terr scowled, glaring malevolently from under his beetling brows. Mada’s maternal tone soothed him a little. But not for long. He soon relapsed into his former fury and, without listening to anyone, began smashing up the spaceship’s control levers, bending them, trying to wrench them out of their sockets.

To save the Faetians, the madman himself and keep the ship’s equipment intact, Mada ordered Gor Terr to be confined to the airlock which was used for going out into space.

The noisy struggle with the Faetian strong man distracted the Faetians from their common misfortune. The immediate blotted out what was far away. And only after the hatch had been fastened down behind Gor Terr did Ave Mar and Toni Fae, exhausted and shattered, collapsed into the armchairs at the control panel. They stared dismally in front of them, panting for breath.

Mada was busy near the dispensary. She had decided to give Gor Terr an injection and administer a shock that would bring him to his senses.

All attempts to go into the airlock, however, merely provoked further attacks of frenzy. They could not even serve him his food.

Such was the unhappy way in which the Faetians spent the first days of their permanent exile. Below, in the common cabin, Faena’s most distinguished scientist lay dying; above, in the airlock, the last surviving engineer had gone raving mad.

Toni Fae was deeply depressed.

He heard Ala Veg’s voice again during a routine session of electromagnetic communication with Deimo. It was remote and sad. She talked about the meaninglessness of existence, about her husband’s serious illness, about the total lack of change and how the station chief, as before, hated the roundhead couple. She said that she despised life. She was terrified at the thought of the distance that separated her from Toni Fae. Was life worth living? She suggested that Toni Fae and she should both put an end to their own lives during the next communications session.

Toni Fae could not hold out against this and agreed. He stole from Mada’s dispensary an ampoule of stupefying gas, a large dose of which could be fatal. After he had inhaled a little of it, he felt blissfully happy, could not stay on his feet, swayed and sang a silly song about a lizard which ate its own tail. He then collapsed and went to sleep. Mada guessed what had happened, found the ampoule hidden on his person and confiscated it. When he came round, he made the discovery that Mada’s language could be far from endearing.

Toni Fae succumbed to apathy. Everything around him seemed dismal and wretched. Even the world of nature had changed. There were no more colourful sunsets on Terr. Night gave way to dull daylight. It never stopped drizzling, and a patchy grey pall of mist clung to the tree-tops level with the portholes of the control cabin. There were no golden apples left in the forest.

When twilight descended on Terr, it reminded them of their own gloomy planet.

Misery and homesickness seemed capable of destroying the will to live in all the other Faetians, as had happened with Toni Fae.

Mada, however, in whom nature had stirred a sense of responsibility for all, sick and well alike, could not give in to despair. She had to look after Um Sat, feed everybody, keep an eye on Toni Fae and encourage Ave with an affectionate glance from time to time.

Ave Mar was conducting himself with dignity. He had obligations which none but he could fulfil: it was necessary to go hunting in the forest. Gor Terr couldn’t help him now. Ave would go out of the ship, leaving Mada in a state of permanent anxiety, but he always returned before dark, and with his kill. By the will of circumstances, Ave, a passionate believer in the preservation of the lost Faena’s civilisation, was having to lead a very primitive mode of life. He had stopped using firearms, saving the ammunition for more urgent occasions. He had made a bow and he practised archery. Using his natural strength, he could draw a bowstring so that the arrow with its hand-made head could pierce a stout tree-branch right through.

Once, Ave Mar brought back a big fat bird hit by one of his arrows. Careful not to disturb Dm Sat, the astronauts assembled in the control cabin, talking quietly amongst themselves. Mada began inexpertly plucking the hunting trophy, pleased that it would make a good bouillon for the sick man.

Toni Fae was adjusting the electromagnetic communications set, hoping for a session with Ala Veg. Mada warned him that if he made a fool of himself again, she would ban communications with Deimo. Toni sheepishly bowed his head.

Ave Mar was relaxing after his hard day in the rain while hunting in the forest.

Mada looked round at the porthole and screamed. The snarling face of a Faetoid was staring into the cabin. His shoulders and chest were matted with curly hair, his skin showing through underneath. No thought was readable in the crazy eyes.

Only Ave Mar realised that this was Gor Terr lowering himself by rope, not a wild beast that had made its way to them. The madman had evidently torn his clothes into strips and knotted them together to make a rope. He had opened the outer airlock hatch, climbed outside and was now descending the ship’s fuselage.