Alexander Kazantsev - The Destruction of Faena

“My husband said the old laws are invalid now. We’re going to have a child!”

“Criminals!” hissed Nega Luton. “They want to ruin us! There’s food and oxygen for only six here, and no more!”

“Tycho Veg is dead,” said Ala Veg sadly. “Even if a tiny Lua is born to follow him, the station will survive. But we have to think about the future. We shall have to go down onto the surface of Mar.”

“Well, of course, you’ll be given a ship the way a big proprietor gets a steamcar,” jeered Nega Luton.

“I’ll take the responsibility for that,” announced Ala Veg.

“But first we must strip Mrak Luton of his powers.”

“What?” Nega Luton nearly choked with fury.

“You must understand yourself, as a one-time lady of importance, that you won’t survive without the Luas, even if your husband starts firing poisoned bullets in all directions. The two of you know nothing about technology or astronavigation. We Faetesses are the ones who have got to decide.”

“Decide what?”

“Who’s going to be in charge of the station.”

“I will not betray my husband.”

“Then you will betray yourself.”

“But he won’t give up his power, not for anything. And he’s armed.”

“The Faetesses can do anything if they act together.”

“I fully support the gentle Ala Veg,” declared Lada.

“Make up your mind, Nega Luton. You will be fed and looked after as before only if you take our side.”

“But I…” Nega Luton was still vacillating, glaring inimically at the inflexible Ala Veg.

The door was flung wide open and Mrak Luton burst in like a conqueror. He pushed out his huge belly and puffed up his cheeks to hide their flabbiness.

“Mrak Luton!” announced Ala Veg. “You have been removed by us from your post as chief of the station!”

Mrak Luton collapsed into an armchair, his little sunken eyes goggling at Ala Veg.

“What did you say, madwoman?”

“I am speaking for all the Faetesses on the station. You have got to submit to us and go into your office until your fate has been decided. Brat Lua will run the station machinery, since we have to breathe and use up energy. If you kill any of us now, then you will thereby bring about your own destruction.”

Nega Luton nodded in agreement.

“What? You too, Nega?” was all that Mrak Luton could manage to say, his eyes riveted on his hook-nosed wife.

“Mrak, I’m concerned solely for the two of us. I have obtained their agreement to take care of us and supply us with everything necessary. We shall be in the position of proprietors.”

“I refuse!” roared Mrak Luton, drawing his pistol.

However, he didn’t go so far as to use it.

Ala Veg and Lada Lua advanced on him, whereas Nega held back.

Mrak Luton rose reluctantly to his feet and, still brandishing his pistol, began backing away.

In this manner, they all went out into the corridor.

Enraged and distraught, Mrak Luton was backing towards his office door, and the two Faetesses were crowding him. Nega Luton timidly brought up the rear.

“I’ll still settle the score with you! I’m giving way out of mercy. I’ll release that mangy roundhead purely so that he can do the dirty jobs. But I’m not relinquishing my power! You’ll never get me to do that!”

“We’ll talk to you, Mrak Luton, tomorrow. But today, just think it all over carefully in your office.”

“But I didn’t get all my dinner. Let them bring the other courses here.”

“We’ll postpone your dinner until tomorrow. Thinking works better on an empty stomach. We may also cut down on the oxygen supply to your office. But not immediately, because FOR THE TIME BEING your brain cells must work normally so that you can become reconciled.”

“You’re not a Faetess, Ala Veg, you’re a monster.”

“My husband, whom you murdered, wouldn’t agree with you, Mrak Luton.”

“I have never committed murder. I served the Dictator faithfully and honestly, and I carried out his instructions. I had a secret order from him in the event of a disintegration war. I am in no way to blame. I can show you the inscribed tablet.”

“You can do that when we put you on trial. Meanwhile, you are simply relieved of your post.”

Ala Veg opened the chief’s office and let out the bewildered Brat Lua. With a businesslike air, as if nothing had happened, Mrak Luton went inside and sat down at his desk with dignity, pretending that he had urgent matters to deal with.

Ala Veg locked the door from outside and invited Brat Lua into the common cabin.

“We have to elect a new station chief,” she announced.

“Why?” protested Nega Luton. “I’ve helped you to release Brat Lua. I hope he will support me. I have risked losing my family happiness. You Faetesses ought to appreciate this.”

“Your husband is the criminal who murdered my husband to violate the Agreement on Peace in Outer Space and unleash a disintegration war between the space stations of Mar.”

“They sent torpedoes against us from Phobo too,” said Mrak Luton’s wife, in self-justification on her husband’s behalf.

“We could have defended ourselves without attacking. And then Tycho Veg would still have been alive.”

“You have been blinded by your grief. Ala Veg. I understand you with the heart of a Faetess. But can we talk about one death, when thousands of millions of Faetians have perished? Remember, we need Mrak Luton as chief of the station. We’ve got to survive. Smel Ven, as commander of the ship, will obey only his orders to fly to us.”

“Have you forgotten Ton! Fae’s message that Smel Ven had been killed? Besides, Um Sat was in charge of the expedition, not Smel Ven.”

“The destruction of Faena has deprived me of memory and reason. What are you counting on, Ala Veg?”

“On Terr’s Faetians. They won’t abandon us. But first, Mrak Luton must be removed.”

Brat Lua was listening to the women in dismay.

“Then let the gentle Ala Veg be chief of the station,” proposed Lada Lua.

“On no account!” screamed Nega Luton.

“Calm yourself, once distinguished lady. I am not making any such claim. The chief of the station must be the one who shows the Faetians the way to a future existence.”

“Who can do that except my husband?”

“The insignificant Mrak Luton is only capable of threats. He can’t even bring himself to shoot anyone now because he’s afraid for his fat belly. He’s just a stinker, and certainly not the leader of the future Marians.”

“Marians?”

“Yes, Marians, that is, the Faetians who will live on Mar in the underground cities planned by Brat Lua.”

“Aren’t you trying to say that the station chief should be a roundhead?” said Nega Luton, outraged.

“What good fortune that the Lutons can’t leave any descendants on Mar,” said Ala Veg with unconcealed contempt.

“You aren’t thinking of leaving any descendants, are you, Ala Veg? And with whose help?”

“Shut up, you viper! I’ve lost three children and a husband; all you’ve lost is your conscience.”

“I refuse to agree that Mrak Luton should have his post taken over by someone else.”

“Then off you go, join your husband and think the matter over with him.”

“I haven’t finished my dinner.”

“You can finish dining at table with him … tomorrow. If you have both changed your minds.”

“That is force!…”

“Brat Lua,” said Ala Veg, turning to the released Faetian. “We elect you chief of the station. We will now get in touch with the people on Phobo and find out how they have been faring. We shall all beseech Quest to come and fetch us.”

“Quest can only set us down on the surface of Mar,” said Brat Lua. “I will shoulder all the worry and responsibility. The Faetian race and its civilisation must be preserved. I’ve long had projects for installations that, given the efforts of all surviving Faetians, can be brought to fulfilment.”