The Seed of Evil

“No, they’ll be all right,” he answered casually. “If they’re smart enough for space travel they’re smart enough to take care of a little puncture. Anyway, I’m only drilling to find out what the hull’s made of.”

With that he made a connection, and crouching over the drill, applied it to the side of the ship.

For a few moments I watched the tip slide into the plank-like structure, but then a queasy feeling came over me and I didn’t feel like seeing any more.

I sauntered off and rounded the bend of the ship, idly contemplating its odd, belly-like curve. For some reason I kept looking for a keel—but of course there wasn’t any keel. It was only that strange fancy, the same one that insisted the ship floated upright.

Floated? Well, yes, I thought. I suppose things can be said to float in space.

I was about to go back to see how Rim was getting on, when a movement caught my eye. Something bright and pointed was emerging through the planking. …

“Rim!” I squealed in fright. “Your drill’s coming through the other side!”

The drill-tip stopped moving. “How far away are you?” “About fifty yards!”

Rim gave an unbelieving curse, and came zooming round to join me. His eyes bulged when he saw the drill-tip. “That drill’s only eight inches long. How can it penetrate fifty yards? Go and see—no, stay here a minute!”

He put weight on his jets and galloped off round the bend. “I’m moving the drill now,” his voice informed. “Is that tip waggling?”

“Y-Yes,” I bleated, watching the tip move slowly in and out. “You’ve made two holes instead of one!”

“But it’s impossible. Here—grab the tip and move it about a bit, we’ve got to make sure.”

After hesitation, I firmly grasped the metal drill and pushed, then pulled, meeting a resistance I knew came from Rim. His voice yelped in my ears. “The handle! It’s moving in my hand!”

“I’m scared,” I admitted, by my tone of voice as well as by the statement.

“Then come round here with me, I’m scared too!”

I was surprised to hear that anything could frighten Rim, but the thought of that only urged me on the faster. However, when I came upon him he seemed to have regained his control, though he still crouched over the drill and held it in a tetanus grip.

“Do you know what I think?” he whispered, staring up at me. “There’s no space inside there!”

“What, you mean it’s solid all the way through?”

“No, no.” He shook his head with exasperation. “Listen, do you remember how much drill is protruding the other end?”

“About four inches.”

“And do you know how much I inserted this end? Four inches! The tip goes in here and instantly reappears fifty yards away. There’s no distance inside the ship. No distance means no space. The interior of this ship is void of space.”

There was a long pause. “Let’s go back to quarters,” I said feebly.

Rim muttered to himself, shaking his head. But he pulled out the drill, disconnected it and made ready to leave.

And then the drill began to bend and waver, in a way no solid object could. That wasn’t all. The arm and hand with which Rim held the tool began to bend and waver too, to flow, as if it were made of smoke and being distorted by air currents. Rim gave a wild yell when he saw the impossible contortions of his arm.

Now part of his space armour began to behave in the same way. It was as if Rim were being sucked—sucked towards the hole he had drilled.

“Get away, Rim!” I shouted, though I was too terrified to help him myself.

For a moment he stared wonderingly at his body as it elongated and streamed, then he started up his jets and before I knew what was happening we were both hurtling towards the research ship without thought of the other. Almost blind with haste, I scrambled through the airlock to find Rim already waiting for me in the living quarters.

“Rim,” I gasped. “You made it quick. Are you all right?”

“Of course!” he snapped irritably. “Perfectly all right. It wasn’t me that was being malformed, it was just the space I occupied.”

I peered closely at his body but didn’t find one trace of any deformation. He was his usual robust, unhealthy, disgusting self.

He chewed the lid off a beer bottle and commenced to gulp the contents, allowing some of it to dribble down his chest. I helped myself to one, too, and it tasted good enough to bathe in, not that I thought of bathing.

“Don’t you see what happened?” Rim said between gargles, flopping on to a couch. “It was space—pouring through the hole. There wasn’t any space inside. Well, now we know: space behaves like a fluid.”

“I thought space was just nothing,” I replied, also gargling.