After space, there was always one more river to cross ... the far side of hatred and murder!
Then the door of the men's room opened.
He came out.
He looked lousy. Eyes all red-rimmed and his hair falling out--the poor crumb couldn't have been over twenty-nine. He shrieked, "You!" He called me a million names. He said, "You thieving rat, I'll teach you to try to cheat me out of my candy ration!"
He had a knife.
I didn't care. I didn't have anything and that was stupid, but it didn't matter. I got a bottle of beer from the next table and smashed it against the back of a chair. It made a good weapon, you know; I'd take that against a knife any time.
I ran toward him, and he came all staggering and lurching toward me, looking crazy and desperate, mumbling and raving--I could hardly hear him, because I was talking, too. Nobody tried to stop us. Somebody went out the door and I figured it was to call the cops, but that was all right. Once I took care of Chowderhead, I didn't care what the cops did.
I went for the face.
He cut me first. I felt the
Two pages and the course language was too much for me to continue.
Unfortunately, there is a side-effect to locking a half-dozen men in a cramped space ship to Mars for nine months--they end up loathing each other and actively wanting to kill one another by the time they get back. This is the story of one crewman\'s attempts to find a kill a shipmate.
Well written, but enjoying the story is dependent upon disregarding a basic grasp of human psychology.
Clever story about the pressures of space travel.