Let 'Em Breathe Space: A Free Book Review

Let 'Em Breathe Space (free audiobook here) is a novella by Lester del Rey. It's a space-borne murder mystery in which an expedition to Saturn finds itself plagued by potentially harmful accidents and eventually a series of murders and the destruction of plants that maintain the air supply. Who would be foolish enough to endanger the entire ship? Why would anyone be so desperate to abort the trip to Saturn?

The mystery is fairly good, though I had a general idea who had done it (but not exactly why) somewhat before the narrator. In addition to the mystery proper, there is the problem of getting enough breathable air to reach any destination but the grave--the alternative being a death lottery to cut down the number aboard ship to something the remaining plants can support. Even if the narrator, a former engineer washed up by an accident and reduced to a glorified handyman, can find the murderer, there's still the matter of the missing oxygen.

I was surprised, even given del Rey's gifts, at how well the story worked--not only as a mystery, but as a kind of engineering problem and even (in small part) as a kind of romance. Let 'Em Breathe Space is short--just under two hours--and would go quite well with chili or burritos and popcorn. (That will more or less make sense after you've read it.)

Again, that's

Let 'Em Breathe Space
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The Problem with Lateral Converts

By "lateral convert" I mean someone who moves from one branch of Christianity to another: Catholics who become Protestants (and vice versa), Protestants or Catholics who become Orthodox (and vice versa again), and so on. I may explain my own view of ecclesiology at some point, but for now I'll just say that I consider the main groups just mentioned valid forms of Christianity; I just don't consider any of them the One True Church.

Anyway, my own background is Protestant--Evangelical and Pentecostal, in fact--but I make a point of learning from other Christians. My theology is actually closer to Eastern Orthodox than Protestant in many ways, and I have studied Catholic and Orthodox positions as well as those of other Protestant groups. Within Protestantism, my best match would probably be a conservative Methodist group.

End of disclosure.

The problem is that in studying these various groups, I tend to run into converts from some other group who have gone the True Believer route. (Note: I am not a particular fan of Hoffer's, though some of his points are valid.) This is particularly annoying when one of them starts pontificating about what some group, usually the one he left, believes.

They are typically wrong.

This leads to an observation: the lateral converts I've encountered (personally or through media) tend to be ignorant of the beliefs they left behind. The Catholics-turned-Protestant I've met have been remarkably ignorant of Catholic doctrine. The Protestants-turned-whatever regularly demonstrate abysmal ignorance of Protestant views, often lumping very different groups together.

Even the scholars goof. I've recently encountered people who ought to know better claiming that the Protestant idea of "sola fides" (salvation by faith alone) meant a rejection of works of any kind: just believe you're saved; you don't have to live out your salvation. But anyone familiar with Protestantism can trace the opposite view easily, from Philipp Melancthon ("Sola fides iustificat, sed fides non est sola"--"Faith alone justifies, but faith is not alone") to the modern idea that "if you're gonna talk the talk, you gotta walk the walk." And I frequently hear Protestants claim that Catholics (more rarely Orthodox) believe in salvation by works. (Properly speaking, they don't.)

Nicodemus asked the Sanhedrin, "Does our law condemn anyone without first hearing him to find out what he is doing?" (John 7:51) It's still a good question--even if you're talking about the group you left.

Dark World: Back on the Trail

(The story begins here.)
(The last recap is here.)

When they got home—when they reached the subterranean terminus, that is—Dr. Fleming looked around. “I had little opportunity for sightseeing last time.”

“Once we’ve rested up, I’d like to go exploring,” Darren said.

“No,” Clio replied. “Not unless we can reach Father from here. Can we, Shafer?”

“Call me Rick. No, you can go a lot of places from here, but the Dark World is different.”

“But the Tehros know about it, don’t they?”

“Not the new guys. The original group maybe did, but they died out, and the next group—the Veuti—found out, because they went exploring in the Dark World and never came back. But these guys don’t even know the old language. I think only Mantong did.”

“He didn’t even know English well,” Dr. Fleming said.

“He knew it; he just talked funny to bug people. He hated English-speakers.”

“How is it you’re stupid and well-informed by turns?”

“I’m not stupid. My momma used to tell me, ‘stupid is as stupid does.’”

With that, he selected a destination and left in the cart.

“Diplomatic to the last, Victor?” Darren said.

“He is stupid and well-informed—”

“Most people are. He just thinks it’s all a game. If you think about it, he’s knowledgeable most of the time; the information simply doesn’t matter to him.”

“It’s still infuriating. Let’s go get our bearings and figure out our next move.”

It was early evening when they emerged, and Dr. Fleming decided the first order of business was to find Miss FitzHugh a place to stay the night. “There’s a hotel a mile down the road. From what you’ve said, I doubt you bothered getting a room before coming out here.”

“I didn’t, but I don’t need your help. I can get my own room.”

“You could sleep in a tree, as is likely your wont, but you’re a friend of a friend, so I’ll treat you like a lady regardless of my feelings. Unless you brought cash, you may find it useful to have someone of good local reputation vouch for you.”

Thus only a few minutes later, a lady from out of town got a room courtesy of a good word and fifty dollars cash from Dr. Fleming, whose wealth was better known locally than his character, and a council of war convened in a corner of the hotel dining room.

Next: Council of War

I'm going to do another recap, and I'll also wander into some theological topics for a little while. Then we'll get into a bit of a long arc in Dark World.

Dark World: An Arrow Escape

(The story begins here.)
(The last recap is here.)

“Hold your fire until the thing actually reaches the filaments,” Dr. Fleming warned Clio. “The whole point is to make sure our filament connects the thing with the power source above.”

“What if that just strengthens it?” Lassiter asked.

“It won’t. If it did, the thing wouldn’t bother with the globe. No, it needs the power to be converted into a more usable form.”

The Shiny One rose slowly with its load.

“Keep going,” the doctor muttered. “That’s a good monster.”

“Go toward the light,” Shafer said.

“Idiot—there’s no light up there.”

“There will be when she shoots that arrow.” Shafer spat again for good measure, and the doctor said, “Fire!”

The arrow’s trajectory brought it slightly through the Shiny One, and the damp filament left a strange and visible trail before it connected with another filament. Multicolored lightning blazed through the misty creature, which glowed brilliantly.

“The wall’s open!” Shafer called, and the others piled through just before a blast of incandescence filled the cavern.

Darren blinked as he tried to regain his vision. “Did that destroy it?”

“And the cave too, no doubt,” the doctor replied.

“Wall won’t open,” Shafer observed.

“Can’t blame it,” Lassiter said. “Is the thing really dead this time?”

“Yeah,” Shafer said. “Blew the whole thing that time. Besides, you can feel when a Dehros dies.”

“You’ve done this before?” Lassiter asked.

“Yeah. The Tehros use me as a decoy. I don’t mind—you get a better view that way.”

“So now what?” Dr. Fleming asked. “Can we go home?”

“Sure. And when we get back, you’ll have enough miles to come through yourself next time. Try it! It’s more fun to figure out for yourself.”

So saying, Shafer did something near the cart and directed them to get in. This time even he didn’t seem inclined to raise his arms and yell.

Next: Back on the Trail

Dark World: I Spit My Last Breath At Thee

(The story begins here.)
(The last recap is here.)

They switched the flashlights off while everyone got reoriented. It was somehow easier in the dark. Finally a brief discussion established that they would try to leave the way they had come, so they turned on the flashlights and moved carefully toward the section of wall that led to the cart home.

Dr. Fleming examined the spot where the globes had been, only to find blackened shreds of something. A quick inspection of the floor revealed filaments of an unknown material. The doctor carefully collected samples, warning the others to avoid the crystalline shards on the floor.

“Don’t touch anything! It could very well be poisonous.”

“If it is,” Lassiter remarked, “there’s probably enough harmful material floating around as dust to kill us all.”

“Some dangers we can’t avoid, but there’s no point in multiplying them.”

“What are those filaments, anyway?”

“I suspect they are the wiring of the globes. They may not conduct electricity, but they probably carried whatever energy the globes used. Perhaps I can bring the equipment here someday to analyze all this properly.”

They reached the wall. Shafer was leading, Dr. Fleming and Lassiter lagged behind, still absorbed in studying the debris, and Darren urged Clio along; she was busily adjusting her bow to its normal draw weight. But they all stopped short as Shafer muttered, “Uh-oh.”

“What do you mean, ‘uh-oh’?” Dr. Fleming demanded.

“The wall won’t open. The Shiny One is holding it shut. I don’t think it likes us.”

“The Shiny One is the Dead One now.”

“Not dead, just terribly, terribly hurt. Pretty angry, too. It’s using a lot of power to hold the wall shut. We might be able to get through anyway, but it would just track us down.”

“Victor,” Darren said, “there’s luminescence in the pool that wasn’t there before.”

It didn’t take long to verify this: the glow was increasing slightly but noticeably. Soon a faint light emerged from the pool. It carried a globe as it slowly rose toward the roof of the cavern.

“It’s got a replacement bulb!” Shafer cried.

“That means there’s still power up there,” Dr. Fleming said. “Clio—Miss FitzHugh—could you hit those shreds up there with an arrow?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I glue one of these filaments to it?”

“Probably.”

He uncapped a bottle, dipped an arrow in it, then poked a filament and handed the assemblage to her. As she was fitting it to the string, Shafer walked up and spat on the filament.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Gotta have spit. It messes the creature up.”

“Like the guy in the diary,” Darren muttered.

Clio added her spit, and said, “‘From hell's heart, I stab at thee. For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee.’”

“Aye-aye, Captain Ahab,” Darren murmured. She grinned and prepared to release the arrow.

Next: An Arrow Escape

Dark World: The Shiny One

(The story begins here.)
(The last recap is here.)

Darren had scarcely prepared his next arrow when a mist filled with corruscating colors and angry, discordant jangling rose from the pool. Though only a faint shadow of the thing described in the journal, it was definitely the same, and it was still so full of terrible, awesome glory that Darren and his friends all murmured, “Oooh! Shiny!”

Then Dr. Fleming broke the spell. “Right. Now we’re done with that, let’s kill the thing.”

Darren raised the arrow, vaguely surprised that the creature was rising toward the globes as well. It probably was drawing closer to absorb more power, but he had the odd feeling it was also going to wipe off the doctor’s concoction. He released the arrow without thinking, and it struck its target with a deafening din that shook the misty creature like smoke caught in a violent gust.

Darren himself had scarcely recovered when Dr. Fleming pressed another arrow into his hand. A quick glance showed Shafer and Clio trying to find their way off the floor and Lassiter rising painfully with the help of a wall. Darren targeted the second available globe and fired.


A typhoon was raging through a synesthetic sea that only gradually and painfully began to coalesce into a familiar order. Pain was the one great constant: everything else might be an illusion, but the pain was undeniably real. Eventually other sensations tagged along and organized themselves, and some memories and thoughts also emerged. Finally a sensation turned out to be the name “Darren,” and it was being repeated. The recognition of his own name prepared Darren to identify the speaker as Dr. Victor Fleming.

“Victor?”

“Ah, good. Then we aren’t dead. At least I can’t imagine us sharing an afterlife.”

Darren had arrived at the same conclusion, but he decided not to pursue the topic. “Can you see?”

“Yes. Or hallucinate, anyway. That second shot must have overloaded the system: its harmonics converged and probably almost destroyed the place—and us. I’d like to see what’s left.”

“Are you sure we can see? Most of the light came from the globes; it was getting pretty dim at the end.”

An inarticulate noise of disgust followed. “I should have thought of that. I’ve still got my flashlight...”

Darren found his about the same time. A quick check revealed that their companions were still alive. Lassiter was attempting to crawl. Clio was evidently running through a mental checklist prior to exerting herself. And Shafer was sitting up unsteadily and babbling, “Let’s do it again!”

The next look showed that the giant chamber still existed, though the floor was strewn with debris. There was no sign of the Shiny One.

Next: I Spit My Last Breath At Thee

Dark World: Assault on the Globes

(The story begins here.)
(The last recap is here.)

Dr. Fleming got what he wished for, and Darren what he prayed for. The globes did not pulse, and eventually everyone agreed it had to be daylight. So they did the best possible thing; they ate some of their provisions and slept as best they could.

The doctor said it was probably early afternoon when they got up, and he eyed the globes warily. “On the one hand, it would be a good idea to cover them now and try to prevent the monster’s formation. On the other hand, I’d prefer to wait until they begin pulsing so the solution will be fresh and the energy can perhaps help harden it. I’ll definitely want everyone as close to the stairs as possible: if those globes do explode, even one of them, it will be infinitely worse than when Darren struck the globe last night.”

“You realize,” Darren said, “that there’s a flaw in your brilliant plan.”

Dr. Fleming didn’t even scowl; in fact, he half smiled. “Which is?”

“Those are spheres. I doubt I could achieve better than fifty percent coverage on even a remarkably good shot. It will take at least two shots to cover any one of them more than that, and at least one of those shots will be unprotected: I’ll have to fire on the inner side sometime.”

“You’ll fire on it first. The globes are fairly close together; this arrow has a larger charge than the others, and you’ll aim it at the center point of their circle. It shouldn’t create the murderous din of a direct hit, and it should largely cover the inner surfaces. You can shoot from cover at the outer surfaces of at least two of the globes, so the overall coverage should either prevent the Shiny One from forming or overload the globes.”

“But everyone else will be on the stairs, ready to run outside?”

“I am confident, not foolhardy.”

“Good to know. When do we do it?”

“In a few hours. I noticed that the globes glowed last night, probably at moonrise, and I have a fair idea when they’re likely to start tonight. We’ll strike just before that. I wish I could use rockets to get complete, simultaneous coverage with fuses for delayed action, but I didn’t pack any.”

And so it was that some hours later Darren fired a heavily wrapped arrow almost straight up into the midst of the globes. The detonation caused at least as thunderous a reverberation as the previous night’s direct hit, and Dr. Fleming recovered in time to help Darren to his feet. Darren gazed up at the darkened inner surfaces of the globes, but the doctor directed his attention to the usually placid surface of the pool, now strangely turbulent even after the aftershocks had mostly died away.

“The Shiny One has had a wake-up call, and I don’t think it likes it a bit.”

The globes began to pulse and the pool to shimmer, and the doctor added, “I’d been going to ask you to hit the center again, but all things considered, I think our work here is done. Head for the stairs and prepare to fire on the globes from there.”

They ran for cover, but they couldn’t help looking back at the pool’s choppy, scintillating surface.

Next: The Shiny One