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Fantascience Digest, v. 2, issue 2, January-February 1939
Page 16
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FANTASCIENCE DIGEST Page 16 The boy shook his head, showing dogged disbelief. "I've heard braces screech before. You know it wasn't that, Jac. It was -- horrible!" He shuddered. "I was down in the firing room, fixing a valve. You know how hot it gets to be down there, but it began to get [[underline]]cold[[end underline]], almost like it is outside. Then I heard that -- yell, or whatever it was -- ran up here. Jac grinned and gave him a comradely cuff. "Overdeveloped imagination -- what you need is a big of stimulant. Tell you what, Rob, -- I'll let the log go for a while and we'll have a drink or two. How's that?" Rob nodded, then, as they stepped out into the dark, narrow catwalk, he turned to the senior pilot with a sheepish smile. "Look, Jac, would you mind much if you went first? It's sort of -- dark along here -- and I. . ." The catwalk ran the entire length of the two-hundred foot vessel and was flanked by buoyancy tanks and fuel compartments, which unavoidably formed eerie pickets of dark along its sides. Rob unconsciously quickened his pace as they passed these shadows, forcing Jac to hurry, until by the time they reached their quarters their pace approximated a quick trot. Jac went to a small cupboard near his bunk. A few seconds later he turned and handed the boy a glass half-full of straight Scotch. "Thanks, Jac," Rob siad after he had gulped it down. "That's better." "All right then," said Jac, his sharp face splitting in a silent laugh, "come on. I've got work to do." Rob, his confidence returning, moved over to the door --and suddenly stopped, terror flooding him once more. The door was cold, icy cold to the touch, and from the outside it came a faint rustle of sound. "It's out there!" he screamed, clutching at Jac. "Whatever it is -- it's outside!" Jac threw him aside, snarling. He snatched a pistol from the bunk and moved purposefully forward. Rob leaped upon him, tryint to bring him back. "No, Jac! Don't open that door! DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!" Entry in the log of space liner [[underline]]Majestic[[end underline]], Earth-Mars voyage EM 206 R:- "January 15, 2387. Came across derelict space cruisor bearing number S.C. 67 R 3, drifting in and parallel to Band 5. The ship was in perfect mechanical condition. Discovered the bodies of two men, evidently the crew, in the sleeping cabin. Something exceedingly curious about this: although the shop itself was warm and the recorders showed no unusual variations in temperature, the corpses were frozen and our best efforts were unable to thaw them. The ship's log was found in the control room; the last entry, incomplete, was dated August 3, 2335. . ." FINIS [[underline]]NEXT ISSUE!!![[end underline]] "Grand Old Fan" by Sam Moskowitz
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FANTASCIENCE DIGEST Page 16 The boy shook his head, showing dogged disbelief. "I've heard braces screech before. You know it wasn't that, Jac. It was -- horrible!" He shuddered. "I was down in the firing room, fixing a valve. You know how hot it gets to be down there, but it began to get [[underline]]cold[[end underline]], almost like it is outside. Then I heard that -- yell, or whatever it was -- ran up here. Jac grinned and gave him a comradely cuff. "Overdeveloped imagination -- what you need is a big of stimulant. Tell you what, Rob, -- I'll let the log go for a while and we'll have a drink or two. How's that?" Rob nodded, then, as they stepped out into the dark, narrow catwalk, he turned to the senior pilot with a sheepish smile. "Look, Jac, would you mind much if you went first? It's sort of -- dark along here -- and I. . ." The catwalk ran the entire length of the two-hundred foot vessel and was flanked by buoyancy tanks and fuel compartments, which unavoidably formed eerie pickets of dark along its sides. Rob unconsciously quickened his pace as they passed these shadows, forcing Jac to hurry, until by the time they reached their quarters their pace approximated a quick trot. Jac went to a small cupboard near his bunk. A few seconds later he turned and handed the boy a glass half-full of straight Scotch. "Thanks, Jac," Rob siad after he had gulped it down. "That's better." "All right then," said Jac, his sharp face splitting in a silent laugh, "come on. I've got work to do." Rob, his confidence returning, moved over to the door --and suddenly stopped, terror flooding him once more. The door was cold, icy cold to the touch, and from the outside it came a faint rustle of sound. "It's out there!" he screamed, clutching at Jac. "Whatever it is -- it's outside!" Jac threw him aside, snarling. He snatched a pistol from the bunk and moved purposefully forward. Rob leaped upon him, tryint to bring him back. "No, Jac! Don't open that door! DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!" Entry in the log of space liner [[underline]]Majestic[[end underline]], Earth-Mars voyage EM 206 R:- "January 15, 2387. Came across derelict space cruisor bearing number S.C. 67 R 3, drifting in and parallel to Band 5. The ship was in perfect mechanical condition. Discovered the bodies of two men, evidently the crew, in the sleeping cabin. Something exceedingly curious about this: although the shop itself was warm and the recorders showed no unusual variations in temperature, the corpses were frozen and our best efforts were unable to thaw them. The ship's log was found in the control room; the last entry, incomplete, was dated August 3, 2335. . ." FINIS [[underline]]NEXT ISSUE!!![[end underline]] "Grand Old Fan" by Sam Moskowitz
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