DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Sun Spots, v. 4, issue 3, whole no. 15, February 1941

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Sun Spots, v. 4, issue 3, whole no. 15, February 1941

Page 4

February 1941   SUN  SPOTS   Page 4

Thecommander would remind him of the time they had gone together into the dead caverns of Pluto to get that escaped murderer...and the time he had won the reward of honor for putting the lid down on the Jupiter Radium Field riots singlehanded in '81. He'd been severely cooked by the heat rayers of the rioting natives that time. His chest still pained him whenever he took a deep breath.

"The commander send for me?"

A shavetail clerk with distorted ideas of his own importance looked up from his desk/ "Oh it's you, Martin? Look... you got this pension application all messed up... fill in [[underline]]all[[end underline]] the blanks... see?"

"Oh... yep, sorry, son... Uh, is the Old Man in?"

"Naw, he left for Venus with the others. Mail your corrected application; make it snappy so's it can be gone over."

Nodding, Martin shuffled out. Yep, John was just busy. Sure. with this big case on and everything... Ayres approached him in the corridor.

"Oh... er, Martin, I hear your leaving us today? Sorry to see you leave the ranks, old fellow."

Martin nodded again; growled something deep down in his chest.Old Fellow! What did the young punk mean by that? And sorry! Devil take all hypocrites! Lieutenant Commander Ayres was sorry all right, and grinning like an ape... A voice called out, "Hey Lieutenant!"

He stopped in his tracks. It was Gene Williams, grizzled television reporter of the Solar News. Williams looked embarrassed.

Say, Lute, we tried to give you a send-off. All the boys had their hook-ups ready. But the vision waves are tighter than a tick, with all this Venusian idol stuff. But I promise you, they'll flash something in a day or two."

A warm feeling came over Martin. "Aw, that's all x, Gene," he said. The telephoto man started to say more, but a frantic signalling from the viso-booth pulled him away.

Martin walked back to his room. time to go now. Yep. He'd stayed right up to the last second. He began, with shaking hands to pick up his things... his tattered report book, keys, notes, letters, memoranda... They told a story, those odds and ends represented the months and years of his life as a patrolman. Was no notice to be taken of him; no banquet in his honor? He would just walk out like an unwelcomed visitor. Why, he'd been an [[underline]]honest[[end underline]] patrolman. He had always done his duty and more. His melancholy reverie was interrupted by the muffled roar of an incoming patrol ship. The noise of its arrival lasted but a minute; then all was quiet once more.

Suddenly, there came a loud thumping on his door.

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February 1941 SUN SPOTS Page 4 Thecommander would remind him of the time they had gone together into the dead caverns of Pluto to get that escaped murderer...and the time he had won the reward of honor for putting the lid down on the Jupiter Radium Field riots singlehanded in '81. He'd been severely cooked by the heat rayers of the rioting natives that time. His chest still pained him whenever he took a deep breath. "The commander send for me?" A shavetail clerk with distorted ideas of his own importance looked up from his desk/ "Oh it's you, Martin? Look... you got this pension application all messed up... fill in [[underline]]all[[end underline]] the blanks... see?" "Oh... yep, sorry, son... Uh, is the Old Man in?" "Naw, he left for Venus with the others. Mail your corrected application; make it snappy so's it can be gone over." Nodding, Martin shuffled out. Yep, John was just busy. Sure. with this big case on and everything... Ayres approached him in the corridor. "Oh... er, Martin, I hear your leaving us today? Sorry to see you leave the ranks, old fellow." Martin nodded again; growled something deep down in his chest.Old Fellow! What did the young punk mean by that? And sorry! Devil take all hypocrites! Lieutenant Commander Ayres was sorry all right, and grinning like an ape... A voice called out, "Hey Lieutenant!" He stopped in his tracks. It was Gene Williams, grizzled television reporter of the Solar News. Williams looked embarrassed. Say, Lute, we tried to give you a send-off. All the boys had their hook-ups ready. But the vision waves are tighter than a tick, with all this Venusian idol stuff. But I promise you, they'll flash something in a day or two." A warm feeling came over Martin. "Aw, that's all x, Gene," he said. The telephoto man started to say more, but a frantic signalling from the viso-booth pulled him away. Martin walked back to his room. time to go now. Yep. He'd stayed right up to the last second. He began, with shaking hands to pick up his things... his tattered report book, keys, notes, letters, memoranda... They told a story, those odds and ends represented the months and years of his life as a patrolman. Was no notice to be taken of him; no banquet in his honor? He would just walk out like an unwelcomed visitor. Why, he'd been an [[underline]]honest[[end underline]] patrolman. He had always done his duty and more. His melancholy reverie was interrupted by the muffled roar of an incoming patrol ship. The noise of its arrival lasted but a minute; then all was quiet once more. Suddenly, there came a loud thumping on his door.