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Fantascience Digest, v. 2, issue 4, May-June 1939

Page 11

FANTASCIENCE DIGEST                     Page 11

a favorable position to blast him without harming Wendy. I made my mistake by dropping to one knee to scoop us Wendy's gun. Before I could snap a shot the Killer had leaped thru the hatch-way, taking Wendy with him. The companionway was dark because I had ordered all unnecessary lights turned off to conserve power.

   A mechanic and passenger joined me in the search. We stumbled thru the gloom, the killer's heavy footfalls echoing on the metal floors. We had just reached the first tail lock when we heard the high pitched hiss of escaping air, then a man's voice torn with pain. The trap to the lock was open, a tiny red light flicking on and off to signal that the outer vent was open.

   Sick with hate because I knew what I awaited us, I paused long enough to slam shut the fifth Cobb gear comb, then cautiously entered the lock. There wasn't much left of Wendy. Strabnor had held him against the test vent, a hole about six inches in diameter used for securing atmosphere samples, and opened the vent's grid. His back against the hole leading to the low pressure of the outside, the pilot's body had been forced thru that tiny hole---crushed thru---like the liquid of a blown egg. Before the total destruction of Wendy's body, the madman left the airlock, knowing we were close on his heels. However, without a fully armed party it would be foolhardy to search the darkened interconnection tubes.

   So at this moment all passengers are in their state rooms behind locked doors. Here in the control room I set down this date for the log while Gronburg goes over a plan to get Strabnor with my fiance. During all of this nightmare voyage I've only been able to speak with her but once, and that but a brief moment. How it is that two persons, so much in love, can forget all personal feelings in a crisis like this, I don't know.

   I once questioned th------

   Good God! The pressure meters! That madman, Strabnor, has opened all the locks in the ship. How that devil knew where to find the emergency control--------all three of us hurled our weight against the hatch lock closing off all passengers leading to the nose of the ship---------but the others-----------those in the state rooms--------no hope for them.

   With the terrible prospect of slow death staring us in the face, Gronburg's pitiful attempts at humor cause a lump to form in my throat. I asked Alice to drain every drop of alcohol from the tanks. It'd come in handy when the cold started creeping in. While she was working at this task, I edged over to Gronburg.

   "How long will out air last," I asked him.

   "Maybe till morning," he said slowly, "but only if we do not flame the alcohol."

   I knew there wasn't an ounce of food in the control room. Slowly an idea of the terrible thing I must do began to form in my mind. 

   At about two in the morning I was sitting at Alice's side while she slept. Over the pilot's chair I could see the gaunt figure of Gronburg. It was just after I had whispered to him to see if he was sleeping that I happened to glance up at the roof ports.

   A hand of ice seemed to grip my heart. Just as before, so slow-

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FANTASCIENCE DIGEST Page 11 a favorable position to blast him without harming Wendy. I made my mistake by dropping to one knee to scoop us Wendy's gun. Before I could snap a shot the Killer had leaped thru the hatch-way, taking Wendy with him. The companionway was dark because I had ordered all unnecessary lights turned off to conserve power. A mechanic and passenger joined me in the search. We stumbled thru the gloom, the killer's heavy footfalls echoing on the metal floors. We had just reached the first tail lock when we heard the high pitched hiss of escaping air, then a man's voice torn with pain. The trap to the lock was open, a tiny red light flicking on and off to signal that the outer vent was open. Sick with hate because I knew what I awaited us, I paused long enough to slam shut the fifth Cobb gear comb, then cautiously entered the lock. There wasn't much left of Wendy. Strabnor had held him against the test vent, a hole about six inches in diameter used for securing atmosphere samples, and opened the vent's grid. His back against the hole leading to the low pressure of the outside, the pilot's body had been forced thru that tiny hole---crushed thru---like the liquid of a blown egg. Before the total destruction of Wendy's body, the madman left the airlock, knowing we were close on his heels. However, without a fully armed party it would be foolhardy to search the darkened interconnection tubes. So at this moment all passengers are in their state rooms behind locked doors. Here in the control room I set down this date for the log while Gronburg goes over a plan to get Strabnor with my fiance. During all of this nightmare voyage I've only been able to speak with her but once, and that but a brief moment. How it is that two persons, so much in love, can forget all personal feelings in a crisis like this, I don't know. I once questioned th------ Good God! The pressure meters! That madman, Strabnor, has opened all the locks in the ship. How that devil knew where to find the emergency control--------all three of us hurled our weight against the hatch lock closing off all passengers leading to the nose of the ship---------but the others-----------those in the state rooms--------no hope for them. With the terrible prospect of slow death staring us in the face, Gronburg's pitiful attempts at humor cause a lump to form in my throat. I asked Alice to drain every drop of alcohol from the tanks. It'd come in handy when the cold started creeping in. While she was working at this task, I edged over to Gronburg. "How long will out air last," I asked him. "Maybe till morning," he said slowly, "but only if we do not flame the alcohol." I knew there wasn't an ounce of food in the control room. Slowly an idea of the terrible thing I must do began to form in my mind. At about two in the morning I was sitting at Alice's side while she slept. Over the pilot's chair I could see the gaunt figure of Gronburg. It was just after I had whispered to him to see if he was sleeping that I happened to glance up at the roof ports. A hand of ice seemed to grip my heart. Just as before, so slow-