DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Spacewarp, v. 5, issue 5, whole no. 27, June 1949

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Spacewarp, v. 5, issue 5, whole no. 27, June 1949

Page 5

There's one unmistakable clue to the identity of the author of this installment. Can you spot it as you read the story?

STF
BROADCASTS
AGAIN!

Chapter VI

Author's name will be in July WARP.

"HAVE a seat," said the short, paunchy man jovially. "Now what's this all about?"
His two guests seated themselves at his bidding and one of them, a tall, muscularly-built man with a martial air, gestured for his companion to begin the conversation. The latter was a young man of average stature wearing large-lensed glasses.
"Well, Mr. Upperberth, he said, "It began when I looked into my storeroom, hunting for a mimeo, and found a spaceship. I sort of spread the word around fandom, and Evan, here, said he'd heard you lost one. So I figgered maybe--"
"Wait a minute!" shouted Upperberth, leaping up. "You mean you know where von Heine's ship is hidden?"
"Why yes," said Art Rapp. "I wuz just telling you, it's in my store-room."
The editor of FITS was not listening. He was pounding his interoffice buzzer, grabbing telephones, bellowing orders at the employees who flocked into the room. "At last!" he said gleefully. "We've been combing the country for weeks, looking for the space ship -- now we can go ahead with the publicity campaign!"
Glover Mackintosh entered the room.
"Mackintosh!" roared Upperberth.
"Yessir?" said Mackintosh, gulping.
"The ship's been found, Mackintosh, old man. You leave tomorrow!"
Mackintosh tried to dash from the room, only to find that Starr, at an unobtrusive signal from Upperberth, had locked the door. The lanky Assistant Editor slumped to the floor in a faint.
* * *
THE COMPACT trembled ever so slightly in the Priestess' hand. She snapped it open and the face of the Master appeared on the small screen within. "Have you found the body yet?" he asked harshly.
"No, sire."
"I thought as much. Very well, my patience is exhausted. You will return to the spot where the interplanetary thought-field is focussed, and teleport yourself back to this planet. Leave Igor on Earth to handle any loose ends. I will deal with the space ship problem personally. You will be punished for your failure later."
The Priestess grew pale with fear, and teardrops sparkled on her long lashes. "Yes, sire," she whispered tremulously.
The screen faded.

[[image text]]
Retsler[[?]]
[[end image text]]

5

Saving...

There's one unmistakable clue to the identity of the author of this installment. Can you spot it as you read the story? STF BROADCASTS AGAIN! Chapter VI Author's name will be in July WARP. "HAVE a seat," said the short, paunchy man jovially. "Now what's this all about?" His two guests seated themselves at his bidding and one of them, a tall, muscularly-built man with a martial air, gestured for his companion to begin the conversation. The latter was a young man of average stature wearing large-lensed glasses. "Well, Mr. Upperberth, he said, "It began when I looked into my storeroom, hunting for a mimeo, and found a spaceship. I sort of spread the word around fandom, and Evan, here, said he'd heard you lost one. So I figgered maybe--" "Wait a minute!" shouted Upperberth, leaping up. "You mean you know where von Heine's ship is hidden?" "Why yes," said Art Rapp. "I wuz just telling you, it's in my store-room." The editor of FITS was not listening. He was pounding his interoffice buzzer, grabbing telephones, bellowing orders at the employees who flocked into the room. "At last!" he said gleefully. "We've been combing the country for weeks, looking for the space ship -- now we can go ahead with the publicity campaign!" Glover Mackintosh entered the room. "Mackintosh!" roared Upperberth. "Yessir?" said Mackintosh, gulping. "The ship's been found, Mackintosh, old man. You leave tomorrow!" Mackintosh tried to dash from the room, only to find that Starr, at an unobtrusive signal from Upperberth, had locked the door. The lanky Assistant Editor slumped to the floor in a faint. * * * THE COMPACT trembled ever so slightly in the Priestess' hand. She snapped it open and the face of the Master appeared on the small screen within. "Have you found the body yet?" he asked harshly. "No, sire." "I thought as much. Very well, my patience is exhausted. You will return to the spot where the interplanetary thought-field is focussed, and teleport yourself back to this planet. Leave Igor on Earth to handle any loose ends. I will deal with the space ship problem personally. You will be punished for your failure later." The Priestess grew pale with fear, and teardrops sparkled on her long lashes. "Yes, sire," she whispered tremulously. The screen faded. [[image text]] Retsler[[?]] [[end image text]] 5