Transcribe
Translate
IFA Review, v. 1, issue 2, September-October 1940
Page 9
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
"They will supply an identical number of belligerents from both nations with duplicate weapons and ammunition and will provide a sunken arena of ten square miles in area, for a battleground." "I can remember the old days, Red," said the older man, thickly, thru the alcoholic fumes clouding his brain. "Thirty years or so ago the whole world trembled when the massed armies of the Reutons and the Apanese invaded neutral territory. Civilian lives were destroyed and incalculable damage done to the their property. I'm glad those days are no more." "Maybe it is better this way," grudgingly admitted the young man. "Still, I'd like to hunt deer with a rifle instead of a bow." "Maybe," mocked Drukker "you'd like to dig your mother or father our of the ruins of their homes or get a nice corrosive bullet in the guts. Force never settled anything in the long run." "The I. P. doesn't meddle in politics. They're just super policemen. The tenth of every nation's budget that they receive renders them independent of the rest of the world. We can run our governments as we like except for armed force." Abruptly he broke off and curled limply up into a compact ball. "I'm tired," he grunted, and a moment later was noisily snoring away into the uncharted deeps of sleep. They arrived over Spain the next morning and one by one the gliders detached themselves along the way until only Number One and Two remained. Then the ominous bulk of the outer defenses of the five hundred square miles of the International Area were drawing near and their pilot severed connections with Number One. The glider dipped gracefully earthward, her light auxiliary motors controling their swift descent to the smooth expanse of the airport just outside the Area. With scarcely a jar they landed and taxied over to the hangers. Red shook Drukker into a semblance of animate life and together they made their way toward the outer defenses of the South Wall. Here their credentials were okayed and they were given a ride into the heart of the Area by way of a swift, shockless tank. At a hundred miles an hour they flashed by bristling rank upon rank of automatically fired anti-aircraft batteries that could blanket the sky above, to a height of six miles, with a continuous screen of explosive shells. "Five miles," Drukker announced weakly through twitching lips, "have they burrowed into the earth. Thousands of airplanes...thousands of battle tanks...ammunition and food for a century...submarine water-lanes, hundreds of feet underground, link them with the Atlantic and the Mediterranean....hidden tunnels pierce far below the principal cities of Europe...All this in less than thirty years!" "Holy space-ships!" ejaculated Red, cribbing an expression used by Cul Vadat, the hero of countless science fiction novels, "look at that stratoliner!" "Humph," grunted the miserable Drukker, "that's more than a stratoliner. That's a space ship. By 1990 the I. P. will have contacted Luna." "I'd like to be along," asserted Red, "when they do." "Shut up for a while," groaned Drukker, "I'm going to be sick..." Looking down into the Arena of War, sunk a mile into the vitals of Terra, Red was stunned by the magnitude of all the surroundings.. Here was none of the sloppiness and filth so characteristic of most city streets and squares. Everything was in order and in place. The snap of military alertness was in the very air. A world in miniature surrounded him where men of every race and nationality were quartered in their national districts.
Saving...
prev
next
"They will supply an identical number of belligerents from both nations with duplicate weapons and ammunition and will provide a sunken arena of ten square miles in area, for a battleground." "I can remember the old days, Red," said the older man, thickly, thru the alcoholic fumes clouding his brain. "Thirty years or so ago the whole world trembled when the massed armies of the Reutons and the Apanese invaded neutral territory. Civilian lives were destroyed and incalculable damage done to the their property. I'm glad those days are no more." "Maybe it is better this way," grudgingly admitted the young man. "Still, I'd like to hunt deer with a rifle instead of a bow." "Maybe," mocked Drukker "you'd like to dig your mother or father our of the ruins of their homes or get a nice corrosive bullet in the guts. Force never settled anything in the long run." "The I. P. doesn't meddle in politics. They're just super policemen. The tenth of every nation's budget that they receive renders them independent of the rest of the world. We can run our governments as we like except for armed force." Abruptly he broke off and curled limply up into a compact ball. "I'm tired," he grunted, and a moment later was noisily snoring away into the uncharted deeps of sleep. They arrived over Spain the next morning and one by one the gliders detached themselves along the way until only Number One and Two remained. Then the ominous bulk of the outer defenses of the five hundred square miles of the International Area were drawing near and their pilot severed connections with Number One. The glider dipped gracefully earthward, her light auxiliary motors controling their swift descent to the smooth expanse of the airport just outside the Area. With scarcely a jar they landed and taxied over to the hangers. Red shook Drukker into a semblance of animate life and together they made their way toward the outer defenses of the South Wall. Here their credentials were okayed and they were given a ride into the heart of the Area by way of a swift, shockless tank. At a hundred miles an hour they flashed by bristling rank upon rank of automatically fired anti-aircraft batteries that could blanket the sky above, to a height of six miles, with a continuous screen of explosive shells. "Five miles," Drukker announced weakly through twitching lips, "have they burrowed into the earth. Thousands of airplanes...thousands of battle tanks...ammunition and food for a century...submarine water-lanes, hundreds of feet underground, link them with the Atlantic and the Mediterranean....hidden tunnels pierce far below the principal cities of Europe...All this in less than thirty years!" "Holy space-ships!" ejaculated Red, cribbing an expression used by Cul Vadat, the hero of countless science fiction novels, "look at that stratoliner!" "Humph," grunted the miserable Drukker, "that's more than a stratoliner. That's a space ship. By 1990 the I. P. will have contacted Luna." "I'd like to be along," asserted Red, "when they do." "Shut up for a while," groaned Drukker, "I'm going to be sick..." Looking down into the Arena of War, sunk a mile into the vitals of Terra, Red was stunned by the magnitude of all the surroundings.. Here was none of the sloppiness and filth so characteristic of most city streets and squares. Everything was in order and in place. The snap of military alertness was in the very air. A world in miniature surrounded him where men of every race and nationality were quartered in their national districts.
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar