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Sun Spots, v. 3, issue 3, whole no. 11, October 5, 1940
Page 18
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October 5, 1940. SUN SPOTS Page 18 SECOND PRIZE STORY "FATAL ERROR" By Charles Beling The desert sun beat down mercilessly on the small cabin, the distant snow-peaked mountains shimmered in the heat haze that palled over the sand dunes as far as the eye could see. The launching rack groaned under the weight of a silvery strato-rocket that nestled like a giant shell in the framework of the take off tube. Within the cabin two men quietly sweltered, the thermometer stood at 110 mark. One of the men was small, dark, with quick, darting eyes in a lean, bronzed face; the eyes of a killer, for a killer he was. His picture had graced the front pages of many a paper, his name flashed through the headlines for the last two years: "Farinacci Seized in Gang Murdcr", "Trial Set for 7th", Racketeer Freel" But Lefty Farinacci had killed once too often; and hadn't run far enough, now he was on his way back to the pay the penalty. The other occupant of the tiny cabin was the armed guard who was with Farinacci; he was the direct opposite of the killer; big, bluff, hearty, a son of old Ireland, Pat Flaherty. Farinacci had no intention of going back to face the music; he had a plan, a plan that was fool-proof. He would be the first man in over a century to escape from the custody of the imperial police. What a reputation that would give him! Why the underworld all over the empire would ring with his name, he'd organize the biggest racket that Earth had ever seen, and that was just a starter! The plan was simple. Every hour Flaherty had to walk the quarter mile to the fuel tanks to make sure that the insulation system kept the highly volatile liquid below the danger point. Farinacci's plan was this: to stand behind the door when the guard returned from the next inspection trip, slug and bind him, seize the key to the door, of the rocket, and leave via a late model police strato-plane.The ship could make the short distance to Salt Lake City there he'd make away from the search. The minutes seemed to drag like centuries, the minute hand crawled across the face of the clock, it seemed to Lefty as if the awaited moment would never come; but at last Flarherty glanced up from his book, gave a sigh, and hauled himself erect. He slapped on his sun helmet and strode from the room. Another maddening wait, then at long length he heard Pat's step in the distance. Quickly he hid behind the door. The steps came closer, and then the door swung open, the unsuspecting guard stopped in: Farinacci brought down the chair and with a slight gasp Flarherty slumped down. Lofty grabbed the keyring from his belt, and sped to the beckoning rocket. It was but the work of a few seconds to strap himself into tho chair, and slowly feed the warm-up fuel to the driving jots.Ho settled himself into the pilots seat, and thrust down on the blast lever; instantly a ton of weight seemed to land on him, he was thrust back, and forced into unconsciousness. The ship sped onward into space. In the next morning's newspapers a small article on the inside gave the following report: "Mt. Palomar Observatory last night reported that quite a large explosion was seen, just outside the heavy- side layer."---The strato-rocket was not built for outer space!!
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October 5, 1940. SUN SPOTS Page 18 SECOND PRIZE STORY "FATAL ERROR" By Charles Beling The desert sun beat down mercilessly on the small cabin, the distant snow-peaked mountains shimmered in the heat haze that palled over the sand dunes as far as the eye could see. The launching rack groaned under the weight of a silvery strato-rocket that nestled like a giant shell in the framework of the take off tube. Within the cabin two men quietly sweltered, the thermometer stood at 110 mark. One of the men was small, dark, with quick, darting eyes in a lean, bronzed face; the eyes of a killer, for a killer he was. His picture had graced the front pages of many a paper, his name flashed through the headlines for the last two years: "Farinacci Seized in Gang Murdcr", "Trial Set for 7th", Racketeer Freel" But Lefty Farinacci had killed once too often; and hadn't run far enough, now he was on his way back to the pay the penalty. The other occupant of the tiny cabin was the armed guard who was with Farinacci; he was the direct opposite of the killer; big, bluff, hearty, a son of old Ireland, Pat Flaherty. Farinacci had no intention of going back to face the music; he had a plan, a plan that was fool-proof. He would be the first man in over a century to escape from the custody of the imperial police. What a reputation that would give him! Why the underworld all over the empire would ring with his name, he'd organize the biggest racket that Earth had ever seen, and that was just a starter! The plan was simple. Every hour Flaherty had to walk the quarter mile to the fuel tanks to make sure that the insulation system kept the highly volatile liquid below the danger point. Farinacci's plan was this: to stand behind the door when the guard returned from the next inspection trip, slug and bind him, seize the key to the door, of the rocket, and leave via a late model police strato-plane.The ship could make the short distance to Salt Lake City there he'd make away from the search. The minutes seemed to drag like centuries, the minute hand crawled across the face of the clock, it seemed to Lefty as if the awaited moment would never come; but at last Flarherty glanced up from his book, gave a sigh, and hauled himself erect. He slapped on his sun helmet and strode from the room. Another maddening wait, then at long length he heard Pat's step in the distance. Quickly he hid behind the door. The steps came closer, and then the door swung open, the unsuspecting guard stopped in: Farinacci brought down the chair and with a slight gasp Flarherty slumped down. Lofty grabbed the keyring from his belt, and sped to the beckoning rocket. It was but the work of a few seconds to strap himself into tho chair, and slowly feed the warm-up fuel to the driving jots.Ho settled himself into the pilots seat, and thrust down on the blast lever; instantly a ton of weight seemed to land on him, he was thrust back, and forced into unconsciousness. The ship sped onward into space. In the next morning's newspapers a small article on the inside gave the following report: "Mt. Palomar Observatory last night reported that quite a large explosion was seen, just outside the heavy- side layer."---The strato-rocket was not built for outer space!!
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