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Fan, issue 2, July 1945
Page 4
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4 PARABOLA HAGIST stood at the rim of the shallow ravine and peered down at the spaceship, resting silvery bright in the pale sunlight. He could see old man Adams down there, clambering around the rocket-tubes like a grotesque little gnome in his bulging space suit. The old man was dragging a kit of tools, making the final check-up. They would soon be leaving this twenty-mile asteroid where they'd been mining for the past week. A lucky week! Hagist's eyes glowed, as his gaze took in the little heap of platimum ore near the ship. It was the richest he'd ever seen, some of those lumps close to fifty percent pure. Altogether enough to make many men rich, and it was to be divided three ways. Three ways? No. Two ways now. Hagist chuckled harshly beneath his helmet, and looked back across the terrain whence he had just come. A mad terrain of chasms and darkness and jagged pinnacles. Stuart was back there, at the bottom of one of those chasms . . . to remain forever. A grin slashed across Haigst's square, dark face as he recalled how easy it had been -- the vicious smash at the other's face-plate with a rock. But he'd never forget Stuart's startled eyes, uncomprehending, as the plate broke; the purplish face gasping for air where there was suddenly none, and then the eyes bulging out in death. A simple push over a precipice where the body fell lazily down in darkness, completed the job. "Well, that's over, but I'll have to make my story sound good for old man Adams." Hagist crouched down behind a rock, his dark face pondering. "Shouldn't be hard, the old man's such a trusting soul. Too bad I need him. But he's the only one who can chart our course back." Hagist peered down again at the ore waiting to be loaded, and his eyes glittered with greed. Ah, well, it would be divided two ways now -- that was a little better than before. He turned on the microwave set in his helmet, and held his breath for a long minute. Then, breathing heavily and pretending great excitement, he hurried down the rocky slope. "Adams!" he called -- and saw the old man clamber down from the tubes and turn to await him. "IT'S STUART -- he's -- there's been an accident!" Hagist blurted between breaths. "An accident! Where is he? What happened, man?" Hagist shook his head, still gasping. "I'm afraid it's
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4 PARABOLA HAGIST stood at the rim of the shallow ravine and peered down at the spaceship, resting silvery bright in the pale sunlight. He could see old man Adams down there, clambering around the rocket-tubes like a grotesque little gnome in his bulging space suit. The old man was dragging a kit of tools, making the final check-up. They would soon be leaving this twenty-mile asteroid where they'd been mining for the past week. A lucky week! Hagist's eyes glowed, as his gaze took in the little heap of platimum ore near the ship. It was the richest he'd ever seen, some of those lumps close to fifty percent pure. Altogether enough to make many men rich, and it was to be divided three ways. Three ways? No. Two ways now. Hagist chuckled harshly beneath his helmet, and looked back across the terrain whence he had just come. A mad terrain of chasms and darkness and jagged pinnacles. Stuart was back there, at the bottom of one of those chasms . . . to remain forever. A grin slashed across Haigst's square, dark face as he recalled how easy it had been -- the vicious smash at the other's face-plate with a rock. But he'd never forget Stuart's startled eyes, uncomprehending, as the plate broke; the purplish face gasping for air where there was suddenly none, and then the eyes bulging out in death. A simple push over a precipice where the body fell lazily down in darkness, completed the job. "Well, that's over, but I'll have to make my story sound good for old man Adams." Hagist crouched down behind a rock, his dark face pondering. "Shouldn't be hard, the old man's such a trusting soul. Too bad I need him. But he's the only one who can chart our course back." Hagist peered down again at the ore waiting to be loaded, and his eyes glittered with greed. Ah, well, it would be divided two ways now -- that was a little better than before. He turned on the microwave set in his helmet, and held his breath for a long minute. Then, breathing heavily and pretending great excitement, he hurried down the rocky slope. "Adams!" he called -- and saw the old man clamber down from the tubes and turn to await him. "IT'S STUART -- he's -- there's been an accident!" Hagist blurted between breaths. "An accident! Where is he? What happened, man?" Hagist shook his head, still gasping. "I'm afraid it's
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