DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Infinite, v. 1, issue 1, [1941?]

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Infinite, v. 1, issue 1, [1941?]

Page 12

DECISION
      BY
Eugene Masson

         It was the third day after the gyro had crashed. The limitless expanse of Venus' planetary ocean aideu in crushing hopes of a rescue. The plane would float -- it was constructed to meet such an emergency -- but the food and water would soon give out. Chances of a rescue plane arriving before that time seemed infinitesimal.
         Garth Devlin stared moodily north-ward. Several thousand miles away the great drama of revolt should be sweeping to - ward its thundering climax.
          To think of it increased his futile but smoldering anger at his helplessness. Throughout the various archipelagos men and women were fighting; fighting for the planet which they and their ancestors had setteled and developed. And he -- he, the chief instigator and commander-in-chief -- was of less use to his comrades than the lowliest swamp lizard!
           His ruminations were cut short by a buzzing sound in the heavy white clouds above. His heart suddenly began to beat at a faster tempo, and new hope ran through his veins. Rescue!
           In a moment the plane dropped out of the concealing banks of clouds. Garth felt himself grow cold, despite the humidity of the air. The insignia of the plane revealed it to bean Earth Federation ship!
his       Although his body was experiencing a sesation of paralysis, due to the shock, his mind was racing at full speed, weighing the results and consequences of his being taken prisoner by the Fereration forces.
           He well knew that his capture meant more than a major victory for the enemy. Logically, he thought it out.
          If he remained undiscovered the carefully worked out plans of the rebels would, in all probability, succeed. His own popularity had played a major role in launching the revolt. From this point on others had undertaken the burden of responsibilty. They could be depended on to carry through.
        On the other hand, if he was taken prisoner his life would be held forfeit unless the revolt ceased. And the tragic part of it was that certain elements among the colonials would welcome just such an opportunity. Once wealthy merchants would see to it that a clamor for his release would be set up among the masses to whom he was an idel. Even a partial defection would be fatal, for the army depended on the civilians for supplies. Even a minority could see to it that sufficient supplies would not be forthcoming if it meant saving their demi-god from death.
        So what to do?
        It seemed that he had sat there, thinking it out, for an eternity. Actually it could not have been more than a minute, for the pontoons were just being lowered from the body of the plane in preparation for landing near the wreck.
       Life was good, he felt, and he had many years to go before he completed his fourscore years and ten. Yet life to him meant tragedy to others and to all he held dear.
         The alternative was death; death in a watery grave. In a vague way he had thought of dying at various times. Oh, how different the manner of his passing had been in those meeting thoughts he had given the subject! Leading his men in some battle
                               (cont. on next page)

Saving...

DECISION BY Eugene Masson It was the third day after the gyro had crashed. The limitless expanse of Venus' planetary ocean aideu in crushing hopes of a rescue. The plane would float -- it was constructed to meet such an emergency -- but the food and water would soon give out. Chances of a rescue plane arriving before that time seemed infinitesimal. Garth Devlin stared moodily north-ward. Several thousand miles away the great drama of revolt should be sweeping to - ward its thundering climax. To think of it increased his futile but smoldering anger at his helplessness. Throughout the various archipelagos men and women were fighting; fighting for the planet which they and their ancestors had setteled and developed. And he -- he, the chief instigator and commander-in-chief -- was of less use to his comrades than the lowliest swamp lizard! His ruminations were cut short by a buzzing sound in the heavy white clouds above. His heart suddenly began to beat at a faster tempo, and new hope ran through his veins. Rescue! In a moment the plane dropped out of the concealing banks of clouds. Garth felt himself grow cold, despite the humidity of the air. The insignia of the plane revealed it to bean Earth Federation ship! his Although his body was experiencing a sesation of paralysis, due to the shock, his mind was racing at full speed, weighing the results and consequences of his being taken prisoner by the Fereration forces. He well knew that his capture meant more than a major victory for the enemy. Logically, he thought it out. If he remained undiscovered the carefully worked out plans of the rebels would, in all probability, succeed. His own popularity had played a major role in launching the revolt. From this point on others had undertaken the burden of responsibilty. They could be depended on to carry through. On the other hand, if he was taken prisoner his life would be held forfeit unless the revolt ceased. And the tragic part of it was that certain elements among the colonials would welcome just such an opportunity. Once wealthy merchants would see to it that a clamor for his release would be set up among the masses to whom he was an idel. Even a partial defection would be fatal, for the army depended on the civilians for supplies. Even a minority could see to it that sufficient supplies would not be forthcoming if it meant saving their demi-god from death. So what to do? It seemed that he had sat there, thinking it out, for an eternity. Actually it could not have been more than a minute, for the pontoons were just being lowered from the body of the plane in preparation for landing near the wreck. Life was good, he felt, and he had many years to go before he completed his fourscore years and ten. Yet life to him meant tragedy to others and to all he held dear. The alternative was death; death in a watery grave. In a vague way he had thought of dying at various times. Oh, how different the manner of his passing had been in those meeting thoughts he had given the subject! Leading his men in some battle (cont. on next page)