Adventures in the Far Future & Tales of Outer Space — page 100: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

die! Who’ll be next?” It was motiveless murder, attributable exclusively to iposap in too many drinks. Some passengers fled from him. But a young man—one of the honeymooners Brent had noticed—charged with a chair held club-wise. Other men leaped in when he brought it down. The drunk was subdued and disarmed and bound with a volunteer guard placed over him. But no ship’s officer had answered the signal—often repeated—that an emergency existed in the passengers’ lounge. Brent went back to the bar. The bartender was gone, but he had not locked up. There were open bottles all about, to be used or taken by a gesture. There were more men drinking, now. Some looked dazed and numb, eyes glassy. They stared into space. There were two women at a table. One gulped down a drink and cried shrilly, “| don’t want to think! Get me another drink, somebody!” She was already fretful and querulous. Brent reached for a bottle and poured out a few drops. lposap. He tried another.lposap. There couldn’t be any doubt. He felt certain objects in his pockets and was grimly glad he’d packed some special tools of a construction-man’s using— they had been essential a little while back—in his bags. A brawny man lurched up to Brent and said thickly: “| don't like yer face!” His fist lashed out. Brent blocked the blow, without returning it. Someone else said belligerently, “That’s a dastardly trick, with all of us dyin’ ...” Brent’s assailant demanded ferociously, “Who's dyin’? I’m not!” He struck. It was. senseless. It was sickening. It was not normal drunkenness. There was neither rhyme nor reason in any of it. A man lurched aggressively against Brent. Crazy fool! thought Brent bitterly. He defended himself—ruthlessly, with the inconspicuous but deadly means of defense he had been taught in the Profession. CORniclooo SS CO