Pulp Fiction, 1954 · page 272 of 330
Adventures in the Far Future & Tales of Outer Space — page 272: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1954. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
This thing now with the long coil-wrapped barrel—an energy projector of some sort? How did you activate it? Hell- fire, which was the muzzle end? He heard the faint banging of feet, winding closer down the endless passageways. Gods, his mind groaned. They didn’t waste any time, did they? But they hadn’t needed to. A metal detector would have located his boot, told them that he was in this pyramid rather than one of the dozen others scattered through the valley. And energy tracers would spot him down here. He doused the light and crouched in darkness behind one of the machines. The blaster was heavy in his hand. A voice hailed him from outside the door. “It’s useless, Sol- man. Come out of there!” He bit back a reply and lay waiting. A woman's voice took up the refrain. It was a good voice, he thought irrelevantly, low and well-modulated, but it had an iron ring to it. They were hard, these Janyards, even their women led troops and piloted ships and killed men. “You may as well surrender, Solman. All you have done has been to accomplish our work for us. We suspected such an attempt might be made. Lacking the archaeological records, we couldn’t hope for much success ourselves, but since my force was stationed near this sun | had a boat lie in an orbit around the planet with detectors wide open. We trailed you down, and let you work, and now we are here to get what you have found.” “Go back,” he bluffed desperately. “I! planted a bomb. Go back or I'll set it off.” The laugh was hard with scorn. “Do you think we wouldn’t know it if you had? You haven’t even a space suit on. Come out with your hands up or we'll flood the vault with gas.” Laird’s teeth flashed in a snarling grin. “All right,” CORniclooo SS CO