Astounding British Edition, Vol. 6, No. 8 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

* THE GREAT AIR MONOPOLY 3 37 Ole Doc pulled down his helmet to cover his face and walked forward. He rolled over the senseless antique of sixty-five winters and examined him for anything discoverable. He examined several more and from the eighth, who just that instant was half blind with airlessness and the flash of Ole Doc’s U.M.S, gorget, flicked out a specimen of spittle and passed it to Hippocrates. “Culture it,” said Ole Doc. “Negative,” said Hippocrates six minutes later, still carrying ’scope and speed culture flask. ““Bacteriologically negative.” “Air!” screamed the old man, reviving. And an instant later She went down on her face and didn’t move. 3 Ole Doc had her in the ship in about ten seconds. Hippocrates threw a force cordon around the rest and four-handedly went through them spraying a sterilizer all over them with two hands and breaking their chains apart with the remaining sets of fingers. : | ena they whined and gasped. “‘Air, air, air! Ole Doc looked sadly down at the girl on the table. She was fragile and. lovely, stretched there on the whiteness of the Morgue’s operating room. She was in odd contrast to all these brilliant tubes and trays, these glittering rods and merciless meters. Ole Doc sighed and then shook off the trance and became a professional. “There’s such a thing as malnutrition,” he said to Hippocrates, “But I never heard of aor Her chest— Here, what’s S , The tag had been clipped solidly through her ear and it read, “Property of Air, Limited. Repossessed Juduary 43rd, °53. By order of Lem Tolliver, President, Air Limited.” That offended Ole Doc for some reason. He tore it off and put a heal compress on the small, handsome ear. When he removed it five seconds later there were no scars. Ole Doc read the tag again and then angrily stamped it under foot. He turned to his job and shortly had a mask on the girl which fed her oxygen in proper pulsations and gave her a little ammonia and psi- ionized air in the bargain. He was just beginning to take satisfaction in the way her lovely eyes were flickering as she came around when Hippocrates * leaped in, excited. # : “Ship landing!” blurted the little fellow. “Guns ready. Tell me when to shoot.” “Whoa,” said Ole Doc. “Force screen them off until you see what they are at least. Now, there you are, my dear.” She struggled up and pulled off the mask. She looked mystified at her. surroundings until she Heard others calling for air outside. Then she flicked her eyes at Ole Doc and it was his turn to sigh. , “Ugh!” said ippocrates. “Nicotine, women! You never live to be ten thousand, I bet. Next, rum!” “Fine idea,” said Ole Doc. “My dear, if you'd like to step this way—” Hippocrates watched him open doors for her. He knew Old Doc would take her to a stateroom where she could shower and shift into Ole Doc’s robe. And then in the salon that Michalo had -newly designed, they'd sit in soft lights and talk above the whine of violins. Ugh! It had been exactly nineteen years and six days since Ole Doc had shown any interest in a woman— The little slave paused. He grinned. After all, this was Ole Doc’s birthday. It was hard enough to live hundreds of years with nothing ever exciting any more. Hippocrates knew for his people, gypsum metabolism though they were, normally went utterly stale at twelve thousand and faded into com- ee boredom. Humans lived faster in the ead— He grinned and swung up into a gun turret. Let him have his birthday and three cheers for it. But the ship called Hippocrates back sharply. And he was again intensely annoyed with Ole Doc. Women. Now look at the trouble that was coming. The ship was a Scoutcraft Raider for atmosphere travel and it had enough armament to slaughter a city and it was manned with humans who, even at this distance, looked extremely unreliable. It landed on the edge of the screen and five guards leaped down, blasters ready to cover the debark of a _ huge-shouldered, black-garbed man. Hippocrates was _ re- minded of a vulture and almost whiffed the odor that always clings to those birds. He turned on the near screen and disregarded the fact that its force kicked about twenty slaves a dozen feet or more outward from the Morgue. ‘ The five scouted the grass, found the holes where the guards had been and fished up bits of melted brass. They stood and glared at the slaves who, seeing the ship, had begun to howl and plead and creep toward that as they had toward Hippocrates. . The big human stopped and looked at the Morgue. Its stern was toward him and he didn’t see the crossed ray rods on the nose or the meaningful letters U.M.S.S. Morgue, Ole Doc Methuselah. . “You better stop,” said Hippocrates in the high turret. The men stopped. The big human looked up at the turret. He signaled his men to fan out and for his ship to depress its heaviest cannon. Hippo- crates shivered a little for he wag not sure his screen would hold against the size of those muzzles. “I’m Big Lem Tolliver!” shouted the human. “This is Air, Limited, talking and if you got a good reason why my Perse- EOmMmIGDoOoksico