Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition, December 1955 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

24 - ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION to say. The Overchief had become incomprehensible, and Resvik’s position was totally unclear to him. The fact that this was the working of still another scheme of Old Man Sullivan’s no longer struck him with much novelty. He wondered, briefly, if he would ever discover just exactly where and how far all of the Agency’s tentacles extended. Resvik stood up and came over to him. “Well,” he said, “that’s that. We're wound up here. I’ve got the pickup ship coming tonight. You and I and Holtz—” “Walker Holtz?” ‘Sure. The Geneiid.”’ The contact grinned cynically. ““We can’t leave him here for that Faris hot-shot to question, can we? It’s a shame he got out of here so fast,’ he mused. Demaris rolled his eyes frantically toward the Overchief. Had the contact gone out of his head? Resvik followed the direction of the glance and sniffed contemptuously. *“Him!” He flexed the muscles of his forearm and the nose of a hypodermic pistol slipped out between his fingers. “Four cc of lobotomol, right into the forebrain. What’s he going to pay attention to?” Demaris stared at the contact. Almost unconsciously, he reached out and eased Resvik’s forearm aside until he was out of the line of fire. / Vil Hoitz laughed pleasantly as the three of them sat in the pickup ships lounge. The sound came out of his Genelian throat with very little of its Terrestrial urbanity. “I'd say it was quite admirable of Old Man Sullivan,” he commented in his barbarous accent. He laughed again. “Picture the complexity—the intricacy of the organization. Mr. Black is planted on the capital planet of an empire—”’ Holtz’s bow toward Resyvik, attempted with a Geneiian spinal column, was grotesque, “He is assimilated into the imperial govern- ment, probably with the aid of that ingenious instrument in his hand, and thereafter devotes himself to the groundwork of systematically loboto- mizing such key figures as display any inordinate talent. When a crisis arrives—as, with Old Man Sullivan’s obiquitous help, it inevitably must— Mr. Black offers to supply the talent so unfortunately lacking in the native personnel. Then you, Mr. Demaris, and I, perform our duties—and Old Man Sullivan grows richer, and richer, and richer. Fabulous! And what a sublime disregard for human decency!” Resvik shrugged. Since the three of them had come aboard the ship, five T.S.T. days ago, he had talked only when spoken to. Most of the conversa- tion had been between Holtz, whose attitude was manifest, and Demaris, who had gleaned as much as he could and was now becoming impatient and irritated as Holtz’s personality wore thin. “But can you picture it, man!” Holtz demanded, “The intricacy of the enterprise—the beautifully working plan, endlessly repeated with ery race that an Earthman can possibly be made to resemble! I need h oint COMIC gt "Com |