Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition, December 1955 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

56 | ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION suffering to nonhostile life will be deemed a major offense under the Contact Code.” He made a derisive gesture. ‘So they amble toward us like a great army of sloths and we have to tuck in our tails and run.” “Any better solution?” Leigh asked, irritably. “No. Not one. That’s the devil of it.” The siren yowled. Soon afterward the Thunderer began a faint but steady shuddering as combustion chambers and venturis warmed up. Hofinagle rushed into the cabin. He had a roll of crumpled Keen charts in one fist and a wild look in his eyes. What’ s the idea?’”’ he shouted, flourishing the charts and forgetting to say “‘sir.’’ “Two successive watches we've spent on this, given up our off-duty time into the bargain and have just got one of them to make the orbit-sign. Then you recall us.’ He waited, fuming. “We're moving.” “Moving?” He looked as if he’d never heard of such a thing. ‘““Where?” “A hundred miles off.” Hoffnagle stared incredulously, swallowed hard, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it once more. “But that means we'll have to start over again with some other bunch.” ““l’m afraid so,” agreed Leigh. ““The ones you’ve been trying to talk to could come with us but it would take far too long to make them understand what’s wanted. There’s nothing for it but to make a new start.” “No!” bawled Hoffnagle, becoming frenzied. “Oh, no! Anything but that!” Behind him, Romero barged in and said, “Anything but what?’’ He was breathing heavily and near the end of his tether. Trying to tell hint the evil news, Hoffnagle found himself lost for words, managed no more than a few feeble gestures. ‘‘“A communicator unable to communicate with another communicator,” observed Pascoe, showing academic interest. ‘““They’re shifting the ship,” Hoffnagle got out with considerable effort. He made it sound dastardly. Releasing a violent, “‘What?”” Romero went two shades redder than the Waitabits. In fact, for a moment he looked like one as he stood there pop- eyed and half-paralyzed. “Get out,” snapped Leigh. ““Get out before Nolan comes in and makes it three to two. Go some place where you can cool down. Remember, you’re not the only ones caught in this fix.” “No, maybe we aren't,” said Hofinagle, bitterly. “But we’re the only ones carrying the entire onus of—” “Everybody’s carrying onuses of one sort or another,” Leigh retorted. “And everybody’s well and truly bollixed by them. Beat it before I lose my own temper and summon an escort for you.” They departed with unconcealed bad grace. Leigh sat at his desk, chewed his bottom lip while he tended to official papers. Twenty minutes went by. Finally, he glanced at the wall chronometer, switched the intercom, spoke to Bentley. ““What’s holding us up?” : COMIC OOKXS.COM