Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

14 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION prove my y theory about cats being an extraterrestrial race.’ “You don’t think they’re native to Terra?” Vanderhoff asked in be- wilderment. “Right. Look, they’re too well- adapted to spaceships, free-fall, and changing accelerations. They never get their directions mixed up; they always know which way is ‘down’,”’ Garver explained with a smile. “T think Cosmo’s ancestors either con- quered space, or were symbiotes of a race who did.” . : “Tigers and leopards as well?” Vanderhoff asked. “Same family.” “Yeah, but they’re merely mutations of the original strain, Felis domestica,” the jetman went on, tongue in cheek. “IT don’t agree with you,” the skipper said, watching Cosmo give himself a cleaning job. “I will admit they’re perfectly adapted for space travel. Cosmo keeps himself clean and does a good job keeping the ship the same way. Why, I remember once when we lifted from Terra with a load of wheat for Luna. Had rats. Space knows how they got aboard, but Cosmo—”’ Winch rolled over in midair. ‘“Look, you jerks, shaddup, willya? I’m trying to log sack time.” ‘““You’ve been sleeping off and on ever since we left Mars,” Vanderhoff pointed out. “What else is there to do?” Winch asked. He answered himself, ““Outside of prayers five times a day, nothing! I’m supposed to entertain myself playing tiddly-winks?” Winch, among other things, was a good Moslem. “You could fix the landing dovar,” the skipper suggested. “It hunts.” “That's my fault when the line voltage wanders with a load on. it?’ Winch asked in a complaining tone. “That’s out of my jurisdiction. Chew out Garver. The generator’s his play- thing!” ““What’s the matter?” Garver cut in. “Don’t you have any voltage regulators?” “Certainly! You think I am not on the stick? My job begins where I take the juice off the line, chum. The fact that it’s four-hundred-cycle stuff is bad enough, but ninety jolts where I should be getting one hundred seven- teen is too much!” **You’re smart,’’ Garver told him. “You're an electronics man. Figure out a way to get what you want. I do the best I can, and the generator’s just not up to it.”” He sighed. ““The thing doesn’t pay attention to anything— even prayers.” “Speaking of prayers,”’ the skipper cut in, consulting his watch, “‘it’s about that time Earthside again, Winch.” Unstrapping, Winch rolled over and grabbed a handhold. “Right. Which direction’s Terra in now, Skipper?” Vanderhoff pointed. “‘Aft and to the port. You can see her if you look. Double-star, very bright.” Winch held out his arm. ““Come on, Cosmo boy. We'll see if we can’t pick up a ball game somewhere when I finish.”” Cosmo unrolled himself from the stanchion, pushed-off expertly, flipped in midair, and landed on Winch’s arm. He wrapped himself securely around it and began to purr. The two of them marke ick nieh@" through the forward hatch. Garver had flipped on the microfilm projector again, but Vanderhoff inter- rupted his reading. “‘What’s wrong with the generator, Garv ?”’ Flipping off the projector to save juice, Garver sighed. “It’s a Red Queen’s race—just like the-rest of the ship.” “What’s Lewis Carroll got to do with it? Don’t tell me he’s aboard, too?” The captain’s sense of humor was going early on this trip, Garver noted. Comicdooks.com