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 “I... see. And when they’re fright- ened, as must happen rather easily, they radiate the fear-impulse and our minds pick it up.” “Yes, lord. We think a Patrol sneak-boat must have taken a few and dropped them here on Ulugan. We'll soon round up the others and we'll be sure.” *“Um-m-m.” Hurulta’s heavy blue face contracted in a scowl. It was hard to think clearly, when he had to keep fighting down the germ of panic that screamed far down within him. “Yes. _ A good idea. But quantitatively insuf- ficient. The Patrol can’t possibly smuggle enough of them here to make any significant trouble.” “No, lord. Just nuisance value. Like everything they’ve done so far, isn’t it... if I may make bold to speak.” Hurulta turned and walked out of the room. Gyreion—hm-m-m. A tough nut to crack, that world—but worth while. If enough of those hoppers could be turned loose on an enemy planet—why, it was the ultimate in psychological warfare! The League planets—a decadent bunch. They couldn’t stand up long to such fear. They’d be ready to sur- render to the first warship that came along. Meanwhile, it was necessary to cut off the Patrol’s access to Gyreion. Wouldn’t take too big a force for an effective occupation; the natives weren’t fighters. Once their fears had been calmed, they would be quite harmless—to Ulugan. This time, my friend, he thought with a savage glee, this time you've finally overreached yourself! Wing Alak was getting bored. He didn’t have much to do now but sit in his flagship and read the reports of his scouts and radio monitors. He wel- comed the newcomer who had arrived ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION with the last courier ship from home, even if it did mean a struggle. Jorel Meinz entered the vessel and followed Alak down a long corridor. His nose wrinkled a bit at the many odors that filled it. The crew of the battlewagon all came from terrestroid planets, but they had their character- istic smells and their own styles of cooking; no ventilation system could quite purify the air. But then, he reminded himself, a Terran probably didn’t smell any better to them. Alak’s cabin was a spacious one, sybaritically furnished. One large view- port showed the eerie hugeness of space, the rest of the room seemed devoted to human comfort just to offset that chilling spectacle. The Patrolman waited till he was alone with his guest before pouring out drinks. “Scotch,” he said. “It may not mean much to you, but out here it’s a real luxury.” ‘*The Patrol seems to do itself well,” observed Meinz. “Quite,” nodded Alak. ‘“‘When you’re out for months or years at a time, surrounded by total alienness, every comfort means a lot. It’s pure superstition that the being with a low standard of living is hardier.”’ He lifted his glass and sipped appre- ciatively. ‘Are you sure you won’t be found out here?’’ asked Meinz. “I imagine the enemy is ripping holes in space, hunting for you.” Alak grinned, which made him more than ever resemble a fox. “No doubt they are,” he said. ““The harder they search, the better I like it, since it means a useless waste of their time, men, and matériel. Several thousand cubic light-years makes a pretty effec- tive concealment. Anyway, if by some freak they should blunder across us, we need only run for it.” CONnnleloOokS.C© iin