Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

BEAM PIRATE 29 fence in Chicago, or a Palanortis White- wood on Venus.” She left, and Channing went with her, arguing as he went to the effect that she should develop a disregard for things like their discussion. As a matter of interest, Channing had his roast knolla that evening, so he must have convinced Arden. Walt said: “And then there were three. Christine, has our little pre-dinner talk dis- turbed your appetite?” “Not in the least,” said the girl stoutly. “IT wouldn’t care whether it was knolla or pussy cat. I’ve been on Mars so long that either one of the little felines is alien to me. What have you to offer?” | “We'll hit Joe’s for dinner, which is the best bar in sixty million miles today. Later we may take in the latest celluloid epic, and then there will be a bit of mixed wrestling in the ballroom.” “Mixed wres— Oh, you mean dancing. Sounds interesting. Now?” “Now. Wes, what are you heading for?’’ “Oh, I've got on a cockeyed schedule,” said Wes. “I’ve been catching my sleep at more and more out-of-phase hours until this is not too long after breakfast for me. You birds all speak of ‘Tomorrow,’ ‘To- day’ and ‘Yesterday’ out here, but this busi- ness of having no sun to come up in the morning, and the electric lights running all the time has me all bollixed up.” “That daily nomenclature is purely from habit,” said Walt. “As you know, we run three equal shifts of eight hours each, and therefore what may be ‘Morning’ to Bill is ‘Noon’ to James and ‘Night’ to Harry. It is meaningless, but habitual to speak of ‘Morn- ing’ when you mean ‘Just after I get up!” Follow me?” “Yup. This, then, is morning to me. Run along and have fun.” “We'll try,” said Walt. “We will,” said Christine. Farrell grinned as they left. He looked at Walt, and said: “You will!” Walt wondered whether he should have questioned Wes about that remark, but he did not. Several hours later, Walt wondered how Wes could have been so right. Interplanetary Communications, Pre- ferred, starting in its long climb as soon as the markets opened on the following day. Cartright, following his orders and his ex- perience, held onto whatever stock he had, and bought whatever stock was tossed his way. Several times he was on the verge of asking Interplanetary Transport for mone- tary assistance, but the real need never materialized. Kingman alternately cursed the whining music and cheered the pyramiding stock. About the only thing that kept Kingman from going completely mad was the fact that the alien music was not continuous, but it came and went in stretches of anything from five to fifty minutes, with varied periods of silence in between selections. Up and up it went, and Kingman was seeing the final, victorious coup in the offing. A week more, and Venus Equilateral would belong to Terran Electric. The beam from Terra was silent, save for a few items of interest not connected with the market. Kingman’s men were given the latest news, baseball scores, and so forth, among which items was another message to Channing from the solar beam project engineer, Addi- son. They had about given up. Nothing they could do would prevent the formation of ozone by the ton as they drew power by the kilowatt from Sol. On Venus Equilateral, Channing said: ““Ask Charley what his radio frequency is.” Ten minutes later, at the speed of light, the ship beam reached the Relay Girl and the message clicked out. Charley Thomas read it, and spoke into the microphone. The Relay Girl bucked unmercifully, as the voice amplitude made the acceleration change. Then at the speed of light, squared, the answer came back in less than a twinkle. “Seventeen hundred kilocycles.” Channing began to turn the tuner of the radio receiver. The band was dead, and Channing laughed. “This is going to be tricky, what with the necessity of aligning both the driver-alloy disk and the radio receiver. Takes time.” He changed the alloy disk in minute in- crements, and waved the tuner across that portion of the band that would most likely cover the experimental error of Charley Thomas’ frequency measurement. A _ burst of sound caught his ear, was lost for a moment, and then swelled into perfect tune as Don worked over the double tuning system. “Whoa, Tillie,” said Walt. “That sounds like—”’ “Like hell.” “Right. Just what I was going to say. Is it music?” “Could be. I’ve got a slightly tin ear, you: know.” “Mine is fair,” said Walt, “but it might as well be solid brass as far as this mess comiclbooks.c©