ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Pulp Fiction, 1955 · page 20 of 146

Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 20: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 20: Pulp Fiction, 1955

A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1955. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

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

THE LESSER BREED surged through his body, then reached out and switched on the light. The cabin’s air conditioning duct must have been accidentally blocked. He eased himself out of his bunk and staggered to the door, sleep and lack of oxy- gen clutching at his con- sciousness. Unfastening the lock with fumbling fingers, he flung it open and waited for the cool air of the corridor to sweep the sewer stench that clogged his lungs. The improvement was only slight, just enough to clear his head a little. The air of the corridor was almost as foul as that of his cabin. He realised, with a twinge of horror, that the entire air conditioning system of the ship must be faulty. The oxygen plant was in the outer shell, up in the nose, well shielded from the radiation of the engines. Being in the Styx, it was tended by the androids, who had no need of air themselves. Behind him, the intercom buzzed urgently. He walked over towards it, his respiration struggling to gain life-giving oxygen from the foul air. 19 He flipped the switch. ‘‘Ad- mans, here.” “Hallo, Admans—this is Tutin. Is Mayo with you? Those damned Granellas of his must have decided to finish the job by suffocating us!” “Yes. He’s in the next room. Hold the line. Pll go and get him. And take it easy on that android stuff— this could be a genuine break- down, and Mayo has been through a tough time.” Tutin’s voice was sharp poison. “I know—why didn’t you report the suicide to me? But we'll talk about that later—get Mayo!” Admans opened the door of the sick bay. The bunk on which Mayo had been lying was empty. The room was un- occupied. Back at the intercom, he said: “‘He’s gone!” Tutin cursed. “Better call the androids on Mayo’s con- trol circuit,” Admans sug- gested. “TI already tried that,” shouted Tutin. “The trans- ceiver is not working—there’s no way of communicating with the Styx.” conmicloooks.comn