Pulp Fiction, 1955 · page 38 of 146
Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 38: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1955. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE LESSER BREED “You see, you fool!” ' Tutin’s voice had a ring of triumph. “Now will you be- lieve him? The androids will not turn back.” Johnson moved forward until he stood within a few feet of the towering Granella. *“~Do as he says—or [ll kill the lot of you,” he snarled. “Men are the masters,” said the android. ‘“They have made us to fulfil a purpose— and that we must do.”’ “Then die, you damned monster!” screamed Johnson. He pressed the firing lever of the blaster. The android ‘stood unmoved as the flaring energy of the weapon danced around his body. His plexi- plast skin was built to with- stand radiation ten times the strength of the blaster charge. “Satisfied, Johnson?’ asked Mayo. “These babies are built to take rugged condi- tions, you know.”’ The armoured hand holding the blaster sagged momen- tarily, as the colonist realised his helplessness. In that mo- ment, Tutin attacked. Even in the cumbersome armour, _ his combat training made him a fast-moving adversary. One 37 hand deait Johnson a crashing blow that sent him reeling; the other grabbed for the blaster and wrenched it from > his grasp. The admin officer faced the three men, the weapon fanning in a menacing arc. “Now we can talk intel- ligently,” he barked. He looked down at Johnson, who was struggling to his feet like an ungainly turtle. “First we can dispense with this blun- dering fool—out here, there will be no need of explana- tions.” Admans watched in a fasci- nation of horror as the admin officer’s grip tightened on the firing lever. . “No! Don’t let him kill me, Mayo! Admans! Stophim...” The voice of Johnson ceased abruptly as his helmet dis- integrated in a gout of flame. A wave of nausea enveloped Admans. “You butcher!” he gasped. “I have my duty to per- form,”’ said Tutin. The voice held no emotion. “Johnson was a menace to the success of the project.” Admans felt a _ sudden, insane desire to laugh. “The comiclooks.corn