Pulp Fiction, 1955 · page 7 of 146
Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 7: what you’re looking at
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.
AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION “Really, Admans! This is most irregular.” “You have the right word,” said Admans. He slammed the can on Tutin’s desk. Wrench- ing it open, he pulled out a plate and thrust it in front of the officer’s nose. “Irregu- lar as hell! What are you going to do about that... pass an amendment to Stand- ing Orders? I can’t keep on babbling about unfortunate accidents much longer—they just won’t believe me.” Tutin looked at the image with an expression of delicate distaste—even his layman’s eye could detect something very wrong. “What action are you taking?” “My God! What can I do?” Admans threw the plate from him. It skittered to a standstill on the other side of the room. “T’ll leave it another week or so, and make a further ex- amination. Then, if there’s no change—and there won’t be—Ill have to operate to save the mother. “Do you realise that this is the tenth case to date? Since the fourth year of the expedi- tion twenty-five per cent. of the pregnancies aboard this ship have resulted in non- viable monsters. And we must have children! The whole planning of the project is based on the assumption that when we make a planetfall in twenty-five years time, there will be enough youngsters to establish 2 healthy colony. Without children this is just a one shot—the whole effort will be wasted.” Tutin eyed the medic coldly. “I am perfectly aware of the plan. We are agreed, I take it, that these mutations are due to some radiation that our ships have not hitherto en- countered in space? The physicists have used every available type of detector, without being able to give us anything definite to work on. That being so, there is nothing we can do about it.” “There must be something —some way of improving the ship’s radiation shielding,” interrupted Admans. Tutin fingered the surface of his desk irritably. “My function is the delegation of work to specialists. If they fail, | must take their opinions conmmicloookks.comn) ~