DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Sparx, v. 1, issue 6, February 1948

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Sparx, v. 1, issue 6, February 1948

Page 10

ly scratched the space between his sixth and first arms. Then he looked at the plate.

"Ship, .125 parsec distant, approaching at 7G relative, signaling us to stop. No characteristic sign. We are carrying three hundred thousand credits worth of Ingrem. Ergo..." He looked down at the fifth foot, still in position for scratching, and absently ran a finger of his sixth hand around the major claw. Then he looked up at Hillem. "I think it's a pirate."

"Well, they warned us. We haven't any armament." He turned around and ran his eyes over the control board. "They've started up their drivea again." The spot on the plate became more intensely blue; began to increase in size.

Iglor nodded at the control board. "Get out while the getting's good. They'll have trouble killing our drive with theirs on full. I hope. Get the power house really turning over, and then feed the unit all it can take. You might wait until they're a matter of miles away, I guess. There's nothing quite as mean to do to a pirate as to start your unit when he's close by, running on his."

"Oh?" Hillem was interested. In the meantime, he shorted (by remote control) a dummy load across the converter output, and let the power level build up into the kilomegamegawatts. 

"Sjnasty. Rip heck out of any decent machine. But you better not take chances." He jerked a hand or two in the general direction of the plate. The spot had shifted to red, indicating that the range of the instrument had decreased. The spot was still large. "Ten million miles," read Merfs from the calibrations on the plate.

Hillem nodded and strapped himself thoroughly into his chair. "You okay, Hispy?" The Verkian shrugged six shoulders, and settled himself a little more closely into the indescribable thing that served him as a chair. He looked more or less like a highly intelligent blue beer barrel with long grey ropes sticking out of the barrel, which might have been clumps of ferns, but actually were eyes, ears, nose, and the like. What "the like" included no Earthman had ever been able to make out. There was a large mouth on one edge of the barrel-shape, which Verkian anatomists used as the prime meridian for all their internal navigation. Iglor was designed with hexilateral symmetry.

Gregor Hillem, who looked very much like a specimen of Homo Sapiens (which he was) made some sort of gesture implying "do or die" and, having removed the dummy load, threw in the hyper-special unit at full strain. There was a shock, of the type that seems to catch you under the chin, and disorganize all the faculties momentarily. When Gregor recovered, he decreased power to a more normal level, and clucked his tongue lightheartedly.

"Well, we got out of that one, Mefs."

The Verkian was on his feet, nosing around at the dials, grunting savagely at the readings. "We did." The statement was short, concise, and as bitter as the Verkians ever got. Gregor stared at him for a split second, and then the meaning of the remark began to penetrate. He shut down the hyper unit. There was no sign of the pirate ship.

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Saving...

ly scratched the space between his sixth and first arms. Then he looked at the plate. "Ship, .125 parsec distant, approaching at 7G relative, signaling us to stop. No characteristic sign. We are carrying three hundred thousand credits worth of Ingrem. Ergo..." He looked down at the fifth foot, still in position for scratching, and absently ran a finger of his sixth hand around the major claw. Then he looked up at Hillem. "I think it's a pirate." "Well, they warned us. We haven't any armament." He turned around and ran his eyes over the control board. "They've started up their drivea again." The spot on the plate became more intensely blue; began to increase in size. Iglor nodded at the control board. "Get out while the getting's good. They'll have trouble killing our drive with theirs on full. I hope. Get the power house really turning over, and then feed the unit all it can take. You might wait until they're a matter of miles away, I guess. There's nothing quite as mean to do to a pirate as to start your unit when he's close by, running on his." "Oh?" Hillem was interested. In the meantime, he shorted (by remote control) a dummy load across the converter output, and let the power level build up into the kilomegamegawatts. "Sjnasty. Rip heck out of any decent machine. But you better not take chances." He jerked a hand or two in the general direction of the plate. The spot had shifted to red, indicating that the range of the instrument had decreased. The spot was still large. "Ten million miles," read Merfs from the calibrations on the plate. Hillem nodded and strapped himself thoroughly into his chair. "You okay, Hispy?" The Verkian shrugged six shoulders, and settled himself a little more closely into the indescribable thing that served him as a chair. He looked more or less like a highly intelligent blue beer barrel with long grey ropes sticking out of the barrel, which might have been clumps of ferns, but actually were eyes, ears, nose, and the like. What "the like" included no Earthman had ever been able to make out. There was a large mouth on one edge of the barrel-shape, which Verkian anatomists used as the prime meridian for all their internal navigation. Iglor was designed with hexilateral symmetry. Gregor Hillem, who looked very much like a specimen of Homo Sapiens (which he was) made some sort of gesture implying "do or die" and, having removed the dummy load, threw in the hyper-special unit at full strain. There was a shock, of the type that seems to catch you under the chin, and disorganize all the faculties momentarily. When Gregor recovered, he decreased power to a more normal level, and clucked his tongue lightheartedly. "Well, we got out of that one, Mefs." The Verkian was on his feet, nosing around at the dials, grunting savagely at the readings. "We did." The statement was short, concise, and as bitter as the Verkians ever got. Gregor stared at him for a split second, and then the meaning of the remark began to penetrate. He shut down the hyper unit. There was no sign of the pirate ship. ((Page 20 is next)) 10