DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Planeteer Magazine, v. 2, isssue 1, March 1939

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Planeteer Magazine, v. 2, isssue 1, March 1939

Page 12

They were dimmed now by the torrent of tears gushing forth.
  "Please , please let me go", she sobbed.  "He'll have me flogged if I'm late."
  Voral retained his hold upon her arm, drew her a little closer and gazed itno her eyes.  Fear lurked there, stark, abysmal fear not of him but of... something.
  "He'll have you flogged?", the Martian queried softly.  "Who is "HE"?.
  She shuddered as she replied, shuddered so that tremors shook her slight body as thought with a chill.  "He is... He".
  Voral starred at her; then, grasping both her shoulders, shook her until her long orange hair swirled about the slender form.
  "Talk sense", he rasped.  "Who is 'HE'.?
  "He's, He's... oh, I don't know who he is!  He looks like one of your own race, a Martian.  I suppose he's a spaceman too, for he wears magnetic space-boots."
  Voral gazed at her, or rather through her, and mused aloud, "Magnetic space-boots!"  Suddenly, becoming aware of the girl again, he shot questions at her in amazing ralidity.
  "Is he a big man, about as tall as I am?.  With black eyes and long dark hair?  And is the little finger missing off his right hand?"
  "Yes, yes!" She gasped eagerly.  "OH, do you know him?.
  "Know him!" Voral laughed harshly.  "I've followed him across three planets and a hundred million miles of space.  I rayed that finger off his right hand.  I dream about him at night, and his face hangs in my memory all day.   Oh yes, I know him quite well!"
  "You're his enemy?." she whispered.  Then as though she noticed his uniform for the firdt time, "You're a Space Policeman!"
  "Right!" he snapped.  "Now listen young lady, take me to him... Now, at once!  By the way, what's your name?  Mine's Voral.
  "And mine is Laya", she murmured.
  "Laya", Voral repeated.  He ran the name over his tongue several times.  "It's almost as pretty as you yourself Laya.  A pale, rosy tint suffused the blue of her delicate face.  To hide it she mumbled very low, "Come", then hurried off into the murk.
  The fog became deeper, pressed in on all sides.  Voral took the girl's hand in his.  He told himself it wouldn't do to lose her, not after all these months.  Her hand was cold and trembling.  His own tightened in a reasuring gesture.
  After miles of wandering through deserted streets, they finally approached a huge yawning gateway.  Passing through this and a short dark hallway, Voral found himself in a large brilliantly lighted and richly

Saving...

They were dimmed now by the torrent of tears gushing forth. "Please , please let me go", she sobbed. "He'll have me flogged if I'm late." Voral retained his hold upon her arm, drew her a little closer and gazed itno her eyes. Fear lurked there, stark, abysmal fear not of him but of... something. "He'll have you flogged?", the Martian queried softly. "Who is "HE"?. She shuddered as she replied, shuddered so that tremors shook her slight body as thought with a chill. "He is... He". Voral starred at her; then, grasping both her shoulders, shook her until her long orange hair swirled about the slender form. "Talk sense", he rasped. "Who is 'HE'.? "He's, He's... oh, I don't know who he is! He looks like one of your own race, a Martian. I suppose he's a spaceman too, for he wears magnetic space-boots." Voral gazed at her, or rather through her, and mused aloud, "Magnetic space-boots!" Suddenly, becoming aware of the girl again, he shot questions at her in amazing ralidity. "Is he a big man, about as tall as I am?. With black eyes and long dark hair? And is the little finger missing off his right hand?" "Yes, yes!" She gasped eagerly. "OH, do you know him?. "Know him!" Voral laughed harshly. "I've followed him across three planets and a hundred million miles of space. I rayed that finger off his right hand. I dream about him at night, and his face hangs in my memory all day. Oh yes, I know him quite well!" "You're his enemy?." she whispered. Then as though she noticed his uniform for the firdt time, "You're a Space Policeman!" "Right!" he snapped. "Now listen young lady, take me to him... Now, at once! By the way, what's your name? Mine's Voral. "And mine is Laya", she murmured. "Laya", Voral repeated. He ran the name over his tongue several times. "It's almost as pretty as you yourself Laya. A pale, rosy tint suffused the blue of her delicate face. To hide it she mumbled very low, "Come", then hurried off into the murk. The fog became deeper, pressed in on all sides. Voral took the girl's hand in his. He told himself it wouldn't do to lose her, not after all these months. Her hand was cold and trembling. His own tightened in a reasuring gesture. After miles of wandering through deserted streets, they finally approached a huge yawning gateway. Passing through this and a short dark hallway, Voral found himself in a large brilliantly lighted and richly