Genre Science Fiction. Page - 17

dded at Sandon, a gesture Sandon politely returned.He had only ever seen the younger Ka Vail boy from a distance. Up close, Jarid Ka Vail had much of his father's looks: the hooded gray eyes, the high cheekbones, and the thin lips. His mouth betrayed a slight arrogance. Sandon graced him with a polite smile. "So, what news? How are the preparations going?" asked Ka Vail, looking back up at his son. "We've started to pull in the groundcars from the farms and the communications

ed him in a remote sort of way. Not that the idea of telepathy itself was alien to him--after all, he was even more aware than the average citizen that research had been going on in that field for something over a quarter of a century, and that the research was even speeding up.But the cold fact that a telepathy-detecting device had been invented somehow shocked his sense of propriety, and his notions of privacy. It wasn't decent, that was all. There ought to be something sacred, he told

l perfection--the effortlessharmony of faultless coordination. A scarf of silken gossamercrossing over one shoulder was wrapped about her body; her blackhair was piled high upon her head. With a wooden stick she tappedupon the bronze disc, lightly, and presently the summons wasanswered by a slave girl, who entered, smiling, to be greetedsimilarly by her mistress."Are my father's guests arriving?" asked the princess. "Yes, Tara of Helium, they come," replied the slave.

iews. For one thing, he was really close to the actual phenomena--visible and tangible--that he speculated so grotesquely about; and for another thing, he was amazingly willing to leave his conclusions in a tenative state like a true man of science. He had no personal preferences to advance, and was always guided by what he took to be solid evidence. Of course I began by considering him mistaken, but gave him credit for being intelligently mistaken; and at no time did I emulate some of his

sort or another. They rarely maintain his interest for long."He looked at the wall clock. "Your friends should have been here by now, shouldn't they?" III The swaying had come to a halt and it was dark. The Explorer was not comfortable in the alien air. It felt as thick as soup and he had to breathe shallowly. Even so-- He reached out in a sudden need for company. The Merchant was warm to the touch. His breathing was rough, he moved in an occasional spasm, and was obviously

ht be such as to strike very close to me or to my friends.I wished that I might have found a point closer to the two men from which to have heard their conversation; but it was out of the question now to attempt to cross the river, and so I lay quietly watching them, who would have given so much to have known how close I lay to them, and how easily they might have overcome and killed me with their superior force. Several times Thurid pointed across the river in my direction, but that his

al stereotype, and all the history books have been altered to make it seem forever-so. I suppose it's an attempt to make things less confusing for children.Of all the stories, the most inflated was the biography of Benjamin Franklin. I refused to believe that any one individual could be responsible for inventions ranging from the light-bulb to electricity to the concept of yellow. There had to be some distortion in there somewhere. But as I sat alone in my bed, reading over all those great

ncerned it would have no mass. The same is true of the other dimensions. Similarly a being of a lesser plane could not harm an inhabitant of a higher plane. It is apparent that while the Horror has lost one material dimension, it has retained certain fourth-dimensional properties which make it invulnerable to the forces at the command of our plane."The newspaperman was now sitting on the edge of his chair. "But," he asked breathlessly, "it all sounds so hopeless. What can be

thin a tiny oasis. Close by was an Arab douar of some eight or ten tents.I had come down from the north to hunt lion. My party consisted of a dozen children of the desert--I was the only "white" man. As we approached the little clump of verdure I saw the man come from his tent and with hand-shaded eyes peer intently at us. At sight of me he advanced rapidly to meet us. "A white man!" he cried. "May the good Lord be praised! I have been watching you for hours, hoping

Professor Carbonic was diligently at work in his spacious laboratory, analyzing, mixing and experimenting. He had been employed for more than fifteen years in the same pursuit of happiness, in the same house, same laboratory, and attended by the same servant woman, who in her long period of service had attained the plumpness and respectability of two hundred and ninety pounds.[Illustration: The electric current lighted up everything in sight!] "Mag Nesia," called the professor. The