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Next Door, Next World By: Robert Donald Locke |
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By ROBERT
DONALD
LOCKE
Almost any phenomenon can be
used or act for good or ill.
Mutation usually brings ill but
it also brings greatness. Change
can go any direction.
Illustrated by Douglas
Hungrily, the cradled vessel's great steel nose pointed up to the
distant stars. She was the Cosmos XII , newest and sleekest of the
Space Service's rapidly expanding wing of interstellar scout ships, and
she was now ready for operational work. Major Lance Cooper, a big man with space tanned features, stood in the
shadow of the control bunker and watched the swarm of ground crewmen
working at last minute speed atop the loading tower. Inside him burned a
hunger, too. Hunger, and another emotion pride. The pride swelled Lance's open collared khaki shirt, as he envisioned
himself at the ship's controls within a few minutes. Finally, after long
years of study, sweat and dedication, he'd made it to the Big League. No
more jockeying those tubby old rocket pots to Luna! From here on, he was
going to see, taste, feel what the universe was like way, way out in
Deep Space. The Cosmos XII , like her earlier sisters, was designed to
plow through that shuddery nowhere the cookbooks identified as
"hyperspace." Lance's glance shifted upward, scanning the velvet backdrop of frosty
white points of light against which the slender, silverish, almost
wingless form stood framed. More stars than a man could visit in a
lifetime! And some already within grasp! His exultant feeling grew, and Lance kept his head tilted backward.
Alpha Centauri, the most popular target, was not visible at this
latitude; and Barnard's star, besides being far too faint, lay on the
other side of the sun. But there shone Sirius, just as bright as it had
glittered for the Greeks, and frosty Procyon, a little to the north.
Both orbs twinkled and beckoned, evoking strange and demanding dreams! One day, Man would be able to make landings. Teams of scientists
outfitted to the eyebrows and trained to cope with any environment or
emergency, would explore unknown jungles, llanos , steppes; tramp up
and down fertile vales and hills under blue hot alien suns. Perhaps,
they might even contact native species boasting human intelligence:
mammalian hunters and fishers, city building lizards, sky probing
arachnids who knew what? But now, of course, all that Headquarters permitted of flights was the
most furtive of reconnoitering. You hoisted your scout ship aloft under
high gee, cleared the ecliptic, then swung out of normal space and
jumped . When you materialized in the new sector, you set your cameras
clicking, toggled all the other instruments into recording radiation,
gravity pressures, spectroscopy, at slam bang speed. The very instant
your magnetic tapes got crammed to capacity, you pressed six dozen panic
buttons and scooted like a scared jackrabbit for Home, Sweet Home. Adventure? It wasn't even mentioned on the travel posters, yet. But, adventure would follow. Some day. Meanwhile, at the taxpayers' expense, you the guardian of the
Peace had enjoyed the billion dollar thrill of viewing our Solar System
from light years and light years of distance. Or so the manual said,
right here on Insert Page 30 Dash 11 Dash 6. Lance thought about those veteran hype pilots who'd already poked around
in the great black Cold out there. How was it they were always
compensating for their frustration? Now, he remembered. Having few tall tales to spellbind audiences with when they swooped back
down on Home Base after their missions, the hype pilots got around it by
bragging up Terra itself, and how at least you could always depend upon
good old Earth to come up with something to relax this Warp Weary
generation! "Something, for example, such as we now hold in our hand, brothers!"
Lance could hear them now. "Namely, one of these superbly programmed
cocktails, as only Casey can turn out." (Casey was the Officers Club barkeep and much beribboned mixologist... Continue reading book >>
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Science |
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