Time Exposures
Page 1
Time Exposures:
The Short Fiction of Wilson "Bob" Tucker
Wilson Tucker
Tom's eBooks June 2021 (c, ebook) - 77,700 words of fiction
Introduction, Tom Dean, (in) *
Prison Planet, (ss) Planet Stories Fall 1942 - 5313
courtesy of Project Gutenberg
The Job Is Ended, (nv) Other Worlds Science Stories Nov. 1950 - 8852
The Tourist Trade, (ss) Worlds Beyond Jan. 1951 {as by "Bob Tucker"} - 3390
To a Ripe Old Age, (ss) F&SF Dec. 1952 - 6520
Able to Zebra, (ss) F&SF March 1953 - 5902
Home Is Where the Wreck Is, (ss) Universe May 1954 - 5721
"MCMLV", (ss) Universe Nov. 1954 - 4765
King of the Planet, (ss) Galaxy Oct. 1959 - 4755
To the Tombaugh Station, (na) F&SF July 1960 - 18455
courtesy of Jerry's eBooks
The Recon Man, (ss/nv) If January 1965 - 7272
Time Exposures, (ss) Universe 1, ed. Terry Carr, Ace 1971 - 6809
An Interview with Wilson Tucker, Darrell Schweitzer, (iv) Amazing May 1980
interview conducted at Disclave 1978 in Washington, D.C.
original ending of The Long, Loud Silence, (ex) Il lungo silenzio, trans. Armando Silvestri, Fanacci
Editore July 1978
Other Collections by Wilson Tucker, (bb) *
Contents:-
Introduction
Prison Planet,
The Job Is Ended,
The Tourist Trade,
Able to Zebra,
Home Is Where the Wreck Is,
MCMLV,
King of the Planet,
To the Tombaugh Station,
The Recon Man,
Time Exposures,
An Interview With Wilson Tucker,
Introduction
So there we were at both Amazon and Barnes&Noble, browsing to see what fiction was available from science fiction's original prankster (but still excellent novelist), Wilson "Bob" Tucker. Answer: nearly nothing in the English language! Exception: his early short story, "Prison Planet," which was only there because Project Gutenberg has deemed it in the Public Domain. Further examination showed no books of his available over at Gollancz' SFGateway, either!
Fear not, however, for some of the Nameless Somebodies out in the ether have scanned, digitized and typed in several of his novels, which Tucker's estate would be wise to locate. Of short fiction, all we found were two additional stories; a pretty meager sampling, goddammit.
Thus, herewith, a new collection of short fiction from lifetime prankster, lifetime fanzine publisher, lifetime movie projectionist (yep, there were and are such things), and all-around fan extraordinaire, Wilson "Bob" Tucker.
Tom Dean
June 2021
P.S.: Included is an interview from 1978, which we were super grateful to find, because it talks about the lost ending to his classic novel, The Long, Loud Silence, and we were able to track down and include that, too!
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Prison Planet,
by Wilson Tucker
Planet Stories Fall 1942
Short Story - 5313 words
To remain on Mars meant death from agonizing
space-sickness, but Earth-surgery lay
days of flight away. And there was only
a surface rocket in which to escape—with
a traitorous Ganymedean for its pilot.
"Listen, Rat!" Roberds said, "what I say goes around here. It doesn't happen to be any of your business. I'm still in possession of my wits, and I know Peterson can't handle that ship. Furthermore Gladney will be in it too, right along side of that sick girl in there! And Rat, get this: I'm going to pilot that ship. Understand? Consulate or no Consulate, job or no job, I'm wheeling that crate to Earth because this is an emergency. And the emergency happens to be bigger than my position, to me at any rate." His tone dropped to a deadly softness. "Now will you kindly remove your stinking carcass from this office?"
Unheeding, Rat swung his eyes around in the gloom and discovered the woman, a nurse in uniform. He blinked at her and she returned the look, wavering. She bit her lip and determination flowed back. She met the stare of his boring, off-colored eyes. Rat grinned suddenly. Nurse Gray almost smiled back, stopped before the others could see it.
"Won't go!" The Centaurian resumed his fight. "You not go, lose job, black-listed. Never get another. Look at me. I know." He retreated a precious step to escape a rolled up fist. "Little ship carry four nice. Rip out lockers and bunks. Swing hammocks. Put fuel in water tanks. Live on concentrates. Earth hospital fix bellyache afterwards, allright. I pilot ship. Yes?"
"No!" Roberds screamed.
Almost in answer, a moan issued from a small side room. The men in the office froze as Nurse Gray ran across the room. She disappeared through the narrow door.
"Peterson," the field manager ordered, "come over here and help me throw this rat out...." He went for Rat. Peterson swung up out of his chair with balled fist. The outlander backed rapidly.
"No need, no need, no need!" he said quickly. "I go." Still backing, he blindly kicked at the door and stepped into the night.
When the door slammed shut Roberds locked it. Peterson slumped in the chair.
"Do you mean that, Chief? About taking the ship yourself?"
"True enough." Roberds cast an anxious glance at the partly closed door, lowered his voice. "It'll cost me my job, but that girl in there has to be taken to a hospital quickly! And it's her luck to be landed on a planet that doesn't boast even one! So it's Earth ... or she dies. I'd feel a lot better too if we could get Gladney to a hospital, I'm not too confident of that patching job." He pulled a pipe from a jacket pocket. "So, might as well kill two birds with one stone ... and that wasn't meant to be funny!"
Peterson said nothing, sat watching the door.
"Rat has the right idea," Roberds continued, "but I had already thought of it. About the bunks and lockers. Greaseball has been out there all night tearing them out. We just might be able to hop by dawn ... and hell of a long, grinding hop it will be!"
The nurse came out of the door.
"How is she?" Roberds asked.
"Sleeping," Gray whispered. "But sinking...."
"We can take off at dawn, I think." He filled the pipe and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock."
"I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?"
"Eight days, in that ship."
Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney.
"Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray asked.
"We call him Rat," Roberds said.
She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?"
Peterson opened his mouth.
"Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell."
"Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?"
Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?"
Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very important office at the time, the outpost watch. And when Mad Barry Sansan and his gang of thugs swooped down on the Ganymedean colony, there was no warning. Our friend Rat was AWOL.
"As to who he is ... well, just one of those freaks from up around Centauria somewhere. He's been han
ging around all the fields and dumps on Mars a long time, finally landed up here."
"But," protested Miss Gray, "I don't understand? I always thought that leaving one's post under such circumstances meant execution."
The Chief Consul nodded. "It does, usually. But this was a freak case. It would take hours to explain. However, I'll just sum it up in one word: politics. Politics, with which Rat had no connection saved him."
The girl shook her head, more in sympathy than condemnation.
"Are you expecting the others in soon?" she asked. "It wouldn't be right to leave Peterson."
"They will be in, in a day or two. Peterson will beat it over to Base station for repairs, and to notify Earth we're coming. He'll be all right."
Abruptly she stood up. "Goodnight gentlemen. Call me if I'm needed."
Roberds nodded acknowledgement. The door to the side room closed behind her. Peterson hauled his chair over to the desk. He sniffed the air.
"Damned rat!" he whispered harshly. "They ought to make a law forcing him to wear dark glasses!"
Roberds smiled wearily. "His eyes do get a man, don't they?"
"I'd like to burn 'em out!" Peterson snarled.
Rat helped Greaseball fill the water tanks to capacity with fuel, checked the concentrated rations and grunted.
Greaseball looked over the interior and chuckled. "The boss said strip her, and strip her I did. All right, Rat, outside." He followed the Centaurian out, and pulled the ladder away from the lip of the lock. The two walked across the strip of sandy soil to the office building. On tiptoes, Greaseball poked his head through the door panel. "All set."
Roberds nodded at him. "Stick with it!" and jerked a thumb at Rat outside. Grease nodded understanding.
"Okay, Rat, you can go to bed now." He dropped the ladder against the wall and sat on it. "Good night." He watched Rat walk slowly away.
Swinging down the path towards his own rambling shack, Rat caught a sibilant whisper. Pausing, undecided, he heard it again.
"Here ... can you see me?" A white clad arm waved in the gloom. Rat regarded the arm in the window. Another impatient gesture, and he stepped to the sill.
"Yes?"—in the softest of whispers. The voices of the men in droning conversation drifted in. "What you want?"
Nothing but silence for a few hanging seconds, and then: "Can you pilot that ship?" Her voice was shaky.
He didn't answer, stared at her confused. He felt her fear as clearly as he detected it in her words.
"Well, can you?" she demanded.
"Damn yes!" he stated simply. "It now necessary?"
"Very! She is becoming worse. I'm afraid to wait until daylight. And ... well, we want you to pilot it! She refuses to risk Mr. Roberds' job. She favors you."
Rat stepped back, astonished. "She?"
Nurse Gray moved from the window and Rat saw the second form in the room, a slight, quiet figure on a small cot. "My patient," Nurse Gray explained. "She overheard our conversation awhile ago. Quick, please, can you?"
Rat looked at her and then at the girl on the cot. He vanished from the window. Almost immediately, he was back again.
"When?" he whispered.
"As soon as possible. Yes. Do you know...?" but he had gone again. Nurse Gray found herself addressing blackness. On the point of turning, she saw him back again.
"Blankets," he instructed. "Wrap in blankets. Cold—hot too. Wrap good!" And he was gone again. Gray blinked away the illusion he disappeared upwards.
She ran over to the girl. "Judith, if you want to back down, now is the time. He'll be back in a moment."
"No!" Judith moaned. "No!" Gray smiled in the darkness and began wrapping the blankets around her. A light tapping at the window announced the return of Rat. The nurse pushed open the window wide, saw him out there with arms upstretched.
"Grit your teeth and hold on! Here we go." She picked up the blanketed girl in both arms and walked to the window. Rat took the girl easily as she was swung out, the blackness hid them both. But he appeared again instantly.
"Better lock window," he cautioned. "Stall, if Boss call. Back soon...." and he was gone.
To Nurse Gray the fifteen minute wait seemed like hours, impatient agonizing hours of tight-lipped anxiety.
Feet first, she swung through the window, clutching a small bag in her hands. She never touched ground. Rat whispered "Hold tight!" in her ear and the wind was abruptly yanked from her! The ground fell away in a dizzy rush, unseen but felt, in the night! Her feet scraped on some projection, and she felt herself being lifted still higher. Wind returned to her throat, and she breathed again.
"I'm sorry," she managed to get out, gaspingly. "I wasn't expecting that. I had forgotten you—"
"—had wings," he finished and chuckled. "So likewise Greaseball." The pale office lights dropped away as they sped over the field. On the far horizon, a tinge of dawn crept along the uneven terrain.
"Oh, the bag!" she gasped. "I've dropped it."
He chuckled again. "Have got. You scare, I catch."
She didn't see the ship because of the wind in her eyes, but without warning she plummeted down and her feet jarred on the lip of the lock. "Inside. No noise, no light. Easy." But in spite of his warning she tripped in the darkness. He helped her from the floor and guided her to the hammocks.
"Judith?" she asked.
"Here. Beside you, trussed up so tight I can hardly breathe."
"No talk!" Rat insisted. "Much hush-hush needed. Other girl shipshape. You make likewise." Forcibly he shoved her into a hammock. "Wrap up tight. Straps tight. When we go, we go fast. Bang!" And he left her.
"Hey! Where are you going now?"
"To get Gladney. He sick too. Hush hush!" His voice floated back.
"Where has he gone?" Judith called.
"Back for another man. Remember the two miners who found us when we crashed? The burly one fell off a rock-bank as they were bringing us in. Stove in his ribs pretty badly. The other has a broken arm ... happened once while you were out. They wouldn't let me say anything for fear of worrying you."
The girl did not answer then and a hushed expectancy fell over the ship. Somewhere aft a small motor was running. Wind whistled past the open lock.
"I've caused plenty of trouble haven't I?" she asked aloud, finally. "This was certainly a fool stunt, and I'm guilty of a lot of fool stunts! I just didn't realize until now the why of that law."
"Don't talk so much," the nurse admonished. "A lot of people have found out the why of that law the hard way, just as you are doing, and lived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world, humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stay right at home."
"How about these men that live and work here?"
"They never get here until they've been through the mill first. Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without."
"Well," Judith said. "I've certainly learned my lesson!"
Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came a sound remarkably resembling a snort.
"Gray?" Judith asked fearfully.
"Yes?"
"Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?"
Rat himself provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar that shook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in his arms. The burden groaned.
"Gladney!" Nurse Gray exclaimed.
"I got." Rat confirmed. "Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney."
"But how?" she demanded. "What of Roberds and Peterson?"
"Trick," he sniggered. "I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in. Very simple." He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snapped buckles.
"And Peterson?" she prompted.
"Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him."
"Fan him? I don't understand."
"Fan. With chair. Everything all right. I apologized." Rat finished up and was walking back to the lock. They heard a slight rust
ling of wings as he padded away.
He was back instantly, duplicating his feat of a short time ago. Cursing shouts were slung on the night air, and the deadly spang of bullets bounced on the hull! Some entered the lock. The Centaurian snapped it shut. Chunks of lead continued to pound the ship. Rat leaped for the pilot's chair, heavily, a wing drooping.
"You've been hurt!" Gray cried. A small panel light outlined his features. She tried to struggle up.
"Lie still! We go. Boss get wise." With lightning fingers he flicked several switches on the panel, turned to her. "Hold belly. Zoom!"
Gray folded her hands across her stomach and closed her eyes.
Rat unlocked the master level and shoved!
"Whew!" Nurse Gray came back to throbbing awareness, the all too familiar feeling of a misplaced stomach attempting to force its crowded way into her boots plaguing her. Rockets roared in the rear. She loosened a few straps and twisted over. Judith was still out, her face tensed in pain. Gray bit her lip and twisted the other way. The Centaurian was grinning at her.
"Do you always leave in a hurry?" she demanded, and instantly wished she hadn't said it. He gave no outward sign.
"Long-time sleep," he announced. "Four, five hours maybe." The chest strap was lying loose at his side.
"That long!" she was incredulous. "I'm never out more than three hours!" Unloosening more straps, she sat up, glanced at the control panel.
"Not taking time," he stated simply and pointed to a dial. Gray shook her head and looked at the others.
"That isn't doing either of them any good!"
Rat nodded unhappily. "What's her matter—?" pointing.
"Appendix. Something about this atmosphere sends it haywire. The thing itself isn't diseased, but it starts manufacturing poison. Patient dies in a week unless it is taken out."
"Don't know it," he said briefly.
"Do you mean to say you don't have an appendix?" she demanded.