by Various
Golden Age of Science Fiction Vol XIII
Various
Halcyon Press Ltd. (2010)
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Product Description
This Halcyon Classics ebook collection contains fifty classic science fiction short stories and novellas by more than forty different authors. Most of the stories in this collection were published during the heyday of popular science fiction magazines from the 1930s to the 1960s.
Included within this work are stories by H. Beam Piper, Phillip K. Dick, Walter M. Miller, Roger Aycock, Edmond Hamilton, Stephen Marlowe, Randall Garrett, Mack Reynolds, H.B. Fyfe, and many others.
This collection includes an active table of contents for easy navigation.
ONCE UPON A PLANET
By J. J. Allerton
MR. PRESIDENT
By Stephen Arr
THE FRIGHTENED PLANET
By Sidney Austen
PET FARM
By Roger D. Aycock
THE PLOTTERS
By Alexander Blade
LOVE STORY
By Irving E. Cox, Jr.
THE TRAP
By Betsy Curtis
CLEAN BREAK
By Roger Dee
THE VARIABLE MAN
By Philip K. Dick
UNIFORM OF A MAN
By Dave Dryfoos
CATEGORY PHOENIX
By Boyd Ellanby
SKIN GAME
By Charles E. Fritch
LET THERE BE LIGHT
By Horace B. Fyfe
SUITE MENTALE
By Randall Garrett
THE MEASURE OF A MAN
By Randall Garrett
THE SPHERE OF SLEEP
By Chester S. Geier
A THOUGHT FOR TOMORROW
By Robert E. Gilbert
BOOMERANG BULLETS
By James A. Goldthwaite
THE DOOR INTO INFINITY
By Edmond Hamilton
BEYOND THE THUNDER
By H. B. Hickey
FEET OF CLAY
By Phillip Hoskins
THE UNLEARNED
By Raymond F. Jones
PROJECT HUSH
By Phillip Klass
TAPE JOCKEY
By Tom Leahy
OOGIE FINDS LOVE
By Berkeley Livingston
BREEDER REACTION
By Winston Marks
BROWN JOHN'S BODY
By Winston Marks
EARTHSMITH
By Stephen Marlowe
WORLD BEYOND PLUTO
By Stephen Marlowe
THE HITCH HIKERS
By Vernon L. McCain
LIFE SENTENCE
By James McConnell
THE AMBASSADOR
By Sam Merwin, Jr.
WAY OF A REBEL
By Walter Miller, Jr.
OF TIME AND TEXAS
By William F. Nolan
THY NAME IS WOMAN
By Kenneth O'Hara
THE HELL SHIP
By Ray Palmer
THE MERCENARIES
By H. Beam Piper
THE OCTOPUS CYCLE
By Irvin Lester and Fletcher Pratt
THE SWORD
By Frank Quattrocchi
CODE THREE
By Rick Raphael
THE COMMON MAN
By Mack Reynolds
THE BOOK
By Michael Shaara
PROBABILITY
By Louis Trimble
SUCCESS STORY
By Robert Turner
THE JUDAS VALLEY
By Gerald Vance
MOON GLOW
By G. L. Vandenburg
WHEN THE MOON TURNED GREEN
By Hal K. Wells
THE END OF TIME
By Wallace West
PLANET OF THE GODS
By Robert Moore Williams
THE GOD IN THE BOX
By Sewell Peaslee Wright
Halcyon Classics Series
THE GOLDEN AGE OF SCIENCE FICTION VOLUME XIII:
AN ANTHOLOGY OF 50 SHORT STORIES
Revised Edition
Contents
ONCE UPON A PLANET
By J. J. Allerton
MR. PRESIDENT
By Stephen Arr
THE FRIGHTENED PLANET
By Sidney Austen
PET FARM
By Roger D. Aycock
THE PLOTTERS
By Alexander Blade
LOVE STORY
By Irving E. Cox, Jr.
THE TRAP
By Betsy Curtis
CLEAN BREAK
By Roger Dee
THE VARIABLE MAN
By Philip K. Dick
UNIFORM OF A MAN
By Dave Dryfoos
CATEGORY PHOENIX
By Boyd Ellanby
SKIN GAME
By Charles E. Fritch
LET THERE BE LIGHT
By Horace B. Fyfe
SUITE MENTALE
By Randall Garrett
THE MEASURE OF A MAN
By Randall Garrett
THE SPHERE OF SLEEP
By Chester S. Geier
A THOUGHT FOR TOMORROW
By Robert E. Gilbert
BOOMERANG BULLETS
By James A. Goldthwaite
THE DOOR INTO INFINITY
By Edmond Hamilton
BEYOND THE THUNDER
By H. B. Hickey
FEET OF CLAY
By Phillip Hoskins
THE UNLEARNED
By Raymond F. Jones
PROJECT HUSH
By Phillip Klass
TAPE JOCKEY
By Tom Leahy
OOGIE FINDS LOVE
By Berkeley Livingston
BREEDER REACTION
By Winston Marks
BROWN JOHN'S BODY
By Winston Marks
EARTHSMITH
By Stephen Marlowe
WORLD BEYOND PLUTO
By Stephen Marlowe
THE HITCH HIKERS
By Vernon L. McCain
LIFE SENTENCE
By James McConnell
THE AMBASSADOR
By Sam Merwin, Jr.
WAY OF A REBEL
By Walter Miller, Jr.
OF TIME AND TEXAS
By William F. Nolan
THY NAME IS WOMAN
By Kenneth O'Hara
THE HELL SHIP
By Ray Palmer
THE MERCENARIES
By H. Beam Piper
THE OCTOPUS CYCLE
By Irvin Lester and Fletcher Pratt
THE SWORD
By Frank Quattrocchi
CODE THREE
By Rick Raphael
THE COMMON MAN
By Mack Reynolds
THE BOOK
By Michael Shaara
PROBABILITY
By Louis Trimble
SUCCESS STORY
By Robert Turner
THE JUDAS VALLEY
By Gerald Vance
MOON GLOW
By G. L. Vandenburg
WHEN THE MOON TURNED GREEN
By Hal K. Wells
THE END OF TIME
By Wallace West
PLANET OF THE GODS
By Robert Moore Williams
THE GOD IN THE BOX
By Sewell Peaslee Wright
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Contents
ONCE UPON A PLANET
By J. J. Allerton
The mighty King Miotis came down to Earth to recapture his lost desire for war. But what he saw on this planet, caused him to feel differently.
Once upon a planet there was a mighty warlord
. The warlord's name was Miotis. Some might think it an odd name, but then it is entirely probable that the people of this planet would think the name of Smith or Jenkovitz odd. Be that as it may, however, the important thing is that Miotis was the name of this warlord, whatever one may feel about his name.
Now, Miotis was not just a mighty warrior, he was the mightiest warrior on the planet. As such, he controlled the life of every person there. For isn't it a truism that war bends men's destiny in the strangest fashions? So Miotis, with his entire life devoted to the art of destruction, was able to direct the lives of his subjects.
But one day, to his consternation and amazement, he found that the peoples of his planet had wearied of the sport of war. In the middle of his last campaign, his men as well as his enemies had laid down their arms and had refused to carry on as was their wont. And no amount of threat or punishment could make them change.
On this particular day when our story starts, Miotis was in his palace, his massive head leaning against a muscular palm, and his gaze intent on the face of his vizier, Kannot. It was not the sort of face Miotis was especially fond of seeing, for it was old, wrinkled, full of cunning and wisdom.
The vizier was, as always, full of words, and as he spoke one blunt finger tapped the side of his rather bulbous nose: "So you think it strange, mighty Miotis, to find that life is boring?"
"I do not find that life is boring," Miotis replied. "Life is never boring. It is I who am bored. That is the reason I called you here. I could have called any one of my nine hundred concubines for enjoyment, or had my warders drag forth some of my prisoners and found sport in torturing them. Yet, I did not, and I wonder why. In the past, these diversions made pleasant the passing of time. Now, I feel an ennui too great to even want to bother to summon one of these which used to give me so much pleasurable excitement.
"Tell me, vizier, have I become so full of war that I cannot live without it?"
Kannot clasped his hands behind him and rocked back and forth for several seconds, the while he bent a thoughtful and appraising eye upon his King. For Kannot knew the vagaries of the man before him and knew that a single word, a single gesture which would displease the great Miotis, would make fewer Kannot's days. Therefore, when he spoke again, it was with care, weighing his words so that he could give his opinion and yet not endanger his life.
"Methinks, oh greatest and wisest of Kings," Kannot said, "that since war has but a single end, something phenomenal in the universe must have occurred to make that end seem less reasonable."
He lowered his eyes, yet made sure he could peer beneath the hooded lids to see how his words were affecting Miotis. There was no sign on the other's face to show how he felt.
Kannot continued, "By that, I mean death may have become less attractive as a means of immortality. Is it not true, also, that you, the greatest and most noble of warriors, has yourself felt this same reluctance recently to even plan a war?"
The warlord's head nodded slightly in agreement.
"Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that some force of which we have no knowledge has made its presence felt--"
"Now you have presented the problem," Miotis interrupted. "But it is not enough. I want a solution. Already I am weary of this do-nothing life, though it is but a week since we have laid down arms."
Kannot made a sign of obeisance.
"Now go," Miotis said, "and seek out the cause and the solution. One week, vizier, I give you. No more! Your head shall roll, otherwise...."
* * * * *
The trumpets announced the arrival of the vizier, and at the sound the players stopped their tune and the dancers their dance. Miotis, looking as though he hadn't stirred from the position Kannot had left him in the week before, lifted his eyes to the bent figure making its way across the immense length of the hall.
"Mighty Miotis," Kannot began, his head bent and his eyes lowered in the correct attitude of court procedure.
"I bid you speak," Miotis said.
"My Lord, the words I have to say are for your ears alone," Kannot continued.
The warlord waved a hand, and as if by magic the court was emptied but for the guards who never left their posts.
"Speak, old one," Miotis commanded.
"I have found the cause, mighty one," Kannot said. "A surprising one, however, and perhaps an unbelievable one...."
The vizier did not look up, and his face betrayed nothing of what he felt. Yet, his aged heart was beating as if it wanted to escape the flesh in which it was imprisoned. The next words he would utter could spell his doom.
"I sent couriers in every direction, to all the courts of all the lands, to our friends as well as to our enemies. And on their return I discovered one fact in common: Not a single nation was interested in war. Something happened to each--"
"Old one," Miotis broke in, "you weary me with these boresome details. Come to the point! I know we are all tired dealing death. Why?"
"Because anger has fled from our minds and hearts," Kannot said, and his head lifted. He had spoken the words which had lain in him, the terrible words which could mean his death. And now the die was cast. The proof of his assertion would soon be shown.
An oddly bitter smile broke on the face of the man on the throne. It was the smile of a man who had learned the taste of utter defeat.
"So you have told me that which I knew in my heart," Miotis said. "Strange, that I, who loved nothing better than the sound of a sword's blow against armor, should even find the touch of steel repugnant now. Yet, it is so. I cannot carry a knife without having my flesh crawl, even though a scabbard protects me against its touch. Shall we all become a nation of shepherds? Shall we never again know the glory of battle? Tell me, vizier. Perhaps age has lent you an inner wisdom?"
"Wisdom's words are for the historian," Kannot replied. "I, Kannot, have no time for talk. The planning of deeds is my way. And I have a plan.
"Anger must be found again!" Kannot's voice rose shrilly. "It is our only salvation. But, mighty Miotis, we must look elsewhere than on this planet. There is a planet called Earth...."
* * * * *
Miotis' brow knit in thought. A planet called Earth, he thought. H'mm! But how were they to get to it? And having got there, did Kannot want them to invade? No, that couldn't be it. Already, the very thought of invading for purposes of conquest went against him.
"... On that planet," Kannot continued, "wars and death by violence are commonplace. There is never a day or week that does not pass but that somewhere men fight men. What better goal do we need?"
"You have done well," Miotis said. "I could ask for no more. Yet a question persists in my mind. How can you arrange for anger to come to the breasts of us here from the planet beyond the grey mists of outer space? We have no space ships, nor for that matter, the means of making them."
"I speak not of space ships or of men using them," Kannot responded, "for in that matter we have no choice. My thought was in another direction and using another means. I have discovered the way to make a soul-transfer. To put it into words you will better understand, I can do what death does, hold a soul in suspense."
"Which is supposed to have what meaning to me?" Miotis asked.
"Simply this," Kannot said, "I can make a single soul fly through the vast boundaries of space and into another human body which will be waiting for it. There is but a single man I know who can serve as vehicle--you, mighty Chieftain."
For the first time, Miotis' features showed change from the set expression he wore as a sign of his Kingship. Amazement made him blink, and the hand holding his chin fell to the side of the throne, the fingers tapping against the rich cloth. But after a minute, his face cleared and he looked with brighter interest at his vizier.
"Of course," he said. "Who else should go? And already I have a plan of action. Now tell me what must be done and how soon...."
* * * * *
Bly Stanton rolled over and groaned aloud. His hand shook as he lifted it to feel a throbb
ing temple. His fingers felt a sticky wetness, and memory returned to him--the raiding party of Himlo men, his discovery of them, and the alarm he had sounded, the fight, and then the blow which had felled him.
He rolled onto his stomach, shoved his hands under him and heaved himself erect. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Except for the buzzing in his brain, he felt all right.
Stanton looked down at his dust-covered clothes, and his fingers brushed at the dirt and mud, but when they came to his shirt they halted. There was a hole in his shirt, high up, near the heart. It was not a hole exactly, but rather a slit which could have been made either with a knife or sword. There was a dried welt of blood surrounding the skin. A shudder passed through his tall, strong frame, as he realized that it was a miracle he was alive. For whatever had done the damage had penetrated deep into the flesh.
The moon was full, and after a few seconds had passed, Stanton bent and searched for his weapon which, he was sure, would be close at hand. But as he found and picked up the long, double-edged sword, a shudder of distaste went through him, and he dropped his weapon and let it lay there.
Once more his fingers brushed at the wetness on his temple. He wondered why the blood was still coming from his head wound, while the cut in his chest had dried up.
He peered around to see if his attackers were anywhere in the vicinity, and decided that his immediate location was clear of danger. Another instant of orientation, and Bly Stanton bent low and scurried from one patch of cover to another until he reached his goal, the tunnel mouth. Here he would be safe for the present. The Himlo would not dare to follow him here.
His eyes, long accustomed to the sight of the broken arch, passed over the inscription worn deeply and almost illegibly on the green-with-age metal--Chicago Greater Subway, 2107 A.D. He was interested only in knowing whether or not danger lurked in the shadows. Again he sniffed. A small smile stole across his mouth. Then the lips tightened in their wonted thin slit, and he started forward at a long lope into the darkness.