ICE PLANET
by CARL SELWYN
He saw the huge ball that
was Neptune circle below,
like a weak green light bulb.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Comet May 41.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"If it's going to happen," thought Bill Ricker, "it's got to be quick." Lounging deep in his red-leather chair, he peered out of the port as the sleek space ship streamed through the darkness. He could see nothing outside but a big, humorous-eyed young man who was his own reflection and the pale green globe that was Neptune. The great planet hung like a ghostly emerald in the void, sinister in its loneliness. But bleak, desolate, a snowball of frozen gases, it was hardly the place for an ambush....
"Pretty, ain't she?" said the whiskery old fellow across the aisle.
"Neptune?" Ricker glanced at the sourdough, then followed his gaze down the narrow aisle. "Oh—her!"
There were twelve seats but only five passengers. Further down was a tubercular-looking Martian and near the pilot room sat a fat man with a woman. The fat man chewed sleepily on a dead cigar and the woman stared out of the window. They were handcuffed together.
"Ever seen the orchids on Amor?" said Ricker. "Well, she's just as beautiful—and just as dangerous...." She was obviously Venusian but her skin wasn't exactly yellow, he decided. It was golden brown, little different from a deeply-tanned Earth girl.