the small bears
By Gene L. Henderson
The aliens looked cute as Koalas.
But there was a little matter of
a graveyard of dead space-ships.
A STORY THAT SHOWS WHAT PERIL
MAY LIE UNDER A FUR COAT.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Fantastic Universe June-July 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Billowy white clouds hid the entire surface of the mystery planet and the space-cruiser cautiously searched, seeking an opening. A wind disturbance momentarily split the misty blanket and like an arrow the ship darted through.
The sudden movement had caught some of the men unprepared and Dr. Dick Boyette hurried past fully-manned battle stations to answer a call from the control-room. It required but a couple of minutes to revive a technician who had stumbled into a panel and afterward Boyette stood in the background, watching.
Everywhere, as far as the eye could see, the terrain was dotted by patches of woods and green meadows. The perpetual cloud blanket was two miles high, thin enough so that it barely diffused the sunlight. Enough, Boyette thought, so that the planet would have been a mystery even without the disappearance of all ships that had visited it.
"No sign of life," growled Commander Kellews, breaking the silence.