Z-Day on Centauri

by Henry T. Simmons

Z-DAY ON CENTAURI

By HENRY T. SIMMONS

Erupting from hyper-space in the teeth
of startled DIC patrols and readying all
hands for a crash-landing, adventurer
Fletcher Pell could still wonder which he
dreaded more—the U-235 in the hold ...
or the strange girl by his side.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1948.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

---

Pell twisted into the black maw of the alley and ran silently and swiftly into its depths. His breath came in whistling agonized gasps. Faintly he heard the footsteps of his assailant—now more clearly as the latter turned into the alley after him. Vaguely Pell could make out his silhouette outlined by the dim light that filtered in from the street.

"Ugh!" Pell struck a hard surface at the end of the alley with a grunt that he could not stifle.

Trapped! Frantically he felt about to find an opening. Softly and steadily he cursed himself, trying to keep black despair at bay. Maybe if he ... but the idea died in birth.

"Chuu!"

A blue lancet of flame arced over Pell's shoulder and struck the wall, turning a small area into running slag. The heat and prickling of the radiation Pell ignored. But the brief flash had given up his position. Then he heard his pursuer laugh softly and he knew the game was up. He felt rather than heard him moving in.