GALACTIC GHOST
By WALTER KUBILIUS
The Flying Dutchman of space was a harbinger
of death. But Willard wasn't superstitions.
He had seen the phantom—and lived.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The only friend in space Willard had ever known was dying. Dobbin's lips were parched and his breath came spasmodically. The tips of his fingers that had so many times caressed the control board of the Mary Lou were now black as meteor dust.
"We'll never see Earth again," he whispered feebly, plucked weakly at the cover.
"Nonsense!" Willard broke in hurriedly, hoping that the dying man would not see through the lie. "We've got the sun's gravity helping us drift back to Earth! We'll be there soon! You'll get well soon and we'll start to work again on a new idea of mine...." His voice trailed helplessly away and the words were lost. It was no use.
The sick man did not hear him. Two tears rolled down his cheeks. His face contorted as he tried to withhold a sob.