By Dave Dryfoos
The Golden Age of technology Fiction Megapacks are designed to introduce readers to vintage technological know-how fiction writers who may well rather be forgotten.
Dave Dryfoos (1915-2003), who produced a gradual flow of frothy SF tales for the likes of Galaxy technology Fiction, Fantastic Adventures, Startling Stories, Imagination, Future technological know-how Fiction, and others is one such unjustly forgotten author.
About the Megapacks
Over the previous few years, our “Megapack” sequence of booklet anthologies has proved to be certainly one of our most well-liked endeavors. (Maybe it is helping that we occasionally provide them as charges to our mailing list!) One query we maintain getting requested is, “Who’s the editor?”
The Megapacks (except the place particularly credited) are a gaggle attempt. every body at Wildside works on them. This comprises John Betancourt, Mary Wickizer Burgess, Sam Cooper, Carla Coupe, Steve Coupe, Bonner Menking, Colin Azariah-Kribbs, Robert Reginald. A. E. Warren, and plenty of of Wildside’s authors… who usually recommend tales to incorporate (and not only their own!)
• Some love it Cold
• Tree, Spare That Woodman
• Blunder Enlightening
• Waste now not, Want
• High Sign
• Uniform of a Man
• Journey Work
• “lest Ye Be Judged…”
• Seller of the Sky
• Something for the Birds
• Facts of Life
• Preferred Position
• Sign of Life
• The Price
• The out of date Spaceman
• Bridge Crossing
• The signal of Homo Sap
• Too Dense to Die
Read or Download The Ninth Golden Age of Science Fiction Megapack: Featuring 19 Stories by Dave Dryfoos (Golden Age of SF Megapack, Book 9) PDF
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Additional resources for The Ninth Golden Age of Science Fiction Megapack: Featuring 19 Stories by Dave Dryfoos (Golden Age of SF Megapack, Book 9)
George knew he used to be nonetheless alive basically simply because he’d acted like a infantile eager-beaver. And were tolerated by means of the others simply because he used to be the crew’s youngest member. Ever seeing that he may possibly learn and dream, he’d desired to be the 1st guy ever to the touch the soil of Venus. So, having no tasks hooked up with surroundings down the send, he’d gotten into his space-suit and had waited by way of a hatch. He used to be status there whilst the send went into the twenty-mile loose fall that smashed it. George didn’t understand who opened the break out hatch and shoved him out. That guy was once lifeless, in addition to the remainder of the group. in contrast to George’s go well with, the space-ship had no parachute. He’d landed blind, in dirt so thick he didn’t be aware of he used to be down until eventually he received there. For forty-eight hours he’d lain the place he fell, anticipating a lull within the hurricane so he may perhaps see the send. while the wind ultimately give up, the send used to be already part buried. Thirsty, hungry, stinking within the sizzling swimsuit, George had staggered over windrow after windrow of airborne dirt and dust to arrive it. He’d damaged out an emergency-jug of water, discovered a few uncontaminated foodstuff, erected in the hull a small gas-proof tent, after which handed out ahead of he may move slowly within the tent to consume and drink. Later he’d long past out whereas the lull persisted, to look for our bodies. just like the hull itself, they have been scattered over a large zone. a few have been already buried in dirt. The wind had buried them. The wind—the murdering wind. The wind of formaldehyde that poisoned each drop of water it touched, every piece of foodstuff. The wind that constrained George’s provides to unbroken containers—of which there have been tragically few. The wind mocked him, then and thereafter. It mocked his efforts to discover the ship’s log and proceed it. It mocked his efforts to stay. He attempted to struggle again. He lay services and cozy simply because that took much less oxygen. He lay within the swimsuit and never within the tent simply because that took much less oxygen. He ate and drank yet as soon as an afternoon simply because that took much less oxygen. So he had run out of water whereas there have been nonetheless a few potassium oxides left to refresh his thrice-breathed air, a few oxygen for the tent. George major desired to reside, knew he might die. And was once enraged on the suggestion that he may die with no need finished whatever. He and his buddies, and the pioneering scientists again of them, had placed an excessive amount of attempt into trans-system shuttle to have all of it come to not anything like this. Stubbornly he famous within the log that he was once now dehydrated to the purpose of occasional delirium. And that he hated the wind. as though that wind had no longer already performed sufficient, it now sought to damage his final closing moments of sanity. It introduced horde of strange shapes to hang-out him. The shapes actually rolled into the airborne dirt and dust crammed steel hollow space the place he lay writing. The wind rolled them. but if they obtained into shelter—had rolled to at least one part or the opposite of the holes by which they’d come—the shapes started to flow, slowly, less than their very own energy. all of them appeared alike. there have been a few dozen, perhaps— George counted ten and gave up simply because counting used to be an excessive amount of like paintings.