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Save me! was the relentless cry. Saveme! And not one, not a single damned one of them, paused to say (with even a trace of concern):Physician, heal thyself . . . I think so, sir. 10th Annual Edition: The Years Best S-F Sabina was about to rise when something nearby that glinted in the lamplight caught her eye. A small, sharp-pointed piece of metal perhaps three-quarters of an inch long— the tip of a knife or dagger blade, she judged, an old one from the look of the metal. Very old. It was age stained, but it bore no trace of blood. She wrapped it in her handkerchief, taking and holding a deep breath as she did so, then quickly stood, switched off the lamp shed lit, and madeher exit. "Some golden saw the plans for them in a civilisation in Magellanic-9." Grumbling and glowering, Quincannon returned to the observation area to fetch his valise. He took it into his stateroom, then almost but not quite closed the door, leaving a crack through which he could look out into the tunnel. He stood watch there for the better part of half an hour. Buffalo Coat had evidently been invited to spend the rest of the night with the promiscuous, duplicitous Miss Dupree. … call Cartiers, something for the Comtessa, 17 carats say, ceiling of ten thousand. No, make it eight thousand. … Hunt well, Har-dasha, then! I await you always, the old creature said, using the ritual formula of acquiescence. ALLEN KIM LANG:Thaw and Serve, BF&SF.14 Yech! the woman agreed, smashing it and wiping her dirtied thumb on her dirtied dress. Goddam boogs! I hate em, I swear to God. But whats a person gonna do? Now, what I wanted to ask, sweetheart, is do you have a problem with the boogs? Being as how you’re right next door, I thought—” She smiled a confidential smile, as though to say this is just between us ladies. Marcia almost expected a roach to skitter out between her gapped teeth. She sat up.I dont even know a doctor since Press Smith was killed by those robbing kids and I’d be scared. Oh, thepocketbook. Abruptly she lifted the purse and hit him on the head. An empty box of raisins. Neither at the moment. Its information I’m after. Thank you, John. Folks, were happy to say that in the last few hours the early trend of the night’s action has been reversed and the American team once again has a substantial lead. Squads five and six were wiped out in an early-evening engagement in the mid-eastern sector, but they gave a good account of themselves. The Russians lost eleven men and a light machine gun in their efforts to get this thorn out of their side. And I’m happy to say the American light machine gun carried by squad six was successfully destroyed before the squad was overrun. But the big news this morning is the success of the American mortar and sniper squads. Our mortars accounted for six dead and two seriously wounded as opposed to only two killed and one wounded by the Russian mortars. Our sniper squad, working in two-man teams, was successful in killing five men; whereas we only lost one man to enemy sniper action last night. We’ll have a great shot coming up, folks, showing Private Cecil Harding from Plainview, New Jersey, killing a Russian captain in his sleep with nothing more than a sharp rock. But this time he had stepped out of character: out of his specialty. Hollywood is not the only American scene where typecasting prevails. Back when man was first learning how to misuse atomic power, everybody got all excited about the effects of radiation on germ plasm. Yet nobody seemed much concerned over the effects of unshielded radiation in space on that germ plasm—out from under the protecting blanket of Earths atmosphere, away from the natural conditions where man had evolved..
