Collected Tales
Jerry eBooks
No copyright 2020 by Jerry eBooks
No rights reserved. All parts of this book may be reproduced in any form and by any means for any purpose without any prior written consent of anyone.
COLLECTED TALES
F.L. Wallace
(custom book cover)
Jerry eBooks
Title Page
About F.L. Wallace
Bibliography
Short Fiction Bibliography: chronological
Short Fiction Bibliography: alphabetical
HIDEAWAY
ACCIDENTAL FLIGHT
DELAY IN TRANSIT
STUDENT BODY
WORLDS IN BALANCE
TANGLE HOLD
THE MUSIC MASTER
SEASONED TRAVELER
FORGET ME NEARLY
THE DEADLY ONES
THE IMPOSSIBLE VOYAGE HOME
THE MAN WHO WAS SIX
SIMPLE PSIMAN
BIG ANCESTOR
END AS A WORLD
BOLDEN’S PETS
THE ASSISTANT SELF
MEZZEROW LOVES COMPANY
A LITTLE THING FOR THE HOUSE
QUEEN OF CLOTHES
THE NEVADA VIRUS
GROWING SEASON
SECOND LANDING
PRIVATES ALL
F.L. Wallace, sometimes credited as Floyd Wallace, was born on February 16, 1915 in Rock Island, Illinois. After graduating from the University of Iowa and UCLA, Wallace spent most of his life as a mechanical engineer.
Wallace, who began publishing sf with “Hideaway” for Astounding Science Fiction in 1951, was more strongly associated with Galaxy Science Fiction in the 1950s, the period of his greatest activity, where he quickly established a reputation for style, wit and emotional depth. His mystery works include “Driving Lesson,” a second-prize winner in the twelfth annual short story contest held by Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. His sf novel, Address: Centauri, was published by Gnome Press in 1955; and has been reprinted several times over the years. But Wallace was less fluent at novel length, and by the end of the twentieth century had been all-but-forgotten, though the ebook release of several stories has begun to bring him once again to notice.
F.L. Wallace died on November 26, 2004 in Tustin, California.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Novels
Address: Centauri (1955)
Chapbooks
Worlds in Balance (1955)
Mezzerow Loves Company (2007)
Second Landing (2008)
Bolden's Pets (2009)
Student Body (2010)
Forget Me Nearly (2010)
Tangle Hold (2010)
Accidental Flight (2010)
The Impossible Voyage Home (2010)
End as a World (2016)
Big Ancestor (2016)
Delay in Transit (2016)
The Man Who Was Six (2016)
Collections
The Eleventh Golden Age of Science Fiction Megapack (2014)
Omnibus
Address: Centauri / If These Be Gods (2014) with Algis Budrys
SHORT FICTION BIBLIOGRAPHY
CHRONOLOGICAL
1951
Hideaway, Astounding Science Fiction, February 1951
1952
Accidental Flight, Galaxy Science Fiction, April 1952
Delay in Transit, Galaxy Science Fiction, September 1952
1953
Student Body, Galaxy Science Fiction, March 1953
Worlds in Balance, Science-Fiction Plus, May 1953
Tangle Hold, Galaxy Science Fiction, June 1953
The Music Master, Imagination, November 1953
Seasoned Traveller, Universe Science Fiction, December 1953
1954
Forget Me Nearly, Galaxy Science Fiction, June 1954
The Deadly Ones, Fantastic Universe, July 1954
The Impossible Voyage Home, Galaxy Science Fiction, August 1954
The Man Who Was Six, Galaxy Science Fiction, September 1954
Simple Psiman, Startling Stories, Fall, October 1954
Big Ancestor, Galaxy Science Fiction, November 1954
1955
End as a World, Galaxy Science Fiction, September 1955
Bolden’s Pets, Galaxy Science Fiction, October 1955
1956
The Assistant Self, Fantastic Universe, March 1956
Mezzerow Loves Company, Galaxy Science Fiction, June 1956
A Little Thing for the House, Astounding Science Fiction, July 1956
Still Screaming, Manhunt, July 1956
1957
The Insecticide Murder, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, March 1957
Queen of Clothes, Fantastic Universe, May 1957
Driving Lesson, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, August 1957
The Nevada Virus, Venture Science Fiction, September 1957
1959
The Cop Hater, Manhunt, June 1959
Growing Season, If, July 1959
Date with a Coroner, Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, November 1959
1960
Second Landing, Amazing Stories, January 1960
1961
Privates All, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September 1961
SHORT FICTION BIBLIOGRAPHY
ALPHABETICAL
A Little Thing for the House, Astounding Science Fiction, July 1956
Accidental Flight, Galaxy Science Fiction, April 1952
The Assistant Self, Fantastic Universe, March 1956
Big Ancestor, Galaxy Science Fiction, November 1954
Bolden’s Pets, Galaxy Science Fiction, October 1955
The Cop Hater, Manhunt, June 1959
Date with a Coroner, Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, November 1959
The Deadly Ones, Fantastic Universe, July 1954
Delay in Transit, Galaxy Science Fiction, September 1952
Driving Lesson, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, August 1957
End as a World, Galaxy Science Fiction, September 1955
Forget Me Nearly, Galaxy Science Fiction, June 1954
Growing Season, If, July 1959
Hideaway, Astounding Science Fiction, February 1951
The Impossible Voyage Home, Galaxy Science Fiction, August 1954
The Insecticide Murder, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, March 1957
The Man Who Was Six, Galaxy Science Fiction, September 1954
Mezzerow Loves Company, Galaxy Science Fiction, June 1956
The Music Master, Imagination, November 1953
The Nevada Virus, Venture Science Fiction, September 1957
Privates All, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September 1961
Queen of Clothes, Fantastic Universe, May 1957
Seasoned Traveller, Universe Science Fiction, December 1953
Second Landing, Amazing Stories, January 1960
Simple Psiman, Startling Stories, Fall, October 1954
Still Screaming, Manhunt, July 1956
Student Body, Galaxy Science Fiction, March 1953
Tangle Hold, Galaxy Science Fiction, June 1953
Worlds in Balance, Science-Fiction Plus, May 1953
HIDEAWAY
Sometimes things can’t be hidden in any normal way—there is no place to hide. But when that thing is not necessarily physical, there’s a most excellent hiding place—and it’s just as hard to find as it is good for hiding!
“I am not the one you want,” Pawl said. His body slouched forward and his head bent over wearily. “I thought I hated you, but now I guess I don’t. You’re nice.” He hesitated and then volunteered this information: “You want my sister.” The slender dark-haired woman at his side answered promptly. “Yes, I am the one you want. Out th
ere I wanted to destroy you,” and she inclined her head at the forest that stretched for a thousand miles beyond the clearing. “Now that I am here I am not so sure. But if you set me free I will go on with my work. And I will not stop until I find the answer.” She paused helplessly and glanced at the figure next to her. “You want my husband, too,” she added.
“Of course you want me,” said the man. “Probability is my weapon. And I nearly had the problem solved. The fact that I evaded your random patrols for fifteen years is all the proof you need.
“You had better not let me go. Another five years work on my theory and you will never catch me. And once I know that it is possible to be safe from you, I will give the information to our scientists and they will decide what to do with you.”
In response to the unspoken question he answered dully. “There are only two of us. I know of no other person you want.”
The inquisitor swiveled his glowing eyes to the next in line.
Throughout most of the night the investigation went on in the darkness. And when it was finished the people were divided into two groups. One group filed stolidly into the dully gleaming ship. The others knew that now they must leave.
And they walked away into the darkness, advancing in whatever direction they had been facing, stumbling over bushes and colliding with trees. In fifteen minutes Pawl could hear, though not very well. He stepped on a rattlesnake, but he did not notice; it coiled around his leg until it was torn off by the brush. It made no attempt to sink its fangs into his flesh. He could hear it threshing slowly about on the floor of the forest behind him.
By degrees the functions of his mind came hack; in the gathering light he could see obstacles in time to avoid them. As he put more distance between himself and the ship something began to trouble him; he tried to think but he could not. He tried to remember what he had left behind, but it was no use. He frowned stiffly as the branches whipped at his face and tore at his clothing.
Suddenly the sun came over the, mountains and he blinked in the morning sunlight. He sat down on a log near a small stream, and as he sat there the paralysis left his mind. He knew that the ship had departed with its captives. And he remembered what he had left behind.
He buried his face in his hands and did not notice the blood that dripped over his fingers. He sat there for a long time before a voice called harshly to him: “I see they let you go, too.”
He looked up to see a girl standing by the brook. Her clothing was torn and she was covered with scratches. He did not answer her. Painfully she bent over the creek and drank from it. Then she walked downstream and behind the partial concealment of the bushes she removed her short, one-piece garment and bathed in the stream.
She came back and stood at his side. “Better get in the water, too,” she said. He looked at her dully and did not move. “Go on,” she said. “No use thinking about it. You can’t do anything for the ones they took. In two thousand years nobody has ever got away from the podians. Save your concern for the ones they didn’t take—this time.”
She was right and he knew it. At her continued insistence he got up slowly and bathed in the pool. The cold water cleared his head; the scratches burned and his eyes smarted. When he was clothed again he came back.
“Who did you lose?” he asked.
She grimaced. “No one—recently.”
He looked down at her as she pressed her hands hard against her head. He recognized the familiar symptoms. And he could see that even under the mask of pain that she was pretty. “How many times have they questioned you?” he asked sternly.
“Four times,” she admitted. “Four times in the last two years.”
“You’ve got to stop it,” he said. “It doesn’t do any good to follow them around, hoping you’ll learn how to resist them. You never become immune to podians.”
“I don’t have any plan,” she said. “I don’t have any special knowledge. I do the only thing I know how.”
He looked at her in vague pity. She was a symbol of the human race. Brave and ignorant and helpless. “If you don’t have a plan,” he said harshly, “don’t do anything. Go down to the village and get married and have children. Some day we will learn how to fight them.” He turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Back.” He waved his hand in the direction he had come from during the night. “The podians are gone now.”
“Can I go with you?” Her fear of being left alone was apparent; she was afraid, not of the wilderness, but of her own reactions to that ruthless mental violation. He nodded and she joined him. Together they retraced his path of the previous night. Soon she asked him: “Do you have a plan?”
He started to answer and then checked his reply. “No,” he admitted. He did not speak his thoughts; he did not reveal the improbable idea which just then was forming in his mind.
“Then you’re safe,” she laughed bitterly. “If you don’t know anything they can use against us or we can use against them, they won’t take you.”
“I am an indifferently good electronics man—” he started to say. He stopped speaking as soon as he recognized the words of the famous man.
“Is that a quotation from Hall or a definition of your own abilities?”
“Both,” he answered shortly. “Hall,” she mused. “Hall and Steinberg. The great hope of mankind. And they failed. How long have they been dead?”
“Eighty years.”
“I keep forgetting,” she said, struggling through the underbrush.
“You’ve got to keep away from them,” he said. “A few years rest, and you’ll be all right. But if you don’t keep away from the podians, you’ll die like Hall and Steinberg did.”
“At least they died trying,” she said absently. “They locked themselves and their wives in cages when they knew the patrol was coming over. And they died of cerebral hemorrhage when they could not obey the mental commands.
“And the kids,” she went on wearily. “What did they do? They might have continued the work. But no, no sooner were their parents dead than they left like lemmings. And went to live with the podians.”
“That’s not exactly true,” he said, climbing up the hill toward the clearing. “The children left all right. But they didn’t go to the podians. It just happened that the podians built a new station close to the place the children settled on. They couldn’t he blamed for that.”
She was not listening to him.
“Like lemmings,” she wailed.
“Stop it,” he said sternly as he stood at the edge of the clearing and surveyed the wreckage. “If you want to get hysterical you can leave. I’ve got work to do.”
She started to stumble away down the hill. He sprang after her, disgusted with himself and irritated at her. “Don’t go,” he said. “I was busy thinking about other things.” He looked deep into her eyes. She was not pretty, he decided. She was beautiful. And not much more than a kid herself. He kissed her gently.
She smiled weakly at him and leaned against a tree.
He scouted the assembled craft for an intact plane. Small as the clearing was, any of the planes could have been landed in it easily if the humans retained their normal reactions. But under the control of the podians no one was normal; he had but one impulse, and that was to obey the command that permeated his mind. And usually they summoned only those who might be dangerous to them.
Not many of those who brought their planes to the clearing would return to claim them. Under the prevailing law of the times, such property belonged to him who found it and needed it.
Pawl located a small, finely constructed skycar which had been little damaged. Into it, from his own plane, which would not fly away from there without considerable repair, he transferred an electronic calculator. He went back to his old plane again and searched through it thoroughly. But he did not find what he wanted.
“They took those, too,” he said in despair.
“Took what?” asked Lura.
“The c
alculations and exposition of the probability theory.”
“Were they any good?”
“He evaded them for ten years.”
“But that could be accidental. The ten-year period is only a mean figure.”
“No one working against the podians ever eluded them for more than twelve years unless he had a method. Besides, the two of them came to ask me if I would do some electronic work for them. If they had staved where they were, they might still be safe,” he answered bitterly.
“Nothing we do is any use,” she said tonelessly. “Those calculations might have saved my father. Or they might still save my uncle, who is a mathematician.”
Pawl got in the skycar. “Come on. I’ll drop you off at the village. I’m going there to tell the villagers where the planes are. They can salvage them.”
“You’re not just going to the village,” she said.
“He had another set of calculations. All the mathematicians do. I’m going to get them before the podians do.”
“I’m going with you,” she said determinedly. “Will you take them to my uncle?” She started to climb in the skycar. The previous owner, in a grim jesting mood, had painted on the side a lifelike picture of the podian. The three segmented body, a surrealist lobster or a foreshortened, compacted praying mantis, stared at her with luminescent, stalked eyes.
She covered her face with her hands. “Those eyes,” she said in a stifled voice.
“It’s not their eyes,—” he said. “No, not their eyes.”
A planetary zoo, an old writer had once called the earth over which Pawl and Lura flew. But that was only a partial definition. A case hardened university, maybe; a grim research center, perhaps; a, prison, yes; a world-wide rat maze certainly; it was all these things in varying degree. And, of course, it was a zoo; the bars were there though they could not always be seen. And the bars would not stay in any one place. Sometimes they inclosed a continent; again, only around a small area would the force fields be erected while the mind patrols combed the population for those who could be of service to them.
A zoo where the animals came to look at the people, and where one set of bars were never moved—those that inclosed the entire planet.