Resultado narrado por "Scott Miller" em Todas as categorias

He stared with fascination at a heap of newspapers spread out on the corner stand. He could guess the purpose of these layers of white sheets covered with black or red symbols, but he could not yet interpret them, and he had no idea whether anyone had seen or reported his ship. It was almost certain that someone had observed a shooting star, but the chances were very much against any observation having been made of the star’s slow, dark drift to Earth.

The Queen of Space written by Joseph Slotkin: Helen LaTour had the best hip wriggle in galactic Burleyque. In fact, it was so good she hipped herself smack into another dimension! I was relaxin' with my second Plutonian Stinger in the dignified atmosphere of Charley's Venusian Retreat when there was this strange noise outside the dive, like a flock of hot jets hittin' the atmosphere. Right after a character comes bustin' through the door.

Xhanph was the fully accredited ambassador from Gfun and Earth's first visitor from outer space. History and the amenities called for a tremendous reception. But, Earth people are funny people. All the way over, all through the loneliness of the long trip, he had consoled himself with the thought of the reception he would get; how they would crowd around him, how they would gape and cheer! All the most prominent and most important Earthlings would rush to see him, to touch their own appendages to his tentacles, to receive his report of interplanetary good will.

Homer was a shy Faderfield bachelor; his visitor was a beautiful Pleiades girl. At any rate, she was a girl, and Homer had a problem. The fly rod, the letter, and the small jar of paint were half of the problem Homer Hopkins had to solve. The other half rested in his complex mind. Fader's Fadeless Formulae had offered him a position, not a job, to take charge of its research department, at 10,000 a year, twice what he was paid at Faderfield Junior College to teach chemistry. All this was in the letter.

It was well after dark when Matt Matthews got back down to the headquarters camp, and saw the city stranger sitting there before the fire. He knew he was a city man after a single glance at the shiny, low-topped shoes and the reminiscence of a crease in the dusty trousers. Matt tossed the gophers and the two small coyotes off his broad shoulders to old Moe Arhelger, across the campfire, staring in suspicious silence from the stranger to Moe and back again. "Who's he?" he asked finally.

Murph, Forsyth, and Jamison heard the alien voice warn them. And to each it sounded familiar - a sweetheart, a son, a hated enemy! In a dwindling spiral, they circled the planet, and Murph's cold blue eyes studied the radar screen. Things looked good: no sign of cities, social denizens, or humanoids. He was scribbling notes on his desk when the all-wave above him started crackling. He watched the green line sweep back and forth along the dial, finally centering on the wavelength that was broadcasting. As it focused, the speaker sputtered in.

You must understand that Palmer loved his wife as much as ever, or he would never have thought of his simple little scheme at all. It was entirely for her own good, as he had told himself a dozen times in the past day. And with that, he stilled whatever qualms of conscience he might otherwise have had. He didn't think of himself as being something of a murderer. Life here had been wonderful, incredibly satisfying. At least it had been that way for him. And now it would be the same way for his wife as well.

They still talk of Braun, and the Fourth Intergalactic Survey. Other men before him had gone out into the far, dark places. Three previous expeditions had gone out and vanished completely. Then the Venture IV went out and out and out countless miles and light-years and whatever else it is - and out there in the lonely darkness, something happened. Nobody knew exactly what happened, but there was a lot of guessing. Only one man came back. Braun. And there was talk...

Somehow, Jeff Engel followed the stranger into another world - among people who hated all aliens. And, of course, he was now one himself! Jeff Engel studied the feverish crowd hurrying through the subway turnstiles. As he checked each passing face against a card-index mind, he smiled to himself. Even when off duty, the habit persisted. There was always the chance he'd spot a face that would fit, one that would close another active file in the Missing Persons Bureau.

Another village has been found in ruin, with only the massive prints of a monstrous creature left to identify the culprit. The Honengyo has turned upon the people of the Hoshin clan, and only death and destruction will sate its appetite. Left with little choice, Lord Torogawa calls upon the infamous wandering samurai, Shintaro Oba, to deal with the beast. But can he and his demon-killing sword, Koumakiri, prevail against something as old as the very mountains themselves? And what of his own personal quest for vengeance?

Prescott stood to make a young fortune if he could capture a Martian zloor - dead or alive! Was there a catch to it? Only for the hunter!

It's been years since the first Emergence, since the first specimen of the kaiju scourge awoke from millennia of dormancy beneath the sea and wrought untold devastation upon the cities of man. Much has since been lost, but a great deal gained, too. In the crucible of extinction-level events, a new breed of super-soldier, capable of interfacing with the beasts, was born.

The depths of the ocean are as dark and unknowable as the emptiness of space. But to Doctor Clair Margraves, a marine biologist, there’s nothing quite like the thrill of discovery to sate her curiosity. Her next adventure will see her piloting a deep-submersion vehicle on its maiden voyage to the bottom of the Mariana Trench. But something strange is going on at the bottom of the ocean floor, something she’s never seen before. And she intends to find out what.

With the civil war over, the president assassinated, and the South in reconstruction, Tyrell Thompsett knew the country would be crying for beef. His long-held dream was to have his own ranch and to follow in the footsteps of his father that started the first ranch in the Medicine Bow range of Wyoming territory. Now, with his new wife, a member of the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico, and his friend, Grey Wolf and his wife of the Mouache Ute, he set out to make that dream a reality.

Disease contaminated their ship; any moment one of them might become infected and spray lethal sparks to the others. There was no cure - except prevention. And, that meant three spacemen left to die! Commander Al Andrews had closed and locked the energy-proof, neutralizing bulkheads against the creeping red glow that infected one quadrant of his circular space ship. Now, he stood in the control center, in the midsection of the revolving wagon-wheel ship, looking at Oakey Matthews.

Maw Coy climbed the fence down at the end of the south pasture and started up the side of the creek, carrying her bundle over her shoulder and puffing slightly at her exertion. She forded the creek there at the place where Hank's old coon dog, Jigger, was killed by the boar three years ago during the hunting season. Jumping from rock to rock across the creek made her puff even harder; Maw Coy wasn't as young as she once was.

I'm not exactly broke, but this Major Daphne owned more planets than I do golf balls. Whereas my mining interests were mostly on earth, the Major got in early on the Centaurus grab. A whole generation later, all I could stake out was one hot little hunk of tropical mud that no one else would fool with. Daphne liked to kid me about my "galactic empire" every time we collided at the club. I was a bachelor and Daphne was married, but he spent more time there than I.

Julia is a care robot. A technological marvel created in a world not so different from our own. Designed to function with the utmost care and precision, she is charged with looking after an eccentric old professor. Things seem normal at first, but when she starts losing time, her suspicions turn to the old man - and then things really get weird.

For 20 long unholy years, Hurtz, the pilot, dreamed of retirement...and found his "acre of heaven" on a death star. Hurtz went through the automatic motions of preparing himself for their landing on the small unnamed planet, but each thing he did was a wasted motion because it was really the boy, Jones, who was going to put the rocket down. And, what could Hurtz do now? The hard, aging muscles of his body were taut, and although the lines about his eyes had deepened, his eyes - blue and sparkling - still retained their old ferocity.

The Overland stage line had become the target of raids by the Dog Soldiers, a confederacy of Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Lakota, that sought to regain the land stolen from the Indians by the new government of Colorado Territory. A bitter cold winter added to the danger of the continued assaults on wagon trains, stage stations, and stages.