The Ninth Golden Age of Science Fiction Megapack: Featuring 19 Stories by Dave Dryfoos (Golden Age of SF Megapack, Book 9)

11 Dec

The Ninth Golden Age of Science Fiction Megapack: Featuring 19 Stories by Dave Dryfoos (Golden Age of SF Megapack, Book 9)

The Ninth Golden Age of Science Fiction Megapack: Featuring 19 Stories by Dave Dryfoos (Golden Age of SF Megapack, Book 9)

Dave Dryfoos

Language: English

Pages: 149

ISBN: 2:00351089

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


The Golden Age of Science Fiction Megapacks are designed to introduce readers to classic science fiction writers who might otherwise be forgotten.

Dave Dryfoos (1915-2003), who produced a steady stream of frothy SF stories for the likes of Galaxy Science Fiction, Fantastic Adventures, Startling Stories, Imagination, Future Science Fiction, and others is one such unjustly forgotten author.

About the Megapacks
Over the last few years, our “Megapack” series of ebook anthologies has proved to be one of our most popular endeavors. (Maybe it helps that we sometimes offer them as premiums to our mailing list!) One question we keep getting asked is, “Who’s the editor?”
The Megapacks (except where specifically credited) are a group effort. Everyone at Wildside works on them. This includes John Betancourt, Mary Wickizer Burgess, Sam Cooper, Carla Coupe, Steve Coupe, Bonner Menking, Colin Azariah-Kribbs, Robert Reginald. A. E. Warren, and many of Wildside’s authors… who often suggest stories to include (and not just their own!)

Contents:
Some Like It Cold
Tree, Spare That Woodman
Blunder Enlightening
Waste 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
Man
The Old-Fashioned Spaceman
Bridge Crossing
The Sign of Homo Sap
Too Dense to Die

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ollie filled out the application, leaving the job title blank. The only thing that gave him pause, aside from the difficulty of seeing, was his arrest record, and in time he decided to put it down just as it was, including the pending assault charge with its implication of jumped bail. After an hour a young captain entered the building and went to the office marked Adjutant. A fat major gave Ollie a piercing glance and then entered the Civilian Personnel office. At about five minutes of eight

said. “Tm still bound and determined not to give my consent.” “Listen! My name is also Ray Fincek. And I’m bound and determined to go!” “At the price of not seeing your wife and boy for a long time?” Silence. Then, “That’ll be O.K., Dad. Just so my boy wants to pilot, too. Just so he wants to be like his Grandpa—” The air went dead again, till Twoie asked, “Still there, Dad?” “Yeah, I’m here,” Ray answered heavily. “And I guess I’ll still be here when you get back. Good luck, Twoie. I’ll

fixing the ship.” “I’m busy,” he snapped, and turned toward the girl. “Please, Myron,” she said, gently turning him around again. “If you could lend me some clothes, and find something to do outside while I get into them…” Hastily he said, “Excuse me, Honey.” Then, glaring defiantly at me, he gave her a pecking kiss that she tried to dodge but caught on the end of her nose. I went outside then, for the first time, and he joined me almost immediately. After looking at a few other things he

means you let him get by without paying! Carrie, you’re being taken for a ride—on a dump-plane. Why not let things stand? At least I pay cash.” “Now you’ve insulted us both!” Carrie snapped. “You get that gadget out of here, understand? I’ll give you exactly one week and if it’s still here then you’ll go with it!” “You heard the lady!” Herc echoed maliciously. “One week to shrink to invisibility this impious implement of insult. And if you shrink from the task I’ll personally diminish you to a

knew when he was licked. “Let me up,” he pleaded. “Get off my toe and let me up! I’ll be good.” Before he had time to change his mind, I ran him out of the house and threw his clothes out after him. But you know how women are. Carrie was weeping when I joined her in the kitchen—sobbing and consoling herself with a peanut-butter, jelly, margarine, tomato and sardine sandwich. “You—you bully, you!” she howled. “You ran my fiancé right out of my own house. Now I’ll go to my grave a lone, lorn

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