Expanded Universe Read Online Free PDF

entrare! The master is eating!"
    "Never mind, Angela. I have time to see these gentlemen. You may go."
    Pinero faced the surly-faced spokesman of the intruders. "You have business with me; yes?"
    "You bet we have. Decent people have had enough of your damned nonsense."
    "And so?"
    The caller did not answer at once. A smaller, dapper individual moved out from behind him and faced Pinero.
    * * *
    "We might as well begin." The chairman of the committee placed a key in the lock box and opened it. "Wenzell, will you help me pick out today's envelopes?" He was interrupted by a touch on his arm.
    "Dr. Baird, you are wanted on the telephone."
    "Very well. Bring the instrument here."
    When it was fetched he placed the receiver to his ear. "Hello. . . . Yes; speaking. . . . What? . . . No, we have heard nothing. . . . Destroyed the machine, you say. . . . Dead! How? . . . No! No statement. None at all. . . . Call me later."
    He slammed the instrument down and pushed it from him.
    "What's up?"
    "Who's dead now?"
    Baird held up one hand. "Quiet, gentlemen, please! Pinero was murdered a few moments ago at his home."
    "Murdered!"
    "That isn't all. About the same time vandals broke into his office and smashed his apparatus."
    No one spoke at first. The committee members glanced around at each other. No one seemed anxious to be the first to comment.
    Finally one spoke up. "Get it out."
    "Get what out?"
    "Pinero's envelope. It's in there, too. I've seen it."
    Baird located it, and slowly tore it open. He unfolded the single sheet of paper and scanned it.
    "Well? Out with it!"
    "One thirteen P.M. . . . today."
    They took this in silence.
    Their dynamic calm was broken by a member across the table from Baird reaching for the lock box. Baird interposed a hand.
    "What do you want?"
    "My prediction. It's in there—we're all in there."
    "Yes, yes."
    "We're all in there."
    "Let's have them."
    Baird placed both hands over the box. He held the eye of the man opposite him, but did not speak. He licked his lips. The corner of his mouth twitched. His hands shook. Still he did not speak. The man opposite relaxed back into his chair.
    "You're right, of course," he said.
    "Bring me that wastebasket." Baird's voice was low and strained, but steady.
    He accepted it and dumped the litter on the rug. He placed the tin basket on the table before him. He tore half a dozen envelopes across, set a match to them, and dropped them in the basket. Then he started tearing a double handful at a time, and fed the fire steadily. The smoke made him cough, and tears ran out of his smarting eyes. Someone got up and opened a window. When Baird was through, he pushed the basket away from him, looked down and spoke.
    "I'm afraid I've ruined this table top."

SUCCESSFUL OPERATION
FOREWORD
For any wordsmith the most valuable word in the English language is that short, ugly, Anglo-Saxon monosyllable: No!!! It is one of the peculiarities in the attitude of the public toward the writing profession that a person who would never expect a free ride from a taxi driver, or free groceries from a market, or free gilkwoks from a gilkwok dealer, will without the slightest embarrassment ask a professional writer for free gifts of his stock in trade.

This chutzpah is endemic in science fiction fans, acute in organized SF fans, and at its virulent worst in organized fans-who-publish-fan-magazines.

The following story came into existence shortly after I sold my first story—and resulted from my having not yet learned to say No!  
     
     
    "Anyone who considers protocol unimportant has never dealt with a cat" —L. Long
     
     
     
    "How dare you make such a suggestion!"
    The State Physician doggedly stuck by his position. "I would not make it, sire, if your life were not at stake. There is no other surgeon in the Fatherland who can transplant a pituitary gland but Doctor Lans."
    "You will operate!"
    The medico shook his head. "You would die, Leader. My skill is