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Doom Ship by Robert Moore Williams When the space ship crashed, the lives of twenty humans lay in the hands of a fanatic! An A\NN/A Preservation Edition. Notes “THE ship’s falling!” Screaming the words, the girl in the yellow dress tossed the cocktail, with which she had been celebrating the successful takeoff from Venus, straight up against the metal ceiling of the main cabin with a sudden gesture. To John Balfour, who of necessity had developed a feel for such things—along with a feel for a thousand other things that helped a man stay alive on the Veiled Planet—it had seemed for some time that the ship had been yawning badly from her course. The steering jets had roared too often, he had thought, and the ship had been nudged southward well away from the lanes usually followed by space ships taking off from Venus. He had shrugged the feeling aside. Presumably the pilot knew his business. Presumably pompous Captain Vincent knew how to get a commercial liner into space. Presumably— The lifting jets faltered, the |
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