Sjambak: A Classic Science Fiction Adventure

Sjambak: A Classic Science Fiction Adventure

Jack Vance

Language: English

Pages: 36

ISBN: 1557428107

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Wilbur Murphy sought romance, excitement, and an impossible Horseman of Space. With polite smiles, the planet frustrated him at every turn - until he found them all the hard way! A classic science fiction story originally published in the "If Worlds of Science Fiction" in July, 1953. Includes a detailed "About the Author" and a selected bibliography.

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critical. “Sam, we’re in a rut. What’s worse, the show’s dull!” Sam Catlin shrugged, not committing himself. “Seaweed Processors of Alphard IX—who cares about seaweed?” “It’s factual stuff,” said Sam, defensive but not wanting to go too far out on a limb. “We bring ’em everything—color, fact, romance, sight, sound, smell. . . . Next week, it’s the Ball Expedition to the Mixtup Mountains on Gropus.” Frayberg leaned forward. “Sam, we’re working the wrong slant on this stuff. . . . We’ve got to

the Five Moons Rise (1992) Tales of the Dying Earth (1999) The Jack Vance Treasury (2006) SJAMBAK | 35 Autobiography • 36 This Is Me, Jack Vance! (Subterranean Press, 2009) | JACK VANCE

loosen up, sock ’em! Shift our ground! Give ’em the old human angle—glamor, mystery, thrills!” Sam Catlin curled his lips. “I got just what you want.” “Yeah? Show me.” Catlin reached into his waste basket. “I filed this just ten minutes ago. . . .” He smoothed out the pages. “‘Sequence idea, by Wilbur Murphy. Investigate “Horseman of Space,” the man who rides up to meet incoming space-ships.’” Frayberg tilted his head to the side. “Rides up on a horse?” “That’s what Wilbur Murphy says.” “How far

being tortured!” “He broke the Sultan’s law. His life is no longer his own. It belongs to Singhalût. If the Sultan wishes to use it to warn other wrongdoers, the fact that the man suffers is of small interest.” 16 | JACK VANCE “If they all wear that metal ornament, how can they hope to hide out?” He glanced at her own bare bosom. “They appear by night—slip through the streets like ghosts. . . .” She looked in turn at Murphy’s loose shirt. “You will notice persons brushing up against you,

coffee. “I’m thinking that I’d better be getting to work.” “And what do you do?” “First I’m going to shoot the palace, and you sitting here in the garden playing your gamelan.” “But Weelbrrr—not me!” “You’re a part of the universe, rather an interesting part. Then I’ll take the square. . . .” “And the sjambak?” A quiet voice spoke from behind. “A visitor, Tuan Murphy.” Murphy turned his head. “Bring him in.” He looked back to Soek Panjoebang. She was on her feet. “It is necessary that I go.”

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