Astounding Stories, February, 1931
109 Pages

Astounding Stories, February, 1931


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Published 08 December 2010
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Language English
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Astounding Stories, February, 1931, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at Title: Astounding Stories, February, 1931 Author: Various Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30124] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTOUNDING STORIES, FEBRUARY, 1931 *** Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at ASTOUNDING STORIES 20¢ On Sale the First Thursday of Each Month W. M. CLAYTON, Publisher Editor HARRY BATES, Editor DR. DOUGLAS M. DOLD, Consulting The Clayton Standard on a Magazine Guarantees That the stories therein are clean, interesting, vivid, by leading writers of the day and purchased under conditions approved by the Authors' League of America; That such magazines are manufactured in Union shops by American workmen; That each newsdealer and agent is insured a fair profit; That an intelligent censorship guards their advertising pages. The other Clayton magazines are : ACE-HIGH MAGAZINE, RANCH ROMANCES, COWBOY STORIES, CLUES, FIVE-NOVELS MONTHLY ALL STAR DETECTIVE STORIES, RANGELAND , LOVE STORY MAGAZINE, WESTERN ADVENTURES, and WESTERN LOVE STORIES. More than Two Million Copies Required to Supply the Monthly Demand for Clayton Magazines. VOL. V, No. 2 COVER DESIGN WEREWOLVES OF WAR CONTENTS H. W. WESSO D. W. HALL February, 1931 Painted in Water-Colors from a Scene in "The Tentacles from Below ." 153 The Story of the "Torpedo Plan" and of Capt. Lance's Heroic Part in America's Last Mighty Battle with the United Slavs. THE TENTACLES FROM BELOW ANTHONY GILMORE 172 Down to Tremendous Ocean Depths Goes Commander Keith Wells in His Blind Duel with the Marauding "Machine-Fish." (A Complete Novelette.) THE BLACK LAMP PHALANXES OF ATLANS CAPTAIN S. P. MEEK F. V. W. MASON 212 228 Dr. Bird and His Friend Carnes Unravel Another Criminal Web of Scientific Mystery. Only in Dim Legends Did Mankind Remember Atlantis and the Lost Tribes—Until Victor Nelson's Extraordinary Adventure in the Unknown Arctic. (Beginning a Two-Part Novel.) THE PIRATE PLANET CHARLES W. DIFFIN 261 From Earth and Sub-Venus Converge a Titanic Offensive of Justice on the Unspeakable Man-Things of Torg. (Conclusion.) THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 277 A Meeting Place for Readers of ASTOUNDING STORIES. Single Copies, 20 Cents (In Canada, 25 Cents) $2.00 Yearly Subscription, Issued monthly by Readers' Guild, Inc., 80 Lafayette Street, New York, N. Y W. M. Clayton, President; Francis . P. Pace, Secretary. Entered as second-class matter December 7, 1929, at the Post Office at New York, N. Y ., under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a Trade Mark in the U. S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group—Men's List. For advertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co., Inc., 25 Vanderbilt Ave., New York; or 225 North Michigan Ave., Chicago. [153] "Hay crosses the gulf, taking with him the cord which controls the electromagnet." Werewolves of War By D. W. Hall PART I rapped again! But this time, Lance swore, they'd not get away without paying dearly for it! Under the mesh of his gas-mask the lean lines of his jaw went taut. Tense, steely fingers flipped to the knobbed control instruments; the The story of the "Torpedo Plan" and of gleaming single-seater scout plane catapulted in a screaming Capt. Lance's heroic part in America's somersault. Lance's ever-wary sixth sense told him the tongues of last mighty battle with the United Slavs. [154] disintegrating flame had licked the plane's protected belly, and for the fact that it was protected he thanked again his stupendous luck. He pulled savagely at the squat control stick; the four Rahl-Diesels unleashed a torrent of power; and the slim scout rose like a comet, and hurtled, the altitude dial's nervous finger proclaimed, to ten thousand feet. Lance eased off the power, relaxed slightly, and glanced below. They'd started off a squadron of fifteen planes. Thirteen had crumpled beneath that treacherous, stabbing curtain of disintegrating flame. Only two of them were left—he and Praed. Praed, of course! The fellow's plane was pirouetting nearby. Lance was the squadron leader. He jammed his thin-lipped mouth close to the "mike" and rasped: "They trapped us again! There's some damn spy at our base. Stand by, Praed! They'll send up a few men to wipe us out, too ... and we're goin' to square the account!" He listened for Praed's answer. Presently it came. "I can't! They got two of my motors. I'm limping badly. We'd better beat it while we can." Lance's mouth curled. He roared: "Go on, then, beat it! But I'm goin' to take a couple of 'em, anyway." Disgusted, filled with red anger, he flung the phones from his head, watched Praed's plane whirl its stubby nose for home, settled himself alertly in the low, padded seat and concentrated his attention on the ground below. He'd been right. Tiny, gray-clad figures were pouring from their barracks, rushing madly towards the dozen or so planes neatly drawn up on the field. Lance's mouth twitched. They probably wondered, down there, why the devil he didn't beat it—like Praed! He stroked the lever which controlled his five gas bombs, centered his battery of incendiary-bullet machine-guns and ruthlessly shoved the control stick full over. he Rahl-Diesels pumped at full power; his plane plummetted downwards with the speed of light, a hurtling shell of steel. His unexpected move took the men below by surprise. Lance knew they needed at least ten minutes to prepare another salvo of disintegrating flame; he had about four minutes left. There was a restless, thudding chatter, and his bullets began to mow them down. Lance could see the horrified expressions of the men beneath, and chuckled grimly as they sought to escape the wrath of his hot guns. He flung bursts of spouting, acid-filled lead at the defenseless planes, and saw two of them collapse in shrouds of acrid white smoke. And still he dove. At a bare one hundred feet he tugged the control stick back, and the tiny scout groaned under the pull of her motors. Then her snout jolted upwards. Lance pounded the gas bomb lever, and smiled a tight smile as he sensed the five pills sloping down from their compartment in the scout's belly. A second later came a rolling, ear-numbing crash. Lance, safe at a perch of a few thousand feet, grinned as his narrowed eyes beheld the sticky curtain of death-crammed gas hug over the enemy base. "That'll quiet 'em for a few minutes!" he muttered savagely. A few minutes—but not more. And he had no more bombs; his ammunition belts were nearly depleted. "I guess," he murmured, "I'd better follow that quitter, Praed. I've