Philip Dick - The Science Fiction Anthology

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This collection brings together some of the most incredible sci-fi stories ever told in one convenient, high-quality, Kindle volume!
This book now contains several HTML tables of contents that will make reading a real pleasure!
The Sentimentalists, by Murray Leinster
The Girls from Earth, by Frank Robinson
The Death Traps of FX-31, by Sewell Wright
Song in a minor key, by C.L. Moore
Sentry of the Sky, by Evelyn E. Smith
Meeting of the Minds, by Robert Sheckley
Junior, by Robert Abernathy
Death Wish, by Ned Lang
Dead World, by Jack Douglas
Cost of Living, by Robert Sheckley
Aloys, by R.A. Lafferty
With These Hands, by C.M. Kornbluth
What is POSAT?, by Phyllis Sterling-Smith
A Little Journey, by Ray Bradbury
Hunt the Hunter, by Kris Neville
Citizen Jell, by Michael Shaara
Operation Distress, by Lester Del Rey
Syndrome Johnny, by Charles Dye
Psychotennis, anyone?, by Lloyd Williams
Prime Difference, by Alan Nourse
Doorstep, by Keith Laumer
The Drug, by C.C. MacApp
An Elephant For the Prinkip, by L.J. Stecher
License to Steal, by Louis Newman
The Last Letter, by Fritz Lieber
The Stuff, by Henry Slesar
The Celestial Hammerlock, by Donald Colvin
Always A Qurono, by Jim Harmon
Jamieson, by Bill Doede
A Fall of Glass, by Stanley Lee
Shatter the Wall, by Sydney Van Scyoc
Transfer Point, by Anthony Boucher
Thy Name Is Woman, by Kenneth O'Hara
Twelve Times Zero, by Howard Browne
All Day Wednesday, by Richard Olin
Blind Spot, by Bascom Jones
Double Take, by Richard Wilson
Field Trip, by Gene Hunter
Larson's Luck, by Gerald Vance
Navy Day, by Harry Harrison
One Martian Afternoon, by Tom Leahy
Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey
Prelude To Space, by Robert Haseltine
Pythias, by Frederik Pohl
Show Business, by Boyd Ellanby
Slaves of Mercury, by Nat Schachner
Sound of Terror, by Don Berry
The Big Tomorrow, by Paul Lohrman
The Four-Faced Visitors of…Ezekiel, by Arthur Orton
The Happy Man, by Gerald Page
The Last Supper, by T.D. Hamm
The One and the Many, by Milton Lesser
The Other Likeness, by James Schmitz
The Outbreak of Peace, by H.B. Fyfe
The Skull, by Philip K. Dick
The Smiler, by Albert Hernhunter
The Unthinking Destroyer, by Roger Phillips
Two Timer, by Frederic Brown
Vital Ingredient, by Charles De Vet
Weak on Square Roots, by Russell Burton
With a Vengeance, by J.B. Woodley
Zero Hour, by Alexander Blade
The Great Nebraska Sea, by Allan Danzig
The Valor of Cappen Varra, by Poul Anderson
A Bad Day for Vermin, by Keith Laumer
Hall of Mirrors, by Frederic Brown
Common Denominator, by John MacDonald
Doctor, by Murray Leinster
The Nothing Equation, by Tom Godwin
The Last Evolution, by John Campbell
A Hitch in Space, by Fritz Leiber
On the Fourth Planet, by J.F. Bone
Flight From Tomorrow, by H. Beam Piper
Card Trick, by Walter Bupp
The K-Factor, by Harry Harrison
The Lani People, by J. F. Bone
Advanced Chemistry, by Jack Huekels
Sodom and Gomorrah, Texas, by R. A. Lafferty
Keep Out, by Frederic Brown
All Cats are Gray, by Andre Norton
A Problem in Communication, by Miles J. Breuer
The Terrible Tentacles of L-472, by Sewell Peaslee Wright
Marooned Under the Sea, by Paul Ernst
The Murder Machine, by Hugh B. Cave
The Attack from Space, by Captain S. P. Meek
The Knights of Arthur, by Frederik Pohl
And All the Earth a Grave, by C.C. MacApp
Citadel, by Algis Budrys
Micro-Man, by Weaver Wright
....

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“We’ll figure out something,” Drake said. He was beginning to get worried about Sorensen. The morale among the men was low enough without Sorensen pushing it down further.

“I wish someone would shoot that damned bird,” Sorensen said, glancing overhead.

About every fifteen minutes, the bird of paradise came darting down for a closer look at the camp. Then, before the guard had a chance to fire, he swept back up to a safe altitude.

“It’s getting on my nerves, too,” Drake said. “Maybe that’s what it’s supposed to do. One of these times we’ll—”

He stopped abruptly. From the copra shed he could hear the loud hum of a radio. And he heard Al Cable saying, “Hello, hello, this is Vuanu calling. We need help.”

Drake and Sorensen went into the shed. Cable was sitting in front of the transmitter, saying into the microphone, “Emergency, emergency, Vuanu calling, we need—”

“What in hell do you think you’re doing?” Drake snapped.

Cable turned and looked at him, his pudgy pink body streaked with sweat. “I’m radioing for help, that’s what I’m doing. I think I’ve picked up somebody. But they haven’t answered me yet.”

He readjusted the tuning. Over the receiver, they could hear a bored British voice saying, “Pawn to Queen four, eh? Why don’t you ever try a different opening?”

There was a sharp burst of static. “Just move,” a deep bass voice answered. “Just shut up and move.”

“Sure,” said the British voice. “Knight to king bishop three.”

Drake recognized the voices. They were ham radio operators. One of them owned a plantation on Bougainville; the other was a shopkeeper in Rabaul. They came on the air for an hour of chess and argument every evening.

Cable tapped the microphone impatiently. “Hello,” he said, “this is Vuanu calling, emergency call—”

Drake walked over and took the microphone out of Cable’s hand. He put it down carefully.

“We can’t call for help,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Cable cried. “We have to!”

Drake felt very tired. “Look, if we send out a distress call, somebody’s going to come sailing right in—but they won’t be prepared for this kind of trouble. The Quedak will take them over and then use them against us.”

“We can explain what the trouble is,” Cable said.

Explain? Explain what ? That a bug is taking over the island? They’d think we were crazy with fever. They’d send in a doctor on the inter-island schooner.”

“Dan’s right,” Sorensen said. “Nobody would believe this without seeing it for himself.”

“And by then,” Drake said, “it’d be too late. Eakins figured it out before the Quedak got him. That’s why he told us not to send any messages.”

Cable looked dubious. “But why did he want us to take the transmitter?”

“So that he couldn’t send any messages after the bug got him,” Drake said. “The more people trampling around, the easier it would be for the Quedak. If he had possession of the transmitter, he’d be calling for help right now.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Cable said unhappily. “But, damn it, we can’t handle this alone .”

“We have to. If the Quedak ever gets us and then gets off the island, that’s it for Earth. Period. There won’t be any big war, no hydrogen bombs or fallout, no heroic little resistance groups. Everybody will become part of the Quedak Cooperation.”

“We ought to get help somehow,” Cable said stubbornly. “We’re alone, isolated. Suppose we ask for a ship to stand offshore—”

“It won’t work,” Drake said. “Besides, we couldn’t ask for help even if we wanted to.”

“Why not?”

“Because the transmitter’s not working,” Drake said. “You’ve been talking into a dead mike.”

“It’s receiving OK,” Cable said.

Drake checked to see if all the switches were on. “Nothing wrong with the receiver. But we must have joggled something taking the transmitter out of the ship. It isn’t working.”

Cable tapped the dead microphone several times, then put it down. They stood around the receiver, listening to the chess game between the man in Rabaul and the man in Bougainville.

“Pawn to queen bishop four.”

“Pawn to king three.”

“Knight to Queen bishop three.”

There was a sudden staccato burst of static. It faded, then came again in three distinct bursts.

“What do you suppose that is?” Sorensen asked.

Drake shrugged his shoulders. “Could be anything. Storm’s shaping up and—”

He stopped. He had been standing beside the door of the shed. As the static crackled, he saw the bird of paradise dive for a closer look. The static stopped when the bird returned to its slow-circling higher altitude.

“That’s strange,” Drake said. “Did you see that, Bill? The bird came down and the static went on at the same time.”

“I saw it,” Sorensen said. “Think it means anything?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see.” Drake took out his field glasses. He turned up the volume of the receiver and stepped outside where he could observe the jungle. He waited, hearing the sounds of the chess game three or four hundred miles away.

“Come on now, move.”

“Give me a minute.”

“A minute? Listen, I can’t stand in front of this bleeding set all night. Make your—”

Static crackled sharply. Drake saw four wild pigs come trotting out of the jungle, moving slowly, like a reconnaissance squad probing for weak spots in an enemy position. They stopped; the static stopped. Byrnes, standing guard with his rifle, took a snap shot at them. The pigs turned, and static crackled as they moved back into the jungle. There was more static as the bird of paradise swept down for a look, then climbed out of range. After that, the static stopped.

Drake put down his binoculars and went back inside the shed. “That must be it,” he said. “The static is related to the Quedak. I think it comes when he’s operating the animals.”

“You mean he has come sort of radio control over them?” Sorensen asked.

“Seems like it,” Drake said. “Either radio control or something propagated along a radio wavelength.”

“If that’s the case,” Sorensen said, “he’s like a little radio station, isn’t he?”

“Sure he is. So what?”

“Then we should be able to locate him on a radio direction finder,” Sorensen said.

Drake nodded emphatically. He snapped off the receiver, went to a corner of the shed and took out one of their portable direction finders. He set it to the frequency at which Cable had picked up the Rabaul-Bougainville broadcast. Then he turned it on and walked to the door.

The men watched while Drake rotated the loop antenna. He located the maximum signal, then turned the loop slowly, read the bearing and converted it to a compass course. Then he sat down with a small-scale chart of the Southwest Pacific.

“Well,” Sorensen asked, “is it the Quedak?”

“It’s got to be,” said Drake. “I located a good null almost due south. That’s straight ahead in the jungle.”

“You’re sure it isn’t a reciprocal bearing?”

“I checked that out.”

“Is there any chance the signal comes from some other station?”

“Nope. Due south, the next station is Sydney, and that’s seventeen hundred miles away. Much too far for this RDF. It’s the Quedak, all right.”

“So we have a way of locating him,” Sorensen said. “Two men with direction finders can go into the jungle—”

“—and get themselves killed,” Drake said. “We can position the Quedak with RDFs, but his animals can locate us a lot faster. We wouldn’t have a chance in the jungle.”

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