Earth Needs A Killer
DYNAMIC FEATURE NOVEL
By Bryce Walton
You are the man we need, Ray Berton.You're a killer, but you're sane and rational.Those we are fighting are insane, irrational,and they'll destroy humanity if they are notstopped. We have power, but we can't use it fordestruction, no matter how great the need. Butwe can give you power—then it's up to you!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Future combined with Science Fiction Stories July-August 1950.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
From an evening tele-audiocast by International Information Service,New York City, September 8, 1983: Reporter: ... and now, as a specialdramatic interest story, here's something for the Fortean Society,though a more scientific diagnosis will certainly be forthcoming.
At five P.M. today, a man's body materialized out of thin air at analtitude of over ten thousand feet above Uptown Manhattan. Accordingto many reliable witnesses, the body plunged down to smash into anunrecognizable mass on the plasticrete of Tier 19 and Grav-lift 6-H,Fifth Avenue II.
The reliable witnesses include twenty passengers of the trans-Statejetliner, all of whom agree that the unknown man did materialize outof the air very near the liner's position as it circled for a cradlein La Guardia Field.
Every witness tells about the same story that the body did appearsuddenly from the atmosphere. There was no other air vessel near. Alsoit was reported that another object followed the body out of the air,according to preliminary reports, a manuscript oddly written on ascroll of metal.
Stay visioed to I.I.S. for further reports on this Fortean mystery.The manuscript, we hope, will contain some kind of explanation whichwill be forwarded to you as soon as it reaches our news clearancescanners....
It starts for me on Mars. I guess Mars is about the only place it couldhave started. Maybe they'll bring the real earth law there someday, andclean up dives like Jelahn's krin-krin tavern on the North Canal, abreeding place for crime, and where a man can be goaded into killing.That night I didn't care much.
The place was crawling with scum, strained through the sieves ofMarsport, and Jokhara and Sanskran where the worst of the asteroidminers and space bums gather. Earthmen and Martians and half-breedswhom the Solar cops, said to be the toughest ever to wear a shield,would have gone at with care.
I was feeling high, with enough krin-krin burning in me to make aMartian srith-dog sit up and talk Esperanto. And by the time I'd beenblotting up krin-krin for a few hours, any space bum thinking to pushme around was crazy. So the big yellow skinned Martian with the greeneyes was crazy for trying to drag this breed tavern girl away from mytable.
Crazy first, then dead. I'd seen plenty of dead men before, and I knewthe look. I knew I'd hit him too hard as soon as he stretched on thebright green stones of Jelahn's tavern, and didn't try to get up.Standing there looking down at him, I knew he'd never get up by himself.
The whole tavern had dried up like a scab. The place was so quiet youcould hear the Martian's blood trickling from his mouth onto the floor."You certainly lowered that poor, poor Marty," somebody whispered.<