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The Planet of Dread
A stupid blunder—and Mark Forepaugh faces a life of castaway loneliness in the savage welter of the planet Inra’s monster-ridden jungles.
Excerpt
There was no use hiding from the truth. Somebody had blundered—a fatal blunder—and they were going to pay for it! Mark Forepaugh kicked the pile of hydrogen cylinders. Only a moment ago he had broken the seals—the mendacious seals that certified to the world that the flasks were fully charged. And the flasks were empty! The supply of this precious power gas, which in an emergency should have been sufficient for six years, simply did not exist.
He walked over to the integrating machine, which as early as the year 2031 had begun to replace the older atomic processes, due to the shortage of the radium series metals. It was bulky and heavy compared to the atomic disintegrators, but it was much more economical and very dependable. Dependable—provided some thick-headed stock clerk at a terrestrial supply station did not check in empty hydrogen cylinders instead of full ones. Forepaugh's unwonted curses brought a smile to the stupid, good-natured face of his servant, Gunga—he who had been banished for life from his native Mars for his impiety in closing his single round eye during the sacred Ceremony of the Wells.
The Earth man was at this steaming hot, unhealthful trading station under[148] the very shadow of the South Pole of the minor planet Inra for an entirely different reason. One of the most popular of his set on the Earth, an athletic hero, he had fallen in love, and the devoutly wished-for marriage was only prevented by lack of funds. The opportunity to take charge of this richly paid, though dangerous, outpost of civilization had been no sooner offered than taken. In another week or two the relief ship was due to take him and his valuable collection of exotic Inranian orchids back to the Earth, back to a fat bonus, Constance, and an assured future.
It was a different young man who now stood tragically before the useless power plant. His slim body was bowed, and his clean features were drawn. Grimly he raked the cooling dust that had been forced in the integrating chamber by the electronic rearrangement of the original hydrogen atoms—finely powdered iron and silicon—the "ashes" of the last tank of hydrogen.
Gunga chuckled.
"What's the matter?" Forepaugh barked. "Going crazy already?"
"Me, haw! Me, haw! Me thinkin'," Gunga rumbled. "Haw! We got, haw! plenty hydr'gen." He pointed to the low metal roof of the trading station. Though it was well insulated against sound, the place continually vibrated to the low murmur of the Inranian rains that fell interminably through the perpetual polar day. It was a rain such as is never seen on Earth, even in the tropics. It came in drops as large as a man's fist. It came in streams. It came in large, shattering masses that broke before they fell and filled the air with spray. There was little wind, but the steady green downpour of water and the brilliant continuous flashing of lightning shamed the dull soggy twilight produced by the large, hot, but hidden sun.
"Your idea of a joke!" Forepaugh growled in disgust.
Excerpt
There was no use hiding from the truth. Somebody had blundered—a fatal blunder—and they were going to pay for it! Mark Forepaugh kicked the pile of hydrogen cylinders. Only a moment ago he had broken the seals—the mendacious seals that certified to the world that the flasks were fully charged. And the flasks were empty! The supply of this precious power gas, which in an emergency should have been sufficient for six years, simply did not exist.
He walked over to the integrating machine, which as early as the year 2031 had begun to replace the older atomic processes, due to the shortage of the radium series metals. It was bulky and heavy compared to the atomic disintegrators, but it was much more economical and very dependable. Dependable—provided some thick-headed stock clerk at a terrestrial supply station did not check in empty hydrogen cylinders instead of full ones. Forepaugh's unwonted curses brought a smile to the stupid, good-natured face of his servant, Gunga—he who had been banished for life from his native Mars for his impiety in closing his single round eye during the sacred Ceremony of the Wells.
The Earth man was at this steaming hot, unhealthful trading station under[148] the very shadow of the South Pole of the minor planet Inra for an entirely different reason. One of the most popular of his set on the Earth, an athletic hero, he had fallen in love, and the devoutly wished-for marriage was only prevented by lack of funds. The opportunity to take charge of this richly paid, though dangerous, outpost of civilization had been no sooner offered than taken. In another week or two the relief ship was due to take him and his valuable collection of exotic Inranian orchids back to the Earth, back to a fat bonus, Constance, and an assured future.
It was a different young man who now stood tragically before the useless power plant. His slim body was bowed, and his clean features were drawn. Grimly he raked the cooling dust that had been forced in the integrating chamber by the electronic rearrangement of the original hydrogen atoms—finely powdered iron and silicon—the "ashes" of the last tank of hydrogen.
Gunga chuckled.
"What's the matter?" Forepaugh barked. "Going crazy already?"
"Me, haw! Me, haw! Me thinkin'," Gunga rumbled. "Haw! We got, haw! plenty hydr'gen." He pointed to the low metal roof of the trading station. Though it was well insulated against sound, the place continually vibrated to the low murmur of the Inranian rains that fell interminably through the perpetual polar day. It was a rain such as is never seen on Earth, even in the tropics. It came in drops as large as a man's fist. It came in streams. It came in large, shattering masses that broke before they fell and filled the air with spray. There was little wind, but the steady green downpour of water and the brilliant continuous flashing of lightning shamed the dull soggy twilight produced by the large, hot, but hidden sun.
"Your idea of a joke!" Forepaugh growled in disgust.
36 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 9, 2010
3 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
October 23, 2020
Mark Forepaugh and his Martian servant find themselves trapped on the planet Inra. Can they survive long enough for the rescue ship to arrive?
The story was interesting and held my attention, but the narrator's monotone voice made it very difficult to enjoy the story.
Not a go to recommendation or at least not this version of the audio book.
The story was interesting and held my attention, but the narrator's monotone voice made it very difficult to enjoy the story.
Not a go to recommendation or at least not this version of the audio book.
September 3, 2019
A pulp science fiction short story with an interesting problem: Mark Forepaugh (good name) has just found out that the hydrogen canisters that were shipped as full are indeed empty. He and his Martian servant have no power, no way of keeping the steaming jungle of the backwater planet Inra at bay. A relief ship is due in a week or two. They won't last that long in the building they have and decide to brave the jungle for the relative safety of the Mountains of Perdition.
October 29, 2024
🖍️ A Stupid Blunder—and Mark Forepaugh Faces a Lifetime of Castaway Loneliness in the Savage Welter of the Planet Inra's Monster-ridden Jungles. This is a horrifying planet, with “a giant amoeba, fully six feet in diameter,” “A single cell with a brain!” “spheroidal creatures with massive, short legs,” including those horrifying “azornacks, mild-tempered vegetarians whose only defense lay in their thick, blubbery hides. Filled with parasites, stinking and rancid, their decaying covering of fat effectively concealed the tender flesh underneath.” This is a well-conceived story of a most dreadful planet! (Not to be confused with the unrelated stories with similar titles: Planet of Dread by Murray Leinster; Planet of Dread by Gregory Kern; Planet of Dread by Dwight V. Swain.)
📕 Published in Astounding Stories of Super-Science, August 1930.
☞Why this book? I enjoy short science fiction stories from the Golden Age of Science Fiction.
જ⁀➴🟢The e-book version can be found on the Project Gutenberg website.
🟣 Kindle.
✴︎🚀✴︎💫✴︎🚀✴︎
📕 Published in Astounding Stories of Super-Science, August 1930.
☞Why this book? I enjoy short science fiction stories from the Golden Age of Science Fiction.
જ⁀➴🟢The e-book version can be found on the Project Gutenberg website.
🟣 Kindle.
✴︎🚀✴︎💫✴︎🚀✴︎
January 2, 2026
Fun little piece of typical Golden Age Pulp Sci-fi.
A frontier trader Mark Forepaugh, and his man-servant Gunga, travel trough the swamps and jungles of the Planet Inra, battling man (and servant) eating exotic beasties, giant carnivorous plants, mud, sludge and a constant rainfall, seeking the relative safety of the Mountains of Perdition, where they hope, against all odds, to find succor, and hopefully rescue, from a monthly supply space ship.
I said that all in one sentence.
The best part of the story is, at one point, the author refers to Mark Forepaugh as "the white man" which gives the story a bit of a Rudyard Kipling Colonialist feel to it.
Typical Pulp but a fun, quick read.
A frontier trader Mark Forepaugh, and his man-servant Gunga, travel trough the swamps and jungles of the Planet Inra, battling man (and servant) eating exotic beasties, giant carnivorous plants, mud, sludge and a constant rainfall, seeking the relative safety of the Mountains of Perdition, where they hope, against all odds, to find succor, and hopefully rescue, from a monthly supply space ship.
I said that all in one sentence.
The best part of the story is, at one point, the author refers to Mark Forepaugh as "the white man" which gives the story a bit of a Rudyard Kipling Colonialist feel to it.
Typical Pulp but a fun, quick read.
January 22, 2024
Due to an error during their last supply run, Mark Forepaugh and his Martian sidekick, Ganga, find their emergency cache of hydrogen canisters empty. As a result, Forepaugh and Gunga find themselves stranded on the planet Inra while trying to conduct trade with the inhabitants. In order to survive, they must make their way across treacherous terrain to higher ground, battling various ferocious and deadly creatures along the way.
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December 18, 2021Buck Rogers meets cthulhu
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews