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Charles Louis Fontenay
Charles Louis Fontenay was an American science fiction writer and journalist, known for his contributions to the genre during the mid-20th century. He authored numerous short stories and novels, including "The Day the Oceans Overflowed" and "Rebels of the Red Planet." Fontenay's work often explored themes of space exploration and human resilience. In addition to his fiction, he had a significant career as a newspaper editor and reporter, which influenced his clear and concise writing style.
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After the morning inspection tour, Tardo, the Solar Council's Planetary Aid agent, and his companion, Peo, were taken to the castle which stood on a hill overlooking the area. Tardo and Peo were entertained royally at luncheon by Saranta, their host, who appeared to be the wealthy overlord of this portion of the planet. The meal was delicious—tender, inch-thick steaks served with delicate wine...
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Herbert bowed with a muted clank—indicating he probably needed oiling somewhere—and presented Alice with a perfect martini on a silver tray. He stood holding the tray, a white, permanent porcelain smile on his smooth metal face, as Alice sipped the drink and grimaced. "It's a good martini, Herbert," said Alice. "Thank you. But, dammit, I wish you didn't have that everlasting...
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When you have an engine with no fuel, and fuelwithout an engine, and a life-and-death deadlineto meet, you have a problem indeed. Unless you area stubborn Dutchman—and Jan Van Artevelde wasthe stubbornest Dutchman on Venus.JAN WILLEM van Artevelde claimed descent from William of Orange. He had no genealogy to prove it, but on Venus there was no one who could disprove it, either. Jan Willem van...
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It is a sea, though they call it sand. They call it sand because it is still and red and dense with grains. They call it sand because the thin wind whips it, and whirls its dusty skim away to the tight horizons of Mars. But only a sea could so brood with the memory of aeons. Only a sea, lying so silent beneath the high skies, could hint the mystery of life still behind its barren veil. To practical,...
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Trella feared she was in for trouble even before Motwick's head dropped forward on his arms in a drunken stupor. The two evil-looking men at the table nearby had been watching her surreptitiously, and now they shifted restlessly in their chairs. Trella had not wanted to come to the Golden Satellite. It was a squalid saloon in the rougher section of Jupiter's View, the terrestrial dome-colony...
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