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Charles V. (Charles Vincent) De Vet
Charles Vincent De Vet was an American science fiction author born on October 28, 1911, and known for his short stories and novels that often explored complex psychological and social themes. He is best remembered for his collaborations with Katherine MacLean, particularly their novel "Second Game," which delves into interstellar intrigue and human-alien interactions. De Vet's works have been featured in prominent science fiction magazines such as "Astounding Science Fiction," and his contributions to the genre have left a lasting impact.
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Bruckner was a man deeply imbued with a sense of his own worth. Now as he rested his broad beam on the joined arms of Sweets and Majesky, he winked to include them in a "this is necessary, but you and I see the humor of the thing" understanding. Like most thoroughly disliked men, he considered himself quite popular with "the boys." The conceited ham's enjoying this, Sweets thought,...
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t was just a hunch. Johnson knew that, but his hunches had often paid off in the past, and now he waited with a big man's patience. For five hours he sat in the wooden stands, under the rumpled canvas the concessionaires had put up to protect the tourists from Marlock's yellow sun. The sun was hot and soon Johnson's clothing was marked with large soiled patches of sweat. Now and then a...
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hen did the headaches first start?" asked the neurologist, Dr. Hall. "About six months ago," Bennett replied. "What is your occupation, Mr. Bennett?" "I am a contractor." "Are you happy in your work?" "Very. I prefer it to any other occupation I know of." "When your headaches become sufficiently severe, you say that you have hallucinations," Hall...
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"Now watch," Remm said, indicating the native. Macker had been absent, exploring the countryside in the immediate vicinity of their landing place, and had not witnessed the capture of the native, or the tests his two companions made on it. Macker followed Remm's gaze to where the biped native sat hunched. The creature was bent into an ungainly position, its body crooked at incongruous...
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Doctors had given him just one month to live. A month to wonder, what comes afterward? There was one way to find out—ask a dead man! The amber brown of the liquor disguised the poison it held, and I watched with a smile on my lips as he drank it. There was no pity in my heart for him. He was a jackal in the jungle of life, and I ... I was one of the carnivores. It is the lot of the jackals of life to...
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HE was walking endlessly down a long, glass-walled corridor. Bright sunlight slanted in through one wall, on the blue knapsack across his shoulders. Who he was, and what he was doing here, was clouded. The truth lurked in some corner of his consciousness, but it was not reached by surface awareness. The corridor opened at last into a large high-domed room, much like a railway station or an air...
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