Ten From Infinity, by Paul W. 
Fairman 
 
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Title: Ten From Infinity 
Author: Paul W. Fairman 
Release Date: March 20, 2007 [EBook #20856] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TEN FROM 
INFINITY *** 
 
Produced by Greg Weeks, Janet Blenkinship and the Online Distributed 
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net 
 
SOMETHING WAS WRONG 
It began when a pedestrian got hit by a cab in New York City. No 
doubt it was the only motor mishap in the history of creation that
reached out among the stars--for far out in space a signal was registered: 
Something has gone wrong.... 
And something had gone wrong, for the doctors discovered their 
accident patient had two hearts. It was the beginning of the discovery 
that the Earth had been invaded by 10 such creatures from Outer Space. 
Every effort was made to learn their purpose. An orbital flight was 
launched to spot alien bodies--only to be destroyed in space. One of the 
alien men was captured--but no threat of pain or death could unlock the 
secret in his brain. 
Something had gone wrong. And somehow, some way had to be found 
to make it right--before the threat of danger overwhelmed all mankind. 
AUTHOR'S PROFILE 
Ivar Jorgensen is the pen name of a former topflight magazine editor 
who is now devoting his full time to free-lance writing. 
He was born in St. Louis and spent most of his early years in the 
Midwest. Before getting into the publishing field he held a number of 
jobs, including those of elevator operator and theater usher. 
Mr. Jorgensen has written numerous science-fiction short stories as 
well as several contemporary and suspense novels. TEN FROM 
INFINITY is his first full-length science-fiction novel. 
* * * * * 
A Science-Fiction Novel 
TEN FROM INFINITY 
Ivar Jorgensen 
Cover Painting by Ralph Brillhart
A Monarch Books Science-Fiction Novel Published in January, 1963 
Copyright © 1963 by Ivar Jorgensen 
Monarch Books are published by MONARCH BOOKS, INC., Capital 
Building, Derby, Connecticut, and represent the works of outstanding 
novelists and writers of non-fiction especially chosen for their literary 
merit and reading entertainment. 
Printed in the United States of America All Rights Reserved 
* * * * * 
 
1 
It began when a pedestrian got hit by a cab at the corner of 59th Street 
and Park Avenue, Manhattan, New York City, U.S.A. No doubt it was 
the first motor mishap in the history of creation that reached out among 
the stars. 
The pedestrian was walking south on Park Avenue, toward Grand 
Central Station. He was looking at the upper skeleton of the vast new 
Pan Am Building which blocked out the sky in that direction. But he 
should have been watching traffic because a yellow cab tagged him 
neatly and knocked him across the walk into a clump of pigeons that 
scattered upward in all directions. 
The cab driver swore. Citizenry gathered. An alert free-lance news 
photographer who happened to be passing took the most important shot 
of his career. After a while, the ambulance came and the dazed 
pedestrian was pointed toward the nearest emergency ward, which 
happened to be in the Park Hill Hospital. 
The pigeons settled back. The curious went their different ways. 
And far out in space, among the yellow pinpoints we call stars, a signal 
was registered. The signal was of grave import to those who received it.
The signal said, Something has gone wrong. 
* * * * * 
From the springboard of this incident, there emerged several 
occurrences of note. The first in sequence took place in the Park Hill 
Hospital. The time of that particular ambulance's arrival was 11:15 P.M. 
At that hour the harvest of violence in Manhattan was being delivered 
to its logical granaries in the form of broken heads, slashed bodies, and 
dazed, shock-strained eyes. The examining rooms at Park Hill were full, 
and some cases of lesser import were waiting on stretchers and benches 
in the corridors. 
That was where the pedestrian waited. Unlike others, he was very 
patient. He seemed to understand that this sort of thing took time; or 
perhaps he didn't. At any rate, he lay staring up at the ceiling, 
unmoving, seemingly uncaring, until an intern named Frank Corson 
stopped beside his stretcher and looked down at him in moody-eyed 
weariness. Then Corson managed a smile. 
"Sorry about the service, mister. Full house tonight." 
"That's quite all--right." 
Corson touched the broken leg. "I can give you a shot    
    
		
	
	
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