Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition, December 1955 — page 104: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

102 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION face had grown thin and lost most of its tan. The gray streaks in his hair had spread. He felt very old and tired. Regret nagged him. Why had he shot that man in the African compound? It had been a futile gesture, as futile as everything he tried in this foreign world. It had snuffed out a life—or, at least, given pain—for no purpose at all. He simply didn’t belong here. “She sat down beside me, And taking my hand, Said; ‘You are a stranger, And in a strange land.’ ”’ She! What was Marin doing? Was she even alive? Or could you call it life, down there on low-level? He didn’t think she would sell herself, she’d starve to death first with the angry pride he knew, but anything could happen in the Old City. Remorse clawed at him. He shouldn’t have sent her away. He shouldn’t have taken out his own failure on her, who had only wanted to share his burden. His present salary was small, hardly enough to support two, but they could have worked something out. Blindly, he dialed the city’s main police office. The courteous slave face told him that the law did not permit free tracing of a Commoner who was not wanted for some crime. A special service was available at a price of— more money than he had. Very sorry, sir. Borrow the money. Steal it. Go down to low-level himself, offer rewards, anything, but find her! And would she even want to come back? Langley found himself trembling. ““This won’t do, son,” he said aloud, into the emptiness of the room. “You’re going loco fast. Sit down and do some thinking for a change.” But all his thoughts scurried through the same rat race. He was the out- sider, the misfit, the square peg, existing only on charity and a mild intellec- tual interest. There was nothing he could do, he had no training, no back- ground; if it hadn’t been for the university, itself an anachronism, he would be down in the slums. Some deep stubbornness .in him forbade suicide. But its other aspect, insanity, was creeping after him. This sniveling, self-pity was the first sign of his own disintegration. How long had he been here at the university? About two weeks, and already he was caving in. He told the window to open. There was no balcony, but he leaned out and breathed hard. The night air was warm and damp. Even this high, he could smell the miles of earth and growing plants. The stars wavered over- head, jeering at him with remoteness. Something moved out there, a flitting shadow. It came near, and he saw dully that it was a man in a spacesuit, flying with a personal antigravity unit. Police model. Who were they after now? COMME IOOK<S.COMN j