Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition, December 1955 — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

THE LONG WAY HOME 111 He got up and took a gown from the clothes chute for her. With its cowl over her hair, she had an appealing boyish look, a very youthful student. “Let’s go,” he said. They went out the hall, to the flange and the moving bridgeway. A crowd laughed and chattered around them, gaily dressed, off on a restless hunt for pleasure. The lights were a hectic rainbow haze. Langley tried to suppress the tension within himself. There was nothing to be gained by this jittering wonder about the forces leagued against him. Relax, breathe deep, savor the night air and the vision of stars and spires. Tomorrow you may be dead. He couldn’t. He hoped his wire-taut nerves weren’t shown by his face. Walk slowly, gravely, as befits a man of learning. Forget that you have a gun under your arm. The Twin Moons was a fairly well-known tavern of the slightly shady kind, nestled on the roof above low-level, just under the giant leap of metal which was Interplanetary Enterprises Tower. Walking in, Langley found himself in a Martian atmosphere, deep greenish-blue sky, a modern canal and an ancient fragment of red desert. There was a blur of scented smoke and the minor-key whine of a Martian folk song. Private booths were arranged along one wall with the appearance of caves in a tawny bluff; opposite was a bar and a stage, on which a shapely ecdysiast was going through her contortions in a bored fashion. The timeless hum and clatter of a well-filled inn was low under the music. 2045. Langley elbowed up to the bar. ““Two beers,” he said. The robot extended an arm with glasses, pumped them full from the arm itself, and sprouted a metallic hand for the money. aia Comicbookscom