Astounding Science Fiction (UK Edition) — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

BLIND MAN'S BUFF 5 an iota, or fade. It was an absolute thing. The magnetoscope version may have been pure illusion, but what met their eyes ap- peared hard and unyielding. If Travis main- tained his angle of dive, it could be but a matter of minutes until the ship would be put to the acid test. It would either crash against reality or else plunge through— what? “Stop! Don’t go on down. Please don’t!” wailed Lorimer. Unnoticed he had stolen over and was staring wildly at the screen. “It’s suicide, I tell you.” Travis eased off on the controls and half- way flattened out. “What do you mean?” he asked, roughly. Lorimer was thoroughly frightened. Trembling and whimpering he blurted out what he had been overhearing on the inter- ship. Most of the other entrants were gone —all the independents and scores of Dris- coll’s ships. Many shattered themselves against hidden crags, a few reported them- selves stuck in morasses that were about to engulf them. A number of the Driscoll ves- sels had mutinied and turned tail. Only one was down safely, and he was complaining to Driscoll and the umpire of his plight. He was being tossed about on a turbulent ocean and shipping water with every giant wave, for his altimeter had been at fault and he cracked his plates on striking. Venus was living up to her deadly reputation. Lorimer never finished his piteous nar- ration. He caught another glimpse of the pseudo-sea over Travis’ shoulder. It was now but a matter of yards away and im- pact was at hand. Lorimer uttered a little moan and keeled over in a dead faint. Travis shot the slumped figure a contemptuous glance and flicked a lever. . “Shall I try the chute stunt?” asked Hartley, cheerfully, as Travis pulled the ship into a saving climb. _ Travis shook his head. “Too risky, I had rather we stick to- gether. What about supersonic frequencies. Can you tune the Maggy to those? I doubt if anyone ever thought of using them for soundings.” “T can try,” said Hartley, and proceeded to alter the magnostat setting. He was not sorry to hear the parachute alternative was out, since it had been a forlorn hope at best. One of them was to jump overboard with the automatic beacon, trusting to luck that he fell near a place where the ship could land. If radio failed there was still hope of sending up messages tied to sound- age ballonets. But snaring those, or even seeing them in the upper air would be a tough task for a fast-moving vessel. The sonic soundings did work. The Maggy was not geared to convert that data to vision, but Hartley could interpret the echoes. “That string of islands to the right,” he said, “terminates in a sheer cliff. What I get from beyond it is very faint and much de- layed. I think the precipice is a high es- carpment or else the near wall of an im- mensely wide canyon. Try it there.” “Here goes,” said Travis, grimly, and started the hazardous plunge. The passing through the mysterious iono- sphere was an impressive moment. They winced in spite of themselves at what looked like imminent deadly impact. Then the magnetoscope faded into a blur of milky blue, matching the formless haze of swirl- ing mists that still showed on the standard visiscreen. The terrible uncertainty lasted for a second, and then the picture cleared again, this time with the strangely oscillat- ing azure surface vaulting close overhead. Stretched out below them was a magnificent vista—incredibly weird, but as open to their gaze as any bird’s-eye view ever obtained on Earth. Magnar had pierced the veil of the promised land. Venus was theirs! The terrain was a magnificent jumble of Earth forms. The sierra that formed the crenellated top of the escarpment was lost above the ionosphere, but all else was there for the seeing. Steep talus slopes at the foot of the mighty cliff led down to what on a normal planet would have been a plain. But this plain was broken by scores of volcanic cones, many of which were shrouded in a curious pall of dirty brown— probably volcanic ash turned to falling mud by the ever present moisture. Elsewhere there were badly tilted plateaus and soli- tary mesas, between which meandered great rivers. Far away and to the right lay the sea. It was a real sea this time, and dappled with islands, great and small, many surrounded by reef-inclosed lagoons. The borderline between the sea and land was a vague marshy area where the rivers lost their identity in a maze of tortuous bayous, deltas and lagoons. Over all, wher- ever the ground was fairly level, there were vast forests of incredibly high trees. Travis cruised along with his eye peeled for the best place to land, for once they were down they would have to leave the comiclooks.€c©