Authentic Science Fiction, No. 23 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

- projectiles (1) BEST EVER I'm not exactly a guy for pass- ing out compliments, as my sf associates around the world will tell you, but a time comes when a person can no longer restrain himself, and is forced to serve praise where such is called for. This is certainly the case when it comes to criticize AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION. It is by far the best scientifiction maga- zine ever to reach me from the shores of your country. Keep up the good work. RONALD S. FRIEDMAN, Brooklyn, New York. Those who know, as we do, the extent of Ron. Friedman’s con- nection uit the sf fraternity all over the world will realise how proud we were to receive this letter. Thanks, Ron, you've ' bucked us up a lot. Lets hear from you again. STILL CLIMBING I enclose herewith 10/6 for the next six of the best of science fiction it has been my pleasure to read. Your books have climbed stead- ily since your first book ‘““Mush- room Men from Mars.” Your Covers are excellent, but I think more room could be given to your “Projectiles.” Will we be having any more of thase intrepid explorers of yours —Shiny Spear and the Old Grewler Trio? M, T. GREEN, C/Mx904245, H.M.S. Pembroke, Chatham, Kent. Thank you, Michael, for your praise. ASFm seems to have an- ticipated your letter with this issue—more Projectiles, and the “Old Growler Trio.” SONG FROM CHINA Congratulations on producing a really fine British sf magazine. I enjoyed DARAKUA greatly and consider it a story well told. The covers match the quality of the stories, but couldn’t you get the price tucked down’ in the bottom corner? I enclose a copy of a poem I’ve written and would be proud to see it in AUTHEN- TIC SCIENCE FICTION. By the way, am I your most distant subscriber? Cpl. DUNN, R., 80 Squadron, Kai-Tak, Hong Kong. Well, we don’t know, Corporal. Weve got subscribers in the U.S.A., Australia and Java. Any- way, youre certainly a long way off. Here’s your poem in print: Reach for the stars, you pioneer, Bring me them in your metal’d hand, The unsetting stars by which you steer, Or Saturn’s jewelled waist-band. Your trade-wind is a rocket’s blast, Your ship a sealed tube of steel, No sheets bent on a sturdy mast, No heJmsman at the wheel. The planets, island-scattered in Endless oceans of dark space, Unknown. dangers wait for him Who wins the stellar race. Empires wait the conqueror’s claim, Cortez and Raleigh live once more, Your life or death may bring you fame On some new world shore, And, Space-man, if your dying breath Be gas ped in some non-Terran place, Pray that the message of your death Bring unity from Earth to Space. R. Dunn. FUTUREPHOTOGRAPHY Oe TR ER Pe St - os Are any of your readers inter- ested in futurephotography, that is, table-top photography of science fiction models? IJ have tried one or two, but with only one good result, Sgt. BRAIN, S., G.H.Q., Melf., 17. (Projectiles are continued on p. 110.) THE SINGING SPHERES By Jon J. Deegan CHAPTER ONE Whistlers of the Ether E had travelled nearly ten miles through the low, brown foothills of Kardoon before the noise began. Ahead of us lay a ridge of beige-coloured rock—bare and sun-baked as all the rest of this unappetising planet—while above spread a strange, pink sky, whose tint did nothing to offset effects of the sweaty, stifling atmosphere through which we marched. “T don’t know about you,” said Tubby Goss, our photo- erapher, “but I’m taking ten minutes off for a rest!” Behind the transparent morynium facepiece of his helmet, I saw his plump cheeks puff themselves with fatigue. Person- ally, I felt in no better shape. : , Young Hartnell’s tanned, lean face grinned. “Now, now! Think what the controller might say—” “Curse the controller!” said Tubby, cold-bloodedly. Quite frankly, I think any of us would have hesitated in other circumstances from using language of this sort, even light-heartedly, because outside transmitter switches have been known to be left on accidentally, with the result that muttered blasphemies inside an atmosphere suit ring out loud and clear on the controller’s amplifiers. If there is one thing I wouldn't do for all the cobalt on Zenna II, it is to fall foul of a stony- hearted Inter-X controller, sitting up there in his room at the top of the ship, with powers of life and death over exploration parties during his spell of duty. ea Because of their wide responsibilities, only men of rigid principles and strict standards are selected as controllers, it is to them that field squads report from time to time during wanderings over a planet undergoing investigation, and there are occasions when a controller must make decisions that P) Eomicbooks.co