Authentic Science Fiction, No. 23 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

100 THE SINGING SPHERES “Now, O strangers, walk warily. Make the long journey | " in the shadow of the cliffs, that guards may not find you. © Between this point and the place where your incomprehensible ~ vessel rests must the prophecy of the Wise Ones be fulfilled. a Farewell—for we shall never meet again!” iq Solemnly, he moved from one to another of us, bobbing 7 briefly in salutation near our helmets, then floated quickly ~ away through the hot air, growing fainter and fainter until at last only an intermittent bright speck marked his path. Then — that, too, ceased and he was gone. : Tubby sighed. “Poor old Fuzzy-bubble. Cheerful sort of @ chap, isn’t he? Still, I suppose he did his best, and we’ve a 7 lot to thank him for.” | a Personally, I didn’t particularly thank Fuzzy-bubble for re- a minding us about the one remaining picture from the Machine of Revelation that so far remained undecided. Every time I 7 recollected those three tragic little mounds, with the markers —@ bearing our names, the icy trickles ran down my backbone. “Well,” I said, speaking more bravely than I felt, “no use -_ standing here. Let’s press on.” y We did so in silence, trudging resolutely and watchfully round that wide plain in the effort to escape observation. = “This suspense is: killing me,” said Tubby, moodily. “Is it going to happen—or isn’t ib ea i I couldn’t help him. Nagging all the while at my thoughts = was the inescapable fact that all the other pictures had | materialised. Were we as vain as Makkub in believing that | Destiny singled us out for preferential treatment? I began to © wish at least that if Death were upon us the job might be” accomplished before we'd gone to all the trouble of walking 7 back to the ship. q “Think of the controller,” said Hartnell, consolingly. 7 “Everything'll be forgiven when he treads the pedometer > totals!” A “Tt won't,” said Tubby. “I suppose they'll bury our suits | with us!” bh It wasn’t altogether the happiest of journeys. a 1 re Hy THE SINGING SPHERES 101 Towards the end, when we climbed the ridge from which we first heard those strange, shrill, whining sounds in our helmets, Hartnell had to be helped along. “You say the gravity-reactor isn’t working? g g? Probably that rough treatment it had when you wiped out the line of duende ; He shook his head. “No, Pop. I took it to pieces.” We all stopped in our tracks. “Took it to pieces?” What exactly had he been doin ic g while we waited hidden among the rocks? “What for—in the name of Altair?” But Hartnell merely grinned and said he’d tell us later. So at length we breasted the summit and saw our ship. On many worlds through the years our eyes had rested on. Scenes of surpassing beauty. None gave us quite so much satisfaction as the sight of a bare, brown Kardoon wilderness —with the scout ship shining proudly in its midst. Sands of time for the Wise Ones were runni nning out fast. Another half-hour and their record for infalli icti aliibl edi would lay in splinters. € prediction “Unless, of coure, we get wrecked at take-off,” said Tubby. It wasn’t one of his particularly optimistic days. Eomicbooks.com