Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 42 — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION of this warring age was epito- mised in the formidable, sprawling palaces—citadels whose combination-locked gates were impregnable to all marauders. To conquer a palace you must hold the king. To capture the king you must lure him from his stronghold. So now King Patrick studied the ground and made his plans. The Hawkins’ palace squatted at the head of a blind-alley valley that opened out into the great plain, the hill rising high behind it. From it the ' lookout could see all the way down to the far horizon. In the late afternoon sunlight he saw the small convoy—two royal tanks with an escort of six—crossing his field of vision beyond the shoulders of the sloping hills. Within a quarter of an hour'the eighteen tanks of King Louie Hawkins’ en- tourage were in hot pursuit after them. The ambush succeeded in part. King Louie’s retreat into his own valley was quickly sealed off, but the desperation of his predicament drove him and his troop right through the decoying eight who stood to ‘ hold him. As the action de- veloped into a running fight and he saw his own shells dropping short of the fleeing 86 enemy, John also saw, away on the left, the burning hulk of Bernard’s tank. He integrated this new factor into the logical reality of his environment. One less between himself and his inevitable triumph. This, his first battle, pro- duced in him no fear, but in- stead a reassurance of his con- fidence and strength. The running fight went on for over an hour. The pursuers lost six soldiers’ tanks—two hit and four halted by mechanical defects. The pursued lost eight, but the royal tanks of King Louie and his two sons still held their lead beyond accurate shelling range. At last, as the long red streaks began to darken in the western sky, they turned into a valley and the pursuers saw, with rising excitement, that this also was a blind alley, ending in a craggy gradient impossible to traverse. Their rashness cost them dearly. Four tanks were knocked out by the halted defenders before the rest made for dead ground and began the long, attritional shelling match. It was dark before they moved in for the kill. The huddled shapes of the shat- tered tanks were lit up by the flames leaping from one that comiclbooks.corn