Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION The cooled suiting and partial face-masks, with gog- gles and purifying filters, were in order. They dressed them- selves accordingly, and stepped out on Venus. It was ali right to speak if you did so in short snatches, not inhaling, lifting the filter momentarily, then letting it snap back. There wasn’t much more to see than the TV camera had shown them. The grey river washed hurriedly past the carcase of the huge fish. They could see one of its eyes, small as a sperm whale’s, open, glassily fixed. The wind pushed at them relentlessly, always from the same direc- tion, seeking to flatten them. They could see now that the great plant-forest had turned its back to it, and was bowing away from them, towards the east. But the fronds did not move, for the wind was con- stant, and they had adjusted themselves to its force. They explored a fair por- tion of the plateau, but were poorly rewarded. The earth 74 seemed very similar to terres- trial loam. The plant-life was lush, but limited in variety. There were white worms, but only one observable species of insect life—a sort of red ant, of which Lewes bottled a few score, tenderly. Soon Raikes called a halt. “Nothing for the headlines here. Let’s sample the river. That’s where the real life seems to be.”’ They returned to the steep bank. All appeared exactly as before, until Hacking pointed suddenly across the grey-white waves. They fol- lowed his indication. Some- where near the cloudy horizon six or seven black humps moved slowly back and forth. “Relatives of our friend here,’’ Hacking guessed. “‘Per- haps they’re looking for him.” Raikes snorted. “‘Not they. All fish are interested in is food.” : “‘What do they feed on, I wonder ?’’ speculated Lewes. Raikes wasn’t one to specu- late. He disappeared into the ship, and returned with comiclooks.corn