Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 44 — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION enough fuel left for the de- celeration into orbit round Earth and approach to the space station. Not even with the extra fuel, originally in- cluded to take care of emer- gencies. Curry read what the figures said and knew that it could not be done. He let the pencil slip from his fingers and it snapped back into its recess. ““Well——?”” Steve was still clinging to his rail, looking now like a frightened, pop- eyed Koala bear. “T ought to toss you out of this can!” Curry growled. ““Make a useful precedent, at that.” “But you wouldn’t do that!” Steve spattered over the words and saliva blobbed from his chin, drifted as shining glo- bules across the cabin. Then he remembered his gun and brought it up in a hand that, for all its gripping whiteness, shook uncontrollably. ““You’d never be able to, anyhow, not while I’ve got the gun.” There was a strained relief in his voice, a pathetic determination to cling to his belief in the power of a gun. Curry swore. “.... that for your gun. Listen tome. You remember those old stories of men who forced a pilot of an 64 aeroplane to fly them some- where, with a gun at the pilot’s head ?”’ Steve swallowed and man- aged a hoarse chuckle. “‘Sure I remember. And I'd figured that the guy who was foxed into thinking that he had to do what the pilot said was a goon. A bit of softening up works wonders...’ His voice trailed off puzzledly. “The point is this,” Curry said, impatiently. ‘““When the pilot convinced the gunman that he controlled the plane, they could land somewhere safely.”’ His voice grew caus- tic. “But with us it’s a little different. You wouldn’t know, with your pea-sized brain. Space is not like Earth. Your weight used up more fuel than was calculated for. We haven’t enough left to land on the moon, take off and return to the station.” Curry kept his eyes fixed on the other’s face, ignoring the threat of the gun. “Not enough, that is, with the present amount of weight we’re carrying.” “You'd never throw me off.” Steve gripped more tightly on the rail. ““Can’t you turn around now? Wouldn’t there be enough then ?”’ “Oh, sure. Plenty.’’ Curry conniicloooks.con