Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 47 — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION though we were sliding across a frozen pond.” They lapsed into silence. There was nothing either of them could do about the situation. Much of the time Susan drowsed. She wondered about a number of unresolved factors at times—why it had been necessary for Ted to go back to the twentieth century, for example—but she felt too listless to ask any more questions. She felt herself sliding into apathy—nothing mattered ... SUSAN roused herself with a start. It seemed to her that the ship had reeled and twisted in some odd manner. Then as she glanced about her, the control panel came to life. Every light on the board was flashing, every dial was busy recording chaos, and there were four blue strips with a medley of white dots crossing and criss-crossing in mad confusion. Dinton mut- tered something indistinctive, and leaped for the panel. She saw his fingers reach towards the buttons. Then everything vanished. She was at the centre of a 316 luminous sphere, a _ white bubble set in the immensity of space. It seemed to her that it was contracting rapidly, and for an instant she had a sickening fear that she would be crushed. Then the vision was gone, leaving her wondering if she had really seen anything. She was back again in the cabin. She glanced at the vivid blue strip. The little white dot that represented their position in the infinities was almost motionless. Only one of the four banks of instruments was working. Dinton smiled as he caught her glance. ‘““We have a long way to go, Susan. And even now I do not know where we are heading, except that it is back to some- where in our own space—I hope. But just what sector of the continuum is more than {[, as yet, can say.” Susan did not answer. Fora time she lay and watched the tiny white dot. It was barely moving. From that she knew that their journey would take hours, and she relapsed into a kind of waking dream, where she was once more home, in conmicloookks.c@nn,