Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 50 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE Jarril fumbled at his belt, took out a pep-tablet and washed it down with a short, sparingly-doled swig of water. The reaction made him shudder. He blinked his eyes and then scoured the flat ex- panse of desert, dark and cold, with the night glasses. He should not have needed that pep-tablet for another hour, at least. His efficiency was down, and for a micro- second of doubt he hesitated before finding out just how much below par he was. That tiny instant of doubt gnawed at him, making him rigorous in his examination. Garfon must have felt like this. And what Garfon had done he must do likewise, if neces- sary. He would have to arrange a convenient boulder and trigger it with his hand- gun. What was the matter with him? Of course, the charge from his weapon would ensure that the Sok- kaths would have no brain over which to pore and probe and discover secrets. It was very cold, and his fingers were numb. Jarril looked at his wrist- 12 FICTION watch and staggered to his feet. The pep-tablet would carry him on for a while, and if his calculations were cor- rect—the concept of doubt over his calculations was sickening—he ought to reach the settlement. There must have been some _ deeper physiological damage that he had not been aware of. The thought disturbed him. Evaluation of events. Choice of the best procedure. ‘The lessons so hardly learned hammered at him—and he was blindly falling down on this job, which might well be regarded as a_ graduation exercise. He ploughed of through the red sand, feeling the chill eat into his thick boots and up his legs. He eased the equipment on his shoulders and went rigid with shock to find Garfon’s stuff still there. He was well below par! He still had hope. That was something that must be incul- cated into every guardsman; ~ that little extra bit of go which could pull a guardsman out of a tight corner. He had hope, all right. He was no automaton, no robot, no comicloooks.com