Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 50 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION him, hunkered down, trying desperately to evaluate the position—and failing lament- ably. “What's up, son? seen a camel before?” “A camel! Yes, that 1s, no.” Jarril clamped his teeth together to stop their chatter- ing, and then forced himself to say calmly: “I’ve seen tri-dis of them. Who are you?” ‘“‘Name’s Foster, son.” He broke off, and Jarril felt the sheet above them tauten as Foster lashed out backwards with one heavy arm. “Get down there, Sam. Confound the brute, he’s let half a ton of sand down my neck.” The cold was now intense, as cold, almost, as that train- ing trek they'd carried out on Mars. Here, on this unknown planet, with a gravity and atmosphere comparable to that of Earth’s, the sand and debris of the desert cut in with double the force that it had on Mars. And, to add to his discomfort-and misery, he had no oxygen equipment, no mask to cover and protect his face. Only the goggles, and with a grunt of resignation Never 16 Jarril remained quiet as he realised that the wipers had stalled again. The man who had arrived on his camel was moving around again. Jarril could feel the sheet pull, and a trickle of sand sluiced off the edge to be caught and whirled away into the chaos of howling blackness. Some- thing metallic and warm thrust itself against his hand and he felt Foster’s breathing against his face. “Drink this, son.” Obediently, Jarril drank. Hot tea. Spiced with some- thing else that he could not identify, but which made him gag and splutter. The violence of the storm was numbing and soporific. After a time it seemed to Jarril that there had never been any other existence apart from this huddling under a sheet in the lee of a sand ridge, with a barely- seen camel blocking the down draught and an unpredictable stranger lying with slow and even breathing at his side. He felt disinclined for conversa- tion. It was a struggle now to make oneself heard, and comiclooks.conn