Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 51 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

IT’S DARK OUT THERE the right word—they were an old style, but they looked— well—almost new. “TI don’t know where we are,’ Peters said. ““Must have missed a landmark some- where, but it’s too late to change direction. I’m setting her down.” ~ “Just set her down,” For- man said, ““anywhere on Earth. This is home. A few hundred miles one way or the other, that’s nothing.”’ Peters made a good landing. He cut the motor and there was silence. They looked at each other and grinned. It was over. They had conquered space and returned. From the entrance hatch, they had a view of heather and wood, with a glimpse of dis- tant hills and a plume of smoke rising to a clear sky. The land was oddly deserted. “Well,” said Geoff Peters, “looks like we'll have to go and find the reception com- mittee.” Forman followed him down the ladderway and they both froze as a woman’s scream 71 echoed on the still air. It soun- ded again, nearer, accom- panied by shrill blasts of a hunting horn. The girl came out of the wood, running with the speed of a hare on sure, bare feet. A brown dress flapped about her young body—for she could have been no more than eighteen—and her hair was black and wild. She saw the spaceship and stopped dead in her tracks. She was pretty in a rough, gypsy way, with a tanned skin. Her eyes were big and lighted with fear. A dog bayed. She came to life and plunged forward, towards the two men. Peters said: ““Reckon we’ve gate-crashed a film unit on location—but where are the cameras ?” The girl reached the ship and threw herself on her knees before them. “Save me,” she gasped. “Save me from the tribunal.” She hugged the ground, looking up at them with comiclooks.conm