Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 51 — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION he was, abruptly, tired of drawing a line through the void; a line that must ever grow fainter, until it failed altogether, and he was dead. Wasn’t this risk of a quick end better? Choosing, he swung into a closing orbit, excited, even, lacking cause, hopeful of the outcome of this impulse. Days passed. He was com- mitted. He’d never landed a ship, and appreciation of this fact bred a growing fear. “But you can land the ship. You know what must be done.” *““Vaguely. I’m not sure. I’m not confident. It’s my first time.’ *“You do remember. You can do it. You’ve got to do it.” There was no denying that last point, and this calmed him somewhat, and nerved him, when the time came, into beginning the approach. Step by step, nearer and nearer. Confidence, feeding avidly on survival, grew apace. He hadn’t made any mistakes. He was going to do it. He was doing it. When it was done he was calm. He sat before the sleeping instrument board,” 94 high in the hull that towered over the scorched plot on which it had come to rest, and _looked out over a landscape he had dared much to win. Seen now, the outlook was not so much like Earth as to make him homesick, yet not so strange as to appal him. He saw movement. He snatched up the glasses, focused them in desperate haste on the object which had emerged from the tree like growths a mile away, and was moving towards the ship. It was a man, a well built man, walking unhurriedly, strolling, a country gentleman enjoying a gentle constitu- tional in the peaceful country- side. He dropped the glasses, shrinking back. After all he had done, after all he had endured, there were men here. He fled away from the cabin to the chamber below, his living quarters during flight. The mirror, facing him as he gained the floor, showed him an agitated girl, fists clenched, eyes staring in panic. ““What’ll I do? I can’t face them like this. God, what comiclooks.cormn