Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 51 — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

JEAN—GENE—JEANNE made me land here? I’ve got to change. Before that man gets here.” A near-hysterical darted across to a locker, began hauling things out, scattering them. “‘Where’d I put my old things?” “Take it quietly. There is no need, no reason to be afraid.” “*Isn’t there ?” **Why should there be? Have you committed any crime? No. Then what is there to -fear? Nothing. You have made a good flight. Whatever you wear, does that change you? Dress how you will, then. You do not need to leave the ship, unless you wish.” “I do want to. I want to get out. To walk about. To have someone to talk to.’ The frenzied search had halted, the panting, distressed breathing eased. “I’ll have to change though.” A reassuring look through the port showed that the large man was not apparently rush- -ing to the landing place. There was time. The dress—it had been a dress for most of the time— the dress came off, the under- wear, 95 It was as difficult to adjust to the old suit as it had been to the original costume, more so, actually. But it was accom- plished of necessity, and Jean Leslie looked at himself, con- sidered his long mane, and shrugged. “Ill have to say I’m allergic to barbers. They can’t prove anything from that.” He checked the living quar- ters. The female clothes were safely out of sight. There was no evidence of the double metamorphosis which had occurred. Except the lipstick. He scooped this up, thrust it into his pocket, and then went back to the control cabin. The big mian was standing on the verge of blackened soil, looking up. He saw Jean, and smiled, lifting a hand in salute, and the occupant of the cabin lifted a hand in dubious reply. There were certain obvious tests to be made. Made, and the observations checked, the airlock relinquished its guar- dianship over the pilot’s lungs, and Jean Leslie climbed down the ladder rungs, unsure and slowly, yet not without pleasure at the end of the comicloooks.com