Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 52 — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION The tiny slug couldn’t have done much basic harm; in itself it would have been less than a pin-prick, but the tremendous velocity with which it travelled was capable of killing a man by hydro- static shock and even to the sea creature it must have caused pain. Again the man fired, joined now by his com- panions, and the spiteful snarl of their pistols echoed over the surging waters of the lake. Red spots showed against the smooth black skin of the rounded back, red spots marked with the white of fat and ruptured tissue, and staring at them, Gerald heard himself yelling a frantic warning. “Stop it! Cease firing, you fools! You’re only angering it!” He might just as well have shouted to the wind. The men were frightened. From an ideally peaceful bathe they had been shocked by the sudden appearance of . 36 the unexpected and that, to- gether with the nerve-rasping sounds of the screams, had triggered off the only reaction Earthmen knew when faced with danger. Kill it! Kill it so that it can’t ever hurt or frighten again. Kill it because it is big, because it is unknown, because it fright- ened us and we are ashamed of having been frightened. Watching the little flecks of fire from the muzzles of their weapons, Gerald knew that nothing he could do would stop them. Only death would do that. Their death, or the death of the thing which threatened them. And the thing wasn’t dying. Red foam bubbled about its wounds and waves surged against the shore as the in- credible bulk suddenly lunged forward. A tentacle lashed through the air, gouging a wide groove in the sand of the beach and spraying the marks- men with grit. Another surge, and a man, almost doll-like against the thing he faced, went spinning through the comiclbooks.corn