Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 53 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION “‘Oh-h-h!” Now she wanted to hear everything, so I told her. A handsome creature, she snuggled up to me and gave me her full attention. It flattered me, I guess. The copter that took us out to the Palace suburb was a public one, and Celeste got many admiring glances. I talked to her, looking into her dark brown eyes, and I sort of forgot that I was talking to her, and I may have rambled some, as men are likely to do when they talk about their youth. Celeste didn’t mind; as a New Man she had the brain to integrate haphazard infor- mation as soon as it was presented. That, incidentally, was one of the reasons for the ereation of the New Men. Team 135 H.E. Its five members knew everything that there was to know about human engineering. Highly trained, experienced, tough. Fighters every one of us. We had to be. Cleaning up after defunct dictators and stale- 10 mated parliaments, first by nation, then by union, then on a worldwide basis. No job for softies; some people objected . to having their noses wiped for them. As for our national- ity, who knew and who cared ? The Teams were above nationality, working under direct commission from the Central Union. Team 135, my home, my family, my love, Team 135 H.E. Two letters and a num- ber, and Max, Fermin, Tiger, myself and Menilissa. And Menilissa... Tiger was our muscleman and electronic expert. About six foot, heavy, bull-necked, with short black hair. He once said that he’d been born among the shops at Liverpool and that may have accounted for his wizardry in electronics. Sure, the rest of us also had a working knowledge of that field. Any one of us could figure out the input, output and rating of a torkle-coil, given a pair of calipers, a table of logarithms, and a couple of hours. Tiger, he’d just frown conicloooks.conn