Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

DEATH ean come to emulating the. expert.” Yes. sir.” “Object now 34:53:277.” “Getting nearer.’ Carter dabbed at his streaming fore- head. “Damn this waiting!” Longstrom knew just how he felt. He wanted to get to work, feed data into the dis- carded computors, guess, check, feel the rising tension ‘and mounting excitement as the time came ‘to fire, now; and then the artful manceuvr- ing, the evasive. action, the gamble against death. And if the waiting was bad here in the control room where they could see wnat was going on, then what must it be like for the crew? He knew the answer. It was hell. They waited in semi- darkness, those men, standing by in the dull glow of the non-radiating emergency battle lights, ready to load the firing tubes, to activate or dampen the pile, to slam bulkheads or seal a rip in the hull. They wore no suits, for suits would hamper, and when they moved they would have to move fast. They waited while nerves jumped and quivered with the sheer strain of doing nothing. They would taste their own sweat and their own blood. They would 123 WISH tremble on the verge of in- . sanity and breaking morale, and then, when it was all over, they would be exhausted and irritable, burnt out and tem- porarily useless, aged and worn by sickening tension. “Object now 34:39 :198.” “Straight-line flight path.” Harding stared at the screen. “If we had fired at the moment of sight we’d have got them by - now.” , “Long range,’ said Long- strom. “‘Anyway, they would have registered our missile and dodged it.” “Object 79 :24:389.” “Another of them!’ Hard- ing glared at the second fleck on the screen. “Damn! They’ll have us in cross-fire.”’ “Not if we move.’’ Long- strom glared at the drooling features of the Head. “‘What’s the matter with that thing? Why doesn’t it do something ?”’ “Object one now 34:27:119. Object two now 79:14:276.” “Coming fast.’ Carter rested his hands on the firing controls. “Shall I send out a rover Po “Wait!’? Harding scowled at the twin flecks of light. “They haven’t fired at us yet; maybe they haven’t spotted us. I trust the Head. Hold your fire.” Abruptly the ship moved. It comiclooks.conrn