Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION he had created. Calshot drank more beer. Vaun straightened up after a quarter hour’s work. His hair—what there was of it— was over his face and his eyes looked like jet orifices. Calshot knew the signs. ““That explains that,’”’ Vaun said. ““Now we have to go along to the storage bins— you did say that Jorgen was seeding that fresh field to- morrow, didn’t you?’ he queried sharply. “That’s right. They’re start- ing early and hope to get the whole acreage finished before sundown. Jorgen said they were using seed that had been in bond since last season.” “Well, we'd better hurry. Bring a flashlight.” Calshot knew better than to ask questions. He finished his beer, selected a _ large flashlight and put on a thick coat. Nights got cold. Then they went out of the ship together and across to the huddle of farm buildings. “Keep quiet,” Vaun said softly. “I’m expecting to catch a blighter hanging around the seed containers,” “This seed was put here at the end of last season after it had been inspected, and hasn’t been touched since,” Calshot whispered at the shadow that was Vaun. “T checked the seals on the locks today.” ““Keep quiet,” Vaun whis- pered back. “‘Cut around the back of those bins and lie low.” “All right. All right,”’ Cal- shot grumbled. “‘Who’s the man of action around here, anyhow?” They parted and settled down to a watchful vigil. Calshot wasn’t too worried over Vaun. Whatever plan the brainy guy had cooked up, this end of it demanded action, and Calshot felt con- fident they could handle any- thing this planet could offer. Not that he’d ever think to mention that to Vaun, of course. They had been only just in time. comiclbooks.corn