Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

THE OLD FIRM was nice. Their previous work, before they’d founded the old firm, had been anything but legal. Both of them could feel very satisfied. Vaun most certainly did. Calshot wasn’t quite sure how he felt, except that he was very thirsty. They didn’t find Jorgen. He had disappeared in the back- woods of the planet and they knew better than to attempt to track a man on his home ground. Vaun went back to his machine and began carry- ing on with it again, this time using the seeds from Jorgen’s sack. “They’re seeds of the blue weed, of course ?”’ “That’s right,” Vaun said. “But to any outward inspec- tion they look like wheat seeds. And if you looked in the bins containing other types of séed you’d find weed seeds there masquerading as genuine seeds.” “Your machine can tell them apart, though?” “Yes.” Vaun looked smug. ‘Simple, really. I checked that a vibrational wavelength from normal seeds gave a typical pattern on the oscilloscope. The weed seeds give back a different pattern. Their own pattern, and one which can be compared with their origins. Now we'll find that the weed comes from Prestonwell.” “I bet you'll find they come from Aldebaran XI.”’ *“We’llsee. Meanwhile, what about friend Jorgen and those he was working for?” The answer to that came when Rahming landed. He stepped from his private ship the following morning, plump and wheezing. The sun had already brought out a line of sweat along his forehead; but he seemed affable enough. “Well, gentlemen,” he greeted them, standing with a small group of his advisers around him. “I suppose you'll tell me that you’re forced to give up the assignment for various reasons, and you'll be blasting off?” ““Not quite, Mister Rah- ming.” Vaun was bubbling again. Calshot nudged him. comicloooks.com