Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

NUISANCE VALUE aware that he would be officially responsible if the whole project turned out a failure, but that was nothing new enough to worry him. What would be _ troubling that rigid mind under the casque of clipped brown hair —Foley noted the fact without pity, for there was no need for it to disturb the man—was that someone was sitting calmly less than ten feet away, in the middle of a wall of security tighter than that around the Manhattan Pro- ject, who was not under his orders. Who was not only not under those orders, Foley amended silently, but who took a pretty poor view of them, though so far he had overtly confined his objections to words. Now, though, he and Dolman, his colleague who was waiting on the other side of the world where the ship was scheduled to land, had agreed to go beyond words, and if they were wrong, there would be new kinds of hell to pay... He let the thought die of its own accord and absently fished for his pipe, the ten- . sion of the moment suddenly dwindling into insignificance. It came back with renewed force, even as his fingers 85 touched the smooth plastic of his tobacco pouch, and he froze in astonishment. Exactly at that instant, the staff sergeant covered the microphone with his hand and said in an urgent tone: **He’s switched on, sir. I’m getting the carrier wave.” If he was expecting a stir of excitement, he was disap- pointed. It had all happened before. He did not know it, of course—he was new. His predecessor had lasted through the three previous attempts, and then had had to be invalided out of the service. Foley was hardly surprised; if he had been in at the beginning, he could have warned Taunton about it, but it was no use wasting regrets. However, he would see to it that this man was replaced for the next shot if this one, too, was unsuccessful. Trying to sort the gibberish of chance interference from the gibber- ish of a lunatic was more of a strain than the mind could easily stand. Foley had played the recordings till he was sick; _ he knew. Now Taunton nodded sourly. Then, with an attempt at grace, he said: “Put it on the speaker as soon as you get something clearly.” conmicloooks.com