Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION answer, Foley thought again. Then the wall speaker filled the room with startling clarity. ‘Hullo! Hullo, base—can you hear me?” That was the way it had started before, but to Foley, who had only heard the previous broadcasts through the impersonal medium of a recording, it was gripping. He leaned forward tensely, his eyes turning to focus on the round, blank mouth of the loudspeaker as if he could look up through it and see the man beyond. But Taunton had to make an obvious effort to infuse enthusiasm into his voice as he answered: “Hullo, Post! This is Gen- eral Taunton speaking. We can hear you clearly. Are you all right?” “I’m fine, so far,’ the booming voice came back— the distance was not yet great enough to cause notice- able time-lag. The staff ser- geant grimaced and turned down his high frequency gain. Not, of course, able to know about that, Post went straight on. “I’m still in the acceleration couch, as I was told. Someone’s over-inflated this blasted pad, though— I’m being squashed against the straps.”’ There was a ratchet sound—the noise of 88 the fastenings being adjusted— and then a deep sigh. “Ah, that’s better.” The restraining straps had been all right before. Aside from that, this was an echo of the previous occasions. Up to the end of the first hour, the pilot would be all right. After that, they could only hope. Especially Foley. So far, there was the same hint of relief at finding himself alive, the same cocky jaunti- ness, and the same exhilaration that Marlow had displayed. And Reeves. And Sanderson. But in the end they had been whimpering and broken, kick- ing impotently at the cabin walls and shouting to be taken back to Earth. *“That’s fine,’ said Taunton. “‘Uh—what are you doing now?” “Sorry about the straps,” put in Foley, glancing side- long at the general. ““We’ll see someone loses his hide for ‘“‘Thassokay,” said Post, managing to make three words into one. “It didn’t bother me much. I’m going to have a whale of a job getting used to this free fall, though. I keep getting the idea that I’m in a lift which has just started to go down very fast. Roll on mealtime—I could do. with comiclooks.cormn