Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION Foley gave what he hoped was an enigmatic smile. “ll tell you when he’s down in one piece, general,” he replied. *“When!”’ snorted Taunton. be} 2 Ms ““Hey!”’ said the wing com- mander, suddenly. He tapped the flight lieutenant on the shoulder and pointed to a dial before him. The junior Officer’s face went white. ““What is it?’ demanded Taunton and Foley together, rising and striding across the floor. **This!”’ said the wing com- mander. He indicated the meter labelled: PROPELLANT RESERVE; it was slanting by degrees towards the zero mark, when it should have been rock-still. “Quickly! Tell him!” said Taunton, as soon as he had recovered from his momen- tary shock. After all their care and worry about the human element—the pilot— to have a mechanical fault develop! “Don’t worry,” said the wing commander, with glacial calm. “He'll spot it for him- self in ten seconds.” The ripest curse yet bel- lowed from the wall speaker, and Foley nodded. ‘“He’s seen it,” he said. His face was whiter than anyone’s in 90 the room, and—illogically— his fingers were crossed. Frantic scrambling move- ments came from the speaker. They waited helplessly for a second, Then Foley stepped back to the signals desk and snapped into the mike: “‘Post! What the devilare youdoing?” The voice which came from the wall had lost every trace of its self-assurance, and Foley bit down on his lower lip. The high, petulant and scared tones said: ““This meter says the blasted juice is running away!”’ “So ?” said Foley, managing to infuse a sneer into his voice. ““You won’t need much to tip you out of that orbit. It can’t be dangerous yet-——”’ ‘“‘For Chrissake, Foley!’ Then Post seemed to be struck by a: fresh idea. “It isn’t really running away, is it?” he pleaded. “Tell me it’s only the meter gone wrong!”’ “Yes, of course the juice is running away,” Foley said with assumed tiredness. “We've got it on our dials, too.” Taunton laid a hand on his arm, which he shook off impatiently. “I know what I’m doing,” he muttered. He bent closer to the mike. “Well, Post? What are you comicloooks.conm