Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION others had been able to stand. After a moment there were clicking sounds, and then a deep sigh. “*Lord, but that’s beautiful!”’ said Post. “‘Just like the maps, too.”” He chuckled. “‘Only it looks as if it was made of glass, with colours painted on it, and lit from inside. And those stars—I never dreamed they could be so bright.” They waited. ““Whizzing past me, too,” Post added musingly. “*This is better than a TV show. I could watch it for ever, the way I feel just now. I suppose I’d better make the most of it while I’ve got it.” Taunton glanced at Foley, the tense lines of his face beginning to relax, and saw that the psychologist’s nails were clenched into the palms of his hands. Then the taut fingers uncurled by slow de- grees, and a smile spread over | Foley’s face. “He'll be all right,” he said. ““He’ll be all right.” They listened with relief to Post’s calm, matter-of-fact description of what he was seeing until it was almost beyond doubt that he was quite at ease. At the end of another half hour, he had cleared away the floating 94 droplets of propellant and removed his helmet. He signed off the transmission in order to eat his rations, and they turned away from the speaker, smiling. The flight lieutenant looked puzzled for a moment, and then tapped the glass of one of his telemeter dials, as if it were a barometer. Then he opened the panel and ex- amined the wiring carefully. The wing commander sat down with a sudden exclama- tion on the edge of the signals desk and looked meaningly at Foley, who nodded tensely. “What is it?’ Taunton asked, noticing their looks of dismay. “Some of these dials have stopped registering,” said the flight lieutenant between his teeth. “It may only be a fault in the relay system, of course ”” He turned hope- fully to the staff sergeant, who shook his head. “The circuit’s all right,’”’ he said. “Then what’s wrong?” Taunton insisted. *“Well——_” The wing com- mander seemed to be having difficulty finding words. “Well, sir, it’s not usual to make the circuits in a spaceship water- proof. There’s something like seven tons of propellant float- comiclooks.corn be ar ta Te :