Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION are you trying to do, Harry? Whitewash them?” “They don’t need white- washing. Consolidated has poured billions into its in- vestments in the Belt and they want to keep clean. Under Earth law they have to keep clean. If they don’t, then they’re in trouble.”’ He looked at me. ““Your claim was worth say, fifty thousand credits?” “Call it a hundred.” *“*All right then, a hundred. Compare that to the billions Consolidated have spent out here, and the profits they hope to make. Do you think it would pay them to gyp you out of a lousy hundred thousand ?”’ “Perhaps not me,” I ad- mitted. “But I’m not the only one. Add us all up and you’re not far short of a million or so. That’s big money which- ever way you look at it.” ““Consolidated’s turnover runs close to eight hundred millions a year,” said Harry quietly. “‘It still doesn’t make sense. In fact, this claim- jumping business is the last 14 thing they want. It hurts their reputation.” “T’m crying,” I said. “I’m really sorry for them.” “You’re: still bitter,” he said. “You’re not able to think straight and you won’t be until you get some sense. Why don’t you sleep on it?” ““What about the ship?” It was all I owned in the universe. If anything happened to it I was right back in the gutter sifting swill for something to eat. Harry pressed me back onto the bunk. ‘Relax. I’m an experienced pilot. Nothing will happen to it.” He grinned down at me. “Just give your brains a chance and stop feeling sorry for yourself.” I swore at him as he left me. A second sleep washed the traces of the dope from my system and cleared my mind. I even did some thinking about what Harry had told me, but it didn’t do me any good. It certainly didn’t give me the hundred thousand I’d lost, but that was past, and, if connicloooks.conn