Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION “The last time you made a rich strike you were gypped. What makes you so sure the same thing won’t happen this time?” “Not a:chance. They = .°:”’ I broke off because I’d just realised what Harry was get- ting at. He nodded. “That’s it. The deal is that you smash this claim-jumping racket in return for the claim. In other words, if you can hang onto it, it’s yours. Well?” “Sounds good,” I admitted. *‘But there’s one more ques- tion. You’re no prospector, Harry, and you talk like a man with sense. Who are you?” “An officer of Consolidated. Surprised ?”” I was. The rock was where he said it would be, and the spectro- scopic reading gave it a value about what he’d said. It had a marker on it, too, a Consolidated one, but Harry put it out of commission as soon as we touched down. 20 “This is an old claim,” he explained. “The title’s ours, but that doesn’t matter. We’ve moved it since then and the co-ordinates will be different.” He grinned. “So will the assay.” We'd taken off our suits and were resting after going outside. Carrying oxygen as fuel as we do, and cramped for Space as we are, the little ships have no air-lock. It’s quicker and more convenient to evacuate the ship while working, and wear suits all the time. The only trouble with that was that it made the ship cold and I shivered over the heaters as I sucked hot coffee. *““What happens next?” “I go back with the false samples and register the claim. If our friends follow their pattern they will send a ship out here, change markers and fix the records. When I return they will warn me off. If I make a complaint I’ll be laughed down. You know how wi comiclbooks.conm