Authentic Science Fiction, December 1951 — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

108 THE MOON IS HEAVEN you see the colour of his face and your stomach gets tighter than it’s ever been. You swallow hard and push yourself gently off the mattress towards Clavier’s, Reina tries to come, too, but you motion her away. ‘Stay where you are for a moment,”’ you say to her. “* Just stay where you are.’’ Hovering over Clavier, you can see that it’s true. The acceleration was too much for his heart. Clavier won't be doing any more electrolysis, on the Moon or anywhere else. “ Atah,’? you say, ‘‘ Atah, look.” He puts down his slide rule and floats over. There is deep concern on his face as he reaches out a hand and feels for, Clavier’s pulse. Then he turns away quickly and goes back to his slide rule. He sits with his back to the room, staring at the rule. But his shoulders quiver. Leeson, who has sized things up, is looking straight at his instrument panel, his jaw set hard—just in case. Reina is unashamedly crying. You go across to her and slip an arm round her, shoulder. “ He was a great guy,’” Leeson says. ‘‘ I’m glad I came «with him.”’ “Yes,’’ you say. ‘‘ Yes. I guess’ we all feel like that. We did so much—worked so hard—was such a cheery guy, fim and his apparatus.’’ Suddenly you swing round to Atah, who’s back is still turned to you. ‘* Atah,’’ you say. ‘« Atah, they mustn’t take it down, his electrolysis gear. It must stay there. Always.’ Atah turns tired shoulders to you. His face is lined with the responsibilities he’s been bearing for years and the great Surden he’s been bearing these last few weeks. “Tt will,” he says. ‘‘ It will stay there.”’ The horrible thing about it is there’s nothing to cover Clavier’s body with. There’s no use for sheets so you didn’t carry them on the ship. And it doesn’t seem right to drape a spacesuit over him. Yet it doesn’t seem right to leave him Jike that. comicbooks.com