Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

THE LESSER BREED quarters. About twenty yards ahead, a knot of men and women stood around an open door. One of the men looked up as he approached. ““Hey, doc! You’re needed here.” Admans quickened his pace. He realised with a lurch of apprehension that the open door was that of Mayo’s quarters. The crowd parted and he walked into the room. Kolsky, one of his orderlies, was bending over the still figure which lay on the bunk. In his hand was an oxygen mask, which he was applying to the face of the patient. Despite this, Admans recog- nised the unconscious woman as Mayo’s wife. The liaison officer was slumped in a chair on the other side of the room, his head cradled in shaking hands. “All right, folks—the show is over!’’ said Admans, closing the door. On board the star- ship any event, however un- pleasant, was a welcome change of monotonous, rou- tine existence and was sure to attract an audience of rubbernecks. L7 Kolsky looked round at the sound of his superior’s voice. His lips were down- turned at the corners as he pointed with his free hand to the figure on the bunk. He shook his head slowly. Admans walked over and felt the limp wrist. There was no'pulse. He eased the oxygen mask away—the woman’s face was blue. “Stimulants?” he asked. “T gave her two grains of coprazene immediately,” said Kolsky. There was nothing more to be done. Admans handed the mask to the orderly. He pulled up the white sheet and covered the ghastly face of the dead woman. “What happened?” he asked. Mayo pulled himself up from the chair and. lurched across the room. “‘I found her hanging when I got back here. I called the sick bay, right away.” “Didn’t you cut her down first?’ Admans said. “If you had...” The expression on Mayo’s face would not let him go on. | : conmicloooks.comn