Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION words hovering on the edge of laughter. “Why? You fool—tell us why?” shouted Admans. “He'll kill you!” “Do you think his reasons will make any difference?” said Tutin. “A man tries to kill five hundred human be- ings ... and you ask him why. Shut up, Admans.”’ Admans looked around the compartment. The androids had stopped working. They stood, unmoving. “You may be right, major,” said Mayo. “‘Nothing any of - us do will make a great deal of difference in the long run. Ask Admans—he’ll tell you that the expedition is doomed, anyway. He’s right, up to a point. Tell me, Tutin—what would you do if you had a pet animal that was slowly dying of some incurable di- sease? Would you let it drag out its existence in suffering? Or would you kill it out of pity? *““No. Perhaps I’m talking the wrong language. Maybe the word pity isn’t in your book. If it was, you could apply it to the human beings 24 on board this ship, who ate all dying in a particularly horrible kind of way. They are dying in the future tense, through the generations that will not be born.”’ “The man’s mad,” snarled Tutin, *“No—wait!’’ said Admans, urgently. ““What are you do- ing here, Mayo? Have you been tampering with the drive ?”’ “Of course not.” Mayo sounded surprised at the sug- gestion. “‘We humans are dying, but the ship will still go on towards the stars.”’ Admans could hear Tutin’s breath rasping between clenched teeth. He looked across at the man—and saw that he was beginning to depress the firing lever of the blaster. Admans launched himself forward desperately. The weapon discharged in front of his visor as he crashed to the deck, bearing Tutin with him. He struggled awkwardly into a sitting position. The blaster lay on the deck beside him. He picked it up. Mayo was still standing by the connicloooks.comn