Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION “The body will be taken back to Earth for burial,” said the Old Man. We were all standing in Base H.Q. ““That is the least we can do for a man who gave his life so tragically in the execution of his duty.” It seemed strange to talk of Wilson in this way, but that is how things are in the service. Alive, he was a fat slob whom nobody liked, but dead he was the symbol of a duty we all respected. At least, that was the way the Old Man made it sound. I glanced sideways at Chambers. He was looking at me with something resembling a smile on his thin lips. “The supply ship will arrive at approximately noon to- morrow, by which time all specialists will have their reports and samples ready to be taken on the return journey. Any questions ?”’ con- cluded the Old Man. “And the leave arrange- ments, sir?’ said Boon, voic- ing the question that was uppermost in all our minds. “‘They will stand according to the roster,” said the Old Man, turning away to his desk. ‘““The next man on the list will make himself ready to embark. That is all, gentle- men.” ' We saluted and left the room. “You made it after all, Chambers,” I said, as we walked along the corridor. “Yes! I did, didn’t 1?’’ There was a tense elation, verging on hysteria, behind the words. “My God! What a wonderful thought. No more of this stinking canned air... real human beings to talk to... freedom!”’ I turned away, feeling a little sick to hear him crowing whilst the body of Wilson lay elsewhere in the Base. I wondered how I would have acted under the same cir- cumstances. *“No, don’t go, Sammy,” he said, with a greater friendli- ness than he had ever shown before. “I’ve got to have somebody to talk to or [ll burst. Come along to the Mess with me.” I agreed, reluctantly. He went on, hour after hour, talking about going back to Earth and what he was going to do when he got there. I saw that my feelings were not important to him; he just needed a sounding board, anybody to listen to his chatter as the tension that had been building up so long poured out of him. 118 conmicloooks.com