Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION Half an hour later the reply came back. The station doctor was dead. He had succumbed to tachycardia, the space- man’s occupational disease; working under a subnormal gravity his heart had raced and raced until, finally, it had jumped its bearings. Then the trouble started. The crew wanted the ship taken straight to Earth where Kenwood could have atten- tion. The kid looked as if peritonitis was swilling his blood with bacterial bilge. Forde refused to bypass the station. Regulations said the ship was a ferry plying between the station and Mars. There was nothing in the books which said she could land on ' Earth. Furthermore, if they went to the station as or- dained, there’ would be a relief coming out and due to arrive next day. Next day could be one day too late, said the crew. It was Earth or nothing. Either the captain—— Duffy’s reminiscences were cut short. One of the mour- ners, 2 woman in black, was lying against the catafalque, sobbing hysterically. Slightly embarrassed, for he wasn’t very old, Duffy moved round the dais and put his gloves on her arms. She stiffened at his 68 touch, straightened and re- coiled when she saw the uniform. “Take your hands off me,” she said with venom. “You're, you’re another of them.” To Duffy’s dismay, she cried again, but there was laughter among the tears and he felt uneasy. She looked at the corpse. “Captain Forde!” she sneered. “He was a great man,” Duffy echoed the commodore —without any great con- viction. “He was a rat,” the woman countered. ‘“‘A selfish, in- considerate rat. A fine hus- band he turned out to be. Husband! Seventeen years married and I saw him once. That was fifteen years ago. Seventeen years married—no, wasted. My life wasted. And what for?” Her shoulders drooped, her arms swung loosely at her sides. She shrugged and answered her- self. ““Nothing. No husband. No pension. Nothing.” Duffy felt obliged to speak. ““Have you béen to the office ?”’ he tried. “They should be able to arrange something.” “Office? Catch me going there! They don’t like me. Know why? Because I drink. Every month when I collect comiclbooks.com =