Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION Duffy’s chin dropped till it hung in the pool of sweat in his head bowl. ““Hay fever killed him,” said Kenwood. ““Long ago he had nettlerash. It was never properly treated. He was left with a legacy of too much histamine in his blood. He was allergic to plants in any form. He drowned in his own body fluid.” Duffy remembered the time Mahon had omitted to close the door of the hydroponics chamber. 7 Kenwood continued: “‘You -can guess why he never left space in fifteen years. He went home once, two years after he was married. He nearly died then. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Earth. He must have broken his heart every time he thought about home. But he also knew that home meant death.”’ **Poordevil,” grunted Duffy. Then, as it occurred to him: ““Why didn’t he tell his wife or somebody?” ““He had his pride for one thing. More important, he had his pension to think about. Space was his only trade. He was afraid of being turfed out of the service as a crock. He was doomed to be a new Flying Dutchman, and he was determined to make the most of his misfortune.” *“‘He could have had treat- ment and gone back to the service,” Duffy suggested. “You know the service pension accumulates. You can make yourself rich in space— but only if your record is unbroken. Life upstairs isn’t very attractive. The money is.” “Sure,” agreed Duffy. “It’s like in the quiz programmes. Double or nothing. The old incentive racket. Sign for another period and get double pension. Quit and you get a pittance.” Kenwood nodded. “The captain was due for the maximum in three more years. He would have quit then, when his wife was provided for. He would have been prepared to die quite happily for that price.” Duffy saw Gillick approach- ing to relieve him. He snapped to attention, took three regula- tion paces and a right turn to the foot of the coffin. Ignoring the amazement in Gillick’s eyes, he saluted the corpse. It was a salute that Forde himself couldn’t have bettered. conmicloooks.com