Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 72 — page 112: what you’re looking at

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

“REWARD FOR VALOUR “Just for the record,” I said, “‘not that I really care, but what about safety devices, escape hatches, things like that?” “Are you kidding?’ he asked. “On an ore shuttle?’ “‘T’m surprised the inspectors let it operate,”’ I commented. “Are you?” He looked at me and smiled. I said no more. Yes, there were the stars beginning to show through the thin air of Mars. MacNab was rapt again. He was in his beloved space, out among his glittering stars, the understandable stars which op- erated according to patterns of logic. The friendly stars— because they were not human. His eyes took on a glow to match the stars. A strange impulse came over me. Have I a measure of ego, after all? Some futile urge to construct a monument to myself? An unworthy, human weakness, such as that? At any rate, I took out my notebook and pencil from my pocket. I began to write. I write the new shorthand, very rapidly. It has taken me but a few minutes to jot down these concepts—all that has hap- pened. No, I think I am not writing to build a monument, after all. I think perhaps it is a summing up, a habit of analysing, born of years of analysing government regula- tions. I cannot let this end of life be government gobble- degook, with no sense in it. I must find out what it means. The air is growing thinner. I know our moments are few. MacNab is leaning forward now, almost straining, as if he were trying to help the shuttle climb higher, higher into his beloved space before it falters, turns, and begins its straight downward plunge. MacNab belongs to space and it is right that he should die in space. And 1? I belong nowhere. It does not matter where I die. As with everyone else, I have often speculated on what I might do if I knew I must die immediately. Could I face the moment with courage? i11 comiclooks.cormn