Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 72 — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

THE WAY | AM for Grant’s intervention I might never have made it, even on a tub like the Lindstrom. We had to enter by the emergency lock, next to the control cabin. The reason why was obvious as soon as the inner door opened. Every inch of space was occupied, piled high from floor to ceiling with crates and boxes of stuff. The only parts of the ship that were free were the control room, and a small cabin at its rear which con- tained two couches. Grant ruffled a hand through his boyishly tousled hair. “Here we are. Bush- man’s round the system tours —spend eighteen months in the lap of luxury. One thing, we shan’t starve, by the looks of that lot out there.’’ | I looked out into the corridor again. Bushman, having broken all extant regu- lations in the matter of crew, had apparently decided that there was not much point in making even a pretence at complying with any other safety requirements. Should anything go wrong in the engine room—a thing that was more than possible in a 77 ship of this age—it would take us hours, perhaps even days, to move the cargo sufficiently to get back there and do something about it. True, the engines would only be in use for a few hours during the entire journey, but there was always the chance. “Well, captain, shall we blast off?’ asked Grant. We had both removed our suits by now and were peels in the control room. I nodded. Grant gave me an encouraging grin and settled himself in the astro- gator’s seat. I lowered my- self into the pilot’s position and looked at the instrument panel in front of me. It was — the first time in over a year. I felt strange, removed, and then the flood of memory streamed into my ‘mind, the lights, the screams and the grinding impact—the horrible sense of tragic responsibility. **Ready to blast off, sir!” Grant’s voice, firm and clear, broke in on my recall. I dismissed the memories from my mind with an effort and started to raise my hand towards the firing keys. It lifted a few inches, then comiclooks.corn