Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 48 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

TABARNI DOCUMENT devoid of expression. Then he tapped the grey panel again. “My lord?” robot. “Madame Takato. long has she lived?” “Four and two third abso- lute years, my lord,” answered the robot. “* Have her destroyed,” said the marshal. “When, my lord?” ** At the second moon. And see that these files go to the Solar Records Centre.” The boy Takato slept fit- fully in his narrow cubicle. The sweet air played upon his bland face and made the slender stalks of the pillars in the room sway gently. He did not wake until he found a breakfast tray floating before him. ‘When am I to leave?” he asked the robot who had brought it. “In forty-five minutes, Son Takato,” the toneless voice replied. “IT wish to asked the How speak to 17 Madame ‘Takato,”’ said the boy. “ Inform her.” “ Madame Takato has been destroyed,” said the robot, and left the cubicle. Takato stared sightlessly before him. His face was grey as ash—and for the first and only time in his life, his hard, cold eyes were wet with tears. THE SPACE craft which brought the boy Takato to the Moon landed on a three kilo- metre ramp blasted out of the contorted landscape. As soon as the cushion jets were killed, the ship was surrounded by a lively group of young Con- structors. Takato, riding down the twenty metre escalator from the cramped cabin, found himself staring down on a number of bobbing’ trans- parent breathing globes. In each globe a face looked up at him, and arms waved in greeting. © There were Terrist faces, lean, bony, and of pale, pastel hues; there were Venusian comicloooks.conm