Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 48 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

TABARNI DOCUMENT of hand weapons which the Constructors trained upon him. “T have a present for you, Son Takato,” he said, his voice blurred by clenched teeth. “A present for you,” he repeated. He concentrated all his dwindling energy on the movement of his right hand. The little claw-like fingers dipped into a deep bulky pocket in his uniform. With surprising swiftness he pulled out a small hand weapon. With a last convulsive jerk he closed his finger on _ the trigger. He died naturally. He was dead even before the first of the blasts from the Con- structors’ hand weapons tore into his body. The Director clutched at the purple stain on the chest of his blue gown. He twisted backwards, so that he seemed to kneel in ecstasy. His head was thrown back and there was a savage smile on his face fora moment. Then his small 61 body fell sideways, fell across the marshal’s feet and lay quite still. The boom of the Con- structors’ - weapons faded. Again they could hear the air hissing and bubbling at the inner port. They could hear the sodden animal sounds of the Fighters as they gobbled the sticky masses of rice. They could hear a. plano-indicator click softly to itself. But from the two Takatos on the floor no sound arose. They were curiously quiet, these great leaders; they were curiously at peace, even in their twisted attitudes; and they were curiously alike. THE LAST grey dawn of my life has come, but I pay no attention to the light which comes through the window of my sanatorium. I am looking into the recording apparatus, striving to finish this account of the great solar revolution. For twenty-three days I have sat before the recorder, summoning up images and comicloooks.com