Avon Fantasy Reader No. 13 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

Commander at that time of the supercruiser Tamon, a Special Patrol ship of the Alliance, I was not at all surprised to receive orders from the Central __ Council to report at emergency speed. Special Patrol work in those days, before the advent of the present de-centralized system, was a succession of false starts, hurried recalls, and urgent, emergency orders. I obeyed at once. In the Special Patrol service, there is no questioning orders. The planet Earth, from which I sprang, is and always has been _ proud of the fact that from the very beginning, her men have been picked to command the ships of the Special Patrol. No matter how dangerous, how forlorn and hopeless the mission given to a commander of a Special Patrol ship, history has never recorded that any commander has ever hesitated. That is why our uniform of blue and silver commands the respect that it does even in this day and age of softening and decadence, when men—but again an old man digresses. And perhaps it is not for me to judge. I pointed the blunt nose of the Tamon at Zenia, seat of the Central Council, and in four hours, Earth time, the great craft swept over the sleaming city of the Central Council and settled swiftly to the court before the mighty, columned Hall of the Planets. Four pages of the Council, in their white and scarlet livery, met me and conducted me instantly to a little ante-room behind the great council chamber. There were three men awaiting me there; three men whose faces, at that time, were familiar to every person in the ‘known Universe. Kellen, the oldest of the three, and the spokesman, rose as I entered the room. The others did likewise, as the pages closed the heavy doors behind me. “You are prompt, and that is good,” thought Kellen, “I welcome you. Re- move now thy menore.’ I glanced up at him swiftly. This must surely be an important matter, that I was asked to remove my menore band. It will, of course, be understood that at that time we had but a bulky and clumsy instrument to enable us to convey and receive thought; a device consisting of a heavy band of metal, in which were imbedded the necessary instruments and a tiny atomic energy generator, the whole being worn as a circlet or crown upon the head. Wonderingly, I removed my menore, placed it upon the long, dark table around which the three men were standing, and bowed. Each of the three, in turn, lifted their gleaming circlets from their heads, and placed them likewise upon the table before them. “You wonder,” said Kellen, speaking of course, in the soft and liquid universal language, which is, I understand, still disseminated in our schools, as it should be. “I shall explain as quickly and as briefly as possible. “We have called you here on a dangerous mission. A mission that will require tact and quickness of mind as well as bravery. We have selected you, have called you, because we are agreed that you possess the qualities required. Is it not so?” He glanced at his two companions, and they nodded gravely, solemnly, without speaking. , “You are a young man, John Hanson,” continued Kellen, “but your record in your service is one of which you can be proud. We trust you—with 27 be (E(0) grr’ A Sai he oe Lovely Way to Spend an Even; YY UIA LOST Iw] nea @ Panedn VAsene Comichbooks < weer WI OS y WeMieesog) Kostenaeny an a ®* Mambo Ne £ eh vverwsorve MSU KNUMD