FREE ACTING TERRAN ENVOY F.A.T.E. Captain Kennedy, Earth's trouble shooter carries the Banner of Terran against the unknown sciences and alien psychologies of a thousand worlds. The crack in the cosmos that has to be sealed! FATE is the space hero series that has become a must wherever Science Fiction is read. A solid space adventure more exciting than "Startrek" and far more real than "Perry Rhodan". Look out for further titles in this exciting series.
Release date:
September 29, 2011
Publisher:
Gateway
Print pages:
110
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The Cap Kennedy (F.A.T.E.) Series (E.C. Tubb writing as Gregory Kern)
1: Galaxy of the Lost (1973)
2: Slave Ship from Sergan (1973)
3: Monster of Metelaze (1973)
4: Enemy Within the Skull (1974)
5: Jewel of Jarhen (1974)
6: Seetee Alert! (1974)
7: The Gholan Gate (1974)
8: The Eater of Worlds (1974)
9: Earth Enslaved (1974)
10: Planet of Dread (1974)
11: Spawn of Laban (1974)
12: The Genetic Buccaneer (1974)
13: A World Aflame (1974)
14: The Ghosts of Epidoris (1975)
15: Mimics of Dephene (1975)
16: Beyond the Galactic Lens (1975)
17: The Galactiad (1983)
Alien Dust (1955)
Alien Impact (1952)
Journey Into Terror (originally published as Alien Life (1954, rev 1998))
Atom War on Mars (1952)
Fear of Strangers (first published as C.O.D. – Mars (1968))
Century of the Manikin (1972)
City of No Return (1954)
Death God’s Doom (1999)
Death is a Dream (1967)
Dead Weight (first published as Death Wears a White Face (1979))
Escape into Space (1969)
Footsteps of Angels (2004) (previously unpublished work written c.1988)
Hell Planet (1954)
Journey to Mars (1954)
Moon Base (1964)
Pandora’s Box (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)
Pawn of the Omphalos (1980)
S.T.A.R. Flight (1969)
Stardeath (1983)
Starslave (2010) (previously unpublished work written 1984)
Stellar Assignment (1979)
Temple of Death (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)
Fifty Days to Doom (first published as The Extra Man (1954))
The Life-Buyer (1965, 2008)
The Luck Machine (1980)
World in Torment (originally published as The Mutants Rebel (1953))
The Primitive (1977)
The Resurrected Man (1954)
The Sleeping City (1999)
The Space-Born (1956)
The Stellar Legion (1954)
To Dream Again (2011)
Venusian Adventure (1953)
Tide of Death (first published as World at Bay (1954))
E. C. Tubb (writing as Arthur MacLean)
The Possessed (revised version of Touch of Evil (1957))
E. C. Tubb (writing as Brian Shaw)
Argentis (1952)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Carl Maddox)
Menace from the Past (1954)
The Living World (1954)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Charles Grey)
Dynasty of Doom (1953)
The Extra Man (first published as Enterprise 2115 (1954) & then as The Mechanical Monarch (1958))
I Fight for Mars (1953)
Space Hunger (1953)
The Hand of Havoc (1954)
Secret of the Towers (originally published as The Tormented City (1953))
The Wall (1953)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Gill Hunt)
Planetfall (1951)
E. C. Tubb (writing as King Lang)
Saturn Patrol (1951)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Roy Sheldon)
The Metal Eater (1954)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Volsted Gridban)
The Green Helix (originally published as Alien Universe (1952))
Reverse Universe (1952)
Planetoid Disposals Ltd. (1953)
The Freedom Army (originally published as De Bracy’s Drug (1953))
Fugitive of Time (1953)
On Sartelle the seas are red and the sands black, the sky is emerald and the rain azure when it rains at all, which is seldom
and never during the long, hot days of summer. A fine place on which to rest, with giant fish in the seas and the air scented
with flowers. A soft place for a vacation, and Kennedy was enjoying every moment of it.
He sprawled on the ebon grains, the sun hot on the hard lines of his near-naked body, eyes closed against the glare as he
listened to the soft murmurs from a group of young girls lying a few yards distant. They did not know or were careless of
the way in which voices could travel over the sand and their comments about his person were getting too pointed for comfort.
For a moment he wondered whether he should rise and face them and perhaps answer some of their speculations, then decided
against it. Who he was and what he did were matters of no concern to any but himself. And, young and innocent as they appeared,
the girls needn’t be what they seemed. On Sartelle, as on everywhere else, information was a thing which had value, items
which could be bought and sold to those who had an interest in such matters, and no one like himself could afford to risk
anyone learning more than they needed to know.
He turned a little as feet scuffed at the sand close to where he lay. A voice, softly modulated, whispered in his ear.
‘A message for you, Captain. Prime urgency and no delay acceptable. Shall I tell them you are at sea?’
Service, he thought, opening his eyes. The thing for which the hotel demanded a high price but always provided. Diplomatic
lies and the bending of truth a little to give privacy. Here the wishes of the guests were paramount.
It was tempting to take advantage of it, but Kennedy was proof against temptation.
‘Thank you, but no.’
‘Are you sure?’ The voice softened even more. ‘You look so comfortable lying here in the sun and it would be only a slight
distortion of the truth. A boat is about to leave. I could have missed you – a matter of a minute or two.’
To offer was one thing, to suggest another. He moved his head and looked at her as she sat framed against the sun. She had
crouched to show the double-curve of naked thighs, the flesh of her waist bunched a little above the circle of her kilt. Nudity
was common on Sartelle, but the bareness of her body was more than compensated for by the painted mask which was her face.
Spirals of red and purple interspersed with lines of silver and gold ran from forehead to shoulders. Crusted eyelids and lashes
adorned with tiny globules. Hair which bore a dozen gems, wreathed and plaited with metallic strands. The normal garb of a
hotel attendant.
But if the garb was normal her expression was not.
The paint disguised it, the mask turning her features into a robot-blankness, but there was a slight tension about the eyes,
a firmness about the mouth which had no place if she were exactly what she seemed. A dilettante, perhaps, a female guest intrigued
and hoping to establish a closer relationship? He decided against it; but if she were not a genuine employee or a bored holidaymaker
looking for a companion, she could only be one other thing.
‘The message,’ he snapped. ‘From whom?’
‘Armat Chan.’
The resident Terran operative on Sartelle and one, Kennedy thought grimly, who had obviously inflated ideas of his own importance.
Or perhaps the girl had held plans of her own. To be able to report back that he had refused to accept a message of prime
urgency would conceivably have enhanced her importance. Or Chan could have been testing him – rumor had it the man was fond
of such things. Not for the first time Kennedy cursed the departmental rivalries which made life more difficult.
Rising, he dusted ebon grains from the smooth musculature of legs and torso. He caught the quick intake of breath from the
group which had been studying him, a barely repressed squeal.
‘I told you! See how tall he is? And that chest!’
‘You appear to have made a conquest,’ said the woman at his side. She too had straightened and, tall though she was, her head rose barely above his shoulder. ‘Not hard when you consider the opposition.’ She stared at the rows of supine
shapes, the men flabby for the most part, elderly, paunches and skin dull and soft with overindulgence.
Flatly he said, ‘Your name?’
‘Sharon Dale.’ The globules on her eyelashes caught the light in tiny sparkles as she looked up at him. ‘You are interested?’
‘In you, no.’ He was deliberately curt. ‘In Armat Chan, perhaps. Where can I find him?’
He was waiting in Kennedy’s room at the hotel, a bland man with a neatly dressed figure, an executive-type case at the side
of his chair. He rose as the pair entered, and glanced at the girl. Kennedy caught the slight, negative motion of her head
as he headed toward, the shower.
Armat Chan said, ‘The matter is of prime urgency, was not that made clear?’
‘To whom?’ snapped Kennedy. ‘To you or to me? If to you then why the nonsense at the beach? I don’t take kindly to such stupidity.’
‘It was considered desirable,’ said Chan. ‘On the beach, one man among many, how could we be sure you were the one we wanted?’
Kennedy paused by the door leading to the shower. Glancing at the girl, he said, ‘Get out of here.’
‘What?’ She looked at Chan. ‘Sir?’
‘I told you to get out,’ snapped Kennedy harshly. ‘Now move!’ As the door closed behind her he said to Chan, ‘Listen. If you
are so inexperienced as not to be able to recognize a man you want to see, then I’d advise you to resign immediately. And,
while we’re on the subject, let me see your identification.’
‘Now wait a minute!’ Chan bristled, his dignity offended. ‘May I remind you that I am –’
‘I don’t want reminding. I want to see your identity.’ Kennedy stepped forward and before the other could protest had seized
his right hand. Lifting the sleeve, he pressed the flesh with cruel fingers and took his time studying the pattern which the
pressure had caused to reveal itself on the inside of the wrist. ‘All right,’ he said, releasing the trapped hand. ‘Now sit
down and wait while I shower and get dressed.’
He washed, dressed, reappeared neat in pants and blouse of lustrous black edged with gold. Chan had placed his case on a table. He opened it as Kennedy took another chair.
‘Now,’ he said stiffly. ‘If you are quite ready perhaps we can begin.’
‘Perhaps.’
Chan sighed. ‘More delay?’
‘A little. How important is all this?’
‘Very important.’
‘And you are satisfied that I am the man you think?’
‘I am.’ Chan was definite. ‘You are Captain Kennedy of FATE. You are a Free Acting Terran Envoy and I was advised to contact
you by higher authority. I have not asked to see your identification because there is no need. I have already checked your
body-missions against the master pattern and your psychological behavior is what I had expected. I also realize that I cannot
coerce you or force you in any way. Incidentally, Sharon was acting under my orders when she contacted you on the beach. I
had to be absolutely certain.’
His manner, Kennedy noted, had altered a little. He was no longer the blustering, overpowering agent infected with delusions
of grandeur – an attitude guaranteed to arouse a predictable response in the man he had come to see. Or perhaps the byplay
had been for the benefit of the girl. Female operatives were rarely to be wholly trusted; emotion played too large a part
in . . .
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