FREE ACTING TERRAN ENVOY F.A.T.E. Captain Kennedy lay between life and death after his mind had been hurled a million years into the past. To break the spell of the Jewel of Jarhen which held the Captain in its thrall, three members of FATE had to pit all their formidable skills against a terrible enemy. The danger to Captain Kennedy's life was matched by the peril to an entire world. It was an inexorable race against time for the FATE team as they tried to break the mystery of the pre-galactic artifact on which all the horror hinged.
Release date:
September 29, 2011
Publisher:
Gateway
Print pages:
111
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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Footsteps of Angels (2004) (previously unpublished work written c.1988)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Pandora’s Box (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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Starslave (2010) (previously unpublished work written 1984)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Temple of Death (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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)
He woke screaming from a dream in which he had been slowly flayed alive, and stared wild-eyed at the tall figure standing
beside his couch.
‘My lord.’ Nava Sonega moved a little, the light from a lantern touching the engraved hollows of his face. ‘You are summoned
to attend your brother.’
Umed Khan gulped, reaching for the table on which stood a goblet of wine. It did little to ease his apprehension, but his
throat moistened, he was able to speak.
‘Why? For what purpose?’
‘A hunt, my lord.’ Sonega’s voice matched his figure, old, sere, the rustle of leaves beneath dormant trees. ‘The runes were
cast and the omens propitious. Also,’ he added dryly, ‘a herd of wild drell has been reported from the Frome estate.’
‘And my brother is eager to slaughter them.’ Umed Khan finished his wine. ‘Has he not had enough of killing?’
Nava Sonega made no comment, stepping back as the other rose. The prince was dewed with sweat, in need of a bath and relaxing
attention, but there was no time for self-indulgence. Quickly he dressed in boots, breeches, an undershirt of fine metal mesh,
a tunic of woven silk ornamented with lizards, the creatures brightly yellow against maroon. A thick cloak and he was ready.
‘Arms?’
‘Will be provided, my lord. Attendants and nerfs are waiting.’ Sonega led the way toward the door, turning as he reached the
portal in time to see the other reach for more wine. ‘My lord,’ he said sharply. ‘You have not eaten.’
It was a subtle warning against overindulgence, or as subtle as Umed could expect, but the man was right. Wine was no protection,
and the false courage it gave could be dangerous. Now, as always, he would need a clear head if he hoped to survive.
Setting down the decanter, he said, ‘I had a dream. I was being slowly flayed and it seemed that my brother watched and enjoyed
my pain. Your interpretation?’
‘I am not a seer, my lord.’
‘And so do not believe in premonitions?’ Umed Khan shrugged; over the course of years he had learned to recognize Sonega’s
caution. ‘And yet you must have some guidance to determine your actions. How else could you have survived so long in the court
of Jarhen? First with my father, then with my brother, neither noted for their gentle restraint. What charm do you possess
which gives you immunity against those who rule?’
‘No charm, my lord.’ Nava Sonega opened the door. ‘No charm, but a little anticipation. The knowledge, for example, that your
brother will be irate if kept waiting.’
Umed Khan heard his brother’s voice as he descended to the courtyard. A bull-roar heavy with arrogance, it rose to echo from
the moldering stone of the palace.
‘Fool! My boot! You dare to be so clumsy!’
A man screamed as a whip cracked and Umed saw a groom staggering back from where his brother sat mounted, hands to his eyes,
blood running from beneath his fingers. Jarhed laughed thickly, running the lash through a gloved hand.
‘He spilled wine on my boot and claimed he had not seen the leather. Well, if I struck true, he will never see again. Now,
brother, mount! We have far to go.’
Twenty men accompanied them, riding sullenly through the silence of the predawn city. Slumbering beggars stirred as they passed,
waking to cringe at the sight of their lord and his retinue. Only in the great square were there signs of activity; too early
for the markets, it was always time for pleasure, and those watching would wait until the end.
They thronged the circle of guards, eyes lifted to stare above and beyond the crested helmets and ceremonial pikes to where,
bathed in the light of searchbeams set on surrounding houses, a man was dying.
He was thin, emaciated, ribs stark against the strained parchment of his chest. His head was thrown back, the corded throat raw from screaming, the gaping mouth soundless now, able only to
mew the pain. Ropes lashed his arms behind his back and supported the bulk of heavy weights lashed to each ankle. Between
his thighs the slender cone of polished wood on which he had been impaled was laced with lines of blood, some dried, others
glistening wet.
‘He’s lasted well,’ rumbled Jarhed. ‘The execution was at sunset. Five will get you ten if he lasts until noon.’
‘No,’ said Umed.
‘Squeamish, brother?’ Jarhed’s laugh rose above the murmur from the crowd. ‘At times I think our father’s madness drove him
into the arms of a chull and only my mother’s charity claimed you for her own.’
Umed felt the hand on his arm, Sonega’s quick pressure of warning, and was glad that he had not drunk the second goblet of
wine. Instead of the sharp retort against the insult, which would have brought the lash of a whip across his eyes or sent
him to follow the dying man on the stake, he said quietly, ‘Each to his own, my lord. I gain no pleasure from wagers on dying
men.’
Others had no such compunction. From the crowd came the calls of men chanting odds, the comments of those who calculated their
chances. Impalement took time to kill. A man could hasten his end by struggling, driving the pointed end deeper into his vitals,
bursting intestines, spleen, diaphragm, and lungs, drowning in his own blood. Or he could do the reverse, strive to support
his weight by the pressure of his thighs against the polished wood, lengthening his agony by as much as days.
In this case the weights were against the man. With his poor constitution, flabbily muscled and with little reserve, he would
barely last until dawn.
Jarhed had wanted a safe gamble.
Umed followed as the big man led the way toward the northern gate, hooves thudding as the column passed from the city and
headed into the country beyond. Lights glowed from the spacefield to one side, a patch of brightness against the shimmer of
stars, the trail of a comet which laced a skein of brilliance low on the horizon. Higher curtains of luminescence glowed like
veils flecked with gems, points of ruby, emerald, sapphire, and agate, murky globes of opal, splinters of diamond, smudges of amber, ebon patches of interstellar dust which shielded the light of suns beyond.
Umed stared at the heavens with interest. Tugool was entering the house of Cran, Armand was in the ascendant, and Tramarg
in aspect. All propitious signs. Against them was the fact that Jarhed had summoned him from his bed to join the hunt. He
had experienced a troublesome dream, and on retiring, had broken a favorite charm.
His mount stumbled and Umed lowered his head. Signs and omens must be ignored in the need to avoid a fall which could easily
break his neck.
At dawn they ate, chewing slabs of dried meat and tough bread as they rode, washing down the rough fare with drafts of bitter
wine. An hour before noon their guide halted and pointed with his whip at a clump of vegetation.
‘There, my lord,’ he said to Jarhed. ‘If they have not moved on, the drell should be within.’
‘If they are not, you will suffer for it.’ Jarhed rose in his stirrups, looking ahead. Beneath him the nerf shifted restlessly,
long neck twisting, pointed head staring with lidless eyes back and up at its rider. The tail, docked and tufted with feathers,
lashed slowly from side to side. ‘Steady, my beauty!’ Jarhed’s gloved hand slapped at the scaled neck. He was kinder to beasts
. . .
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