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Footsteps of Angels (2004) (previously unpublished work written c.1988)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Pandora’s Box (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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Starslave (2010) (previously unpublished work written 1984)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Temple of Death (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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 TormentedCity (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)
THE alleys of Turgan were thin fingers of twisting darkness, writhing in an intricate pattern as they wended between the high walls of ancient houses. Old were these houses, old with the slow passage of a hundred thousand years, and they stared down at the sand-filled alleys with blank faces and the blind eyes of barred doors.
Even in daylight it was hard to find a man in the maze of the old town, at night it was impossible and Fenris was glad of it.
He tensed, crouching down beside a wall smoothed to a dull polish by the whispering sand storms of Mars, and strained his ears at a subtle sound. It came again, a soft scuff of sandaled feet against the dust, the harsh sound of indrawn breath, and the faint click of metal against metal as weapons touched buckles or rasped against stone.
High above the twin moons cast a faint light, a ghostly luminescence, vague and unsubstantial, like the dream-glow of the Dryland Shamans and their magic globes of a long-dead science.
Fenris grinned as he heard the slow approach of cautious men, then moved carefully towards a side passage dim and black in the thin light. Behind him a man cursed as he stumbled, the sound echoing between the high walls of the deserted alley.
“Blast him! Why can’t we leave it until day? We’ll never find him in this rat-trap, I’m as good as lost already.”
“Shut up,” snapped a cold voice. “That big mouth of yours would warn a regiment. Leave it to the Drylanders, they’ll be able to spot him for us.”
Fenris tensed, then narrowed his eyes as he caught a glimpse of a tall, lath-thin figure limned against the darkness. Of all the people on Mars only the degenerate remnants of the nomadic tribes which had once ruled all the dry sea bottoms could track a man in the darkness of Turgan. Only they could sense the alteration in the temperature of the dust where his feet had trod. They could even scent his body moisture, and their wide ears could register the very beat of his heart.
For the first time Fenris felt despair.
He fumbled in the pocket of his short jacket, finding a few loose coins and a spare clip of charges for his flare-gun. He shrugged, the gun was with its belt and holster, somewhere beneath the bright lights of the spaceport five kilometres north of the old town.
But they could still be useful.
He poised the heavy clip in one hand, listening to the soft sounds of the approaching men, then he threw it from him, threw it hard against a building looming high against the stars. It struck with a metallic click and immediately a flare-gun thundered its song of power.
Lightning blazed down the twisting alley. A stabbing shaft of released energy, energy born in the heart of exploding atoms. It roared as it streamed from the pitted orifice of the weapon, and a wide patch of stone glowed with sudden incandescence.
“You fool!” The cold voice almost trembled with anger. “You trigger-happy fool! You’ve ruined the scent with that shot!”
“I thought I heard him,” growled a heavy voice. “I thought I heard his foot hit against the wall.”
“You thought!” The cold voice was thick with contempt. “What with? Space! Why does Earth send such morons to police Mars?”
“You calling me a moron?”
“Forget it,” said the cold voice tiredly. “May as well drop the search until light. The Drylanders won’t be able to track him now.”
Fenris grinned in the darkness as he heard the soft scuff of departing feet. He could well imagine the feelings of the cold-voiced man. To find a fugitive at night in the old town would have been worth a big promotion, and they had been closer than they knew to success.
But now he was safe.
He shivered a little, drawing his short jacket tighter around his big body against the freezing chill of the night air. Steadily he began feeling his way through the dark and . . .
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