THE HAND OF DR KAIFENG By tampering with the genes of humanity to create a super-race - that was the ideal of many scientific Utopians. By tampering with the genes of humanity to create a super-army - that was a dream of many military commanders. By tampering with the genes of humanity to create a horde of obedient but brilliant monsters - that was the scheme of Dr. Kaifeng. For Cap Kennedy, the abduction of a dozen leading geneticists spelled trouble for Earth. For their trails led not to some idealist, or to some would-be Napoleon, but pointed only at the one man in the galaxy who might prove to be more powerful than the legions of Terra themselves.
Release date:
September 29, 2011
Publisher:
Gateway
Print pages:
125
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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Footsteps of Angels (2004) (previously unpublished work written c.1988)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Pandora’s Box (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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Starslave (2010) (previously unpublished work written 1984)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Temple of Death (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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 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 spaceport at Krome was busy and the receptionist at the transient hotel had little time to spare for the non-descript
man who claimed his attention.
“Dene Winguard. I’m from the Shardorn, his vessel.”
“Crewmate, uh?” The receptionist turned from the phone. “Go on up, he’s expecting you.”
Corade was a big man with a shock of reddish hair, blue eyes, the shoulders of a bull and a thin scar tracing its way over
one cheek. He wore the puce and green of the Rumzan Line, his insignia the electronic flash of a communications officer. He
yelled to enter at the knock on his door, then turned from his packing. He narrowed his eyes at the visitor.
“You’re not Dene. Say, what is this?”
The stranger carefully closed and locked the door. Corade straightened, his hands clenching a little, body tensed for action.
As he stepped forward the man quickly said, “There’s no need for alarm. I had to use a subterfuge in order to see you. I’ve
come with a business proposition.”
Corade relaxed, thinking he knew the answer. He had been approached before on a dozen different worlds.
“Smuggling? If so forget it. We’re headed for Weingold. They check and double check and the penalties are too high.”
“Not smuggling.” The man stepped close, lifting his hand. “This.”
He wore an ornate ring bright with a glittering gem. As Corade looked at the jewel it seemed to expand, to open like a flower,
releasing a gush of acrid vapor. Even as he smelled it he fell, dead before he reached the floor.
Ten minutes later the receptionist looked up and smiled.
“Checking out, Mr. Corade?”
“Not exactly.” The big red-headed man returned the smile, hefting the bag he was carrying. “There’s been a delay, that’s why
Dene came to see me. I’ll just drop this off at the ship and carry on with some unfinished business.” His wink left no doubt
as to its nature. “We pull out early tomorrow, so I’ll keep the room another day. Make out the bill and I’ll settle it now
to save trouble.”
It was considerate, but then Corade always was: the kind of resident the hotel liked, quiet, discreet as to his pleasures,
no trouble at all.
As he counted the money the receptionist said, “A moment, sir, you’ve got change coming.”
“Keep it.” Corade added another bill to the rest. “Give this to the chambermaid. No need for her to go into the room—it might
be a little embarrassing.” Another wink.
“I understand.” The receptionist deftly pocketed his tip. “If I don’t see you again, sir, have a good trip. Will we have the
pleasure of your company when you are on Krome next?”
“Sure. You can rely on it.”
The big man moved quickly from the hotel toward the spaceport, hearing an irate voice as he reached one of the ships on the
field.
“For Pete’s sake, Corade! The old man’s hopping. What kept you?”
“Does it matter? I’m here.”
“And none too soon.” The second officer jerked his thumb at the open lock behind him. “Get on duty fast! We’re due to lift
within the hour.”
The Shardorn was a vessel of the Delta class, plying a regular route among a handful of worlds, carrying light freight and passengers. The big man dumped his bag in a cabin he
shared with the second engineer and went to the communications shack. It was empty—the Shardorn carried only one electronics officer—and he sat before the panel making the routine checks.
An hour later, all ports sealed, crew at their stations, the vessel lifted. Three hours after that the redhead made an adjustment
to the hybeam receiver. Two hours later he had an interview with Captain Schleheim.
“You were late reporting for duty, Corade. Why?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I was delayed.”
“That is no excuse. It is my standing order that every man be at his post at least two hours before lift. This is the second
time you’ve flouted that order. Do it again and you’ll be looking for another ship.”
“It won’t happen again, sir.”
“You know what to expect if it does. As it is you lose a day’s pay.”
Corade would have been resentful; the big man’s hands closed into fists where they hung at his sides. Schleheim noticed the
gesture and his craggy face hardened. An old veteran of space, tough as the metal which enclosed his tiny world, he ran a
hard ship.
“Two days’ pay,” he corrected. “And, by God, if you lift a hand to me you’ll spend the journey in irons.”
The hands opened, the blue eyes looked down at the deck between them.
“I’m sorry, sir. But two days’ pay for an hour’s lateness? It seems unfair.”
“Whine and it’ll be worse. Now get the hell out of my sight.”
After he left, the first officer turned from where he’d been monitoring the instruments, the screens which showed the star-shot
vista of space.
“That’s odd, Captain. The last time you chewed Corade out he tried to make a joke of it. I never expected him to complain.
Maybe he’s losing his sense of humor?”
“He’ll lose more than that if he doesn’t get a grip on himself,” snapped Schleheim. “An officer’s entitled to his fun, but not when it interferes with the operation of my ship.” He dismissed the incident with a shrug. With the vessel
traveling at plus-C velocity he had other things to worry about than a girl-bemused spaceman … the passengers, for one.
Tradition demanded that he make the routine circuit, dropping a word, exchanging greetings, letting them know their lives
were in good hands. More than that, though, he liked to know the people he was carrying: the entrepreneur already busy with
a host of plans, the three dancers, gay, lithe young things whose conversation rose like the twitter of birds, the solemn
woman with the peaked face and gemmed insignia—an officer of the Matriarch of Weingold, the scatter of others.
He paused by a high-backed chair, leaning with slight deference toward the woman it contained. Laura Previn was still attractive
despite her years, the figure beneath the plain gown curved and lush. With cosmetics and a more decorative gown she would
have rivaled any of the dancers, but then, he reminded himself, he was regarding her from the viewpoint of maturity, not of
youth.
“A pleasure to have you with us, madam,” he said sincerely. “It isn’t often that my ship carries a genetic engineer as noted
as yourself.”
She returned his smile. “You flatter me, Captain.”
“I speak the truth. Your work on selected physical types will open new worlds for habitation and what you have already accomplished
in the field of revivication is of personal interest to all spacemen. Even I, a crusty old man, can recognize that.”
She smiled, making no comment, and he sensed her desire to be alone. Sighing, he made the rounds of the other passengers,
wondering what it would be like to be married to such a woman, to share, even remotely, in her work. On his return she halted
him with a touch on his arm.
“Captain, how long will this journey take?”
“Ten days, madam.” She should have known, but genius was noted for absentmindedness. “I shall make them as comfortable for you as I can,” he promised. “Anything you need, an. . .
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