England was starving when cheap power could have saved her . . . power that would have been available if atomic research had not been forbidden by the watchful League of Peace . . . But two scientists chose to ignore this ban, and soon they launched an experiment-an experiment that succeeded too well, and got out of hand, spreading a tide of black death across the country, threatening the whole planet. Neil Hammond, secret agent for the League of Peace, is sent to investigate, and uncovers a terrifying secret . . .
Release date:
January 30, 2014
Publisher:
Gateway
Print pages:
216
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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Footsteps of Angels (2004) (previously unpublished work written c.1988)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Pandora’s Box (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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Starslave (2010) (previously unpublished work written 1984)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Temple of Death (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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)
Journey at Night
HE drove with a concentration so intense that in effect he was part of the car, his slender hands gripping the wheel, his thin body quivering to the whine of the powerful turbine, his pale blue eyes glazed a little as they stared through the windscreen.
Before him the wide ribbon of concrete glistened a little in the brilliant light of the headlamps, pale and ghostly, edged with the half-glimpsed darkness of hedges and fields, fences and open moor. Tyres sang as they spun against concrete, whined as they met tarmac, boomed as they rolled over wood block, shrilling as they shed rubber at every bend.
On the dimly-lit dashboard the thin needle of the speedometer jerked and swung, hovering around a hundred, never falling below seventy. Next to it the fuel gauge registered zero, and the man glanced at it, a brief flash of the wide blue eyes, then spun the wheel as the flaring lights of a garage illuminated the wide road.
The solitary attendant was inclined to be loquacious.
He stared at the big car, walking slowly around the glistening black plastic of the body, his lips pursed in undisguised admiration. A young man, still in his early teens, and glad of the chance to break the monotony of his twelve-hour night shift.
“Some car you have there, sir. How fast can she go?”
The man stirred in the driving seat, opening his door and stretching cramped limbs. He stared at the youth, a cold blue stare, and ignored the question.
“Fuel please.”
“Yes, sir. How many?”
“Fill up the tank.” He fumbled for a moment with a set of keys, unlocking the cover of the fuel tank and impatiently watched as the youth slowly inserted the nozzle of the fuel line.
“Travelled far?”
“No.”
“Don’t get many cars along here now.” The youth seemed determined to talk. “Not like the old days. Why, before the depression this road used to be full of them, almost bumper to bumper; now we’re lucky to get a couple a night.” He glanced at the meter on the fuel pump, then at the tall man, his features filled with youthful curiosity.
“Going far?”
“Hurry it up will you?” The driver stared down the silent road and walked with swift jerky movements around the car. He seemed worried, overstrained, and his hands trembled a little from the reaction of the long drive.
“Doing the best I can,” said the youth cheerfully, “but you’ve a big tank on this thing, and it takes time.” He grunted as some of the yellow fuel spurted from the feed-in pipe, and hastily removed the nozzle.
“Sixty litres, sir.”
“Thank you.” The tall man handed over some notes.
“Is that enough?”
“More than enough, sir. I’ll get your change.”
“Never mind.” The tall man locked the tank cover and slipped into the driving seat.
“Thank you, sir.” The young attendant almost fell over himself as he wiped the windscreen. “Check your oil, sir?”
“No.”
“Your tyres? Water?”
“Nothing; please stand back.”
Impatiently the driver started the engine, the turbine shrilling to an open throttle, then dropping to its normal whine. Smoothly the big machine slid from the garage and swung onto the deserted road, the gears automatically changing as the speed increased, the driver resuming his former tense position.
Behind him the flaring lights of the garage dropped into darkness; then, as the car shrilled around a curve, vanished altogether.
Steadily the big machine bored through the night.
Dawn came with a flush of pink and orange, a pale wash of light streaming from the east, dimming the brilliance of the headlamps and revealing the night-shrouded things of normal day.
Now the tyres bumped over rutted roads, the body of the vehicle brushed at times by the encroaching branches of bramble and gorse. Stiffly the driver spun his wheel, his eyes strained and with red staining around the pale blue, his thin features dark with stubble and lined with fatigue.
A lane led from the narrow road, a crude cart track metalled with chipped stone and full of potholes. Carefully the car nosed into it, followed it for over a mile, then turned sharply into the cluttered yard of a disused farm.
The turbine died with a falling drone, and the stillness of early morning closed once again over the cluttered yard.
“Carl!” A man stood in the open door of the farmhouse. An old man, stooped by time and wrinkled by the passage of many years. White hair plumed from his high forehead and blue eyes glittered from behind the heavy lenses of old-fashioned spectacles. He smiled as he saw the car and crossed the yard with lithe steps that belied his age. “My, boy! Did you get it?”
“Of course, else why am I here?” Stiffly the driver emerged from the car and stood, stretching himself, his thin nostrils expanding as he drew great breaths of the chill morning air.
“You must be tired,” said the old man with quick sympathy. “I have coffee on the stove, and there are eggs, some bread, bacon, and real butter.” He chuckled. “Nothing like a long drive to whet the appetite, Carl; I remember that from the old days.”
“I could prefer some other form of exercise,” the younger man said wryly. “I am not used to driving; the concentration needed is unbelievable, and I’d rather walk any day.”
“Ah, well, it is over now.” The old man licked his lips with quick impatience. “Where is it, Carl?”
“In the back of the car.”
“Then let us go into the laboratory. I’ve waited so long, even now I can’t believe that the end is in sight.” He chuckled a little as Carl unlocked the rear doors of the car. “Did you have any trouble?”
“No. I waited until the last moment, as we planned. I doubt if the Director even knows that his car has been stolen; certainly he can’t suspect where it is to be found.” Carl closed his eyes and sagged against the black plastic of the body. The old man caught his arm.
“Carl! What’s the matter? Are you ill?”
“No, Conway, just tired. This is my third night without sleep, and the anti-fatigue drugs are beginning to wear off. I’ll be all right after some coffee.”
He rubbed his eyes and opened the rear door. Inside, resting on the soft carpets, was a small box of some dull metal. Two handles sprang from each end, and gripping one, he pulled the box towards him. Carefully they carried the heavy container into the farmhouse, setting it down on the bare boards of the floor.
“I’d better hide the car,” said Carl wearily. “Have you cleared the bam?”
“Yes, but there is little danger: no one ever comes here.”
“Perhaps not, but the alarm will be given soon, and it is wise not to take chances.”
“Were you seen?”
“Yes. I had to stop for fuel, and the. . .
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