Space-wanderer Earl Dumarest is on the planet Toy to consult the giant computer which may contain information on the whereabouts of Earth, his lost home-world. But soon he realises Toy is a place that gives away nothing for free. Before Dumarest can gain the information he needs, he must take part in the Toy Games - must fight like a tin soldier in a vast nursery. And there is nothing playful about the Games on Toy. The pain is real enough; the wounds, the blood - and death. (First published 1969)
Release date:
September 29, 2011
Publisher:
Gateway
Print pages:
192
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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Footsteps of Angels (2004) (previously unpublished work written c.1988)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Pandora’s Box (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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Starslave (2010) (previously unpublished work written 1984)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Temple of Death (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)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)
For thirty hours the sun had arced across the sky, baking the desert with its oven-heat, but now that it was night the temperature
had already fallen to the point where water turns to ice. It would, Dumarest knew, fall even lower during the twenty-hour
period of darkness. Toy was a world of violent extremes.
He crouched closer to the fire, watching as Legrain fed it with thorned scrub and shards of bleached and weathered bone. Around
them a circle of rock both shielded the fire from casual view and reflected the heat. Above the piled stones the wind gusted
with freezing chill, heavy with the odour of weed and brine, the sullen roar of crashing waves.
‘A bad night,’ said Legrain. ‘But all nights are bad for the defeated.’
He carefully fed a fragment of bone to the flames. Like Dumarest, he wore a sleeved tunic of vivid scarlet reaching to his
knees. A metal helmet and breastplate shone with the colour of gold. A belt at his waist supported a bag and scabbarded sword. Earlier in the day he had also carried a shield and spear, but both had been discarded in the conflict. Helmet, breastplate
and tunic showed dents and slashes. Blood from a minor wound had dried on one cheek. Lit by the fire, his big-nosed face gave
him the appearance of a dishevelled eagle.
‘Warmth and rest,’ he said. ‘At night, in the arena, the lack of either can kill as surely as sword and spear.’ He delved
into his bag and produced a scrap of meat. He speared it on the tip of his sword and held it to the flames. ‘A bargain,’ he
suggested. ‘A share of my meat for a share of your water. You have water?’
Dumarest shook his canteen. It made a liquid sound.
‘Good. It is agreed?’
‘Yes,’ said Dumarest. ‘But how about Sachen?’
‘The boy?’ Legrain shrugged. ‘Earl, my friend, you must accept what is to be. The lad is as good as dead. We did him no favour
carrying him as we did. It would be better to ease his passage. A pressure on the carotids—it would be a kindness.’
Dumarest made no comment, looking instead to where a third man lay against the shelter of the rock. He too wore a slashed
tunic and golden helmet but had no breastplate. His breathing was stentorian and, though he shivered, his ebony skin shone
with a dew of sweat.
‘Water,’ he gasped. ‘Water.’
Dumarest rose, crossed toward him, touched his forehead. The skin burned like fire. He gently lifted the tunic and examined the blood-soaked rag tied and belted about the hips. The material of the tunic was thin plastic,
useless to keep out the cold.
‘Water,’ croaked the wounded man. ‘Please give me some water.’
‘No,’ said Legrain.
‘Shut up,’ said Dumarest. He uncorked his canteen and, supporting Sachen’s head, poured a thin trickle between the parched
lips. ‘Steady,’ he urged as the man tried to snatch the canteen. ‘Too much will be bad for you.’ He set aside the canteen.
‘How do you feel now, Jack?’
‘Terrible.’ The boy’s eyes held a momentary clarity. ‘Am I dying, Earl?’
‘You’re in a bad way,’ said Dumarest. ‘But you’re not dead yet. Hang on, lad. You can get over this if you try.’ He found
the boy’s hand, squeezed it, held it until his eyes clouded in fevered delirium.
‘Mother,’ muttered the boy. ‘Mother, I’m cold, help me.’
‘A spear in the guts,’ said Legrain as Dumarest returned to his place by the fire. ‘Without antibiotics or medical aid the
end is a foregone conclusion. Pain, fever, delirium and death.’ He turned his scrap of meat, sniffing at the odour. ‘He should
have made better use of his shield,’ he commented. ‘His shield and his legs. To stand and fight the way he did was foolish.
He didn’t stand a chance.’
‘He did his best,’ said Dumarest.
Legrain shrugged. ‘It obviously wasn’t good enough. You now, you fought well. I watched you often.’
‘I fought to stay alive,’ said Dumarest coldly. ‘But we both had an advantage over the boy. He wears nothing but fabric beneath
his tunic.’
‘While you and I wear metal-mesh buried in the plastic of our clothing.’ Legrain nodded. ‘Yes, Earl, I noticed that. I noticed
too that you did your best to protect Sachen. Are you so close?’
Dumarest was curt. ‘We travelled together.’
‘On Low passage?’ Legrain turned his meat. ‘It would be Low,’ he mused. ‘You, an experienced traveller, and he, a novice perhaps
on his first journey. A bad end to a short life, Earl,’ he said seriously. ‘But it happens, my friend. It happens.’
Yes, thought Dumarest bleakly. It happens all too often. Youngsters with adventure in their hearts and the galaxy to roam.
A million worlds and adventure waiting at the end of each journey. Cheap travel if you were willing to accept riding doped,
frozen and ninety per cent dead. Willing also to accept the fifteen per cent death rate. One journey, he thought, and Sachen
had used up his life. Not in the ship but on this insane world where men were set to fight each other for the entertainment
of those who ruled. Fight and die and rot in the sand and scrub of the arena.
He rose and stared into the darkness, narrowing his eyes against the impact of the wind. How many other fires burned on the
desert? he wondered. The victors had gone, airlifted away, now feasting and enjoying the fruits of success. The losers? Those who had survived had the battle still to finish: the struggle
against the dark and cold, their wounds, fatigue, the voracious nocturnal life lurking in the sand. Unless they won that battle
only their accoutrements and bones would greet the new day.
The meat was hard, seared, tasteless, but it was hot and provided sustenance. Dumarest chewed, passed Legrain his canteen,
felt himself begin to relax from the fatigue of the day. But relaxing brought its own problems. His uniform and clothing had
protected him against penetration but not against bruising. He ached from head to foot.
‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘Why this nonsense?’
‘The battle?’ Legrain swallowed and took a drink of water. ‘You should know, my friend. You wore the red and gold against
the green and silver.’
‘But not from choice,’ said Dumarest bitterly. He glanced to where Sachen lay whimpering against the rock. ‘We landed yesterday
at dusk. Guards were waiting as we left the field. The choice was simple: show the cost of a double High passage or stand
trial, be convicted and sentenced to a year of forced labour as a vagrant. That or agree to enlist for one engagement. A day,’
he said, ‘against a year. What choice is that?’
‘For the boy the difference between life and death,’ pointed out Legrain. ‘But I see your point. One engagement and then money and the freedom of Toy. An attractive offer, especially to someone travelling Low.’ He bit at
the last of his meat. ‘You were unfortunate, my friend. You arrived at a bad time.’
A bad time on a bad planet, thought Dumarest. There were too many such places. Dead ends, restricted worlds, planets where
transients were unwelcome and unwanted. Societies in which there was no place for a man who simply wanted to work, to build
up the cost of a passage, to move on to somewhere new.
Legrain probed thoughtfully at his teeth. ‘I too was given that same choice and, like you, I elected to fight.’ He smiled
as he met Dumarest’s eyes. ‘That’s right, my friend. I too am a traveller. Or was,’ he corrected. ‘I visited a score of worlds
before bad luck brought me to Toy. Toy,’ he mused. ‘An odd name, is it not? Legend has it that Director Conrad of Grail, on
learning of the birth of his first-born son, promised to give the lad a world as a plaything. This is it.’
Dumarest made no comment.
‘The stockholders are jaded,’ said Legrain. ‘They seek always for new pleasures, new sensations. Insults must be avenged in
blood and men must be found to spill that blood. A hundred, five hundred, sometimes a thousand men facing each other with
primitive weapons. A fine spectacle of blood and death and pain. Did you not see the rafts floating safely above?’
‘I was busy,’ said Dumarest dryly. ‘But I saw them.’
‘Spectators,’ said Legrain. ‘Gamblers. Vultures at the feast. Lovers seeking new titillation.’ He stabbed at the fire with
the tip of his sword. ‘Rest,’ he said abruptly. ‘I will stand the first watch.’
Dumarest stretched, lying beside the fire, feeling the heat warm his face. The breastplate was uncomfortable but he didn’t
think of removing it. In this place protection was of prime importance. He closed his eyes, seeing again the taut faces, the
wild eyes, flashing steel, dust, gaping wounds, the sudden gush of blood. In memory he heard again the rasp of breath, the
shouts, screams, clash of weapons, tasted the swirling dust, felt his overstrained muscles jerk to sympathetic exertion.
Irritably he turned, opening his eyes and looking up at the stars. The sight was disturbing. There was something wrong about
the sky: the stars were too thin, too scattered. He missed the sheets and curtains of brilliance, the nebulae, the close-packed
suns of the centre. And yet, if he could trust memory, the planet he sought had skies much as this. Dark skies with a single
moon, few stars and a band of light tracing its way from horizon to horizon. Stars assembled in vaguely remembered patterns,
cold, remote, burning in the stillness of the night. So far, so distant it seemed incredible they could ever be reached.
He jerked, aware that he had fallen asleep, nerves taut with the conscious. . .
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