Author: Leigh BrackettPublisher: eStar Books
ISBN: 1612103669
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 28
Book Description
The Citadel of Lost Ships
Author: Leigh BrackettPublisher: eStar Books
ISBN: 1612103669
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 28
Book Description
Lost Ships
Author: Leigh BrackettPublisher: www.PulpFictionBook.Store
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 198
Book Description
Lost Ships – Three classic science fiction novelettes by Leigh Brackett, known as the Queen of Space Opera. Outpost on Io (1942) – In a crystalline death lay the only release for those prisoners of that Ionian hell-outpost. Yet MacVickers and the men had to escape—for to remain meant the conquering of the Solar System by the inhuman Europans. A four chapter novelette. The Citadel Of Lost Ships (1943) – It was a gypsy world, built of space flotsam, peopled with the few free races of the Solar System. Roy Campbell, outcast prey of the Coalition, entered its depths to seek haven for the Kraylens of Venus – only to find that it had become a slave trap from which there was no escape. A five chapter novelette. Last Call For Sector 9G (1955) – Out there in the green star system; far beyond the confining grip of the Federation, moved the feared Bitter Star, for a thousand frigid years the dark and sinister manipulator of war-weary planets. An eight chapter novelette.
A World is Born
Author: Leigh BrackettPublisher: Wildside Press LLC
ISBN: 1479456004
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 35
Book Description
The first ripples of blue fire touched Dio's men. Bolts of it fastened on gun-butts, and knuckles. Men screamed and fell. Jill cried out as he tore silver ornaments from her dress... Includes a new introduction by John Gregory Betancourt.
The Stellar Legion
Author: Leigh BrackettPublisher: eStar Books
ISBN: 1612104266
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 13
Book Description
MacIan was a man with a secret, and it had followed him to Venus and the Legion, escape was impossible...ExcerptSilence was on the barracks like a lid clamped over tight-coiled springs. Men in rumpled uniforms-outlanders of the Stellar Legion, space-rats, the scrapings of the Solar System-sweated in the sullen heat of the Venusian swamplands before the rains. Sweated and listened.The metal door clanged open to admit Lehn, the young Venusian Commandant, and every man jerked tautly to his feet. Ian MacIan, the white-haired, space-burned Earthman, alone and hungrily poised for action; Thekla, the swart Martian low-canaler, grinning like a weasel beside Bhak, the hulking strangler from Titan. Every quick nervous glance was riveted on Lehn.The young officer stood silent in the open door, tugging at his fair mustache; to MacIan, watching, he was a trim, clean incongruity in this brutal wilderness of savagery and iron men. Behind him, the eternal mists writhed in a thin curtain over the swamp, stretching for miles beyond the soggy earthworks; through it came the sound every ear had listened to for days, a low, monotonous piping that seemed to ring from the ends of the earth. The Nahali, the six-foot, scarlet-eyed swamp-dwellers, whose touch was weapon enough, praying to their gods for rain. When it came, the hot, torrential downpour of southern Venus, the Nahali would burst in a scaly tide over the fort.Only a moat of charged water and four electro-cannons stood between the Legion and the horde. If those things failed, it meant two hundred lives burned out, the circle of protective forts broken, the fertile uplands plundered and laid waste. MacIan looked at Lehn's clean, university-bred young face, and wondered cynically if he was strong enough to do his job.Lehn spoke, so abruptly that the men started. "I'm calling for volunteers. A reconnaissance in Nahali territory; you know well enough what that means. Three men. Well?"Ian MacIan stepped forward, followed instantly by the Martian Thekla. Bhak the Titan hesitated, his queerly bright, blank eyes darting from Thekla to Lehn, and back to MacIan. Then he stepped up, his hairy face twisted in a sly grin.Lehn eyed them, his mouth hard with distaste under his fair mustache. Then he nodded, and said; "Report in an hour, light equipment." Turning to go, he added almost as an afterthought, "Report to my quarters, MacIan. Immediately."MacIan's bony Celtic face tightened and his blue eyes narrowed with wary distrust. But he followed Lehn, his gaunt, powerful body as ramrod-straight as the Venusian's own, and no eye that watched him go held any friendship.
The Collected Works of Clifford D. Simak
Author: Clifford D. SimakPublisher: DigiCat
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 284
Book Description
DigiCat presents to you this meticulously edited Clifford D. Simak collection, formatted to the highest digital standards and adjusted for readability on all devices. Empire The World That Couldn't Be The Street That Wasn't There Hellhounds of the Cosmos Project Mastodon Second Childhood
Intergalactic Stories: 60+ SF Classics in One Edition (Illustrated)
Author: Clifford D. SimakPublisher: DigiCat
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 1762
Book Description
DigiCat presents to you this meticulously edited and formatted collection of space adventures, alien contacts and intergalactic wars stories written by some of the greatest masters of the Sci-Fi genre: Ray Bradbury: Jonah of the Jove-Run Zero Hour Rocket Summer Lorelei of the Red Mist The Creatures That Time Forgot Asleep in Armageddon Defense Mech Lazarus Come Forth Morgue Ship The Monster Maker A Little Journey Leigh Brackett: Black Amazon of Mars Child of the Sun Citadel of Lost Ships Enchantress of Venus Last Call From Sector 9G Outpost on Io Queen of the Martian Catacombs Shannach Terror Out of Space The Beast-Jewel of Mars The Blue Behemoth The Dragon-Queen of Jupiter The Jewel of Bas The Stellar Legion The Vanishing Venusians Thralls of the Endless Night Poul Anderson: Captive of the Centaurianess Lord of a Thousand Sun Out of the Iron Womb Sargasso of Lost Starships Star Ship Swordsman of Lost Terra The Virgin of Valkarion Tiger by the Tail Witch of the Demon Seas Jerome Bixby: Cargo to Callisto Tubemonkey The Crowded Colony Vengeance on Mars Clifford D. Simak: Message From Mars Mr. Meek Plays Polo Mr. Meek—Musketeer The Shipshape Miracle Damon Knight The Star Beast Doorway to Kal-Jmar The Third Little Green Man The Avenger Frederik Pohl: Asteroid of the Damned Conspiracy on Callisto Double-Cross Let the Ants Try Gardner F. Fox: When Kohonnes Screamed The Warlock of Sharrador Werwile of the Crystal Crypt Sword of the Seven Suns Vassals of the Lode-Star Engines of the Gods by Gardner Tonight the Stars Revolt! The Last Monster Man nth The Man the Sun-Gods Made
Enchantress of Venus
Author: Leigh BrackettPublisher: eStar Books
ISBN: 161210360X
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 48
Book Description
Few men have gone beyond that barrier, into the vast mystery of Inner Venus. Fewer still have come back.Excerpt The ship moved slowly across the Red Sea, through the shrouding veils of mist, her sail barely filled by the languid thrust of the wind. Her hull, of a thin light metal, floated without sound, the surface of the strange ocean parting before her prow in silent rippling streamers of flame.Night deepened toward the ship, a river of indigo flowing out of the west. The man known as Stark stood alone by the after rail and watched its coming. He was full of impatience and a gathering sense of danger, so that it seemed to him that even the hot wind smelled of it.The steersman lay drowsily over his sweep. He was a big man, with skin and hair the color of milk. He did not speak, but Stark felt that now and again the man's eyes turned toward him, pale and calculating under half-closed lids, with a secret avarice.The captain and the two other members of the little coasting vessel's crew were forward, at their evening meal. Once or twice Stark heard a burst of laughter, half-whispered and furtive. It was as though all four shared in some private joke, from which he was rigidly excluded.The heat was oppressive. Sweat gathered on Stark's dark face. His shirt stuck to his back. The air was heavy with moisture, tainted with the muddy fecundity of the land that brooded westward behind the eternal fog.There was something ominous about the sea itself. Even on its own world, the Red Sea is hardly more than legend. It lies behind the Mountains of White Cloud, the great barrier wall that hides away half a planet. Few men have gone beyond that barrier, into the vast mystery of Inner Venus. Fewer still have come back.Stark was one of that handful. Three times before he had crossed the mountains, and once he had stayed for nearly a year. But he had never quite grown used to the Red Sea.It was not water. It was gaseous, dense enough to float the buoyant hulls of the metal ships, and it burned perpetually with its deep inner fires. The mists that clouded it were stained with the bloody glow. Beneath the surface Stark could see the drifts of flame where the lazy currents ran, and the little coiling bursts of sparks that came upward and spread and melted into other bursts, so that the face of the sea was like a cosmos of crimson stars.It was very beautiful, glowing against the blue, luminous darkness of the night. Beautiful, and strange.There was a padding of bare feet, and the captain, Malthor, came up to Stark, his outlines dim and ghostly in the gloom."We will reach Shuruun," he said, "before the second glass is run."Stark nodded. "Good."The voyage had seemed endless, and the close confinement of the narrow deck had got badly on his nerves."You will like Shuruun," said the captain jovially. "Our wine, our food, our women-all superb. We don't have many visitors. We keep to ourselves, as you will see. But those who do come..."He laughed, and clapped Stark on the shoulder. "Ah, yes. You will be happy in Shuruun!"It seemed to Stark that he caught an echo of laughter from the unseen crew, as though they listened and found a hidden jest in Malthor's words.Stark said, "That's fine.""Perhaps," said Malthor, "you would like to lodge with me. I could make you a good price."He had made a good price for Stark's passage from up the coast. An exorbitantly good one.Stark said, "No.""You don't have to be afraid," said the Venusian, in a confidential tone. "The strangers who come to Shuruun all have the same reason. It's a good place to hide. We're out of everybody's reach."He paused, but Stark did not rise to his bait. Presently he chuckled and went on, "In fact, it's such a safe place that most of the strangers decide to stay on. Now, at my house, I could give you..."
Child of the Sun
Author: Leigh BrackettPublisher: eStar Books
ISBN: 1612103596
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 28
Book Description
Eric Falken couldn't run any more. At least he'd led the Hiltonists away from the pitiful starving holes where his people hid, on the outer planets and barren asteroids and dark derelict hulks floating far outside the traveled lanes.ExcerptEric Falken stood utterly still, staring down at his leashed and helpless hands on the controls of the spaceship Falcon.The red lights on his indicator panel showed Hiltonist ships in a three-dimensional half-moon, above, behind, and below him. Pincer jaws, closing fast.The animal instinct of escape prodded him, but he couldn't obey. He had fuel enough for one last burst of speed. But there was no way through that ring of ships. Tractor-beams, criss-crossing between them, would net the Falcon like a fish.There was no way out ahead, either. Mercury was there, harsh and bitter in the naked blaze of the sun. The ships of Gantry Hilton, President of the Federation of Worlds, inventor of the Psycho-Adjuster, and ruler of men's souls, were herding him down to a landing at the lonely Spaceguard outpost.A landing he couldn't dodge. And then . . . .For Paul Avery, a choice of death or Happiness. For himself and Sheila Moore, there was no choice. It was death.The red lights blurred before Falken's eyes. The throb of the plates under his feet faded into distance. He'd stood at the controls for four chronometer days, ever since the Hiltonists had chased him up from Los Angles, back on Earth.He knew it was because he was exhausted that he couldn't think, or stop the nightmare of the past days from tramping through his brain, hammering the incessant question at him. How?How had the Hiltonists traced him back from New York? Paul Avery, the Unregenerate recruit he went to get, had passed a rigid psycho-search-which, incidentally, revealed the finest brain ever to come to the Unregenerate cause. He couldn't be a spy. And he'd spoken to no one but Falken.Yet they were traced. Hiltonist Black Guards were busy now, destroying the last avenues of escape from Earth, avenues that he, Falken, had led them through.But how? He knew he hadn't given himself away. For thirty years he'd been spiriting Unregenerates away from Gantry Hilton's strongholds of Peace and Happiness. He was too old a hand for blunders.Yet, somehow, the Black Guards caught up with them at Los Angles, where the Falcon lay hidden. And, somehow, they got away, with a starving green-eyed girl named Kitty . . . ."Not Kitty," Falken muttered. "Kitty's Happy. Hilton took Kitty, thirty years ago. On our wedding day."A starving waif named Sheila Moore, who begged him for help, because he was Eric Falken and almost a god to the Unregenerates. They got away in the Falcon, but the Hiltonist ships followed.Driven, hopeless flight, desperate effort to shake pursuit before he was too close to the Sun. Time and again, using precious fuel and accelerations that tried even his tough body, Falken thought he had escaped.But they found him again. It was uncanny, the way they found him.Now he couldn't run any more. At least he'd led the Hiltonists away from the pitiful starving holes where his people hid, on the outer planets and barren asteroids and dark derelict hulks floating far outside the traveled lanes.And he'd kill himself before the Hiltonist psycho-search could pick his brain of information about the Unregenerates. Kill himself, if he could wake up.He began to laugh, a drunken, ragged chuckle. He couldn't stop laughing. He clung to the panel edge and laughed until the tears ran down his scarred, dark face.
Author: 
Author: W E. Smith