I see Gondwane as it shall be in the untold ages of dim futurity, near the time when the Earth shall be man’s habitation no more, and the great night shall enfold all, and naught but the cold stars shall reign. The first sign of the end ye shall see in the heavens, for Lo! the moon is falling, falling. And there shall come a man into the lands, a man not like other men, but sent from Galendil.
The name of the man is Ganelon Silvermane—and this is the first of a new marvel-adventure series by Lin Carter.
The century is 10,000, Earth dating. The boundaries of the world as we know it have expanded beyond belief, beyond thought. Earth still remains―but as one of many planets throughout the galaxies, where myriad life forms exist.
Life has taken a new direction, to a new future, but there are still problems to overcome―and the same struggle for survival.
And Ryder Hook is just one Earthman who is equally at home on a starship, on an alien planet, and on Earth. But he has been singled out for a purpose―to take place in a singular experiment…
This is the first novel in a spellbinding new science-adventure series about a superhuman warrior of the future. Ryder Hook travels through the cosmos as a master of all he encounters. He is a man of supreme adventure, timeless in his fearless conquering spirit! Watch for further books in the action-packed saga of Ryder Hook!
…is prepared for trouble in New York City, but he’d hoped to arrive in time to prevent it. The first subway station blew up while he was still en route from California, piloting a sleek new twin-engine plane. It was fast, but not fast enough to get him there in time to stop the 72nd Street IRT station from caving in, carrying a large section of Broadway with it.
A Third World group, an alliance of Afro-Asian students, the Eusi Dhahabu, has been formed in Harlem. It says that they are working for racial equality, but they are asking for money. Lots of it. Exactly two million dollars in unmarked, used twenty-dollar bills. If they do not get the cash promptly, twelve more subway stations will go. During rush hours. With thousands of people in them.
Responsible blacks cannot infiltrate the group. They have tried. How, then, can the Penetrator? Honkies stand out in Harlem. Somehow Hardin must reach back into his Indian past for a disguise that will work…and fast. There are forty-two subway stations in New York City, and time is running out.
In the Barnum system, Malagra was considered to be the most uninviting planet of them all. In fact, among the engineers and androids of Kip Bundy’s set, it was known as the pesthole of the universe.
Which made things quite sticky when Kip’s rich uncle assigned him to Malagra to make certain top secret reforms. Because Kip was no Hercules, and this task would have balked even that mythical fixer.
But then there were compensations—if you could call them that—a sex-mad photographer, a couple of lovely maidens in distress, and the ardent guerillas of the Boy Scout Liberation Army.
It’s Ron Goulart at his whackiest best.
WHERE WAS SIMON ASHTON?
Ashton had disappeared somewhere—somehow—on Skaith, and Stark had come to find him, no matter what the cost. Everyone on this exotic planet had heard of the strange Dark Man from another world, but no one was talking. Not the Farers. Not the Wandsmen. Not even the Irnanese. All clues led to the mysterious North—stronghold of the tyrannical Lords Protector. Stark was on his way, despite the price on his head…
It was a sultry summer day in 1981, and the 3 billion or so inhabitants of the world went about their daily routine unaware that, possibly, the fate of the human race lay in the shaking hands of one George Mercer, an insignificant and slightly neurotic employee of the New York City Department of Welfare.
For George had been informed, by an accredited emissary of the Galactic Overlords, that he had 12 hours in which to prove the people of Earth worthy of admission into the Galactic Federation. George, and George alone, would represent all of mankind. If he failed the entire planet would be destroyed.
Was all this a nightmare of delusion dredged up by his tortured subconscious? Or a very real nightmare that would end in the Day of the Burning….
To create the man named Raki, Earth had broken its most rigid taboos against interbreeding.
His grandparents were a four-foot tall female genius; a rapacious, blue-skinned space brigand; an enormous superstud gladiator with long, silky fur; and a blind telepathic huntress.
His parents were the most gifted creatures ever to walk the earth—until Raki was born to surpass even them.
But the supreme computer that had calculated the mating necessary to produce Raki refused to predict his chances in his confrontation with the alien Vim in the very heart of their eternally expanding empire…
…for not even the Vim themselves knew the secret of their power and of all the universe’s peril…
On August 12, 1992, England’s tiny nuclear arsenal fell on Ireland, on South Africa, and finally on China. Instantly the planet went up in flames. In the first half of what was to be called the War of ’92, half the Earth’s population perished.
The United States was reduced to a vast underpeopled land—and, to make matters worse, Texas had seceded and taken her precious oil reserves.
But Israel, virtually untouched in a world ravaged by war, was painfully overpopulated. So Sol Inglestein and Myra Kalen had come to America looking for a place to settle. As mercenaries on the side of the Union in its war with Texas, the Israelis had been promised land in exchange for their services.
Leading their bedraggled troops into the heartland of Texas, Sol and Myra head up Operation King, Mission: Rescue the President of the United States!
The Americans watched from space as the earth erupted in flashes of incredible brilliance. Their probes told them all they had to know. The earth was buried under a blanket of radioactivity. No life remained.
Except for them—and their Russian counterparts.
Together the American and Russian space stations had enough resources to build a colony on the moon. But could they bear life imprisoned in a tiny, man-made pocket of air?
There was no alternative. Or was there? A far more perilous course might ensure the survival of the human race.
Hunters Associated was the simple name of the organization. Who was behind it, what its ultimate purpose was, was never told its agents. All they needed to know was that they covered the galaxy, that their real identities had been buried, that once in Hunters they could be anybody.
He was Seven. That was all. Identity Seven. He had a new assignment. Identity Six had just been slain—lasered down on a far world by enemies unknown. But the death had been kept secret long enough for Seven to be sent to take his place.
To take his place, to take his features, to take his task—and to be a target to slay once again. If he failed, there would be an Identity Eight to step into his burned-out shoes…and a Nine and a Ten.
But Seven was determined to see that the progression stopped with him—even if he had to go down to the bottom of an alien sea and hobnob with horror.