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Ten Lunar Years of Solitude (continued . . .)

















	














A sudden stunning blow dashed Janno senseless.

Uuuuhh!

Back in Trigan City, Janno’s disappearance had caused the Emperor to summon a special meeting to discuss his nephew’s possible fate.

I think we may take it that Janno can be counted as the ninth person to vanish in this strange manner.

Precisely, Imperial Majesty . . .

 . . . And it is of vital importance that we discover immediately what is the connection between Janno and those other eight unfortunates.

But, Peric, the computer machines have been working on it day and night.

Elekton’s top scientist smiled sagely.

There comes a time, Colonel, when computer machines, however sophisticated, cannot compete with . . . the mind!

I shall apply my mind to the problem!

Out on the edge of space, in the long-abandoned weather station . . .

. . . Janno recovered consciousness.

By all the stars!
























	














Eight people regarded him, and one man’s face was startlingly familiar.

Marshal Rossu! What are you doing here, Excellency?

I might well ask you the same question, Lieutenant.

Suddenly—a newcomer!

You! I demand an explanation as to why we’ve been tricked into coming here.

There are eight of you, plus one intruder who should not be here at all, but who will suffer the same fate as the rest . . .

The time has now come for me to unmask and tell you all!

The concealing mask was ripped away, revealing a countenance that was lined and hardened with great suffering.

Well, do you know me?

I never saw you before!

The stranger began his story.

I take you back ten lunar years. To the day when this weather station was a new project and operating with a crew of a hundred trained personnel, of which I was one.

“One terrible day, a deadly virus fever struck the crew, laying them low in their scores. By the end of that day, I was the only person alive and on my feet. And pleading for help . . .”

Come to our aid . . . come to our aid . . . please . . . please . . .

This instalment was originally published in Look and Learn issue no. 758 on 24 July 1976.

 
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Ten Lunar Years of Solitude (continued . . .)

















	














Night time, silence and darkness as a dark figure emerged from an upper window of Trigan City Hospital . . .

 . . . and embarked on a dizzy downward climb.

Some time later, a night nurse making her rounds spotted the empty bed.

He’s gone!

Alarm! Alarm! Lieutenant Janno is missing from his room!

News was brought to the Imperial Palace, and the Emperor himself awakened, to hear of his nephew’s disappearance.

But I understood Janno had only just come off the danger list, and the doctors had prescribed several more weeks of complete rest and quiet.

That is so, Imperial Majesty. I am afraid we must assume that your nephew did not leave the hospital of his own free will.

That assumption was incorrect. Janno had left of his own accord, and for a very good reason. At that moment, he was entering Air Fleet Base.

They won’t believe what I tell them. They treat me as if I’m wandering in my mind—and so . . .
























	














 . . . I’ll go and investigate that old weather station myself!

Entering the crew-room unseen, he later emerged in full flying kit, his face masked by the visor.

Now to take off in one of the stand-by craft!

Three zippy fighter-craft stood ready for emergency take-off, day and night. Approaching the nearest, Janno was challenged.

Excuse me, sir, may I see your authorisation, please?

A touch of a starter button blasted the powerful engines into life . . . and . . .

Hey!

Later, high in the sub-stratosphere, Janno saw, for the second time, the deserted city in space.

If only I can get in there, before I’m shot down again.

Janno decelerated rapidly, and brought his craft down upon a landing platform on the ancient, abandoned weather station.

I hope that pressure door over there still works, so that I can get inside.

The pressure door was still operative. Moments later, Janno was inside the station.

So far, so good!

But he was not alone!

This instalment was originally published in Look and Learn issue no. 757 on 17 July 1976.

 
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Ten Lunar Years of Solitude (continued . . .)

















	














After he had had a long conversation with the mystery caller, Senator Rossi replaced the receiver.

This is fantastic! But what can I do? Except obey him!

Immediately, the senator drove out of the city in his sumptuous automobile—without, for once, his uniformed chauffeur.

After all, he has pledged to pay all my gambling debts, and save my reputation!

In a lonely part of the mountain road beyond Trigan City, Rossi stopped the vehicle. He took off his outer clothes and laid them in the driver’s seat.

I don’t see the sense of it but this is what he told me to do.

And then . . .

There it goes!

Hardly had the expensive vehicle dashed itself to scrap metal on the rocks far below than the sound of engines made Rossi look up.

This must be—him!

The next moment . . .

Nicely done, Excellency! And now, get in . . . animal!
























	














Early the next morning, a group of fishermen found the wreckage of the senator’s vehicle in a mountain stream.

The driver’s clothes are here!

But he never could have survived that awful drop!

The report of the disappearance of one of his most promising politicians was brought to the Emperor Trigo. 

Senator Rossi was seen leaving his villa, Imperial Majesty, and heading for the mountain road. And now—nothing but a pile of clothes!

I remind you, Imperial Majesty, that Rossi makes the eighth.

A few days later, Janno recovered consciousness after his crash.

The abandoned weather station . . . Somebody . . . Someone . . .

Easy now, Lieutenant. You need a lot of rest. Don’t tire yourself.

His half-incoherent babblings were examined by the staff of Air Fleet Headquarters. 

Janno says, and we only have his evidence, that he was fired on from the old weather station.

But the only feasible explanation, according to the computer, is that he was fired on from the ground.

That weather station has been deserted for ten lunar years.

Nevertheless, the old weather station in the stratosphere was given a cursory look-over—from a distance.

See any sign of life?

You must be joking.

But a pair of hate-filled eyes watched both aircraft leave.

Good for you! If you had stayed an instant longer, I would have destroyed you both—as I did the other!

This instalment was originally published in Look and Learn issue no. 756 on 10 July 1976.