Category: Trigan City Police

Posted on

The Lost Years (continued . . .)

















	





























	
















	
	Narri caught his first,
	brief glimpse of the man
	who was to play such an
	important part in his life—
	and whose life he, in turn,
	was to change so greatly.

	
	
	
	
	That is
	Ossan ?

	
	More questions teemed in Narri’s mind. He asked
	a man standing next to him . . .

	
	
	
	
	The people don’t seem very
	enthusiastic about their
	ruler. Isn’t he popular ?

	
	
	
	
	You want to be
	careful what you’re
	saying, fellow !

	
	A few moments later, Narri saw that the man
	had sidled over to a police officer.

	
	
	
	
	He’s reporting what I said
	just now ! I’m in trouble !

	
	Narri took to his heels.

	
	
	
	
	Hey, you !
	Stop ! Stop,
	I say !

	
	The panic-stricken young peasant was stopping for no one.
	He fled out of the city, and headed towards the hills.

	
	
	
	
	Somehow . . . somewhere . . . I have lost three
	lunar years out of my life ! And . . . and in that time,
	the Trigan Empire, as I knew it, has finished !

	
	And then—the roar of engines, and a harsh order !

	
	
	
	
	Halt—or
	perish !

This instalment was originally published in Look and Learn issue no. 569 on 9 December 1972.

 
Posted on

The Masked Raiders (continued . . .)

















	














The Emperor was beside himself with fury.

A whole lunar month gone by—and nothing done! You are a pack of bungling fools!

The service and civil chiefs of the Empire quailed before Trigo’s lashing tongue.

But, Imperial Majesty . . .

No buts! Those white-masked monsters must be brought to justice! And every inch of the Empire, above and below the ground, in the sea and under the sea, must be scoured till they are found!—See to it!

Land, sea, air and police units searched day and night for the strange terrorists. Even the ancient catacombs beneath Trigan City were not overlooked.

The Air Fleet kept up constant patrols. The comrades, Keren and Roffa, flew three sorties in a day.

What a life!

Thank the stars we’ve a day off tomorrow. How about riding up to the hills for a day’s hunting?

And so, next day . . .

He’s yours, Roffa!—after him!

Roffa chased his quarry and lost him when the mist closed down. It soon became apparent that he had also lost his friend.

Keren, Keren, where are you?
























	














He missed the trail back to the city. At nightfall, weary and famished, he saw . . .

What’s this? Some kind of inn? What a grim-looking place!

His knock brought a staring eye—then a villainously-ugly countenance.

Are you the innkeeper? Open up, fellow! I need food, and a bed for the night!

The door creaked open. Next moment, Roffa was being unctuously greeted by his unsavoury host.

Aaaah! Welcome to our humble hostelry, master! Wife prepare the best bedchamber for this fine young gentleman, and bring him the choicest victuals! He must have the best, the very best! Oh, yes! Heh, heh!

Roffa could scarcely bring himself to touch the platter of broken meats that was put before him.

Not hungry, my fine young master? Then I will show you to the best bedchamber. 

Soon, he was alone in the gloomy bedchamber.

What a place to have to spend the night. I hope Keren has fared better!

Not quite alone!

And while Roffa slept—his whole world fell apart!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaagh!

This instalment was originally published in Look and Learn issue no. 508 on 9 October 1971.