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.

 

Ten Lunar Years of Solitude (continued . . .)




With his doomed craft in flames and the ground coming up to meet him at supersonic speed, Janno pressed the escape button. But . . . I’m going to hit that hightension cable! ZZZZZKKK-K-K-KK! They found him later. Is he? . . As near as makes no difference! In fact, Janno did not die. And, after an examination of his craft’s wreckage, a report was made to his uncle the emperor. The craft was fired upon, you say?—Fired upon by whom? That, Imperial Majesty, only Janno can tell us, when he recovers . . .
. . . If he recovers! Another matter for your attention, Imperial Majesty. While enquiring into the strange disappearance of Marshal Rossu, our computers have come up with a series of most remarkable coincidences . . . Explain yourself, Colonel. See, Imperial Majesty—there have been no less than seven other disappearances in the last lunar month. You are surely not suggesting some connection? What possible link exists between the Marshal of the Trigan Air Fleet and . . . for instance . . . a beggar? The circumstances of the disappearances provides the only link so far, Imperial Majesty . . . All seven persons were seen, apparently hale and hearty, immediately prior to vanishing . . . And all left their outer clothing behind. Rossi was the youngest senator the Empire had ever known, and tipped for Supreme Minister before he was much older. Do not wait for me. I will find my own way home. Yes, Excellency. Rossi had—a certain weakness . . . Gambling was his passion. He played badly and staked recklessly. Fool that I am, I’m ruined . . . ruined! But help was at hand. As soon as Rossi arrived home, he had a call. . . . Listen carefully . . . Who are you? That is immaterial, Excellency. I am a friend. I am willing to pay off all your gambling debts—in return for a simple service that you must perform for me . . .

This instalment was originally published in Look and Learn issue no. 755 on 3 July 1976.

 

Ten Lunar Years of Solitude (continued . . .)




It happened in the great square of Trigan City in broad daylight . . . Spare a coin for an old soldier, master. Don’t pester me, fellow! Second thoughts. I was harsh to that beggar . . . after all, he did fight for his country. By all the stars!—He’s vanished! There was only a pile of ragged clothing—that, and a handful of small coins! All that’s left of him! This is—fantastic! Meanwhile—at Air Fleet base . . . Alarm! Alarm! All interceptor craft get airborne! Unidentified intruder in sector red-zero-zero! Janno led the dash to the waiting interceptors. Every pilot had his own altitude in which to operate. Janno’s was at the very highest—in the sub-stratosphere. Approaching operational height now . . . nothing in sight . . .
And then—Janno saw a tell-tale ‘blip’ on his screen. Contact ahead! . . . and it’s high up . . . in the stratosphere! Up—up—up—the intrepid pilot followed his quarry. And then he saw . . . IT . . . and experienced a pang of disappointment. It was only an echo from that old abandoned weather station! Better get down to my operational height. This craft isn’t fit to operate for more than a very short while in the stratosphere. A pair of eyes watched Janno from the seemingly deserted city in space. BLAM!—BLAMM!—explosive projectiles slammed into the little interceptor! By all the stars . . . Aflame and out of control, Janno had only one thought . . . Elekton’s gravitational pull is strong enough to take me down—but will the craft burn out and me with it before we reach the ground?

This instalment was originally published in Look and Learn issue no. 754 on 26 June 1976.