Lester Del Rey - Read Free From Internet

Police Your Planet

Wed, 21 Jun 2006 20:11:24 +0300

Bruce Gordon was an ex-fighter, ex-gambler, ex-cop, ex-reporter, and now he was an ex-patriot of Earth. Security shipped him to Mars with a knife, 100 credits, and a yellow card that meant no return. An SF novel that would appeal to Mickey Spillane fans, Police Your Planet features lots of hands-on violence, assorted beatings, and blood. But this isn't just a crime novel sat in space; this is a hard sf novel, and about the terraforming of Mars which is central to the story. Among the most powerful, hard-boiled, noir & funny of Lester's sf stories. A superb book - well recommended! Time to read the missing Del Rey classic! From Prof. Muggins review: This is a thrilling, rollercoaster of a Martian adventure - mix a real man's hero, a fast paced plot and very plausible plans for the terraforming of Mars and you have a classic science fiction story and by far one of the best Del Rey books ever! --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Attack From Atlantis

Wed, 09 Mar 2011 16:03:22 +0200

Early Del Rey

Mon, 13 Sep 2021 08:05:09 +0300

Rockets Through Space

Sat, 09 Mar 2013 16:03:19 +0200

Dead Ringer

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 20:15:19 +0300

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

Mission to the Moon

Wed, 09 Mar 2011 16:03:18 +0200

No Strings Attached

Mon, 21 Jun 2010 17:07:11 +0300

No Strings Attached is presented here in a high quality paperback edition. This popular classic work by Lester Del Rey is in the English language, and may not include graphics or images from the original edition. If you enjoy the works of Lester Del Rey then we highly recommend this publication for your book collection.

Badge of Infamy

Wed, 21 Jun 2006 20:15:45 +0300

The computer seemed to work as it should. The speed was within acceptable limits. He gave up trying to see the ground and was forced to trust the machinery designed for amateur pilots. The flare bloomed, and he yanked down on the little lever. It could have been worse. They hit the ground, bounced twice, and turned over. The ship was a mess when Feldman freed himself from the elastic straps of the seat. Chris had shrieked as they hit, but she was unbuckling herself now. He threw her her spacesuit and one of the emergency bottles of oxygen from the rack. "Hurry up with that. We've sprung a leak and the pressure's dropping."

The Renegade (ss)

Wed, 14 Sep 1977 08:05:07 +0300

In a way, he was a naturalized citizen at a very alien nation, a naturalized member at an alien race. It wet hard to determine where his loyalties belonged. Far he was something at a king among the aliens—

-oOo-

Either way he chose – the world of men or the world of those super-Gorillas – he was a renegade. He was a human by birth; his other choice was of his own choice to begin with -

Day of the Giants

Wed, 14 Sep 1977 16:03:20 +0300

Pursuit

Mon, 21 Jun 2010 20:17:35 +0300

Fear cut through the unconscious mind of Wilbur Hawkes. With almost physical violence, it tightened his throat and knifed at his heart. It darted into his numbed brain, screaming at him. He was a soft egg in a vast globe of elastic gelatine. Two creatures swam menacingly through the resisting globe toward him. The gelatine fought against them, but they came on. One was near, and made a mystic pass. He screamed at it, and the gelatine grew stronger, throwing them back and away. Suddenly, the creatures drew back. A door opened, and they were gone. But he couldn't let them go. If they escaped.... Hawkes jerked upright in his bed, gasping out a hoarse cry, and the sound of his own voice completed the awakening. He opened his eyes to a murky darkness that was barely relieved by the little night-light. For a second, the nightmare was so strong on his mind that he seemed to see two shadows beyond the door, rushing down the steps. He fought off the illusion, and with straining senses jerked his head around the room. There was nothing there. Sweat was beading his forehead, and he could feel his pulse racing. He had to get out—had to leave—at once! He forced the idea aside. There was something cloudy in his mind, but he made reason take over and shove away some of the heavy fear. His fingers found a cigarette and lighted it automatically. The first familiar breath of smoke in his lungs helped. He drew in deeply again, while the tiny sounds in the room became meaningful. There was the insistent ticking of a clock and the soft shushing sound of a tape recorder. He stared at the machine, running on fast rewind, and reversed it to play. But the tape seemed to be blank, or erased. He crushed the cigarette out on a table-top where other butts lay in disorder. It looked wrong, and his mind leaped up in sudden frantic fear, before he could calm it again. This time, reason echoed his emotional unease. Hawkes had never smoked before! But his fingers were already lighting another by old habit. His thoughts lurched, seeking for an answer. There was only a vague sense of something missing—a period of time seemed to have passed. It felt like a long period, but he had no memory of it. There had been the final fight with Irma, when he'd gone stalking out of the house, telling her to get a divorce any way she wanted. He'd opened the mail-box and taken out a letter—a letter from a Professor.... His mind refused to go further. There was only a complete blank after that. But it had been in midwinter, and now he could make out the faint outlines of full-leafed trees against the sky through the window! Months had gone by—and there was no faintest trace of them in his mind. They'll get you! You can't escape! Hurry, go, GO!... The cigarette fell from his shaking hands, and he was half out of the bed before the rational part of his mind could cut off the fear thoughts. He flipped on the lights, afraid of the dimness. It didn't help. The room was dusty, as if unused for months, and there was a cobweb in one corner by the mirror. His own face shocked him. It was the same lean, sharp-featured face as ever, under the shock of nondescript, sandy hair. His ears still stuck out too much, and his lips were a trifle too thin. It looked no more than his thirty years; but it was a strained face, now—painted with weeks of fatigue, and grayish with fear, sweat-streaked and with nervous tension in every corded tendon of his throat. His somewhat bony, average-height figure shook visibly as he climbed from the bed. Hawkes stood fighting himself, trying to get back in the bed, but it was a losing battle. Something seemed to swing up in the corner of the room, as if a shadow moved. He jerked his head toward it, but there was nothing there. He heard his breath gasping harshly, and his knuckles whitened. There was the taste of blood in the corner of his mouth where he was biting his lips. Get out! They'll be here at once! Leave—GO!

Pstalemate

Wed, 09 Mar 2011 16:03:17 +0200

Habit

Wed, 14 Sep 1977 08:05:08 +0300

The straight line is the shortest distance between two points, and habit adds, the quickest line between two points — But it may not be —

Though Dreamers Die (ss)

Wed, 14 Sep 1977 08:05:03 +0300

Mankind was dead, but a man and some robots were left. But—for a special reason—it was necessary that not even a memory of Man remain!