Altri libri che potrebbero interessarti

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  Wreck Off Triton

  Alfred Coppel

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  Wreck Off Triton by Alfred Coppel - His plans were thorough. Every risk had been closely considered. Now Ron Carnavon, ruthless convict, was ready to loot the wrecked spaceship of its sapphire treasure, and thrust his warped power around the entire, antagonistic EMV triangle. 
  Ron Carnavon had been the skipper of the late Thunderbird, and it was common knowledge in every port of the EMV triangle that he had scuttled her. There was a price on his head, and the High Space Guard was combing the spacelanes for him—and for the Thunderbird. For the Thunderbird was a treasure ship. 
  But Carnavon was a cautious man and no fool, for all that he'd committed barratry. He left the Thunderbird in a Trojan orbit a million miles off Triton, ruptured and spilling corpses into space. He took a spaceboat and jetted sunward to the Holcomb Foundation Outpost on Oberon. Then he stowed away on the mail ship to Canalopolis, still carrying the chart that showed the Thunderbird's position. In the Canal City, Carnavon evaded the lax Guard cordons and found himself a renegade Martian hypnosurgeon to change his face and fingerprints. 
  From then on it was easy. Across Syrtis Major by sand-ski to Marsport posing as a prospector. And from Marsport down the Grand Canal to the spaceman's boneyard at Yakki. It was there that he met and hired Pop Wills and the Carefree. 
  Ron Carnavon acted with characteristic caution when he chose Pop and the Carefree to do the ghoul work on the ship he had murdered. Pop's ship was a rusty bucket, but well enough fixed to reach Triton where the Thunderbird's corpse orbited, her vault heavy with Plutonian sapphires. And Pop needed work badly. He was almost too broke to outfit his ship for the flight.

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  Parallel Whispers: Arya’s Journey

  Priyanka Sharma

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  What if sleep wasn’t a place of rest… but a doorway? 
  In the depths of Mumbai’s restless nights, Arya, a reclusive software developer, begins slipping into another world—a parallel reality that mirrors her own, yet whispers of something much darker beneath the surface. 
  Each time she dreams, she wakes with clues—strange objects, unfamiliar markings, and a voice that speaks only in riddles. The tasks she’s given are cryptic. The people she meets remember her before she arrives. And the version of herself that stares back from the mirror… isn’t quite her. 
  As the line between reality and illusion begins to blur, Arya is forced to question everything: her sanity, her identity, and the strange force drawing her deeper each night. 
  Mysterious. Atmospheric. Unsettling. 
  Parallel Whispers is a mind-bending journey through shadow realms, inner awakenings, and unseen truths waiting just beyond the veil of sleep.

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  Mummies & Mysteries

  Elle Adams

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  When Rory and her magical family play host to the town’s Halloween masquerade event at their library, they’re prepared for anything… except murder. 
  When a man shows up strangled by his own mummy costume, literally unmasking the killer among the guests proves to be the least of the police’s problems. Between overbearing relatives trying to micromanage the investigation to inexplicable events in the library targeting Rory and her family, she finds herself wondering if there was more to the man’s death than meets the eye. 
  And does Aunt Candace’s Halloween mask really carry a deadly curse?

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  The Life–Work of Professor Muntz...

  Murray Leinster

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  The Life–Work of Professor Muntz by Murray Leinster - Multiple time-tracks lead to the Ajax Brewery! 
  Nobody would ordinarily have thought of Mr. Grebb and Professor Muntz in the same breath, so to speak, yet their careers impinged upon each other remarkably. Mr. Grebb was a large, coarse person, with large coarse manners and large coarse pores on-an oversized nose. He drove a beer truck for the Ajax Brewing Company, and his ene dominant desire was to get something on Joe Hallix, who as head of the delivery service for Ajax, was his immediate boss. 
  Professor Muntz, on the other hand, was the passionately shy and mouselike author of "The Mathematics of Multiple TimeTracks," who vanished precipitately when he found himself famous. In that abstruse work he referred worriedly to experimental evidence of parallel time-tracks, and other physicists converged upon him with hopeful gleams in their eyes, and he fled. 
  Professor Muntz couldn't talk to people. But they wanted to know about his expеriments. They couldn't make any. They didn't know how to start, and to them the whole thing had been abstract theory. But he had made experiments and they wanted to ask about them, so he ran away in an agony of shyness. 
  That was that. No one human being could seem less likely to be affected by Professor Muntz' life-work than Mr. Grebb, and no life-work could seem more certainly immune to Mr. Grebb than Professor Muntz'. But life is full of paradoxes, and the theory of multiple time-cracks is even fuller. Therefore...

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  Alchemy and Argent

  Charlotte E. English

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  It’s all very well deciding to build the means to save British magick. Top marks for ambitious goals! ...But there are one or two obstacles in the way.  
  For one, said means does not yet exist, and it’ll take a genius to sort that one out. Luckily, we’ve got one of those. We call him Orlando. 
  For another, nothing at all can be built without materials, and no common-or-garden commodities will do. It’s got to be silver. The impossibly rare, virtually extinct kind.  
  This one’s on me, Val and Jay.  
  So it’s down into the depths of history in search of the answer. Could the crackpot alchemists of ages past really turn lead into magickal silver? 
  Everyone says it’s impossible. But if we can’t find a way to conquer the impossible, what’s to become of magick?

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  Super Joe Mulloy

  Scott F. Grenville

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  Super Joe Mulloy by Scott F. Grenville - If Joe Mulloy was perfect—and he was—then beyond his perfection there only could be ... Super Joe Mulloy 
  Joe Mulloy lounged in the plushest chair in his luxurious office. All around him, on the walls, on the ceiling, even in strategic spots all over the floor, there were mirrors. Joe sneered at the place where the mirrors were most profuse; twenty or thirty perfectly identical Joes sneered back at him. He admired his sneer from every angle, shaping and changing the contemptuous look on his face with his hands, stroking it, much as other young men in a far earlier age had stroked and twisted their fine mustachios. 
  As usual, Joe Mulloy was engrossed in his two favorite hobbies: narcissism and indolence. 
  Joe's friends, of which there were very few, could have given you a fairly accurate resume of his character in five words, his sneer and his indolence. 
  In the first respect they would have been right. Joseph Mulloy had been born with a sneer on his face. His whole early life had been centered around that sneer. It had enraged his father, distressed his mother, driven his teachers to tears, his playmates to tantrums. He stopped doing homework at the age of eight, but the teachers passed him on anyway to avoid complete mental breakdown. 
  Gradually, Joe Mulloy began to get his way in everything by virtue of his sneer. It was not merely openly supercilious; that was the beauty of it. It was so subtle, so faint, and yet such an open avowal of contempt for the entire human race, that try as the people he tormented would, to find something in his sneer to charge him with, they never found anything.

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