By Keith Laumer
Armchair fiction offers the easiest in vintage technological know-how fiction novels. “A hint of reminiscence” takes you the entire means from Stonehenge to outer house. while a guy named Legion signed on as a soldier of fortune he didn't count on to finally end up because the grasp of a personal island. Nor did he anticipate to cower within the historical Druid pits…nor struggle for his existence within the nice corridor at Okk-Hamiloth, on a planet many galaxies away. the writer, Keith Laumer used to be one of many technology fiction world’s grasp storytellers. right here he sweeps you thru the some distance reaches of time and the vastness of outer house during this novel of retribution.
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Extra resources for A Trace of Memory
Goodbye, Foster. I can't claim it's been fun knowing you, but it's been different. We'll feel the heat at any second now. " The glaring disc was the size of the full moon now, unbearably bright. It lit the plain like a pale blue sun. There was no sound. As it dropped lower, the disc foreshortened and I could see a dark shape above it, dimly lit by the glare thrown back from the ground. "The thing is the size of a ferry boat," I said. "It's going to miss us," Foster said. " We watched the slender shape float down with dreamlike slowness, now five hundred feet above, now three hundred, then hovering just above the giant stones.
Foster got out his wallet—after I told him where it was—and handed it to me. I looked through it; there was nothing in it with a photo or fingerprints. When Foster said he had arranged matters so that he could disappear without a trace, he hadn't been kidding. "We'll go to Miami," I said. "I know a place in the Cuban section where we can lie low, cheap. " "Yes," Foster said. " "You haven't forgotten how to talk, at least," I said. "I wonder what else you can do. " "I can remember nothing of your economic system," Foster said.
It would be costly, but not impossible. We can start by gathering capital—" "Wait a minute, Foster," I said. I was staring at a larger-scale map showing southern England. Suddenly my heart was thudding. I put a finger on a tiny dot in the center of Salisbury Plain. "Six, two and even," I said. "There's your Pit of the Hunters…" Foster leaned over, read the fine print. " I read from the encyclopedia page: —this great stone structure, lying on the Plain of Salisbury, Wiltshire, England, is preeminent among megalithic monuments of the ancient world.