Kelly Freas; Kelly Freas
|ex-ChUSFA: stamp on first inside page, page 85. MORE INFO|
Ace Double (#53415, 95 cent cover price) May 1973 paperback. Condition is Fine (-): very tight and square with flat spine, age tanning is mild and uniform; slight waviness near spine - probably from glue shrinkage over time (this is the closest thing to wear or a flaw for this copy.) 2 stamps on each first page & page 85 - previous owner, and also from the reserves of a defunct SF library (same source as the magazines I sold in previous years.) No other marks or writing - this looks new/unread.
An Ace Double from 1973, containing Hierarchies by John T. Phillifent (a,k.a. "John Rackhm"), bound with Mister Justice by Doris Piserchia.
Hierarchies by John T. Phillifent: cover by Kelly Freas, 141 pages. Serialized in Analog October & November 1971, where the intro blurb was: "Theoretically Special Agents Sixx and Lowry had the ridiculously simple job of escorting one Royal pet sorki-dog from Khandalar to Earth... but for some reason, some organization was fanatically opposed to their movement..."
(from the inside blurb): He was careful to make it appear as if his trajectory were strictly follow-the-leader, so that only he knew by what small fraction it was off. The wailing scream of ruptured atmosphere came now and the screen picture shimmered into ionic disturbance, but was clear enough to show a range of small, low hills, well-wooded, a shallow gorge between them, and the shapes down to the shoreline. There was a small, shingle-edged river mouth. A scattered array of timber shacks on either side of that river would be the troops' living quarters. There were radio masts pointing up to the sky. The alien ship was well ahead now and just settling down into the water. Sixx had been merely tickling his jets so far. Now he leaned on them hard, grunting as the savage deceleration shoved him deep into his seat. The Clipper bellowed down... and down... and washed that scatter of shacks with searing blue-and-white flames laced with shock diamonds. Some of that terrific thunder came back through the hull as the squat ship slowed down to a hover-halt, hung on its devastating tail for an undecided moment... then lifted... and drifted along... started to go down once more... slid away in another direction... and now there was nothing visible at all on the screen but dirty steam and black, roiling smoke.
Turner squirmed in his chair. "I think we're assuming a lot. We're in an uproar because of a few photographs. They could be phony."