The Trigan Empire

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.

The Air Fleet base near Trigan City was a scene of colourful activity. An inspection by no less than Marshal Rossu, chief of the mighty Trigan Air Arm.

It was the occasion of the Emperor’s birthday. The Marshal paused for a word with the Emperor’s nephew, Janno.

Ah, Lieutenant Janno. You will, of course, be attending the reception at the palace after the fly-past. Join me after we land, and accompany me in my automobile.

Yes, Excellency. Thank you.

Later, led by Marshal Rossu’s all-red fighting craft, Janno and his companions flew in tight formation over the Imperial Palace . . .

. . . where the Emperor Trigo took the salute.

After the fly-past, the Marshal’s craft was first to land.























And then, as it came to a halt . . .

Hey! Where’s the pilot?

The Marshal! He—he’s disappeared!

Nothing here but his flying kit!

News was brought to the Emperor.

He can’t have disappeared!

It’s true, Uncle! One instant his Excellency was at the controls, the next there was nothing left but his helmet and gravity-suit.

The Air Fleet High Command held an enquiry some days later. Ten mechanics gave evidence and all told the same tale.

You were the first to point out that there was no pilot in the craft as it taxied to a halt?

Yes, sir. And when we looked inside, he’d vanished!

Other enquiries—of a more confidential nature—were made at the Emperor’s orders. But to no avail.

The Marshal has a happy family life. His financial affairs are in good order, his health excellent. There is no reason, in the opinion of the secret police, why he should choose to disappear.

Then he must have been taken by force, unwillingly. But . . . how?

That morning, at the other side of the city, the owner of a weapons shop made a casual remark to his assistant.

I shall be in my office if you require me.

Yes, sir.

Some time later . . .

‘Scuse me, sir. A gentleman here wants to buy a . . .

By all the stars!

What’s the matter?

My boss has vanished, that’s what! And left his clothes behind!

This instalment was originally published in Look and Learn issue no. 753 on 19 June 1976.

With an animal-like howl of fury, Roffa threw himself at his friend.

Gnnnnnnghh!

Janno ducked and fired his rifle from the hip.

The drugged dart contained in the harmless projectile swiftly did its work. But as Janno stooped to gather up his unconscious comrade, he heard a sudden series of frenzied screams.

The party of old people, maddened by the fall-out, came bounding towards their intended victim.

Gaaaaaah!

Ngaaaaaah!

At the last moment, the pilot from the heli-jet descended.

Grab hold of your friend and let’s go!

Kill! Kill!

Yaaaaagh!























Later in Trigan City, Peric, Elekton’s most famous scientist, carried out a series of tests on Roffa.

He’s coming round. Stand well back. With that uncanny strength, he may burst his bonds!

Janno, old friend. What . . . what happened?

This is astounding!

Master Peric, all the old people have been rendered unconscious and harmless with the drugged darts. Where do you want them?

Bring them into the laboratory, Lieutenant. Somehow, somewhere, I must find the answer to this strange phenomenon!

All that night, Peric laboured. Testing—theorising—testing again. And when dawn came . . .

I have it. The only hypothesis that fits the facts!

And, however improbable, it has to be—the truth!

That morning, Elekton’s greatest scientist explained how by a curious freak of fate, the scourge had been defeated by a simple chemical compound.

The drug that quietened the victims also reversed the process of mutation that caused the affliction. We have an antidote!

I also discovered that potential victims are all of the same blood group. This simplifies matters, for people of this blood group, only, need to be careful about not eating freshly-grown vegetation.

So was the plague overcome. People were free to partake of the zamberries without any of the dreaded after-effects . . .

 . . . Thanks to Peric’s infallible remedy, the dreadful scourge of Elekton was gone forever. Now, the fearful, red-eyed monsters who had terrorised the planet were nothing more than an unpleasant memory.

This instalment was originally published in Look and Learn issue no. 752 on 12 June 1976.