When an author turns out several stories a month — and they’re all first-rate, which is unusual — you’d think, rightly, that he’d been in the game a long time. But that’s not the case with John D. MacDonald. Even though he falls into the first category, he definitely doesn’t fall into the second, because he’s only been writing about a year. Never even wanted to be a writer.

Franzie’s dimension-spanning hands were worth millions to a ruthless promoter — if he could manage to stay out of them...

Relentless as death itself, the alien destroyer followed them through every twist and turn in the gray half-world of superspace... toward a grim rendezvous to which, no matter how they struggled, all roads led!

Too small for this Earth, Crispin Tyler had but one thing to trade for his soul in the deathless, angry wastes of space — and that was his—

Rich was too hot-headed for the job... but his wild fury settled into cold hard hate when he heard who had been killed...

Sword arm blasted off, Sar Bahadur sought the slaughterer of his family, to find that the ways of justice are indeed remarkable.

Riding a ton of hell-roaring iron, fighting a crazy wheel for the inches that add up to a two-mile-a-minute finish, no man can afford to remember yesterday’s terror — if he wants to see today’s checkered flag!