By Neal Asher
The Polity is below assault from a 'melded' AI entity with keep watch over of the deadly Jain expertise, but the assault turns out to haven't any coherence. whilst one among Erebus's wormships kills hundreds of thousands at the global of Klurhammon, a high-tech agricultural global of no actual tactical value, agent Ian Cormac is distributed to enquire, notwithstanding he's secretly suffering to manage a brand new skill no man or woman may still own . . . and commencing to query the reasons of his AI masters. additional assaults and doubtless indiscriminate slaughter occur, yet purely serve to convey one of the most risky contributors within the Polity into the battle. Mr Crane, the indefatigable brass killing computer units out for vengeance, whereas Orlandine, a vastly-augmented haiman who herself controls Jain expertise, seeks a weapon of appalling energy and reveals allies from an historical struggle. in the meantime Mika, scientist and Dragon professional, is back abducted via that unfathomable alien entity and dragged into the center of items: to wake the makers of Jain know-how from their five-million-year shut eye. yet Erebus's assaults will not be so indiscriminate, in any case, and will rather well bring in the top of the Polity itself . . .
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Extra resources for Line War (Ian Cormac, Book 5)
Usually they are the ones with something to fear. The people of Ubidharm are mountainfolk; and insular, proud. Missionaries who are obnoxious pass through rapidly if they pass at all. ” 35 Greg Bear—Hegira [e-reads] The forms were already translated, and it took them only a few minutes to fill in the required information. The official paperwork was brief. When it was over a short oath was administered—in dialect, then in translation—and they were given cards. “You will report to the gatehouse of each city or town you visit.
Finally a small child—he couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl—came up behind him and sat next to him on the bench. ” it asked. He thought that over and decided the child was asking if he wanted a room. He nodded. The child took him by the hand and led him up the stairs. For a moment he was frightened he was getting involved in something far worse than what Bar-Woten and Barthel had chosen, but he relaxed when a bare, comfortable-looking room was shown to him, empty of companionship. He thanked the child and went to the small, clean bed to sit and think.
Everyone’s jumpy,” he said. The Ibisian nodded. The next day brought a warm, dry wind from the southwest. The skies were the color of bloody milk. Though the wind on the ground was mild, 50 Greg Bear—Hegira [e-reads] high above it tortured and twisted the clouds into thin, smooth ribbons and shot them with desert dirt. Mur-es-Werd was covered by a pink pall, and everyone walked warily as in a dangerous dream. By evening it was clear and the winds died down. But the city was restless that night.