By Michael Cobley
Darien is not any longer a misplaced outpost of humanity, however the prize in an intergalactic strength fight. Hegemony forces regulate the planet, whereas Earth in simple terms observes, rendered impotent by means of galactic politics. but Earth's ambassador to Darien becomes a participant in a better clash as there's extra at stake than a turf battle on a newly chanced on international. An historic temple hides entry to a hyperspace criminal, housing the best hazard sentient lifestyles has ever identified. Millennia in the past, malignant intelligences have been caged there following an apocalyptic fight, and their servants paintings on their unencumber. Now a brand new battle is coming.
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Extra info for The Orphaned Worlds (Humanity's Fire, Book 2)
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.