Informationen zum Autor Roxann Dawson and Daniel Graham Klappentext Andrea Flores has become one of the most valued agents of the Tenebrea, the elite fighting force of the star-spanning Alliance. Following the destruction of the Clone Welfare Institute run by the Cor Ordinate, Andrea is sent on a vital mission alongside her comrades, H'Roo Parh, a Jod; Tara Gullwing, a clone -- and Tara's lover, Eric, the clone of Andrea's dead husband. But Andrea has not forgotten her true reason for joining the Tenebrea: to take revenge on those responsible for the death of her husband and children -- Cor terrorists who mistook her husband for Eric. Now alongside a constant reminder of what she has lost, Andrea faces her greatest challenge yet... Chapter 1 The artificial time, synthetic food, enforced idleness, and incessant hum of space travel plagued her sleep. Andrea slept fitfully in her berth aboard the armed merchant Benwoi. Her mind grappled with a collage of memories. The teak decks are damp. Morning dew collects as cool droplets on the railings. The Deeper Well rocks slightly -- more from movement on board than from the glassy water. Steve comes up from the cabin with a steaming cup of aromatic coffee. He kisses me. The stubble of his beard rubs my cheek, a touch more stimulating than caffeine. He seems distant -- preoccupied -- as he walks to the forepeak to raise the jib. Little Glendon, my little pixie, scampers up the ladder wearing an orange life vest and nuzzles her cheek into my breast, jostling a bit of hot coffee that splashes on my bare leg, but I ignore the insignificant pain. Glendon's hair smells of lilac shampoo. She says "I love you, Mother," with perfect diction, too old for a child of three. Glendon's voice has lost its innocence. Glendon looks into my eyes. I watch as those pixie eyes dim. I'm confused. Glendon stops breathing! Then she slumps into my arms, cold and lifeless. I shake my child who suddenly is covered with blood. I can do nothing but scream, "Steve! Help me!" The man at the forepeak raising the jib turns. He is irritated by the commotion. He says coldly, "I'm not Steve." Andrea woke to a shrill pulsating alarm. She dismissed her dream and sat up sprightly, slapping the comm-panel on the bulkhead above her berth. With the alarm silenced, the quiet hum of the ship returned like a long somnolent note played on an oboe. But Andrea was instantly and completely awake, perspiring. Even in her sleep, she'd anticipated this important wake-up call. She glanced at the status panel: systems nominal. Tara, her partner and the only other soul aboard ship, was already on station. Not surprised -- Tara was a clone. Andrea held the common bias that clones worked not from need or virtue, but from habit. At the top of her panel, the chronometer counted backward: four hours, twenty-eight minutes until they slid out of faster-than-light speed into kinetic speed. Enough time to dress, eat, and rehearse their critical first minutes in the Jod system. Andrea touched the intercom button, "Tara, I'm awake. What are you doing up so early?" After a pause, a sleepy voice replied, "I prepared a hot..." The message collapsed into a long yawn. "Excuse me. A hot meal, and I brewed some black gaval." "You'd better have another cup." Andrea waited for a reply but caught the last audible part of another yawn over the intercom, which she clipped short, saying, "I'm switching off before you put me to sleep." She touched the pad closing the channel. Andrea slipped her long legs out from under the thin cotton sheets till her feet touched the cold floor. Her plain undershirt had hiked up over her stomach during the night while she'd slept. Standing in her small quarters, she bent over, stretching her hamstrings, placing the palms of her hands flat on the floor, then grabbing her ankles, she stretched her strong leg muscles. She gracefully unbe...

Autorentext

Roxann Dawson and Daniel Graham

Klappentext

Andrea Flores has become one of the most valued agents of the Tenebrea, the elite fighting force of the star-spanning Alliance. Following the destruction of the Clone Welfare Institute run by the Cor Ordinate, Andrea is sent on a vital mission alongside her comrades, H'Roo Parh, a Jod; Tara Gullwing, a clone -- and Tara's lover, Eric, the clone of Andrea's dead husband.
But Andrea has not forgotten her true reason for joining the Tenebrea: to take revenge on those responsible for the death of her husband and children -- Cor terrorists who mistook her husband for Eric. Now alongside a constant reminder of what she has lost, Andrea faces her greatest challenge yet...

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

The artificial time, synthetic food, enforced idleness, and incessant hum of space travel plagued her sleep. Andrea slept fitfully in her berth aboard the armed merchant Benwoi. Her mind grappled with a collage of memories.

The teak decks are damp. Morning dew collects as cool droplets on the railings. The Deeper Well rocks slightly -- more from movement on board than from the glassy water. Steve comes up from the cabin with a steaming cup of aromatic coffee. He kisses me. The stubble of his beard rubs my cheek, a touch more stimulating than caffeine. He seems distant -- preoccupied -- as he walks to the forepeak to raise the jib. Little Glendon, my little pixie, scampers up the ladder wearing an orange life vest and nuzzles her cheek into my breast, jostling a bit of hot coffee that splashes on my bare leg, but I ignore the insignificant pain. Glendon's hair smells of lilac shampoo. She says "I love you, Mother," with perfect diction, too old for a child of three. Glendon's voice has lost its innocence. Glendon looks into my eyes. I watch as those pixie eyes dim. I'm confused. Glendon stops breathing! Then she slumps into my arms, cold and lifeless. I shake my child who suddenly is covered with blood. I can do nothing but scream, "Steve! Help me!" The man at the forepeak raising the jib turns. He is irritated by the commotion. He says coldly, "I'm not Steve."

Andrea woke to a shrill pulsating alarm. She dismissed her dream and sat up sprightly, slapping the comm-panel on the bulkhead above her berth. With the alarm silenced, the quiet hum of the ship returned like a long somnolent note played on an oboe. But Andrea was instantly and completely awake, perspiring.

Even in her sleep, she'd anticipated this important wake-up call. She glanced at the status panel: systems nominal. Tara, her partner and the only other soul aboard ship, was already on station. Not surprised -- Tara was a clone. Andrea held the common bias that clones worked not from need or virtue, but from habit.

At the top of her panel, the chronometer counted backward: four hours, twenty-eight minutes until they slid out of faster-than-light speed into kinetic speed. Enough time to dress, eat, and rehearse their critical first minutes in the Jod system. Andrea touched the intercom button, "Tara, I'm awake. What are you doing up so early?"

After a pause, a sleepy voice replied, "I prepared a hot..." The message collapsed into a long yawn. "Excuse me. A hot meal, and I brewed some black gaval."

"You'd better have another cup." Andrea waited for a reply but caught the last audible part of another yawn over the intercom, which she clipped short, saying, "I'm switching off before you put me to sleep." She touched the pad closing the channel.

Andrea slipped her long legs out from under the thin cotton sheets till her feet touched the cold floor. Her plain undershirt had hiked up over her stomach during the night while she'd slept. Standing in her small quarters, she bent over, stretching her hamstrings, placing the palms of her hands flat on the floor, then grabbing her ankles, she stretched her strong leg muscles. She gracefully unbent herself and stretched her arms above her head as she rolled her head in slow, grand circles to lim…