By Jill C. Wheeler
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A undercover agent for the Typhon Pact—a new political rival of the Federation—steals the plans for Starfleet’s latest technological increase: the slipstream force. to forestall the Typhon Pact from unlocking the drive’s secrets and techniques, Starfleet Intelligence recruits a couple of genetically more advantageous brokers: Dr. Julian Bashir, of station Deep area nine, and Sarina Douglas, a girl whose skills Bashir helped deliver to fruition, and whom Bashir thinks of as his long-lost real love.
Maerad is a slave in a determined and unforgiving payment, taken there as a baby while her relations is destroyed in struggle. She doesn’t but understand she has inherited a strong reward, person who marks her as a member of the noble institution of Pellinor and allows her to determine the area as no different can. it is just while she is chanced on via Cadvan, one of many nice Bards of Lirigon, that her precise id and outstanding future spread.
Extra resources for Alvin Schwartz
How could he have forgotten? And the machine itself lay underground, in a cavern just beneath his feet. And as quickly as he thought that, he felt a sharp pang in his thoughts—and remembered when the quarx had stopped him from calling for help. / There was a nervous stirring in his thoughts. /// I'm sorry. I wish I could. possible, yet. /// /Not possible. / He thought he sensed the quarx about to speak again, but there was only silence. He thought about prompting the alien to talk, to explain the secrecy—then decided to drop the subject for the moment.
The quarx murmured at last. Jeffrey A. / The wind riffled in his thoughts. /// I'll try. Can you listen and drive at the same time? /// /I'll try,/ he said sarcastically, steering along a winding path that climbed a low ridge. /// Okay. /// There was a pause. Then the quarx began, /// As for where I'm from, that's a long story and I sense that it is not uppermost in your thoughts. / /// Thank you. First I must tell you that I am, in truth, as much at the mercy of fate, destiny, external direction, whatever you wish to call it, as you.
A quarx. /// Are you injured? /// He sat up, clutching his helmet. He wanted desperately to rub at his forehead. He wanted to rub at that presence in his mind, peering out through his eyes, taking in the landscape with infuriating eagerness. /You! / he thought, almost numbly. /// Yes, of course. /// He shuddered. Yes, of course. The events of the last hour were slowly coming back to him. before all those dreams. /// We left the cavern. /// /Yeah. / Bandicut peered out toward the horizon and tilted his head back to look at the black Triton sky and the great blue crescent of Neptune.
Alvin Schwartz by Jill C. Wheeler