Author Datafile:
Book Title: Tamarlayn.
Author: Anthony B. Fellows.
ISBN: 1-58898-069-3.
Publisher: www.greatunpublished.com
Formats: Trade Paperback, US $15.00+s/h; Adobe PDF PC/MAC Version.
Book Description: Aradames Tamarlayn, a celebrated fighter pilot and war hero, finds himself facing his greatest challenge ever as he races against time and through ancient hatred and schemes to prevent the ultimate destruction of the Makrannian Star Assembly by the Imperial Azeri Dominion.
CHAPTER FIVE
Stardate 5160.038AF. Azeri Dominion. Clan Cheriba Line Administrative District. Coriollus Sector. Klifarr VII Star System. Klifarr III/Kronus. New Shankville. Time Index: 1830hrs, KST.
Moving through New Shankville's rain-spattered streets, the newcomer aroused little interest, a furtive shadow of many plying their trades here in the Dominion's backwaters. Kronus was such an outpost, a treacherous enclave of smugglers, privateers, spice traders, slave traders, Guild Assassins, and every type of unsavory enterprise the criminal mind could conceive. For the newcomer, it provided the perfect cover.
Measuring her pace accordingly, she stepped from the muddied waterway passing for Reformation Avenue onto the sidewalk. Neon-holographic glares, come-hithers lit the alien faces of pedestrians, solicitors alike from 100 different worlds. They allowed her a wide berth, uncertain if she were an Assassin, allowing her to pass unmolested. Making no sign of recognition, she brushed past them to corner a pawn shop's barricaded facade, and disappeared into the alley. Unpleasantness welcomed her. Shankville's outcasts, the dregs of Kronus resided here, scrabbling a living in the realms between shadows. As with Reformation's denizens, she provoked only transitory interest, but caused a foraging Denebian Firecat to screech and scramble out of an overturned trash can. Hand securely on a heavy disruptor's handle beneath her thick cloak, she edged past misfortune's hapless souls, turning into a ramshackle edifice's darkened alcove. A heavy, battered durasteel door formed its sole entrance. A rusted viewing slot stared out of the door near its top.
Relaxing slightly, she knocked on the door three times. The slot slid aside, revealing one hot, yellow eye, a cybernetic implant replacing what was missing.
"Chunakh hassar nagukh?" the Azeri asked in flawless Okusnaan, one of six Azeri languages.
"Donaga kar shalinan," she replied. "Skydancer."
The door slid aside on ancient gaskets. A large, brown-furred Azeri stood before her. Beyond stretched a corridor stacked with cargo and packing crates, illuminated by an ancient lumina strip casting a light as thin as buttermilk. Another metal door formed the end, muting a threnody of voices beyond.
"Come in quickly," he urged Skydancer. "Imperial Intelligence has been shadowing our operatives for several days. There isn't much time remaining."
"Gladly," she replied, stepping through, thankful of the room's warmth and relative dryness. "Do you have the data?"
He shut the door behind her. "Yes, but it'll do you little good if Intelligence catches up with you." He sighed, a deep lupine growl. "I'm afraid you cannot rely further on us to see you safely out of this District."
"It comes with the job, handsome," she chuckled, pulling back her hood. Pale blue eyes regarded him coolly, staring from under a seamless line of magenta hair. "Nobody ever said it'd be a picnic."
"'Picnic'?" he replied. "What's that?"
She grinned. "It's what my life isn't. Come on...we've got a universe to save."
Invara X Star System. Invara II/Loskimas. Tankari.Imperial Intelligence District Headquarters. Time Index: 1940hrs, KST.
Intelligence Master Turek sipped spice wine, watching the hapless Resistance fool captured earlier while attempting to blast out of Tankari Cosmodrome without authorization, being strapped into an Interrogation scanner by several burly Security operatives. Attending Interrogation Master Kua'zar began setting neural stimulators to the "detainee's" key nerve junctions, marked by yellow blocks on a nearby data monitor.
The screaming began.
Turek turned away, returning to his desk. A bottle of vintage Katellan spice wine waited there. Oblivious to the screams, he began pouring. A moment later, Chief Adjutant Dioskilos entered, scrutinizing a portable dataterminal's glowing display. "Report," he ordered him.
"Special Assemblies confirms an Assembly Intelligence operative's insertion within our space in the last 48 hours." He tapped keys. "Detainee 2954-K appears to–"
"That's background," Turek reminded him. "What of available specifics, if any?"
"SA expects an attempt to contact a Resistance Cell in the Klifarr System in the next twelve hours."
"Inform Sector Authorities at the Klifarr System to detain all suspected Resistance members immediately." The shrieking ceased, followed by low moaning. "I'll not suffer the risk of that stolen data falling into the enemy's hands."
Dioskilos nodded sharply. "Yes, Milord."
Turek decanted more spice wine. "Prepare my personal courier and escorts. I'll see to it personally this treachery doesn't succeed. We cruise for Kronus."
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