By C. J. Cherryh
C. J. Cherryh's upcoming new technological know-how fiction novel Hammerfall (Avon Eos, 7/01), is definitely the right chance to revisit this author's powerful backlist, together with the newest booklet, satan to the Belt (Warner, 12/00). starting from Earth to the asteroids and past, the acclaimed novels first released as Heavy Time and Hellburner are knife-edged thrillers of lethal intrigue in an period of harmful transition. sooner or later global of the Merchanters and the Alliance, rising new forces, together with the Union and the Fleet, are tough the strangle-holds of worldwide governments and world-spanning company cartels. however it may be traditional humans -- the blameless and the unfortunate -- who're trapped within the turmoil while interstellar powers collide.
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Extra resources for Devil to the Belt
Fitch. Mrs. Fitch wasn’t moving. I watched. Mrs. Fitch didn’t seem to be breathing. You know what? Even then I thought… I dunno, that she had stayed out in the rain too long or something? That she was old anyway, so she could have just had a heart attack. Died of hypothermia. Or had a stroke, like Grandpa Hollis. I drew the curtains shut. I’d never seen a dead body before, and I didn’t ever want to see another one. It was horrible, just horrible… and the curtains weren’t enough. I shut ten thousand doors in my head and even then I couldn’t keep it out.
Caspar! No! ” at the top of my voice. He unlocked the door. He grabbed a towel. He held it over his head. He dashed out. I saw him do that. I saw him go out, barefoot in the rain in Barnaby’s kaftan. He dashed back in again. Slipped the lock back shut. Dumped the towel. No one else had noticed. And me? I dunno what I thought was going to happen, like he’d just go up in a puff of green smoke or something. He didn’t. He rummaged in his jeans, pulled out his phone and his MP3, wiped them on his kaftan, and waved them at me, grinning.
It was the right thing, I knew, but I felt angry. He opened the door then. My mom was standing at the end of the hall. My mom! She kind of gasped at me. “Ruby! Oh my B! ” You know, for a moment I actually thought it might be easier to make out like I had that thing rather than fess up. “It’s from kissing,” I said. ” I wailed. She sort of smiled at me—this soppy, sobby smile of joy. And I did too! She looked like a mess; she’d been crying, but at least she wasn’t covered in blood or anything. I suppose she might have been thinking the same thing about me.