By Robert Repino
The "war without name" has all started, with human extinction as its aim. The instigator of this battle is the Colony, a race of clever ants who, for millions of years, were silently development a military that may eternally remove the damaging, oppressive people. below the Colony's watchful eye, this utopia may be freed from the humans' penchant for violence, exploitation and spiritual superstition. the ultimate step within the Colony's warfare attempt is reworking the skin animals into high-functioning two-legged beings who stand up to kill their masters.
Former housecat grew to become battle hero, Mort(e) is known for taking over the main risky missions and scuffling with the scary human bio-weapon EMSAH. however the real motivation in the back of his recklessness is his ongoing look for a pre-transformation friend--a puppy named Sheba. while he gets a mysterious message from the dwindling human resistance claiming Sheba is alive, he starts off a trip that might take him from the remainder human strongholds to the guts of the Colony, the place he'll observe the resource of EMSAH and the final word destiny of all of earth's creatures.
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Extra info for Morte
They could afford to wait. I, on the other hand, needed something that would sell quickly. Jaxim leaned on the counter between us. “Caravan just bought all our deck lamps,” he said. ” I nodded. Sympathy lamps were perfect for ships. Difficult to break, cheaper than oil in the long run, and you didn’t have to worry about them setting fire to your ship. I juggled the numbers in my head. I could make two lamps at once, saving some time through duplication of effort, and be reasonably sure they would sell before I had to pay tuition.
You can buy a broken old plow horse for less than a talent. ” “Not likely,” Wil grunted. ” Manet smiled. “That’s it exactly. ” Simmon looked stunned by this. “But my father once spent two hundred fifty hard on a Kaepcaen tall,” he said. I leaned to one side and pointed. ” “But,” Simmon said. “But horses have bloodlines. ” “That mandolin has a bloodline,” I said. “It was made by Antressor himself. ” I watched as Sim absorbed the information, looking around at all the instruments in the room. “Still,” Sim said.
Aaron reached over the bar and laid a broad hand on Kote’s shoulder. “I know you’re just trying to help, Mr. Kote,” he said warmly. “You’re a good man, and I’ll think about what you said. I’m not rushing out to join. ” The smith’s prentice shook his head ruefully. “I swear. Everyone’s taken a run at me this morning. My mum said she was sick with the consumption. ” He ran one hand through his hair, chuckling. ” Kote managed a sickly smile. ” “You might have had a chance if you’d picked something easier to swallow,” he said.