By J. L. Doty
As a lifer within the Imperial army, scuffling with in a struggle that has lasted for generations, York Ballin’s simply wish at an honorable discharge is the grave. issues merely worsen whilst the emperor's daughter, princess Aeya, comes to a decision to do some slumming along with her entourage on a distant planet, and York and his fellow crewmen are compelled to rescue her. yet after returning her thoroughly into the empress' care in the world Dumark, the total planet is hit by way of a major Directorate attack. To evacuate the empress in addition to the remainder of the imperial embassy, York is ordered to commandeer the imperial cruiser Cinesstar, that is crewless and present process upkeep within the Dumark military backyard. And after a slim get away York unearths himself deep at the back of enemy traces, on a commandeered imperial cruiser with no knowledgeable staff, commanded via an incompetent nobleman, with the empress and two hundred civilians as passengers, and the enemy, the Directorate, pulling out all stops to wreck them. yet, from a strategic or army viewpoint, the attack on Dumark used to be an unwarranted waste of the Directorate's assets, and it turns into transparent the empress, and a member or Aeya's entourage, are sporting a deadly mystery, so risky it threatens energy buildings of either the Empire and the Directorate, so even their very own comrades within the empire wish them eradicated. And with all people now hell-bent on turning Cinesstar and all these aboard her right into a cloud of radioactive vapor, it falls to York to avoid wasting all of them. yet he needs to choose from saving them, or saving himself, and he unearths his ideas are constrained to a decision of treasons.
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Additional resources for A Choice of Treasons
In the case of the Flargathon Gas Swamps, much better than the real thing. The Gaseans of Flargathon were so peeved by their name and by the constant stink of spirogyra invading their nostrils that they hired the hyper-intelligent Magratheans to build an idyllic construct that would be permanently occupied by every Gasean, except for a rotating staff awakened to service the virtual reality and keep the gas mines pumping. The construct was designed by the Magrathean A-team of Doctors Brewtlewine, Zestyfang and LaSane, who had won a Golden Lobe for their work on New Asgard.
She could remember when only top-end androids and the occasional very special door had the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation’s Genuine People Personality feature. Maybe Trillian didn’t want to hear what the mirror had to say, but she could admit to herself that it was right. She did look old. Ancient, in fact. That’s because I am zarking ancient. A hundred and five earth years old. What’s left of me. Over the years Tricia McMillan had been chipped away by her job as Sub-Etha reporter and soon only Trillian would remain.
The record had previously been held by intergalactic rock band Disaster Area, who dropped a speaker bomb into a volcano crater where the flaybooz were enjoying a static electricity festival. Fertle’s fur bristled and he opened a tiny mouth that now seemed to have a beak. ‘Battery,’ said Fertle in a voice of wire and claws. ’ said Trillian. ‘Did I just hear a flaybooz speak? ’ ‘Battery,’ said Fertle again, this time with some urgency. The velvet curtain rose slowly, but there was no audience behind it, just an auditorium of sky and two humanoid figures.