The exciting sequel to City of Pearl, from a talented new voice in science fiction. Welcome to the front lines, where the first contact between worlds and species has created a flashpoint in the battle to expand across the universe. Welcome to a world where a precarious ecology means the slightest misstep can cause death or worse ... sometimes from those you even consider friends. Welcome to Cavanagh's Star. Leading a mission to explore the planet and rescue a lost colony, Shan Frankland crossed the line between human and alien, between honour and morality, to save a world. Now, as four races prepare to battle for control of the planet and the secrets it holds she must find a way to stop the coming invasion. But Earth is determined to claim the planet for itself despite the deadly alien wess'har who protect the world and have formed an alliance with the rapacious, insectoid isenj. And Shan's former secondincommand will stop at nothing to kill Shan. Mixing action, intrigue, politics, ecology, and fascinating aliens, Karen Traviss's second novel is an explosive followup to her crackerjack first novel, City of Pearl.

Crossing the Line

Chapter One

There are countless constellations, suns, and planets: we seeonly the suns because they give light; the planets remain invisible,for they are small and dark. There are also numberlessearths circling around their suns, no worse and no less than thisglobe of ours.

Giordano Bruno,
Dominican monk and philosopher,
burned at the stake by the Inquisition
in February 1600

"Is it true?"

Eddie Michallat concentrated on the features of the dutynews editor twenty-five light-years away, courtesy of CSV Actaeon'scomms center. The man was real and it was happeningnow, in every sense of the word.

For nearly a year he had been beyond BBChan's reach onBezer'ej. But the glorious isolation was over. Isenj instantaneouscommunications technology meant there was now noescape from the scrutiny of News Desk. In the way of journalists,they had already given it an acronym, as noun, verb andadjective -- ITX.

"Poodle-in-the-microwave job," Eddie said dismissively."Urban myth. People talk the most incredible crap when they'reunder stress."

He waited a few seconds for the reply. The borrowed isenjcommunications relay was half a million miles from Earth, andthat meant the last leg in the link was at light speed, the best humantechnology could manage. The problem with the delay wasthat it gave Eddie more time to stoke his irritation.

"That never stopped you filing a story before."

How the hell would he know? This man -- this boy, for thatwas all he appeared to be -- had probably been born fifty yearsafter Thetis had first left Earth. Eddie enjoyed mounting the occasionalhigh horse. He saddled up.

"BBChan used to be the responsible face of netbroadcast,"he said. "You know -- stand up a story properly before you runit? But maybe that's out of fashion these days."

One, two, three, four, five. The boy-editor persisted with theblind focus of a missile. "Look, you're sitting on a completelyfucking shit-hot twenty-four carat story. Biotech, lost tribes,mutiny, murder, aliens. Is there anything I've left out?"

"There wasn't a mutiny and Shan Frankland didn't murderanyone." She's just a good copper, Eddie wanted to say, but itwas hardly the time. "And the biotech is pure speculation." Myspeculation. Me and my big mouth. "We don't know what it is.We don't know if it makes you invulnerable. But you got thealiens about right. That's something."

"The Thetis crew was saying that Frankland's carrying thisbiotech and that she's pretty well invulnerable to injury and disease,and -- "

Eddie maintained his dismissive expression with some diffi-culty, a child again, cowering at the sound of a grown-ups' row:it's all my fault. He always worried that it was. "Oh God, don'tgive me the undead routine, will you? I don't do infotainment."

"And I don't do the word ‘no.' Stand up that story."

The kid was actually trying to get tough with him. It wasn'teasy having a row with someone when you had time to count tofive each time. But Eddie was more afraid of the consequencesof this rumor than the wrath of a stranger, even one who employedhim.

"Son, listen to me," he said. "You're twenty-five years awayas the very, very fast crow flies, so I don't think you're in anyposition to tell me to do sod all." He leaned forward, armsfolded on the console, and hoped the cam was picking up a shotthat gave him the appearance of looming over the kid. "I'm theonly journalist in 150 trillion miles of nothing. Anything I file is exclusive. And I decide what I file. Now run along and finishyour homework."

Eddie flicked the link closed without waiting for a responseand reassured himself that there really was nothing that 'Deskcould do to him any more. He was here. Actaeon had no embedsembarked. BBChan could sack him, and every network onEarth would be offering him alternative employment. It wasn'tbravado. It was career development.

Ironically, the stories he had filed months ago were still ontheir way home at plain old light speed: the stories he would filenow, would ITX, would beat them by years. He was scoopinghimself and it felt wonderful. It struck him as the journalisticequivalent of masturbation.

"I wish I could get away with that," said the young lieutenanton comms duty. He hovered just on the edge of Eddie's field ofvision. "Why didn't you tell him you were on your way to seethe isenj?"

"Because all news editors are tossers," Eddie said. He feltaround in his pockets for the bee-cam and his comms kit. "Ifyou tell them what story you're chasing, they decide in theirown minds how it's going to turn out. Then they bollock youfor not coming back with the story they imagined. So you don'ttell them anything until you're ready to file. Saves a lot ofgrief."

Crossing the Line. Copyright © by Karen Traviss. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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Excerpted from Crossing the Line by Karen Traviss
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