Science Fiction

She had the power to create planets. The sixty carved bones of the Yris-tera foretold her ancient fate. Her heritage of power took her beyond time and space and stole from her the one man she loved. Enslaved on the planet Silistra tomorrow's most beautiful courtesan unleashes the powers of the gods.

In West Berlin, Amy Brecker, an American intelligence officer, takes a chance on a walk-in informant who says that the Soviets are going to simulate an "accident" that will cripple America's space-based defense program.

From a Soviet silo on the Sea of Japan, a single missile rises. A hotline communique from Moscow insists that a mistake has been made; the Soviets are doing everything in their power to abort the "test" flight.

Deep inside Cheyenne Mountain at the Aerospace Defense Command Center, all eyes watch its trajectory: a collision course with America's manned space lab.

If the U.S. chooses to intercept and destroy the Russian missile, the attempt must not end in failure . . . the future of America's entire space-based defense hangs in the balance. Only one U.S. anti-satellite weapon can foil the opening gambit of what might be a Soviet First Strike -- and only Amy Brecker and her "hot stick" pilot have enough of the Right Stuff to use it.

“I’m Hunter Caine.
Treasure Hunter. Soldier of Fortune. Smuggler.
I’m kind of a bad bitch, you might say.
I do what the chicken-shit Corporation, or the Holier-than-thou Collective are afraid to do.
What they don’t want to do.
And I do it anywhere.
When stuff gets ugly, and things need doin’, I get it done.
I don’t play favorites. Strictly Freelance.
But, I do it all.
And more.
You want something done? Something dirty? Something dangerous? Something distasteful?
Call Hunter. You got the cash. I got the flash.”

I’m Hunter Caine. I’m a soldier of fortune—some might call me a mercenary—who does her level best not to get herself killed. I take all kinds of jobs: treasure hunting, protectin’ folks, savin’ folks, even some stone-cold killing if the target makes some sense. On this occasion, I was doing a little bodyguarding for a group going about a treasure hunt. They were museum types, looking to loot some native cave on Planet #4 to show it off to rich folks back in Corporate Space.

We were looking for some damn thing called the Soul Crystal. It was nothin’ but a planet #4 legend, some said. But my employers were damn sure it wasn’t no such thing. Truth was, that others had gone huntin’ for it, and lots of folks disappeared doing such. I was beginning to reckon we were in for a similar fate. We’d been on the trail for days, weaving in and out of mountain passes, and the stunted forests that covered the planet, following some map they’d brought from their Archives back in Chi-town on Earth.

It was late. I was bone tired and pissed off at the never-ending trek we seemed to be on when I rolled up my blue-dreads on the back of my head, crawled into my fart sack, and lay my noggin’ down on my pistol rig. At that point, it was easy to divine why previous hunters had disappeared without a trace.

The interstitial interpreter had shown Mickey Croft, Secretary General of the United Nationals of Earth, a universe beyond Mickey’s comprehension. That historic meeting had created an Earth ambassadorial mission into the alien space-time dimensions known as “Unity.” And to of Earth’s valuable children had also vanished into Unity, star-crossed lovers fleeing the wrath of their powerful parents. Now the children had returned, bringing a message to Croft. The Unity would welcome expanded contact with the UNE. Bit to accomplish this, Threshold — the space station that was the center of human government, commerce, and entertainment — must be moved out of Earth’s orbit to an orbit around Pluto. The Unity had made its offer, stated its terms. Now the UNE must respond. But how could Mickey Croft make an unbiased decision for all humankind, when his own direct contact with the Interpreter had left him uncertain whether he himself was still completely human?

Welcome to the twenty-fifth century.

Joe South, test pilot who’d been lost for five centuries in the unexplored territory known as spongespace, had at last begun to carve a place for himself in this human society that was so different from his own. But he knew, as perhaps no one else did, that the mysterious, seemingly unbreachable Ball — towed insystem by a crazy old scavenger and now floating far too close to Threshold — represented dangers beyond imagining. South had given up trying to tell this to the humans of the United Nationals of Earth, but now things were about to change. Now people would listen and believe. South only hoped it wasn’t already too late.

Set a millennium from now on Threshold Terminal—virtually a Grand Hotel in space— a young test pilot, Joe South, is thrust five hundred years into his future and finds himself in the thick of interstellar smuggling, intrigue, and the rough underworld of an alien environment. It is a time of danger and ever-shifting powers . . . and the destinies of a lost test pilot, an underworld scavenger, and two young lovers become irrevocably intertwined . . .

Arden, birthplace of a people who have mastered the secrets of arcane, reality-bending technology, and home to a civilization that now spans more than thirty planets throughout an entire quadrant of the galaxy. They are wise and understanding. Majestic in vision. Powerful beyond compare. And intent on extending their benevolent influence throughout the stars. . .
Until the fateful day their thirst for knowledge leads them to push too far, too quickly. In doing so, they open a door into the antiverse, a realm where the very nature of existence is an anathema to life. An antithesis to all that is good. Evil. And that evil is sentient, as highly contagious as it is fueled by an irresistible proclivity to feed and multiply and spread.
Faced with an overwhelming flood, the Ardenese have no option.
They must fight or die!

Read about the mother of all alien bases! The big one, the mega-base, the center of the Alien Occupation Government: the headquarters, the brain, the nerve center, the absolute pinpoint big base, is right here on Earth, just outside Della, Alaska. Forget Roswell. Forget Machu Picchu. Forget Stonehenge and Tikal and all those alleged alien bases -- abandoned, every one of them. This is the big one, right here on Planet Earth, right now, the source of all the world's troubles, the whole solar system's troubles. Right here. Finally, the unflinching truth about aliens on Earth is exposed in Truck Stop Earth, as told by an alien abductee to award-winning reporter, Michael A. Armstrong.

“After Washington, D.C. is vaporized by a nuclear surface blast, Marc Beck, wonder boy of the American foreign service, prevails on Ashmead, covert action chief, to help him fly two batches of anticancer serum from Israel to the Houston White House. From the moment they establish their gritty relationship, life is filled with treachery and terror for Beck (who) must deal with one cliffhanger after another during the desperate days that follow. This novel shocks us with a sudden, satisfying ending." - Publishers Weekly

“Adventure, suspense, high-tech – this book has it all, from the best new storytellers we have. You have to read this one.” – Dr. Jerry Pournelle, author of The Mote in God’s Eye and Mercenary

“Headlong and vivid – real characters drawn starkly against the catastrophe they race to undo.” – David Drake, author of Hammer’s Slammers

Estri was a god, and the daughter of light.
Chayin was a god, and the son of darkness.
Sereth was hase-enor, the son of all flesh.
Lovers and friends, could they be the prophesied three
who would wield the Sword of Severance, Se’Keroth,
and bring light out of dark?

“One from the east, born of ease and destined,
“One from north of south, divine, exempt of question;
the third from out the west,
Astride a tide of death,” quoted Chayin. He was not
smiling. It is a long epic. All has been foreseen. We
all know that tale’s end.”
— Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi, in “Wind from the Abyss.”

The Carnelian Throne, Book 4 in the bestselling Silistra Quartet

“Engrossing characters in a marvelous adventure.” — CHARLES N. BROWN, LOCUS

Wind from the Abyss is the third volume in Janet Morris' classic Silistra Quartet, continuing one woman's quest for self-realization in a distant tomorrow.

Aristocrat. Outcast. Picara. Slave. Ruler ....

Praise for Janet Morris' Silistra Quartet:

"The amazing and erotic adventures of the most beautiful courtesan in tomorrow's universe." -- Fred Pohl

"Engrossing characters in a marvelous adventure." -- Charles N. Brown, Locus Magazine.

The best single example of prostitution used in fantasy is Janet Morris' Silistra series." -- Anne K. Kahler, The Picara: From Hera to Fantasy Heroine.

This Perseid Press Author's Cut Edition is revised and expanded by the author and presented in a format designed to enhance your reading experience with larger, easy-to-read print, more generous margins, and covers designed for these premium editions.