Hope's Folly

by SINCLAIR, LINNEA

• ISBN13: 9780553592184
• ISBN10: 0553592181
• Format: Trade Book
• Copyright: 2009-02-24
• Publisher: Bantam

Summary

An admiral with a secret past leads a gang of rebels--including the one woman who can rattle him--against an oppressive imperial force, in this exciting new SF romance from a RITA Award-winning author. Original.

Author Biography

Winner of the prestigious national book award, the RITA, science fiction romance author Linnea Sinclair has become a name synonymous for high-action, emotionally intense, character-driven novels. Reviewers note that Sinclair’s novels “have the wow-factor in spades,” earning her accolades from both the science fiction and romance communities. A former news reporter and retired private detective, Sinclair resides in Naples, Florida with her husband, Robert Bernadino, and their two thoroughly spoiled cats.

Excerpts

Chapter One


IMEPRIAL SECURITY BULLETIN 71984-X5Y: Encryption Level Aldan 1/Top Secret
Immediate Action Required:

Previous reports of the death of former Imperial Admiral Philip Guthrie in Baris sector appear to be in error per new information from one of our operatives in deep cover in the Alliance. Guthrie's capture and/or termination now top priority for all Baris and Calth sector operatives. The Farosians must not be allowed access to Guthrie. The so-called rebel "Alliance" must not be allowed to benefit from this traitor's expertise or financial resources. All restrictions on civilian casualties lifted as per Command Prime. Failure is not an option. This bulletin self-destructs in thirty seconds.


Alliance Admiral Philip Guthrie leaned his forearms on the back of the black padded chair and—heart sinking—studied the silvery image slowly revolving through the holovid suspended above the ready room's table. He hoped—prayed—he was wrong, but he knew he wasn't. It took all his training not to let emotions of any kind show on his face.

But, damn, the ship was an ugly, ungainly 850-ton beast, with her billiard-ball bridge and dual bulging cylindrical drive nacelles aft—as bad as he remembered when he'd served aboard her twenty years ago under the command of Captain Cory Bennton. Bennton had been the Alric Stockwell's only saving grace. The Stockwell was the last of the Imperial Fleet's Stryker-class heavy cruisers, finally decommissioned—if memory served him—about six years past, though Bennton had moved on to better ships long before that.

And now that ungainly 850-ton beast of a ship was to be Philip's.

"What do you think?" Jodey Bralford, the Krista Nowicki's stocky dark-haired captain, leaned back in his chair at the head of the long table and, chin slightly raised, looked expectantly at Philip. Acquiring the Stockwell was the first—some could say desperate—shot at building a workable fleet. But one lone Maven-class 500-ton cruiser, four P-class patrol ships, two fifty-ton Ratch fighters, and two well-armed luxury yachts did not a defense make for the newly formed Alliance of Independent Republics.

But the Stockwell?

Bad luck is better than no luck at all, sounded in Philip's mind. He bit back a snort of self-derision. Beggars—rebels, in this case—can't be choosers, he reminded that sarcastic part of himself that, lately, he had trouble keeping in check. And had ever since the Imperial Fleet was gutted by one megalomaniac fanatic named Darius Tage, the former first barrister to the ineffectual Emperor Prewitt III. Now, with Prew's mental and emotional collapse, Tage was the self-proclaimed god of all he could get his greedy fingers on.

And executioner of all those who stood in his way—including some of Philip's best captains. He pushed that anger and heartache away and concentrated on the problem—and solution—slowly spinning in front of him in the column of pale-blue light.

"How in hell did you find her?" That question could be interpreted in any number of ways. Jodey was a good friend and Philip hated to sound less than appreciative, but, damn. The Stockwell?

"I'd like to impress you with my incisive detective work and infallible contacts, but the truth is we raided her about ten months ago out at the C-D. She was heading out-system from Port January."

The Calth-Dafir border had been an issue for the Imperial Fleet for over a decade, ever since supporters of Sheldon Blaine—Tage's rival for the position as god of the Empire—declared Tos Faros in Dafir as their base of operations. And ten months ago, Jodey and Philip were still part of the Imperial Fleet. Then, Blaine and his Farosian followers were their only serious problem.

"I knew immediately what she was," Jodey continued,

---

Excerpted from Hope's Folly by Linnea Sinclair
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.