By Denise Lopes Heald
"Quite and event story, a love tale, and a damned solid ecological drama!"ANNE McCAFFREYThe jungles of the planet Ver Day have been unforgiving to natives--and loss of life for offworlders. Sled-hauler Sal banks did not wish to need to depend upon someone or something, yet she wanted additional muscle to tug a sled on her subsequent shipment run, so she employed Meesha Raschad first and located out he used to be an offworlder moment. Then she was once caught with a heavy shipment load, a past due begin, and a dangerously green beginner for a associate. in the meantime, the govies have been attempting to cause them to forfeit the run, for no cause Sal may well fdigure. however it had whatever to do with Raschad--who pulled tough and saved his issues to himself. which might have labored advantageous, other than that these problems quickly him to the hazards of remoted Tumble Town....
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Extra info for Mistwalker (Discovery)
A split lip slurred his words. "Do it down to my place. " She stood and stumped back to George, who still held his two prisoners. " She nodded to Raschad. " George jerked his prisoners down the street. " But George kept going, hands full. Raschad limped up, shoulders hunched, wearing only his slicker over his mud-slathered body, one arm wrapped around his middle. His boots were untied and squished with every step. " Shaking her head, Sal slogged downhill, feeling like a parade master. Morrie stood up off his front steps and smiled like a midas spying a sow beetle as she hiked up with Raschad in tow.
Engines whined on the government flight pad atop the hill straight back from the shack - govies ruining the jungle's peace again with their tech. The whine cut off, the mechanics just tuning a skid flier's jets. She jabbed at her boot sole. "Flight-day tomorrow. " Morrie spit on her burner's hose and squeezed the tube around the spit globule, checking for air leaks. " Levering a mud clod from her cleats, she let it fly in the old man's direction. She needed to hit the trail before her next load of freight bulked up, but Morrie's digging at her didn't find muscle to pull it.
She let the fist-sized bug be, in no mood for a fight. Morrie sat on the shack's rotted steps, his age-thinned shoulders humped beneath a shirt faded to white except for grime and thin spots where his skin showed through. One bony kneecap poked from the torn leg of mud-green jungle pants, and a scarlet millipede the length of her thumb stuck squashed to his scarred boot toe. His was tinkering with the fuel feed on her burner - Sal's one big sin, a hard-tech possession. But metal burners just worked better than anything made of botafab.
Mistwalker (Discovery) by Denise Lopes Heald