| 商家名称 | 信用等级 | 购买信息 | 订购本书 |
 |
 |
Excalibur Book 3: Restoration |  |
 |
|
Excalibur Book 3: Restoration | |
The ever resourceful Captain Mackenzie Calhoun abruptly finds himself at a loss -- marooned on he primitive outback world of Yakaba after his ship, Excalibur, is destroyed by deadly sabotage. He is separated from his loyal first officer, Shelby, who has gone one to command the Exeter and is certain that Calhoun has been blasted into oblivion. On Yakaba's dry frontier, Calhoun meets and befriends Shula, an extraordinary woman beset by enemies trying to control or destroy her and her gift -- summoning rain to her parched homeland.
Trapped on this hostile world, unable to relay to his people that he survived their ship's cataclysm, Calhoun must stand against countless adversaries who will stop at nothing to gain power or keep it from others. Life and death hang in the balance. Out in the distance, mourning but determined to move on, Shelby must discover what sort of captain she really is.
作者简介 Peter David is a prolific Star Trek author whose novels include Imzadi, Triangle, Q-In-Law, Q-Squared and the New Frontier series, featuring Captain Mackenzie Calhoun and the crew of the USS Excalibur, specially created for Pocket Books.
文摘
Chapter One: Rheela
She knew he was coming before she even saw him.
It wasn't unusual for her to feel that he was approaching. Truth be known, most days she would get a cold feeling in the base of her spine. At those times, wherever she was -- whether it be doing chores in her run-down abode or standing on the cracked and arid plain that constituted what she laughingly referred to as her property -- she would stop what she was doing and wait to see if some sign of him appeared on the horizon.
Most times, it did not. On such occasions, the feeling would pass, and she would return to whatever it was that she had been doing. In short order, she would forget that she had felt any sense of dread at all.
This time, however, when she did see him making his approach, all those false alarms were naturally forgotten. Instead, all Rheela could think was, I knew it. I can always tell when he's coming. A gentle breeze was wafting across the plain, which was an unusual enough event in and of itself. She straightened the strands of green hair that were blowing in her face and turned back to the house. "House" might have been far too generous a term; it was not much more than a hut, although it was built of sturdy enough materials that it managed to keep the interior remarkably cool, despite the crushing heat. Just to provide a bit of style, she had even constructed a small porch on the front of the hut. She now sat on the edge of the porch, arranging her hands neatly in her lap and staring out at the emptiness of her land. Every so often, she would glance down at her hands, turning them over and studying them as if she was looking at someone else's hands. They were leathery and weather-beaten. When she had been a little girl, her skin had been so fair, so pale; but now it was such a dark brown that it seemed as if the sun had baked her as thoroughly as it had the land around her.
It was amazing, though, that the vegetation -- her crops -
……
