The Last Dancer (Tales of the Continuing Time Book 3)
Daniel Keys Moran
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Reviews for The Tales of the Continuing Time
““Ambitious, successful... the stuff of high drama – achievement, tragedy, love, heroism, loyalty, dreams – handled easily ... If Moran can keep this up, he will gift us with one of the greatest series in memory. Don't miss.” – Tom Easton, Analog
“A fine, fast ride.” – Locus
“Full of intrigue, excitingly presented against an original and well-thought out background.” – Asimov’s
The Last Dancer is the third volume in the science fiction epic Tales of the Continuing Time.
The year is 2076. Three survivors of the Castanaveras genie massacre will help Occupied America celebrate her tricentennial in renewed revolution. For Trent the Uncatchable and twin telepaths, David and Denice, nothing is certain – not the future, not 60,000 years of human history, not even their loyalty to each other.
Although Daniel Keys Moran’s 5-star rated paperbacks have long been out of print, hardbound limited editions are listed as high as $400. All four books in the series, Emerald Eyes, The Long Run, The Last Dancer, and the long-awaited newest installment, The AI War: The Big Boost are now on sale as e-books.
horse, and Dvan had to leap from the animal's back as it fell. He rolled to his feet, sword in hand, and turned to face the approaching Saxon. The man was a giant by modern standards, near Gawain's size, surely every bit of Dvan's own unnatural height. Blood flowed crimson across the hugely muscled shoulders, down the Saxon's arm and over his ax. He was upon Dvan in the moment that Dvan regained his feet, ax up over his head, whistling down toward Dvan. Dvan got his sword up, lunged forward, and
someone finally came for him, it was Angelo again. "Mister Obodi will see you now." "How charming of him." The board room where Obodi received him was large enough for thirty people. It was stripped empty and it was obvious that its contents had been removed only recently. David could see scars in the rug where the huge conference table had recently been. Two men were waiting for him. One was a soldier, somewhere in his fifties. David barely glanced at the man; Obodi stood motionless in the
some sacrifices! You don't win a war without--" "Shut up." Trent turned away from the display, turned on her with such anger that she actually flinched. "You're not going to win no matter what you do." He spoke the words slowly, for emphasis. "You...can...not...win." Michelle stared at him speechlessly. "It's worse than that," said Trent slowly, his voice almost gentle in contrast. "When the Net comes up again, DataWatch--if they're smart, and they are, at least, smarter than you--will bring
ruined eyesight. The bonds that held his ankles were cut, and then those that held his wrists. The pain that struck him as the blood rushed into his extremities would have seemed, on any other day of his life, intense; now he barely noticed it. The strap that restrained his head was left in place, and in some distant corner of his mind Boone found himself absurdly grateful; if they'd cut it he would, he knew, have pitched forward from the chair like a rag doll. The technician placed a laser in
you there for it. Listen." He spoke intensely, looking into Denice's eyes. "Last night Obodi asked me to tell him everything I knew about you. Everything." "Did you?" Jimmy shook his head rapidly. "No. I didn't. I told him about your dance background, about your martial arts background, I told him about the fact that you were Trent's lover, that Trent had stayed in some kind of contact with you, sent you letters." He took a deep breath. "I didn't tell him you were a genie, I didn't tell him you