By Karen Traviss
Shan Frankland perpetually deserted the realm she knew to come back to the rescue of a misplaced colony on and hazardous planet -- a opposed international coveted by means of alien races and fiercely secure through a 3rd. yet during her venture, she overstepped a boundary and stumbled into forbidden lands. and he or she can by no means return -- to being impartial, to being secure. To being human.
War is coming back to Cavanagh's famous person -- and this time, the instigators could be the not easy gethes from the far flung planet Earth. Former Environmental Enforcement Officer Shan Frankland has already crossed a line, and now she is a prize to be captured ... or a danger to be eradicated. yet saving a coveted international and its fragile local inhabitants may well require of her one unthinkable sacrifice: the destruction of her personal ruthless, invading species.
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Additional resources for Crossing the Line (The Wess'har Wars, Book 2)
Example text
At the prospect of you lurking in the shadows, waiting to reveal yourself,’ Cestus returned sternly and stepped forward. He managed to maintain the chastening expression for only a moment before he smiled broadly and clapped Antiges on the shoulder. ‘Well met, brother,’ Cestus said, clasping Antiges’s forearm firmly. ‘Well met,’ Antiges replied, returning the greeting. ‘I have come to take you away from here, brother-captain,’ he added. ’ IT WAS A short journey from the sanctum of Communion Temple Omega to the dock where the rest of Cestus’s and Antiges’s battle-brothers awaited them.
Even without being compared to the tall slab of muscle that was an Astartes, they were bent-backed and diminutive. Hektor ignored their obsequiousness as he released the straps affixing the combat shield to his arm and handed it over along with his short-blade to the acolytes. He looked at the ground as his attendants retreated silently into the shadow’s penumbra at the edge of the room. An engraved ‘U’ was carved into the centre of the chamber, chased in silver on a circular field of blue. Hektor stood in the middle of it, in exactly the position that he had started.
Turning a corner, at the lead of the two Astartes, Cestus was hit square in the chest. The impact, though surprising, moved the Astartes not at all. He stared down at what had struck him. Quivering amidst a bundle of tangled robes, a litho-slate clasped reassuringly in his hands, was a scholarly-looking human. ’ Antiges demanded at once. The pale scholar cowered beneath the towering Astartes, shrinking before his obvious power. He was sweating profusely, and used the sleeve of his robe to wipe his head before casting a glance back in the direction he had come from in spite of the monolithic warriors in front of him.
