Monday, January 6, 2020

Price of Imperium by Dave Robinson

Re-release date: December 12, 2019
Subgenre: Space opera

About Price of Imperium:

 

The Imperium is on the brink of annihilation, and only one person can save it.

After centuries of peace, the Enemy has returned, and the only one who can unlock the Imperium's last line of defense is the rightful emperor. Unfortunately, the throne has been empty for a decade.

The sole remaining heir is rumored to be on a backwater planet where no one has heard of the Imperium. Can he be found before the Imperial system is dissolved and the ships of the Imperial Guard are sent to the Wreckers?

Tam's a destroyer skipper who's been passed over for promotion one too many times. He's on a routine mission in his last command.

Meanwhile, on Earth, a homeless man dreams of the stars. John doesn't know who he is, or where he's from. He just knows someone will come looking for him and he needs to be found.

Jayne is a woman who works at a homeless shelter in Seattle and finds herself a long way from home.

Who among them will be willing to pay the Price of Imperium?

 

Excerpt: 

 

Tam was back in the big chair after spending a week on the crew's files while Lenys Kharan ran the ship. The survey was almost done and he wanted to see the results. The innermost planet filled the main plot; he had to blink to focus on it after spending so much time staring at a 'pad. This close to the star Tam was glad to be in the shade of the planet. Lenys had deployed the radiator array, dumping some of the waste heat they'd picked up on the way in.
"Captain, I'm getting something," Vidall said. "Tight-beam pulse, looks like radar." An alarm blared and he flushed his decoys and countermeasures. "Hostile launch, four bogies. Shields are coming up, point defense live awaiting a solution."
"Carry on, Mr. Vidall." Tam kept his voice calm and level. He hated sitting doing nothing when the shooting started but his job was to show confidence, not stop missiles. He watched them come in, their images followed by data codes like a rocket's plume.
They were accelerating, burning anti-matter as they came. One hit a decoy and detonated too close to a second that lost lock, its guidance fried by the radiation pulse. The other two kept coming. Point defense was online, tracking the missiles heading into arc. Something was funny about the data codes. The missiles were coming straight in, no evasive maneuvers, no countermeasures, nothing. Talon's point defense cycled once and they dropped off the plot. It was too easy; Tam had seen target drones that were harder to hit.
"Permission to return fire?" Vidall asked, fingers poised above the firing stud.
"Denied," Tam replayed the attack on the main plot. The four missiles rose from the planet in slow motion, angling towards the radiator array strung out behind Talon's hull. "It was too easy; the attack pattern looks wrong."
"Aye sir," Kharan said. "I think these are survivors."
"First the Enemy and now survivors?" Tam swiveled to face her. "Are you sure?"
"No sir, I'm not, and I won't be without more data." She pointed at a close-up of one of the missiles, caught moments before point defence killed it. It was primitive, marks on the skin showing how it was cobbled together. Even given the differences between human and alien technology, the warhead didn't look like it was designed to mate with the booster. "Look how primitive that is. It can't be the Enemy; those missiles wouldn't destroy a planet."
"All right, I want to know everything there is to know about that launch site. Full scan, every sensor we have. If it's bigger than a coffee-cup I want to know about it." Tam leaned forwards in his chair. "Until I know about that coffee-cup I want shields up at all times and point defense hot. Leave the array out unless they launch, we may need the coolant to deal with who they thought they were shooting at." He lowered his voice. "Whoever they are, they had better have a good explanation."   


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About Dave Robinson:

I’m Dave, and I write. I’m also a father, a reader, gamer, a comic fan, and a hockey fan.

The problem with those terms is that they don’t so much describe as label me; the map is not the territory. Calling me a father says nothing about how my daughter thinks I’m silly. It ignores the essence of the relationship for the convenience of simplicity. It’s the same with my love of books, comics, role-playing games, and hockey; labels miss all the good parts.

The best way to understand me is to read my works. Writing is like telepathy; it’s a window from one mind to another. The Doc Vandal series is my attempt to recreate what I like to describe as “Yesterday’s Tomorrow.” This is my homage to the pulps, from Doc Savage and the Shadow to Astounding Stories, Planet Stories and so much more. Expect to see giant robots, alien races, lost cities, and world-spanning conspiracies. I call it dieselpulp dialed to eleven, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

If you want a biography: I was born in the UK, grew up in Canada, and have spent time in the US. I’ve been freelancing for the last decade. As a freelancer, I’ve done everything from blog posts to novels. Before that, and in no particular order, I’ve managed a bookstore, worked in a pawnshop, been the guy you get transferred to when you ask a phone rep for a supervisor, and even cleaned carpets for a living.

Right now, I’m working on Doc Vandal and the team’s next adventure.

 

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