{"product_id":"the-gate-to-futures-past-isbn-9780756412234","title":"The Gate to Futures Past","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe second book in the hard science fiction Reunification trilogy, the thrilling conclusion to the award-winning Clan Chronicles\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Betrayed and attacked, the Clan fled the Trade Pact for Cersi, believing that world their long-lost home. With them went a lone alien, the Human named Jason Morgan, Chosen of their leader, Sira di Sarc. Tragically, their arrival upset the Balance between Cersi’s three sentient species. And so the Clan, with their newfound kin, must flee again.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Their starship, powered by the M’hir, follows a course set long ago, for Clan abilities came from an experiment their ancestors—the Hoveny—conducted on themselves. But it’s a perilous journey. The Clan must endure more than cramped conditions and inner turmoil. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Their dead are Calling.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Sira must keep her people from answering, for if they do, they die. Morgan searches the ship for answers, afraid the Hoveny’s tech is beyond his grasp. Their only hope? To reach their destination. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Little do Sira and Morgan realize their destination holds the gravest threat of all....Praise for the Reunification series:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I almost never cry at books and this one made me sob. Twice! Powerful, surprising, and \u003cb\u003epacking a serious emotional punch\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Gate to Futures Past\u003c\/i\u003e is a true game-changer.\" —Karina Sumner-Smith, author of \u003ci\u003eRadiant\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Czerneda excels at creating sympathetic characters and \u003cb\u003ebuilding intricate and fascinating worlds\u003c\/b\u003e.” —\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Her multi-species style space opera universe...is a hallmark of the form, a fully realized saga of aliens and races and cultures that \u003cb\u003estands alongside works like C.J. Cherryh\u003c\/b\u003e’s Chanur-verse.” —SF Signal\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “\u003cb\u003eComplex worldbuilding, unique aliens\u003c\/b\u003e (‘Assemblers!?’), a race to save a sentient species: Czerneda’s \u003ci\u003eThis Gulf of Time and Stars\u003c\/i\u003e will draw readers in and ‘port us among planetary systems, each more dangerous than the next.”  —Vonda McIntyre, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Moon and The Sun\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Julie Czerneda’s narrative style is as \u003cb\u003emasterful, intricate, and beautifully constructed\u003c\/b\u003e as the complex universe of \u003ci\u003eThis Gulf Of Time and Stars\u003c\/i\u003e.”  —Stephen Leigh, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Crow of Connemara\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Czerneda is \u003cb\u003ea first-class builder of worlds that challenge the imagination \u003c\/b\u003eand characters who seize your heart. \u003ci\u003eThis Gulf of Time and Stars\u003c\/i\u003e is a compelling page-turner, and I was sorry to reach the end.”  —Jenna Rhodes, author of \u003ci\u003eKing of Assassins\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Czerneda’s latest SF \u003cb\u003ebrims with sense of wonder\u003c\/b\u003e, her amazing worldbuilding, and serves plots that span worlds. Don’t miss out!”  —Tobias S. Buckell, author of \u003ci\u003eHurricane Fever\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Warning! Gulf is \u003cb\u003enon-stop, pitch-perfect, and possibly addictive\u003c\/b\u003e,” —Doranna Durgin, author of \u003ci\u003eSentinels: Leopard Enchanted\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “\u003cb\u003eCzerneda is a scientist first\u003c\/b\u003e, asking this amazing question: What if an inherited characteristic of immense value to individuals and society was linked to a risk to the species as a whole? Sira di Sarc is Czerneda’s way of exploring this question—across worlds, species, and yes, time and stars.” —Ursula Pflug, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Alphabet Stones\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Heartwarming, fast-paced and just downright fun, \u003cb\u003enew and existing fans of The Clan Chronicles won’t be able to put this book down\u003c\/b\u003e.” —Marie Bilodeau, Aurora-nominated author of the Destiny series\u003cp\u003eFor twenty years, Canadian author\/ former biologist\u003cb\u003e Julie E. Czerneda\u003c\/b\u003e has shared her curiosity about living things through her science fiction, published by DAW Books, NY. With seventeen (and counting) novels and numerous short stories in print, she’s also written acclaimed fantasy. Her Night’s Edge series (DAW) began with \u003ci\u003eA Turn of Light\u003c\/i\u003e, winner of the 2014 Aurora Award for Best English Novel. \u003ci\u003eA Play of Shadow \u003c\/i\u003efollowed, winning the 2015 Aurora. Julie’s edited\/co-edited sixteen anthologies of SF\/F, including the Aurora-winning \u003ci\u003eSpace Inc. \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eUnder Cover of Darkness.\u003c\/i\u003e Her most recent anthology is the \u003ci\u003e2017 Nebula Award Showcase,\u003c\/i\u003e to be published May 2017. 2017 will also see the completion of Julie’s Clan Chronicles, with the conclusion, \u003ci\u003eTo Guard Against the Dark, \u003c\/i\u003ein stores October 2017. Please visit www.czerneda.com.\u003c\/p\u003eChapter 1 \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “THIS IS NEW.” If glaring could melt metal, the innocuous green wall in front of me would be a puddle. Of course, if anything about our present situation paid attention to what I wanted—I glared harder. Take a walk, I’d suggested. Have a pre­cious moment alone, I’d thought. Was that asking too much? \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Apparently so, hence the new wall. My hair, the ever-expressive feature of a Chosen Clanswoman, writhed against my back and shoulders. Even if I could control it, there was no keeping my aggravation from my Chosen, the barrier between our thoughts and emotions thinned when we were alone, as now. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Chuckling, Jason Morgan lowered his scanner. “New to us,” he concurred. “But according to these readings, this bulkhead could have been in place as long as anything on the ship. Impressive tech.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Inconvenient, annoying—I’d a list. “Impressive” wasn’t on it. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e When Sona Clan’s Cloisters had been a building with its foun­dation properly in the ground—half submerged in a swamp, to be exact—this wide corridor had spiraled up the levels used by the Om’ray. The corridor, like the rest of the building, was illu­minated by strips of light where walls met the ceiling, walls fea­turing tall arched windows interspersed with framed panels on the outermost side, with a series of doors to small rooms on the inner. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e When the Cloisters became a starship, more changed than its location. Along this corridor the lighting remained the same, but windows had disappeared behind green metal plates. The panels glowed in varied colors, linked by pulsating blue lines across walls and ceiling, lines that converged to wrap the frames of those now-sealed doors. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e While behind those doors, filling what we’d believed spare, empty rooms, was seething \u003ci\u003edarkness. \u003c\/i\u003eThe starship, built by the Hoveny, had been designed to draw power from the M’hir, some­thing it could only do once we, their descendants, followed its instructions and \u003ci\u003ebrought \u003c\/i\u003ethe M’hir here to be harnessed. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e All of which was quite reassuring in a building that roared its way into the sky and beyond so we could escape certain death. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e What wasn’t? The starship, \u003ci\u003eSona, \u003c\/i\u003ehadn’t stopped its self-modification. Once moving through subspace, walls like the one in our way began to appear, severing some rooms or, as now, sealing off stretches of corridor. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e These paled beside other changes. Doors once locked now opened, with others sealed. Lifts stopped at levels previously un­known to any of the Om’ray Adepts on board. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The same lifts bypassed levels once in use; according to Mor­gan’s scanner, they’d been collapsed, as though the ship folded sheets for storage. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e At least it waited until those spaces were empty—leading to a brief experiment where we left belongings everywhere, but the ship knew the difference between living and stuff and we only had so many socks—which wasn’t the point. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e From early childhood, the Clan moved by \u003ci\u003epushing \u003c\/i\u003eour bodies through the M’hir. So long as the distance, translated by the M’hir into subjective time, was within an individual’s strength, all we needed was a remembered place, called a locate. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Locates \u003ci\u003eSona \u003c\/i\u003ekept removing. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Another reason, I thought grimly, we couldn’t trust the ship. Hadn’t its programming proved fallible already? When we—the M’hiray—first arrived, it had used a device called a Maker to forcibly alter our minds. It blocked our memories, giving us false ones to suit our new lives on Cersi, complete with skills and the local language. Being able to converse with our cousins, the Om’ray, had been vital; being transformed into eager farmers prepared to live near the Oud, when the land outside was Tikitik and a water-ruled jungle? \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The error came close to costing our lives. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Fortunately, before it did, Morgan had saved us all. The Maker had no effect on his Human mind, and he’d helped us return to our former selves, though we retained the implanted informa­tion. With one exception. Me. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e For some reason comprehensible only to the shipbrain, I re­mained its Keeper: the ancient ship’s sole conduit to those aboard. Another mistake, for the person who should be Keeper stood beside me, diligently running his scanner along the seam between new wall and old. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The supple brown vest Morgan wore, with its useful array of hidden pockets, was old, though still new to me. The beginning beard, dark brown with a trace of red in certain light was new to me as well, the why of it another mystery. Clan didn’t grow such facial hair; my Chosen may have sported a bristled chin on occa­sion, but never for long. As I’d grown to like the feel of it, I asked no questions. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Jason Morgan, however, would have a reason. He was careful and methodical by nature, leaving nothing to chance, traits that had made him a superb starship captain. More than anyone here, he understood space travel—and machines. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I’d a history of breaking them, especially any with plumbing, and suspected \u003ci\u003eSona \u003c\/i\u003ehad figured that out for itself. The ship had lifted on my command; it hadn’t obeyed me about anything more important than lighting since. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e That didn’t stop me trying. I glared at the new wall. \u003ci\u003eSona, \u003c\/i\u003eI sent, gaining the ship’s instant attention. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u0026gt;\u003ci\u003eKeeper, what is your will?\u0026lt; \u003c\/i\u003eThe reply wasn’t in mindspeech, not the sort we used. This was unsettlingly more as if the ship had stuck something in my head to allow me to receive a transmis­sion. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eStop doing this! \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The ship’s voice remained placid. \u0026gt;\u003ci\u003eI require specifics, Keeper. What is it you wish stopped?\u0026lt; \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Servo brain. I gave up. \u003ci\u003eNothing. Everything’s fine. Wonderful. \u003c\/i\u003eNine shipdays since leaving Cersi. Nine shipdays, I’d tried to argue with it. Tried commanding it to restore a level. Tried order­ing the ship to shut itself down which, in hindsight, might not have been the right approach. It didn’t help having Morgan cau­tion me, several times, to not ask it anything at all. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e In case it finally decided to obey, that was. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Tell me how this makes sense,” I muttered. “Why close off a perfectly useful corridor?” Except to be a nuisance, which by now wouldn’t surprise me. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Morgan tucked away his scanner and patted the wall approv­ingly. “My take? \u003ci\u003eSona\u003c\/i\u003e’s conserving resources. It was built to carry more.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The \u003ci\u003eFox \u003c\/i\u003ehad been “she,” but nothing about \u003ci\u003eSona \u003c\/i\u003ewas like our former home. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Nothing was. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “How many more?” I’d led one hundred and ten M’hiray to Cersi, fleeing Trade Pact space. Eight had died within days, for Cersi proved no safer; worse, our coming led to disaster. The Oud decided to end their part of the Agreement and violently re­shaped the world. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Of our cousins, the Om’ray, seventy-seven survived our arrival. Not our doing. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Our fault—my fault—all the same. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Two more had slipped away our first night in subspace, but they’d been Lost and already gone from us: Cha sud Kessa’at, once Chosen of Deni, and Ures di Yode, once Chosen of Tekla, the Sona scout who’d given her life in a futile attempt to save Deni from a clawed nightmare. That the final remnants of their minds stayed behind with their Chosen, in the M’hir around Cersi, was to me, a mercy. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e None of us said it, but I knew the rest believed as I did, that we, the one hundred and seventy-eight now on board, were all that remained of the Clan. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Plus one Human. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Presently shaking his head, blue eyes somber. “Sira. Don’t.” We both knew, even if \u003ci\u003eSona \u003c\/i\u003ecould have transported thousands, it made no difference now. \u003cbr\u003e I wrinkled my nose at him, but left the matter. “Have you marked our new wall on the map?” Anyone who discovered part of the ship reconfigured did so; even the Om’ray, who otherwise relied on their inner sense to navigate, understood the value of such warnings. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Morgan pulled the flat black disk of the placer from his vest pocket. “Already done.” Deni’s legacy, the Trade Pact device re­corded spatial information. My Human used it to keep up with \u003ci\u003eSona\u003c\/i\u003e’s modifications. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Modifications we didn’t control and couldn’t anticipate. “I hate losing more of the ship.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e He grinned. “Just because you can’t go ‘poof’ where you used to doesn’t mean \u003ci\u003eSona\u003c\/i\u003e’s shrinking. There are lifts. Doors. Remem­ber doors? Walking?” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “We don’t go ‘poof,’” I protested, but my lips twitched. As Hindmost on the \u003ci\u003eSilver Fox, \u003c\/i\u003eI’d learned ’porting inside a working starship had its risks, chief among them startling my captain when he was busy welding. He was right. The Om’ray wouldn’t care; most still preferred Morgan’s ‘walking.’ The M’hiray, though accustomed since childhood to going ‘poof,’ had re­signed themselves to what couldn’t be changed. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I eyed the wall I couldn’t change, resolved to be sensible. “So, air on the other side?” We hadn’t found anything resembling a space-ready suit, nor tools to make one. We did have an abun­dance of knives and rope, not to mention seven fabric coats well-oiled against rain, but our technical resources consisted of the placer, Morgan’s scanners and assorted lethal equipment, plus some packs of archaeological equipment. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Next time I ran for my life, I’d grab a wrench. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Temp’s dropping fast, but there’s air. \u003ci\u003eSona\u003c\/i\u003e’s doors can’t open while in subspace,” he reminded me, that having been the only reassurance we’d gleaned from the ship. “So, Witchling.” Morgan took my chin between his finger and thumb. “What’s this about?” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e A lock of my hair wrapped around his bare wrist and I felt my­self sink into the uncanny warmth of his blue eyes, reactions he knew full well I couldn’t control. My Human wasn’t above cheat­ing when he thought it in my best interest. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Two could play that game. I leaned forward, hair sliding around his shoulders and neck, pulling us together. Our lips were a breath apart, my own breathing deeper than an instant ago, when Mor­gan suddenly chuckled. “You’re mad at the ship again.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I pulled back. My hair, disappointed, stroked his cheek as it withdrew, diluting the impact of my scowl. “I am not. It’s a machine.” \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eOne you talk to, \u003c\/i\u003ecame another voice. \u003ci\u003eI’d be angry at it, too. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eGreat-grandmother, \u003c\/i\u003eI greeted, surprised to find her \u003ci\u003elistening\u003c\/i\u003e. Aryl di Sarc respected the rare moments I could be alone with my Chosen, fading to little more than a second, smaller heartbeat. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Her consciousness inhabited my unborn, a baby I shouldn’t have been able to conceive in the first place. Among other spe­cies, when a female reproduced on her own it was called parthe­nogenesis. For the M’hiray, the term was Perversion. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The Om’ray Adepts, however, considered such unborn to be Vessels, waiting to be filled. The Vyna Clan had taken that to the extreme of bottling themselves up before death, then installing such Glorious Dead into new Vessels, to be born again. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e It was enough to want to be Human. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e An opinion I didn’t share with Aryl. If she’d not \u003ci\u003etasted \u003c\/i\u003echange in our future, a change dire enough to destroy worlds; if she’d not had the daunting courage to sacrifice her own future to pre­vent it, storing her consciousness; if she’d not entered what grew within me? We would not have found Cersi and saved as many as we had. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e While I did my best not to think of the future, I also owed mine to Aryl. An empty Vessel wouldn’t leave the mother’s body; her presence meant I’d survive this pregnancy. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e That Aryl spoke up now meant I’d been a bit too fervent in expressing my feelings and disturbed her. I owed her an apology. Instead, I tightened my shields. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I am not mad at the ship,” I informed them both. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Right.” Morgan’s grin broadened. He nodded the way we’d come. “Walk or poof?” fluttering his hands in the air. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Incorrigible, impossible...My temper hadn’t a chance. I held out my hand. “Walk,” I decided, laughing. I felt Aryl’s \u003ci\u003esatisfaction \u003c\/i\u003ebefore my sense of her faded. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e After all, walking gave us more time alone.","brand":"DAW","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304206684389,"sku":"NP9780756412234","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780756412234.jpg?v=1767739475","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-gate-to-futures-past-isbn-9780756412234","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}