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Richard Morgan - Broken Angels

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Richard Morgan Broken Angels

Broken Angels: summary, description and annotation

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Fifty years after the events of ALTERED CARBON Takeshi Kovacs is serving as a mercenary in the Procterate sponsored war to put down Joshuah Kemps revolution on the planet Sanction IV. He is offered the chance to join a covert team chasing a prize whose value is limitless and whose dangers are endless. Here is a novel that takes mankind to the brink. A breakneck-paced crime thriller ALTERED CARBON took its readers deep into the universe Morgan had so compellingly realised without ever letting them escape the onward rush of the plot. BROKEN ANGELS melds SF, the war novel and the spy thriller to take the reader below the surface of this future and lay bare the treacheries, betrayals and follies that leave man so ill-prepared for the legacy he has been given; the stars. This is SF at its dizzying best: superb, yet subtle, world-building; strong yet sensitive characterisation; awesome yet believable technology , thilling yet profound writing. Richard Morgan is set to join the genres world-wide elite.

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Reviews for Richard Morgan's first novel, ALTERED CARBON

'Outstanding. This seamless marriage of hardcore cyberpunk and hard-boiled detective tale is an astonishing first novel.' THE TIMES

'Morgan's first novel is a brilliant start to what promises to be an outstanding career. Altered Carbon captures the best of SF and spins it in a new direction that will not only have existing genre fans crying out for more, but will in all likelihood attract the biggest new readership since William Gibson made SF cool again.' Michael Rowley, Waterstones ENIGMA magazine

'An exhilarating and glossy adventure punctuated by bursts of extreme violence. The plot reaches terminal velocity early on and stays there. What makes Altered Carbon a winner is the quality of Morgan's prose. For every piece of John Woo action there is a stunning piece of reflective description, a compelling sense of place and abundant 24-carat witticisms. A commanding novel.' SFX magazine

'I was completely blown away by Altered Carbon. From the very first page, it's a pure adrenaline rush of slick, hard-hitting prose, superb characterisation and a plot that grabs you and just won't let go. A superbly rich and varied feast of fiction. Richard Morgan is destined to be a very, very big name in science fiction circles for a long time to come. Welcome to the Next Big Thing.' THE ALIEN ONLINE

'A first novel so exciting, so addictive and so bone-crunchingly in your face that it beggars the need for such virtual reality as it occasionally employs. This is a ceaseless, permanently off-balance sprint through an all-too-grimly-familiar future where miraculous technologies are degraded through everyday use and abuse. There are occasional throwaway mentions of background details here that beg entire novels on their own; ubiquitous pieces of history dismissed in single lines that had my nose twitching, scenting something far bigger lurking, hidden under the surface.' INFINITY PLUS

'Carbon-black noir with drive and wit, a tight plot and a back-story that leaves the reader wanting a sequel like another fix.' KEN MACLEOD

'Brilliant. Unputdownable. Lots of similar blurb-writing clich s, only in this case all true. I loved it. It is expertly plotted, grips you throughout, a high-tech ride in which the shocks and excitement are placed with machine-tooled polish. It is also superbly written, passages of cool, detached writing that is wonderfully atmospheric, alternating with passages of ultraviolence brutal enough to be genuinely shocking.' ADAM ROBERTS

'Hits the floor running and then starts to accelerate. For a first novel it is an astonishing piece of work. Intriguing and inventive in equal proportions and refuses to let go until the last page. A wonderful SF idea.' PETER F. HAMILTON


Also by Richard Morgan in Gollancz

Altered Carbon

BROKEN ANGELS

RICHARD
MORGAN

GOLLANCZ

LONDON

Copyright Richard Morgan 2003

All rights reserved

The right of Richard Morgan to be identified as the

author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance

with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First published in Great Britain in 2003 by

Gollancz

An imprint of the Orion Publishing Group

Orion House, 5 Upper St Martin's Lane, London WC2H 9 EA

A CIP catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

ISBN 0 575 07323 3 (cased)

ISBN 0 575 07324 I (trade paperback)

Typeset by Deltatype Limited, Birkenhead, Merseyside

Printed in Great Britain by

Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

This one's for Virginia Cottinelli

compa era

afileres, camas, sacapuntas

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Once again, thanks to my family and friends for putting up with me during the making of Broken Angels. It can't have been easy. Thanks once again also to my agent Carolyn Whitaker for her patience, and to Simon Spanton and his crew, notably the very passionate Nicola Sinclair, for making Altered Carbon fly like a golden eagle on sulphate.

This; is a work of science fiction, but many of the books that influenced it are not. In particular, I'd like to express my deepest respect for two writers from my non-fiction inspiration bank; my thanks go to Robin Morgan for The Demon Lover, which is probably the most coherent, complete and constructive critique of political violence I have ever read, and to John Pilger for Heroes, Distant Voices and Hidden Agendas, which together provide an untiring and brutally honest indictment of the inhumanities perpetrated around the globe by those who claim to be our leaders. These writers did not invent their subject matter as I did, because they did not need to. They have seen and experienced it for themselves at first hand, and we should be listening to them.

PART I
INJURED PARTIES

War is like any other bad relationship. Of course you want out, but at what price? And perhaps more importantly, once you get out, will you be any better off?

QUELLCRIST FALCONER
Campaign Diaries


CHAPTER ONE

I first met Jan Schneider in a Protectorate orbital hospital three hundred kilometres above the ragged clouds of Sanction IV and in a lot of pain. Technically there wasn't supposed to be a Protectorate presence anywhere in the Sanction system what was left of planetary government was insisting loudly from its bunkers that this was an internal matter, and local corporate interests had tacitly agreed to sign along that particular dotted line for the time being.

Accordingly, the Protectorate vessels that had been hanging around the system since Joshua Kemp raised his revolutionary standard in Indigo City had had their recognition codes altered, in effect being bought out on long-term lease by various of the corporations involved, and then reloaned to the embattled government as part of the tax deductible local development fund. Those that were not pulled out of the sky by Kemp's unexpectedly efficient second-hand marauder bombs would be sold back to the Protectorate, lease unexpired, and any net losses once again written off to tax. Clean hands all round. In the meantime, any senior personnel injured fighting against Kemp's forces got shuttled out of harm's way, and this had been my major consideration when choosing sides. It had the look of a messy war.

The shuttle offloaded us directly onto the hospital's hangar deck, using a device not unlike a massive ammunition feed belt to dump the dozens of capsule stretchers with what felt like unceremonious haste. I could hear the shrill whine of the ship's engines still dying away as we rattled and clanked our way out over the wing and down onto the deck, and when they cracked open my capsule the air in the hangar burnt my lungs with the chill of recently evacuated hard space. An instant layer of ice crystals formed on everything, including my face.

'You!' It was a woman's voice, harsh with stress. 'Are you in pain?'

I blinked some of the ice out of my eyes and looked down at my blood-caked battledress.

'Take a wild guess,' I croaked.

'Medic! Endorphin boost and GP anti-viral here.' She bent over me again and I felt gloved fingers touch my head at the same time as the cold stab of the hypospray into my neck. The pain ebbed drastically. 'Are you from the Evenfall front?'

'No,' I managed weakly. 'Northern Rim assault. Why, what happened at Evenfall?'

'Some fucking terminal buttonhead just called in a tactical nuclear strike.' There was a cold rage chained in the doctor's voice. Her hands moved down my body, assessing damage. 'No radiation trauma, then. What about chemicals?'

I tilted my head fractionally at my lapel. 'Exposure meter. Should tell you. That.'

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