Résultats pour "Chris Ryan" dans Space opéra

The gods are dead, but they are not gone. Their bodies litter the cosmos, magical fuel for vast interstellar empires, giving birth to mages, and more importantly, to magitech.

Tech Mage (Book one) Aran awakens in chains with no memory. He’s conscripted into the Confederate Marines as a Tech Mage, given a spellrifle, then hurled into the war with the draconic Krox and their Void Wyrm masters. Void Wyrm (Book two) Major Voria stands ready to accept the cost for her actions at Marid. Stripped of command and resources, Voria must find a ship and rally a crew. Somewhere within the Umbral Depths lays a hidden world, a world that the dead god Marid intended her to find.

Mankind's outer colonies are disappearing. Without warning. Without a trace. Fleet command chalks the attacks up to pirates, but Captain Dryker of the UFC Johnston isn't buying it.

Voria, Aran, and Nara survived their trip into the Umbral Depths. They retrieved the Talon and are now searching for the First Spellship, the key to victory in their war against the Krox. Their search leads them to Virkonna, the home of the Last Dragonflight, a world where dragons still rule. The world where Aran was born. Aran's past finally catches up with him, and he is forced to answer for killing Khalahk. The Wyrms demand he undergo a March of Honor, a brutal trek that few survive. Nara must not only accept Aran's fate but use it as a distraction to locate the First Spellship.

The Ganog have arrived. Their fleets are endless. Their will implacable. They cannot use magic, but that isn't stopping them from wiping out mages. Behind them lurks a worse foe, the Gorthians, those holding the Ganog's leash. They have devoured countless galaxies, harvesting them over and over to create more monstrosities.

Mankind's outer colonies are disappearing. Without warning. Without a trace. Fleet command chalks the attacks up to pirates, but Captain Dryker of the UFC Johnston isn't buying it. Defying command, he leads his misfit crew into hostile territory in search of answers. They encounter a technologically superior foe unlike anything humanity has ever seen, one bent on the destruction of all sentient life. After 26,000 years the mythical Void Wraith have returned to begin the next Eradication.

The Krox have finally reached their end game, and the sector will never be the same. Their relentless fleet darkens the skies of New Texas, home of the fabled Ternus shipyards. Their only hope lies with their sworn allies, the Shayans. But the Shayans refuse to help. Only Aran and his company can keep their leadership alive long enough for Voria to bring reinforcements and the fabled Spellship. If they fail, the entire world burns, and Ternus morale will collapse with it. But the war is merely a smokescreen for something much more sinister.

The Void Wraith are not yet ready to begin their war against the Milky Way. Experiments must be conducted. DNA mapped. Slaves created. They move cautiously, their agents infiltrating the governments of every major race. But every invasion leaves clues - clues that one OFI officer has stumbled across. Stations are disappearing. Whole populations gone seemingly overnight. Commander Nolan convinces the Office of Fleet Intelligence to dispatch him to investigate. He discovers something far more sinister and far reaching than he imagined.

We've discovered Terra, but the cost is bitter. All that remains is the Vagrant Fleet, carrying the refugees from every world. Earth is our only hope, but their leaders don't even believe in magic. We also have to convince the Earth flight protecting them that we're not hostiles. Did I mention the dread fleet is right behind us led by a dark god who seems to have a real hate-boner for Xal'Aran? If we're going to win, then we must harness the most powerful Catalyst in existence, the Eye of Om.

Hey, there! Name's Jerek. I'm not very fast, not very strong, and my best friend is a dragon with a bit of a gut. We're underachievers, but somehow we've become some of the best relic hunters in the galaxy. At least I have a bit of fire magic, so I'm not totally useless. From failing to save my world from imploding (oops), to waking up super powerful ancient starships, if you need someone to make a bad situation worse, then I'm your man.

Imperalis has been lost. The Nameless Ones have returned. The Coalition refuses to fight, leaving the Ganog to wage a war they cannot win. Betrayed and cut off, Khar and Zakanna struggle to survive. Nolan and Burke bring Alpha Company to reinforce the Nyar home world, only to be overwhelmed by the mighty Void Wraith Omegas. Fizgig and Takkar are captured by the sadistic Kthul fleet leader, Azatok.

Mankind drove back the Imperium at Ganog 7, but it was a pyrrhic victory. Their fleets are shattered, and it will take months to rebuild - time they do not have. Nolan and T'kon are sent to the Azi home world. Their orders - trick the Azi Clan into bringing the location of the Coalition shipyards to the Empress. When the Ganog fleets come, Fizgig and the Coalition fleets will be waiting in ambush.

Now, shattered and stuck behind enemy lines, the remnants of Alpha Company struggle to survive. Between them and escape stand three Planetstriders, thousand-meter monstrosities capable of destroying an orbiting capital ship. In order to survive, they must disable these titanic war machines, an impossible task made even more difficult by the discovery of a terrible secret - one that must reach fleet command, no matter the cost.

Dragons with assault cannons? How is that fair? I saved Highspire and the academy from the dissolution of our world. Seventeen-thousand students survived, and I want to keep it that way. The ship is breaking down. Life support needs repairs, and we have almost no food. We need money badly. That means scavenging tech that we can sell to the same people who blew up our planet. Fortunately I'm the best Relic Hunter in the business...though to be fair all the rest died when my world tumbled into the sun. There are six other Great Ships out there, and who knows what we'll find inside?

Our world is tumbling into the sun. The quakes have leveled cities. Soon the continents themselves will break apart. The ships are gone. There's no way off. But I'm not giving up. I'm a Relic Hunter...an archaeologist with a gun, and I have a plan. Our people arrived on Kemet thousands of years ago in the wake of a terrible space battle. The Great Ships are still up there, ancient derelict hulks powered by a combination of technology and magic, created by gods we no longer remember or understand. If I can get one of those ships active, maybe I can save myself.

Join us, or die and join anyway. I hate necromancers. They're sneaky, and underhanded, and...damned effective. My father's ghost is going to be reshaped into an assassin sent to kill my mother unless I dance for Necrotis, an unliving goddess and ruler of the Maker's Wrath. A storm rages across the void, with winds upwards of 2,000 kilometers a second in some places, the Catalyst known as Sanctuary. Necrotis wants me to fly inside, find a city that predates the Great Cycle, and find a way inside when no one ever has before.

Necrotis has raised an armada to make our sector tremble. Hundreds of warships have begun to overwhelm the Confederacy, and we don't have nearly enough magic or ships to defend every world. Our only real hope is resurrecting the Vagrant Fleet. We have the Spellship, and our demon allies control the Earthmother's Bulwark. I'm the captain of the Word of Xal, our most powerful offensive ship in the fleet. We're strong, but Necrotis is stronger, and the gap is growing.

Necrotis' endgame is upon us. The sector is starving. Frit is dead. The Krox have left the Confederacy, and the rest of it is falling apart. Time is fast running out to stop Necrotis, who will win through simple attrition if we do nothing. The time has come to ride to war. Xal'Aran is training me to be the deadliest captain to ever command the Word of Xal and will be flying alongside me to hunt down Necrotis. Nor do we ride alone. Voria and her Spellship will guide us into the storm to hunt our enemy once and for all.

The Unliving are implacable. Unreasonable. No one knows what they want, beyond souls, and bone for their war machines and ships. Now they've set their sights on the Inurans, and hey, I couldn't wish an army of necromancers on a better target. There's just one problem. I'm trapped on the Inuran Trade Moon, and the necromancers are attacking. Even if I can get the minister back to her ship we'll still need to find a way to fight their flagship. That's going to be tough to do without enough magic to power the Word of Xal.