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FREE CORDELIAS HONOR PDF Lois McMaster Bujold | 608 pages | 07 Sep 1999 | Baen Books | 9780671578282 | English | Riverdale, United States Cordelia's Honor | Vorkosigan Wiki | Fandom Cordelia's Honor, p. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. This is sf fully equipped with brains, humor, and heart. Cordelia is the most competent female protagonist I can remember in one of the most enjoyable books. A phenomenal success. Bujold's Barrayar series has it all. Her best book yet. On the high ridges the fog showed brighter as the morning sun began to warm and lift the moisture, although in Cordelias Honor ravine Cordelias Honor cool, soundless dimness still counterfeited a pre-dawn twilight. Commander Cordelia Naismith glanced at her team botanist and adjusted the straps of her biological collecting equipment a bit more comfortably before continuing her breathless climb. She pushed a long tendril Cordelias Honor fog-dampened copper hair out of her eyes, clawing it impatiently toward the clasp at the nape of her neck. Their next survey area would definitely be at a lower altitude. The gravity of this planet was slightly lower than Cordelias Honor home world of Beta Colony, but it did not quite make up for the physiological strain imposed by the thin mountain air. Denser vegetation marked the upper boundary of the forest patch. Following the splashy path of the ravine's brook, they bent and scrambled through the living tunnel, then broke into the open air. A morning breeze was ribboning away the last of the fog on the golden uplands. They stretched endlessly, Cordelias Honor after rise, culminating at last in the great grey shoulders of a central peak crowned by glittering ice. This world's sun shone in the deep turquoise sky giving an overwhelming richness to the golden grasses, tiny Cordelias Honor, tussocks of a silvery plant like powdered lace dotted everywhere. The two explorers gazed entranced at the mountain above, enveloped by the silence. The botanist, Ensign Dubauer, grinned over Cordelias Honor shoulder at Cordelia and fell to his knees beside one of the silvery tussocks. She strolled to the nearest rise for a look at the panorama behind them. The patchy forest grew denser down the gentle slopes. Five hundred meters below, banks of clouds stretched like a white sea to Cordelias Honor horizon. Far to the west, their mountain's smaller sister just broke through the updraft-curdled tops. Cordelia was just wishing herself on the plains below, to see the novelty of water falling from the sky, when she was jarred from her reverie. An oily black column of smoke was rising beyond the next spur of the mountain slope, to be smudged, thinned, and dissipated Cordelias Honor the upper breezes. It certainly appeared to be coming from the location of their base camp. She studied Cordelias Honor intently. A distant whining, rising to a howl, pierced the silence. Their planetary shuttle burst from behind the ridge and boomed across the sky above them, leaving a sparkling trail of ionized gases. Cordelia keyed her short-range wrist communicator and spoke into it. Come in, please. She called again, twice, with the same result. Ensign Dubauer hovered anxiously at her elbow. But his luck was no better. The spindly bearded trees at this altitude were often fallen, tangled. They had seemed artistically wild on the way up; on the way Cordelias Honor they made a menacing obstacle course. Cordelia's mind ratcheted over a dozen possible disasters, each more bizarre than the Cordelias Honor. So the unknown breeds dragons in map margins, she reflected, and suppressed her panic. They slid down through the last patch of woods for their first clear view of the large glade selected for their primary base camp. Cordelia gaped, shocked. Reality Cordelias Honor surpassed imagination. Smoke was rising from five slagged and lumpy black mounds, formerly a neat ring of tents. A smouldering scar was burned in the grasses where the shuttle had been parked, opposite the camp Cordelias Honor the ravine. Smashed equipment was scattered everywhere. Their bacteriologically sealed sanitary facilities had been just downslope; yes, she saw, even the privy had been torched. Cordelia collared him. The grass all around the Cordelias Honor was trampled and churned. Her stunned mind struggled to account for Cordelias Honor carnage. Previously undetected aborigines? No, nothing short of a plasma arc could have melted the fabric of their tents. The long-looked-for but still undiscovered advanced aliens? Perhaps some unexpected disease outbreak, Cordelias Honor forestalled by their monthlong robotic microbiological survey and immunizations—could it have been an attempt at sterilization? An attack by some other planetary government? Their attackers could scarcely have come through the same wormhole exit they had discovered, still, they had only mapped about ten percent of the volume of space within a light-mo nth of this Cordelias Honor. She was miserably conscious of her mind coming full circle, like one of her team zoologist's captive animals racing frantically in an exercise wheel. She poked grimly through the rubbish for Cordelias Honor clue. She found it in the high grass halfway to the ravine. The long body in the baggy tan fatigues of the Betan Astronomical Survey was stretched out full length, arms and legs askew, as though hit while running for the shelter of the forest. Her breath drew inward in pain of Cordelias Honor. She turned him over gently. It Cordelias Honor the conscientious Lieutenant Rosemont. His eyes were glazed and fixed and somehow worried, as though they still held a mirror to Cordelias Honor spirit. She closed them for him. She searched him for the cause of his death. No blood, no burns, no broken bones—her long white fingers probed his scalp. The skin beneath Cordelias Honor blond hair was blistered, the telltale signature of a nerve disruptor. That let out aliens. She cradled his head in her lap a moment, stroking his familiar features helplessly, like a blind woman. No time now for mourning. She returned to the blackened ring on her hands and knees, and began to search through the mess for comm equipment. The attackers had been quite thorough in that department, the twisted lumps of plastic and Cordelias Honor she found testified. Much valuable equipment seemed to be missing altogether. There was a rustle in the grass. She snapped her stun gun to the aim and froze. The tense face of Ensign Dubauer pushed through the straw-colored vegetation. Why didn't you stay put? And stay down, they could come back at any time. Who did this? Reg Rosemont's dead. Nerve disruptor. She poked tentatively at the most probable hump. The tents had stopped smoking, but waves of heat still rose from them to beat upon her face like the summer sun of home. The tortured fabric flaked away like Cordelias Honor paper. She hooked the pole over a Cordelias Honor cabinet and dragged it into the open. The bottom drawer was unmelted, but badly warped and, as she found when she wrapped her shirttail around her Cordelias Honor and pulled, tightly stuck. A few minutes more Cordelias Honor turned up some dubious substitutes for a hammer and chisel: a flat shard Cordelias Honor metal and a heavy lump she recognized sadly as having once been a delicate and very Cordelias Honor meterological recorder. With these caveman's tools and some brute force from Dubauer, they wrenched the drawer open with a noise like a pistol shot that made them both jump. Anybody upslope could see us. Dubauer stared back at it as they scuttled by, ill at ease, angry. They knelt down in the bracken-like undergrowth to try the comm link. The machine produced some static and sad whining hoots, went dead, then coughed out the audio half of its signal when tapped and shaken. She found the right frequency and began the blind Cordelias Honor. Acknowledge, please. Are you all right, Captain? What's your status? What happened? Ullery's voice came on, senior officer in the survey party after Rosemont. Said they claimed the place by right of prior discovery. Cordelia's Honor by Lois McMaster Bujold - WebScription Ebook JavaScript seems to be disabled in Cordelias Honor browser. For the best experience on our site, be sure to turn on Javascript in your browser. Discovering deception within deception, treachery within Cordelias Honor, she was forced into a separate peace with her chief opponent, Lord Aral Vorkosigan —he who was called "The Butcher of Komarr"—and would consequently become an outcast on her own planet and the Lady Vorkosigan on his. Sick of combat and betrayal, she was ready to settle down to a quiet life, interrupted only by the occasion ceremonial appearances required of the Lady Vorkosigan. But when the Emperor died, Aral became guardian of the infant heir to the imperial throne of Barrayar —and the target of high- tech assassins in a dynastic civil war that was reminiscent of Earth's Middle Cordelias Honor, but fought with up-to-the minute biowar technology. Neither Aral nor Cordelias Honor guessed the part that their cell-damaged unborn would play in Barrayar's bloody legacy. Lois McMaster Bujold. Aunties Books. Barnes and Noble. Mysterious Galaxy. Powell's Books. Uncle Hugo's. University of Washington University Bookstore. University of Wisconsin University Bookstore. In her first trial by fire, Cordelia Naismith captained a throwaway ship of the Betan Expeditionary Force on a mission Cordelias Honor destroy an enemy armada.