It is the twenty sixth century and mankind has suffered under the tyrannical rule of the ubers for over a century. Four fifths of humanity were wiped out in the uprising by homo superior. Those humans who survived were turned into slaves in all but name. They were luckier than some. After conquering the Earth the ubers turned their greedy eyes to space and started a war with the Alliance. A war which has lasted for decades and cost countless billions of lives as world after world has been overrun. Those aliens captured, have been enslaved, while the humans have been forced into the unwilling role of overseers. In the middle of this is Manx. An engineer on board a starship and a human who has defied the ubers genetic purity laws and fallen in love with an alien woman. A man who will be betrayed by her as the Alliance deals a devastating counter attack to the Terran Empire. That's war. Betrayal is a strategy as old as time and it lies at the heart of every war including this one. And uncovering that secret history of betrayals may be the key to ending the power of the ubers. But it will take an engineer's mind to do that. It will take Manx. Can a man betrayed learn to find trust again? In the woman he loved? In the enemies of his people? Or will the war never end?
About the Author: Greg Curtis is the name of a hopelessly boring middle class sci fi junkie. He was born in New Zealand, land of the long white cloud and small flightless birds. He grew up in the city of Wellington, renown for its high winds and the almost magical ability of rain and sleet to be lifted off the street and blasted into one's face. After eighteen years of suffering the cold and wet, he was finally blown away in a particularly bad storm to settle far away as a student at Massey and then Otago Universities for more years then most would ever admit to. Then finally when the universities pronounced him done he became an overqualified and underpaid worker in the health sector - aren't we all! Greg has lived in the city of Rotorua, one of the very few places in the world where people have actually chosen to reside beside active geysers and breath air that reeks of sulphur, for the past seventeen years. He works by day for his daily bread by speaking to people about their various diarrhoeal illnesses. While at night he toils away on his books. When not engaged in his loves of reading and writing science fiction and fantasy, drinking strong black coffee (some call it tar), and consuming copious amounts of chocolate (dark naturally), he lives a quiet life of contemplation as the high priest to his two cats. His duties include worshipping them with regular gifts of food, the occasional grooming and providing them with a warm dry place to sleep. They in turn look down upon him with typical feline disdain, but occasionally deign to bring him gifts of headless vermin - as a warning. In a desperate bid to understand the meaning of his life, he has recently started studying philosophy, particularly metaphysics, and come to a startling conclusion. God must be a cat! Cheers and be good or don't get caught. Greg.