Thursday, July 5, 2012

Catching up with Star Wars: X-Wing Mercy Kill Mini-Excerpts 2-4

Time to catch up on some recent mini-excerpt releases that Del Rey's Facebook Page: Star Wars Books has been giving out in advance of the release of Aaron Allston's return to the cockpit in X-Wing: Mercy Kill.

Since I am such an awesome guy, I have already read Mercy Kill and it is pretty awesome including the focus on a very interesting main character.  But enough teasing for now, my full review will be out the Tuesday before it's August 7th release.

Without further ado, we have three more excerpts from Mercy Kill:

#2:

A young human woman in clothes styled to resemble a starfighter pilot’s jumpsuit and jacket but made of crinkly gold cloth, her hair a more striking and unnatural red than Face’s, bumped into Face, made a vague noise of apology, and hurried past, continuing onward toward the exit.
Voort scowled at Face. “I saw that.”
“Of course you did.”
“What did she slip you?”
Face reached into a suit coat pocket and drew out a datapad. It was small, its once-gleaming surface scratched and dull. “This. It’s wired to overheat and ignite in about three minutes.”
“Well, then, don’t hold it in your mouth.”


#3:

Face’s approach was so silent that neither noticed until he was almost at the table. Both turned to look at him and, seeing the expression on his face, fell silent.
He turned to Dia. “I promise I will never make you so mad that you borrow an X-wing, take it up, and use it to burn me to a cinder.”
“Smart of you.” She gestured at the third chair. “Whose turn is it to cook?”
“Yours.”
“We’ll order something.”
He sat and turned to his daughter. “And you, young lady . . . Beware of older military officers who chase you when you’re a teenager. They’ll just dump you when you turn thirty.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Dad, I hate it when you bring work home.”



#4:

“Myri, I thought you were making your living gambling. Nice and safe on the Errant Venture. Making a fortune, from what I heard.”
She nodded, her attention on her rifle.
“So? Why this?”
She smiled. “You must be so proud.”
“What? Of whom?”
“That’s what they tell me. Mostly about Daddy. ‘Wedge Antilles’s daughter? You must be so proud.’ And I am. Some people know about Mom’s career. ‘You must be so proud.’ And I am. Some people know about my sister’s record in the last war. ‘You must be so proud.’ Yes, yes, I am. But maybe it’s time for someone to be proud of what I do. Maybe even me.”

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