Mind GamesConditioned to enhance an inborn ability to acutely perceive another's emotional state, Klavik, security director of a massive world ruled by the sole monarchy in neohuman interstellar society, investigates the ruler's assassination while on holiday in parsecs-distant Eden, a terraformed pleasure world operated by a distant syndicate peopled by alien exotics. A pair of royal companions force themselves upon Klavik during his sojourn in Eden, where his empathic perception “sixth sense” enables him to fasten on a nervous official as a prime suspect to interrogate, but is frustrated because his energies must be channeled toward protecting his illustrious companions. Eden's planetary director, Shatterhand, ushers the threesome into a “hall of mirrors” where nothing is as it seems. After feints and ploys designed to distract or frighten he and his charges away, Klavik senses “nibblings” at the limbic fringes of his mind, and intuits the the presence of an alien telepath. Sly mental assaults persist until his charges are taken hostage, and the ultimate confrontation erupts in a rapacious battle of wills. |
From inside the book
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... white radicals alike. With Kraan's hereditary monarch enjoying a recuperative holiday in the notorious, parsecsdistant resort world, the threat of civil war had been narrowly averted. Or had it? Klavik asked himself. It was this ...
... white-robed renegades has readied a stealthy move of some kind, and a murderous, underhanded move will most likely be. I know they're behind it. Know it!” “Behind . . . what, sir? What basis have you for —?” “Basis!” The other blanched ...
... white robes — he strained to separate and absorb the nuances of emotion wafting up to his coign of vantage. His searching mind met subtle, fluctuating ripples of sorrow, here and there spikes of profound outrage tinged with smatterings ...
... white robe at once concealing and revealing a lissome figure. She stood waiting, eyes demurely downcast. Klavik evaluated the “beauty mark” — a tiny, five-pointed star beneath her left eye. “I, er . . .” Taken aback by the dazzling ...
... white sands beneath it, panned in for a medium close-up. “No dice, Chatty,” sang the cameraman, raising his head from the eyepieces. He cursed in a fluid monotone. “No matter what angle we try, the damned crater always sneaks into a ...