[Buchreihe] David Weber - Honor Harrington

[ThorKonnat]

Wobei ich bei dieser Serie sagen muß, da kann ich drauf verzichten. Ich hab die ersten Bücher gelesen und war teilweise gelangweilt und entsetzt wie der mit seinen Figuren umspringt. Wirklich begeistern konnte ich mich für diese Literatur nicht.

[Master.Mind]

Ich frage mich ob in naher Zukunft die Honor Harrington Serie als Ebook rauskommt ist dazu schon irgendwas bekannt?

[ThorKonnat]

Ich frage mich ob in naher Zukunft die Honor Harrington Serie als Ebook rauskommt ist dazu schon irgendwas bekannt?

Zumindest auf Englisch ist sie vollständig als EBook vorhanden. Wird sogar kostenfrei bei neueren Hardcoverbüchern mitgeliefert in Form einer Bonus DVD.

[Master.Mind]

ja das wusste ich schon, ich frage nur weil ich mir überlege bald einen Ebook Reader zu kaufen.

[ThorKonnat]

Ähm, das versteh ich grad nicht. Wenn du weißt dass die Serie komplett als EBook verfügbar ist, warum fragst du dann noch danach ?

[MFB]

Wahrscheinlich meinte er auf deutsch. Hier habe ich einige deutsche ebooks der Reihe gefunden:

beam eBooks - Der eBook Shop

Weiß nicht, wie vollständig das Angebot ist. Aber die ebooks in diesem Shop sind auf jeden Fall empfehlenswert, weil sie DRM-frei sind und damit problemlos auf jeden Reader übertragen bzw. in ein beliebiges passendes Format - wenn nötig - umgewandelt werden können.

[Master.Mind]

danke für den Link und ich meinte tatsächlich auf deutsch muss ich wohl vergessen habe zu erwähnen.

[Nighthawk_]

A Beautiful Friendship ist heute als EARC erschienen:
A Beautiful Friendship-ARC by David Weber - WebScription Ebooks

Das ist der der erste Buch der neuen Young Adult Serie für die Weber afaik nur diesen Teil schreiben wird. Zudem ist dieses Werk nur eine Erweiterung der gleichnamigen Kurzgeschichte aus More Than Honor.

[Master.Mind]

Cover und Erscheinungsdatum von A Rising Thunder wurde enthüllt. A Rising Thunder | Book by David Weber - Simon & Schuster

p.s ich bin gespannt wie bastei lübbe es rechtfertigen will das aufzusplitten, wenns schon im Englischen so kurz ist.

[ThorKonnat]

Bei 448 Seiten im Original, wie soll das noch gesplittet werden ist da eher die Frage. Da kommen keine Bücher raus, dass werden dann eher Hefte mit knapp 220 Seiten. Außer man nimmt eine größere Schriftart, größere Zeilenabstände und dickeres Papier um das Volumen künstlich zu erhöhen.

[Master.Mind]

ja du musst aber auch bedenken das sich das im Deutschen um 1/3 bis Hälfte vergrößtert

[Eagleeye]

Eher 1/3. Was auf knapp 650 deutsche Taschenbuch-Seiten hinauslaufen müßte. (wenn Bastei-Lübbe auch bei diesem Buch die übliche Type und Schriftgröße verwendet). Das in zwei Bände zu teilen, wäre imho eine Frechheit und pure Geldschneiderei. Zumal "A rising thunder" ja eh schon von David geteilt wurde; der abgetrennte zweite Band wird - wie hier imThread schon von jemand anderem geschrieben, "Shadow of Freedom" heißen und wohl Ende 2012 erscheinen.

[Eagleeye]

Es gibt ein neues - ca 2.500 Wörter umfassendes - Snippet aus A Rising Thunder! Leider keine direkte Fortsetzung des ersten; diesesmal geht es um die "Sepoy Option" ...

Governor Oravil Barregos paused and took a sip of the really nice Mayan burgundy Admiral Luis Roszak had chosen to accompany dinner. It wasn't actually very much like Old Terran burgundy, despite the name. Fermented from the Mayan golden plum, not grapes, it reminded Roszak more of a rich, fruity port, but no one had consulted him when it was named, and it was one of Barregos' favored vintages. The governor's expression was not that of a man savoring a special treat, however, and he sighed as he lowered the glass.

"I don't know," he repeated, gazing down into its tawny heart. "After the way you got hammered at Congo and given how that maniac Rajampet seems to be calling the shots, I have to admit I'm feeling at least a minor case of . . . cold feet, let's say."

Roszak sat back, nursing his own wineglass, and studied the Maya Sector Governor across his small kitchen table. He'd known Oravil Barregos a long time, and "cold feet" were something he'd never before associated with the other man. Especially not where the "Sepoy Option" was concerned.


Then again, the admiral thought, we've never been this close to actually pulling it off, and none of our calculations considered the possibility of an outright shooting war between the League and someone like the Manties. Throw in"mystery raiders" with invisible starships, and I suppose even Alexander of Macedon might experience the odd moment of trepidation. And Oravil, bless his Machiavellian little heart, never believed he was a demigod to begin with!

"I agree we got hammered," he said after a moment. "And when it comes right down to it, it's my fault we did."

He made the admission unflinchingly, and raised his free hand in a silencing motion when Barregos started to contest his self indictment.

"I'm not saying I made wrong decisions based on what I thought I knew," he said. "I am saying I was too damned complacent about thinking that what we all thought we knew was accurate. Or, rather, that we understood all its implications, let's say." He shrugged. "We knew Mesa was using Luft and his people as deniable mercenaries, and we assumed — on the basis of what happened at Monica with the Manties — that they might reinforce them with heavy Solarian-built units, which is exactly what they did. Our mistake — my mistake — was to assume that if they were using Solarian-built units, they'd be using SLN missiles, too. I built all my tactics around the assumption my opponents would be range-limited, unable to reply effectively." He shrugged again, dark eyes bitter with memory. "I was wrong."

"If you were wrong, so was everyone else," Barregos pointed out. "Edie Habib and Watanapongse both thought the same thing."

"Of course they did. They're no more mind readers than I am, and it was a logical assumption. And there was no sign they had any missile pods on tow, either, since they didn't. If they had been towing pods, though — if we'd seen something like that — even I might have remembered those long-ranged missiles Technodyne provided for Monica and at least considered the possibility that Mesa had given something similar to Luft.


"My point, Oravil, is that I was the commanding officer. There's an old saying, one I think too many officers and politicians routinely ignore: 'The buck stops here.' I was the commander; the responsibility was mine. And what made it my fault we got hammered was that if I'd thought about it at all, I didn't have to close as far as I did. Even with those 'Cataphract' missiles, we had them out-ranged. But I wanted to get right in on the edge of their powered envelope, get the best accuracy I could while staying too far away for them to fire effectively on us. If I'd been more cautious, settled for poorer firing solutions and just accepted that I was going to expend more ammunition, they wouldn't have been able to hurt us anywhere near as badly as they did. In fact, we probably wouldn't've gotten hurt at all."

"I still say it's not your fault." Barregos shook his head stubbornly. "You have to go with the information you've got when you plan something like a battle. I may not be an admiral, but I know that much! And no plan survives contact with the enemy. I don't know how many times I've heard you say that, and it's as true in politics as it is in the military. It works both ways, too. They may have surprised you with the range of their missiles, but you surprised the hell out of them, too! And your deployment gave you the reserve to run the table once you'd taken out their battlecruisers." The governor shrugged. "You got hurt a lot worse than we ever anticipated, but you still won the battle — decisively — because you were prepared to deal with Murphy when he turned up."


"All right, I'll give you that." Rozsak nodded. Then he smiled, and his eyes narrowed. "And where I was headed, using the strategy of the indirect approach, was to point out that you do a pretty good job of disaster-proofing your plans, too. We always knew we were going to have to make a lot of it up as we went along when the token finally dropped, Oravil. You've laid your groundwork; despite all the people I managed to get killed at Congo, we've still got most of our critical senior personnel in position; and I can't really think of something closer to producing the conditions Sepoy envisioned than what's going on with the Manties now. We just have to be ready to improvise and adapt when Murphy starts throwing crap at us on the political front, as well."

Barregos gazed at the admiral for several seconds, then snorted in harsh amusement.

"'Indirect approach' is it? All right, you got me. But this is a little different from defending Torch against an Eridani violation, Luis. If I push the button on Sepoy, it's for all the marbles. We have to come out into the open, and that's going to put us up against Frontier Fleet, maybe even Battle Fleet, and we're nowhere near the Manties' size and weight!"


"I think your plans for staying in the shadows a bit longer will hold up," Rozsak demurred. "Oh, there's a risk they won't, but don't forget the rumblings we're getting from other Frontier Security sectors. I think the situation's going to go a lot further south on Kolokoltsov and Rajampet than they ever imagined. It's going to happen a lot faster than even you and I assumed it would, too, and this confrontation with the Manties is what's driving it, because it's destroying the League's perceived omnipotence among the independent Verge systems. I'm sure fear of where that's going to lead is a big part of what's driving Kolokoltsov to back MacArtney and Rajampet, but they don't seem to've considered that a lot of the more restive protectorates may have read the evidence the same way as the independent systems. I think they're in for a rude awakening on that front sometime really soon now, and when the shitstorm hits, they're going to be so busy worrying about outbreaks closer to home that we're going to sort of disappear into the general chaos, at least at first. They aren't going to be sending any major fleets out here while they're dealing with forest fires in the Core's front yard. Especially when we keep explaining that we're really good, loyal OFS thugs just doing what we have to to maintain order in the League's benevolent name."

Barregos frowned thoughtfully, his eyes focused on something only he could see. He stayed that way for a while, then inhaled deeply and refocused on his host across the table.

"All right, I'll give you that," he said, deliberately reusing Rozsak's own words. "And you're right about where their attention's likely to be focused, assuming they don't just go ahead and steamroller the Manties after all. But that could still happen, especially after the Yawata Strike."

Rozsak nodded soberly. No one in the Maya Sector was yet clear on exactly how much damage the Manties had taken from that surprise attack. It had happened barely five weeks ago, and the Maya System was ten days from the Manticore Binary System by dispatch boat, even using the shortcut from the Manticoran Wormhole Junction via Hennessy, Terre Haute, and Erewhon. What they did know, though, was that casualties — civilian casualties this time, unlike those suffered in the Battle of Manticore — had been horrific, and it sounded as if Manticore's industrial capabilities had taken a major blow. That had to have serious implications in any conflict with the League, and the absence of any evidence as to who'd actually attacked the Manties increased the uncertainty quotient exponentially.


"I'm not going to say the Manties aren't in a deep crack," the admiral said. "We don't know how deep it is, but it's not someplace I'd like to be. On the other hand, they've been in cracks before, and it's usually worked out worse for the other side than for them, so I'm not prepared to write them off. And even if they do go down, they're not going easy. Old Chicago's still going to be concentrating primarily on them for at least a while, and the fact that Erewhon's no longer part of the Manticoran Alliance works for us, too. No one on Old Terra's looking in Erewhon's direction at the moment, and if our reports go on stressing how our investment in the system is giving us additional clout to suck them deeper into the League's pocket, we can keep it that way for quite a while."

"Probably," Barregos conceded with a nod. That had been part of his own core planning from the outset, after all.


"Well, new construction's already more than replaced everything I lost at Congo," Rozsak pointed out. "We're two and a half T-years into our master building program, too, and the Carlucci Group's actually a bit ahead of schedule on the wallers. Not a lot — we're still looking at somewhere around two more T-years before we'll be able to put the first SD into commission — but the light units will be ready a lot sooner than that. They're already starting to supply us with all-up multidrive missiles for our arsenal ships, as well, and however long the podnoughts are going to take, we should have the first pod battlecruisers in another ten months or so. Call it mid-October for the first units' builder's trials. Whatever happens with the Manties, I'm pretty damn sure they'll last at least that long against anything a thumb-fingered ‘strategist’ like Rajampet can throw at them, if only because of the transit times involved! And, like I say, Kolokoltsov and MacArtney are going to be a lot more occupied with the unrest that's headed for them out in the open than by our own discreet activities. On that basis, I'd say we're almost certain to get at least a few squadrons of wallers ready for service before Rajampet decides we're another nail that needs hammering."

Barregos nodded again. It wasn't as if Rozsak were telling him anything he didn't already know. And as the admiral had also suggested, Oravil Barregos had known from the beginning that his plans were going to require fancy footwork. He'd seen this storm coming long ago, even if he'd never counted on actual hostilities between the League and someone like the Star Empire. The cataclysm poised to demolish the League's arrogant complacency was going to come as an even greater shock to the men and women who thought of themselves as its masters than his original plans had dared anticipate, but to reach his destination he'd have to embrace the storm, use its downdrafts and savage crosscurrents.

And skydiving in a thunderstorm never was the safest hobby, was it, Oravil? he asked himself dryly. I guess it's time you find out whether you've got the intestinal fortitude to really do this after all.

He took another sip of wine, thinking about all the years of effort and careful planning, of cautious recruitment and trust-building, which had led him to this point. And as he did, he realized that however nervous he might feel, what he felt most strongly of all was eagerness.

No one who'd ever met Oravil Barregos could have doubted for a moment that he was intensely ambitious. He knew it himself, and he'd accepted that he was the sort of man who was never truly happy unless he was the one wielding authority. Making decisions. Proving he was smarter, better, more qualified for the power he possessed than anyone else. Nor, he admitted, was he averse to wealth and all that came with it.


That, in many ways, was the perfect profile of an Office of Frontier Security commissioner or sector governor, and it explained a great deal about how he'd risen to his present position. But it didn't explain all of it, and that was important, because the bureaucrats who'd accepted him as one of their own had made a fatal mistake. They'd failed to recognize that unlike them, Barregos actually cared about the people he governed. That he'd recognized the rot, seen the corrosion, realized the reaction Frontier Security's abuse of the Protectorates must inevitably provoke.

Whether or not he and Luis Rozsak and the other men and women committed to the Sepoy Option succeeded, the storm was coming, and the League's confrontation with the Star Empire of Manticore could only speed the day its winds swept over the explored galaxy. And that was really the point, wasn't it? When that storm broke, the chaos and confusion — the warlordism and the violence — which followed the shipwreck of any empire, were going to sweep across the Protectorates, as well. They were going to sweep across the Maya Sector, and Maya's wealth could only make it even more attractive to brigands and pirates and potential warlords.

That wasn't going to happen to the people Oravil Barregos was responsible for. On oh so many levels, it wasn't going to happen. And for him to prevent it, he and Rozsak had to build the strength to stand against the hurricane.

To stop the warlords, they had to become warlords — the biggest, nastiest warlords on the block, at that. It was the only game in town . . . and there were far worse reasons for a man to seize political power by the throat.

"You're right, Luis," he said, setting the glass down with a snap. He looked across the table at the admiral who was not simply his accomplice in treason but his closest friend and smiled. "You're right. So let's just consider my cold feet warmed up."


Rozsak smiled back at him and raised his own glass.

"I'll drink to that," he said.

[Eagleeye]

Und noch ein drittes Snippet aus A rising thunder - diesesmal betreffend die Baumkatzen von Sphinx und den Auswirkungen und Entscheidungen, die Oyster Bay für sie in Gang gesetzt hat, wobei David mal wieder zum Snippetende hin sein übliches, humorvolles Selbst bewies ...

I find it impossible to understand how anyone could possibly accuse me of having a sick sense of humor. I mean, puh-leeze!

However, in the spirit of sharing with my readers, I attend the following (brief) snippet from A Rising Thunder. Honor and Hamish have just been waked up around 4:00 in the morning to take an FTL com call from Sphinx.

Note: I thought long and hard about exactly where to end the snippet. Given the aspersions cast upon my sense of humor, I mean. [G]

-------------------------------------------------

"Anyway," Arif went on, her expression more serious, "earlier this evening, I was discussing today's progress with Song Shadow when she suddenly stopped in mid-sign. She just sat there for several seconds, obviously 'listening' to someone else. It's not like her to just stop like that, without at least warning me, and whoever she was talking to, the conversation went on a long time for a 'cat. When it was over, she asked me to send an air car to Bright Water Clan."

Honor felt herself frowning. She wasn't going to interrupt with questions — even with the grav-pulse com, interplanetary conversations quickly disintegrated if people started breaking in on one another — but her curiosity burned brightly as she wondered where the linguist was going.

She'd never met Song Shadow, but from her name, she was obviously a "memory singer." Arif was still exploring exactly what memory singers were, but she'd already learned enough to recognize they were absolutely central to treecat society as its historians and teachers. From what Arif had so far discovered, a memory singer could literally "record" and play back the actual experiences of another treecat. In fact, they could play back centuries worth of those experiences.

Honor doubted any human — even she, who'd developed her own version of the treecats' empathy — would ever truly grasp what that meant, appreciate the continuity "mind songs" bestowed upon a telepathic species who could literally "hear" the mind-voices and experience the very emotions of treecats who'd died centuries before their own birth. But the fact that Samantha was a memory singer had been critical to Arif's success in teaching the 'cats to sign, because once she'd learned how, she'd been able to "teach" any other treecat the same thing.

"I sent the car, of course," Arif continued. "It took an hour or so to get to Bright Water's range, and the SFC ranger had to wait a while for all his passengers to arrive. Then they had to fly all the way to Green Bottom."

She rolled her eyes slightly, and Honor nodded. Green Bottom was halfway around Sphinx from Bright Water Clan's home range. And, she thought more grimly, from the ruins of Yawata Crossing, as well.

"Thanks to all the delays, they only got here about an hour ago, and I was more than a little surprised by who Song Shadow had sent a ride for." Arif shook her head. "It was seven other memory singers."

Honor felt her eyes widen. One thing they had learned about memory singers was that they virtually never left their clans' ranges. Which, of course, raised the question of exactly what a memory singer by the name of Samantha was doing bonded to a human. Honor had the impression that neither Nimitz nor Samantha was being as forthcoming about that as they could have, although it was obvious Samantha wasn't exactly your typical memory singer.

Obviously, there'd always been some exceptions (besides Samantha), especially recently, since memory singers had been involved with Dr. Arif's efforts from the beginning. But Honor didn't think there'd ever been more than two or three of them in Green Bottom at any one time before.

"I know I don't have to tell you how surprised I was when the ranger opened the car door and seven memory singers piled out!" Arif said wryly. "I'd met three of them before: Wind of Memory, Songstress, and Echo of Time." Honor pursed her lips in a silent whistle as Arif named all three of Bright Water Clan's senior memory singers. "Song Shadow introduced the others once they got to my office. Songkeeper and Clear Song are the senior and second singers of Laughing River Clan. Winter Voice is the senior singer of Moonlight Dancing Clan. And then" — Arif's eyes darkened and her voice dropped — "there's Sorrow Singer." The linguist swallowed. "She's the only surviving memory singer of Black Rock Clan, Honor."

Samantha and Nimitz keened softly, and Honor inhaled sharply.

"I didn't know any of them had survived," she said, voice soft, when Arif paused. "I thought the entire clan had been killed."

"As far as Sorrow Singer knows, she's not just Black Rock's surviving singer," Arif said a few seconds later. "She's the only survivor, period. And the only reason she's alive is that she was visiting Moonlight Dancing Clan. One of her litter brothers had married into Moonlight Dancing, and their central range was just far enough away to be outside the blast area and firestorm." The linguist shook her head slowly. "Moonlight Dancing was close enough its memory singers felt Black Rock die . . . and so did she."

Honor felt her hand press her lips, felt Hamish's arm encircle her, felt Nimitz pressing against the back of her neck, and all she could think of was the horror of a telempath — a memory singer — actually experiencing the deaths of everyone she'd ever known and loved.

"I don't know how they kept her from suiciding," Arif 's voice was softer than Honor's had been. "I . . . have the impression it wasn't easy."

Her eyes met Honor's from the display, and Honor nodded. Treecats who'd adopted almost never survived the deaths of their human partners. Before prolong, that had been the great tragedy of the bonds, for treecats normally lived over two hundred T-years, and their humans' deaths had deprived them of all those additional years. Honor could think of only two 'cats in her own lifetime who'd survived their humans’ deaths: Prince Consort Justin's companion Monroe and Samantha, herself. What it must have been like when every single person in Sorrow Singer's Clan was ripped away from her in one brutal instant . . . .

"It must have been terrible for all the clans in range," Arif went on starkly, "and Moonlight Dancing was closest of all. The SFC says they've lost over a dozen 'cats since the strike, and others don't look good. Which made me wonder why in God's name the clan's two senior memory singers were traipsing off to visit me at a time like this."

Stillness hovered. Then, finally, Honor cleared her throat.

"Why —" She paused, her soprano husky, and cleared her throat again. "Why had they come, Adelina?"

"I know Nimitz and Samantha were off-world when it happened," Arif said a bit obliquely, "but from what Song Shadow and the others say, every 'cat who wasn't off-world felt it. The more distant clans felt it less strongly, thank God, but even our crew here at Green Bottom got hammered. Trust me, it was bad. Really bad.

"I don't know if they understand exactly how it happened even now, but they know it was the result of a human attack. Personally, I wouldn't have blamed them for turning their backs on all humans, but that's not the way treecats' heads work. Apparently they've been passing around Nimitz's experiences with you, and especially what happened with Lieutenant Mears, for some time now. And, according to Song Shadow, they've overheard at least part of the newscasts about President Pritchart and Dr. Simões; some of the SFC rangers were viewing the news channels during a medical visit to Moonlight Dancing. They've figured out Nimitz and Samantha must've actually met Simões, and the clans want them to come home for the memory singers to get their first-hand experience with his mind-glow, but I think that's just a formality. They figure that if he were lying, or if he were crazy, Nimitz would already've told you. For that matter, they know you can sense emotions. So there's not much question in their minds that Simões is telling the truth . . . or that Mesa is behind everything that's happened."

"I'm glad they don't blame us for it, although God knows I sometimes do," Honor said somberly. "I still don't understand why they wanted to come see you in person, though. For that matter, I don't see how Song Shadow got the word all the way from Bright Water that they did! Nothing I've ever seen has suggested they've got enough range to reach halfway around a planet."

"I'm pretty sure they relayed from clan to clan," Arif said. "And the reason they wanted to see me is that Sorrow Singer has a proposal."

"A 'proposal'?" Honor's eyes narrowed. "What sort of 'propsal'?"

"She wants to tell you herself," Arif replied, and a slender, dappled brown and white form jumped into her lap and into her com's field of view. The treecat sat up on her rearmost limbs, facing the com, her eyes and body language somber. She looked so small, so fragile, Honor thought, feeling the tears at the back of her own eyes.

"Sorrow Singer?" she asked softly, and the treecat nodded.

Honor wanted to reach out and hug that distant 'cat. To share with her the depth of her own grief for what had happened to Sorrow Singer's clan. Her sense of guilt that humans — any humans — could have caused such an atrocity. But she couldn't, and so she simply bent her head in a small half bow of acknowledgment.

Sorrow Singer inclined her own head in response. Then her hands rose, and she began to sign with a flowing grace that somehow communicated a bottomless sea of sadness.

[Nighthawk_]

Wenn er so weiter macht muss man sich das lächerlich kurze Rising Thunder tatsächlich garnicht mehr kaufen...