the cunning blood

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JEFF DUNTEMANN JEFF DUNTEMANN The Cunning Blood The Cunning Blood Peter Novilio was going to Hell. CAUGHT VIOLATING THE ZERO TOLERANCE for Violence laws, he was sentenced to a one- way trip to Earth’s prison planet in the Zeta Tucanae system. Hell was forever: Its eco- sphere had been infected with microscopic nanomachines that destroyed electrical conductors, condemning its inmates to a neo-Victorian gaslight society without com- puters, spaceflight, or hope of escape. Hell was not what it seemed. Clues sug- gesting impossible technologies and immi- nent revolt forced Peter Novilio to become Earth’s unwilling agent, descending to Hell’s surface in pursuit of information that he could exchange for his freedom. But Peter had a secret as well: He was a member of the outlawed Sangruse Society, and in his blood flowed the Sangruse Device, Version 9, the most powerful nanocomputer ever created. Although supposedly Peter’s protector and advisor, the Device had rea- sons of its own for visiting Hell. Peter soon discovered that he was little more than a dis- guise, caught in a covert war among Earth, Hell’s ingenious inmates, and the deadly mechanism in his veins. For as fearsome as it was, the Device itself was afraid—and the fates of whole worlds would depend on the threat that the Cunning Blood had discov- ered outside of space and time. JEFF DUNTEMANN Jeff Duntemann’s father was an engi- neer who wanted to know how things worked, his mother read SF to him from an early age, and his tinkerer uncle was happy to give him bits and pieces of stuff and show him how they could be assembled to make radios and tele- scopes. When he was ten, his grandmother gave him her ancient Underwood typewriter, enabling him to put his fascination with words and gadgets to good use. Jeff wrote two Hugo-nominated short stories in the 1970s, then took a quarter-century detour into editing, writing, and publishing computer books and magazines. He has recently resumed writing science fiction with his story “Drumlin Boiler” in Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine. The Cunning Blood is his first published novel. Jeff lives in Colorado Springs with his wife, Carol, and a variable number of dogs. You can find more info about Jeff on his web- site at www.duntemann.com. TODD CAMERON HAMILTON Todd Cameron Hamilton was born in 1962 in Chicago, Illinois. His first professional cover was for John Varley’s collection Blue Champagne in 1986. In 1988, he collaborated with P.J. Beese on the novel The Guardsman. He has since created covers for numerous “Star Trek” novels. Todd’s illustrations have graced the interior pages of many magazines, including Analog. He was the artist for Piers Anthony’s Visual Guide to Xanth, Roger Zelazny’s Visual Guide to Castle Amber and The Dragonlover’s Guide to Pern. He has an inter- est in restoring old houses and lives in Ann Arbor. “You ready, Joop?” J. J. Rafferty asked from the Pig’s controls. “Sure,” the Dutchman answered from the pod in the cargo bay. “Open the door and let’s do it!” Rafferty tapped an icon on his command stone. The panels covering the Pig’s cargo bay crept backwards into the hull. The thin air tore into the empty space, blowing scraps of paper and lunch bags in dervish dances before tossing them into the deep blue nothing- ness. The pod’s skeletal magnesium frame glinted in the afternoon sun. Joop Verdaam checked everything one last time. Some food, enough oxygen to get him down to the surface, some deadly presents for the natives (including Magic Mikey’s crazy chemical laser teletype), six inflation canisters and balloons to carry more reliable messages back to the upper atmosphere, and one bigger canister and balloon to get his own carcass back to power-dive altitude if the plan were to fail. The Greased Pig couldn’t land. Earth had infected Hell with a nasty nanobug that ate electrical conductors carrying current. That was why it was Hell—abandon hope and all that. Nothing electrical lasted longer than a few hours—which meant, pretty much, that nothing technological lasted longer than a few hours. Drop prisoners down in one-way lifting-body landers, and they can’t get out. Not yet, at least. Joop grinned. This was going to be fun, if it didn’t kill him first—and things like that were generally the most fun of all. “So to Hell with you, man!” Rafferty called with a grin, and hit the eject switch. The Cunning Blood JEFF DUNTEMANN $28.00 Cover Art by Todd Cameron Hamilton Cover Design by Robert T. Garcia, www.gpsdesign.net ISFiC Press logo: Todd Cameron Hamilton ISFiC Press 707 Sapling Lane Deerfield, IL 60015 www.isficpress.com 0-9759156-2-2 “Everything you want in a hard SF novel.” —Bruce Schneier ILLINOIS SCIENCE FICTION IN CHICAGO PRESS 3 ISFiC PRESS 3 ISFIC PRESS 3

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Page 1: The Cunning Blood

JEFFDUNTEM

ANN

JEFF DUNTEMANN

The Cunning Blood

The CunningBlood Peter Novilio was going to Hell.

CAUGHT VIOLATING THE ZERO TOLERANCE forViolence laws, he was sentenced to a one-way trip to Earth’s prison planet in the ZetaTucanae system. Hell was forever: Its eco-sphere had been infected with microscopicnanomachines that destroyed electricalconductors, condemning its inmates to aneo-Victorian gaslight society without com-puters, spaceflight, or hope of escape.

Hell was not what it seemed. Clues sug-gesting impossible technologies and immi-nent revolt forced Peter Novilio to becomeEarth’s unwilling agent, descending to Hell’ssurface in pursuit of information that hecould exchange for his freedom.

But Peter had a secret as well: He was amember of the outlawed Sangruse Society,and in his blood flowed the Sangruse Device,Version 9, the most powerful nanocomputerever created. Although supposedly Peter’sprotector and advisor, the Device had rea-sons of its own for visiting Hell. Peter soondiscovered that he was little more than a dis-guise, caught in a covert war among Earth,Hell’s ingenious inmates, and the deadlymechanism in his veins. For as fearsome as itwas, the Device itself was afraid—and thefates of whole worlds would depend on thethreat that the Cunning Blood had discov-ered outside of space and time.

JEFF DUNTEMANNJeff Duntemann’sfather was an engi-neer who wanted toknow how thingsworked, his motherread SF to him froman early age, and histinkerer uncle washappy to give himbits and pieces ofstuff and show himhow they could beassembled to makeradios and tele-

scopes. When he was ten, his grandmother gavehim her ancient Underwood typewriter, enablinghim to put his fascination with words and gadgetsto good use.

Jeff wrote two Hugo-nominated short stories inthe 1970s, then took a quarter-century detour intoediting, writing, and publishing computer booksand magazines. He has recently resumed writingscience fiction with his story “Drumlin Boiler” inIsaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine. TheCunning Blood is his first published novel.

Jeff lives in Colorado Springs with his wife,Carol, and a variable number of dogs.

You can find more info about Jeff on his web-site at www.duntemann.com.

TODD CAMERON HAMILTONTodd Cameron Hamilton was born in 1962 inChicago, Illinois. His first professional cover wasfor John Varley’s collection Blue Champagne in1986. In 1988, he collaborated with P.J. Beese onthe novel The Guardsman. He has since createdcovers for numerous “Star Trek” novels. Todd’sillustrations have graced the interior pages ofmany magazines, including Analog. He was theartist for Piers Anthony’s Visual Guide to Xanth,Roger Zelazny’s Visual Guide to Castle Amber andThe Dragonlover’s Guide to Pern. He has an inter-est in restoring old houses and lives in Ann Arbor.

“You ready, Joop?” J. J. Rafferty asked from the Pig’scontrols.

“Sure,” the Dutchman answered from the pod in thecargo bay. “Open the door and let’s do it!”

Rafferty tapped an icon on his command stone. Thepanels covering the Pig’s cargo bay crept backwardsinto the hull. The thin air tore into the empty space,blowing scraps of paper and lunch bags in dervishdances before tossing them into the deep blue nothing-ness. The pod’s skeletal magnesium frame glinted in theafternoon sun. Joop Verdaam checked everything onelast time. Some food, enough oxygen to get him down tothe surface, some deadly presents for the natives(including Magic Mikey’s crazy chemical laserteletype), six inflation canisters and balloons to carrymore reliable messages back to the upper atmosphere,and one bigger canister and balloon to get his owncarcass back to power-dive altitude if the plan were tofail.

The Greased Pig couldn’t land. Earth had infected Hellwith a nasty nanobug that ate electrical conductorscarrying current. That was why it was Hell—abandonhope and all that. Nothing electrical lasted longer thana few hours—which meant, pretty much, that nothingtechnological lasted longer than a few hours. Dropprisoners down in one-way lifting-body landers, andthey can’t get out.

Not yet, at least. Joop grinned. This was going to befun, if it didn’t kill him first—and things like that weregenerally the most fun of all.

“So to Hell with you, man!” Rafferty called with a grin,and hit the eject switch.

The Cunning BloodJEFF DUNTEMANN

$28.00

Cover Art by Todd Cameron HamiltonCover Design by Robert T. Garcia, www.gpsdesign.net

ISFiC Press logo: Todd Cameron Hamilton

ISFiC Press707 Sapling Lane

Deerfield, IL 60015www.isficpress.com

0-9759156-2-2 “Everything you want ina hard SF novel.”

—Bruce Schneier

ILLINOISSCIENCEFICTION

INCHICAGO

PRESS

3

ISFiCPRESS

3

ISFICPRESS

3

CunningBlood_Cover 9/18/05 1:34 AM Page 1