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The Third Lynx (Quadrail SF Thrillers)
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Product Description
Accompanied by Bayta, a woman with strange ties to the robot-like Spiders who run the Quadrail, and dogged by special agent Morse who suspects him of murder, Compton races the Modhri from station to station to acquire a set of valuable sculptures from a long-dead civilization. What the Modhri wants with them is anybody’s guess, but if Compton can’t outwit it, the whole galaxy will find out the hard way.
Product Details
- Amazon Sales Rank: #54271 in Books
- Published on: 2008-07-29
- Released on: 2008-07-29
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 352 pages
Editorial Reviews
Review
“An inventive plot…Zahn’s strength is hard science fiction, and he excels at technical description. The comic-book-like nonstop action will attract fans of the genre.” —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Night Train to Rigel
“Zahn plays out his suspense as deftly as always, building a tense situation and ultimately defusing it in believable and pleasing ways.” —Locus on Manta’s Gift
“Zahn paints every futuristic detail with gleamy realism and mock-scientific dialogue that streams with starship hardware and military trooper talk. Immensely appealing.” —Kirkus Reviews on Angelmass
“Through in-depth characterization, as well as toothsome scientific and political mysteries, Zahn unfolds an intricate tale of adventure sure to please his many fans.” —Publishers Weekly on Angelmass
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Even in the second/third-class dining cars the food was delicious, intriguing, and eclectic. Here, in first class, where it was now my privilege to ride, it was all that and more.
And I was ready. More than ready. I’d suffered through a wearying twenty-day round-trip torchcruiser voyage across the Yandro system, living on ship’s rations the whole time, followed by the much shorter fourteen-hour Quadrail ride from Yandro to Terra Station, most of which I’d spent sleeping. Now, with a sizzling plate of artistically arranged Shorshic pili tentacles in front of me, I was finally going to get a decent meal.
“Mr. Frank Compton?”
I sighed. And the other thing everyone in the galaxy agrees on is that one of the greatest frustrations of Quadrail travel is some overly jovial fellow passenger interrupting you in the middle of your meal.
Reluctantly, I looked up. The man standing over me was Human, in his fifties, with blue eyes and white-streaked brown hair. As befit his first-class Quadrail passenger status, he was dressed in a quiet but expensive traveling suit that had been tailored within a millimeter of its life. Also as befit the average first-class passenger, he had the steady gaze and solid manner of someone used to having his every word listened to and obeyed.
And his expression was anything but jovial. The man was worried. Seriously worried.
“Yes, I’m Compton,” I confirmed. “And you?”
“My name’s Smith,” he said. His voice carried a slight central EuroUnion accent. “I wonder if I might have a moment of your time.”
I glanced across the table at the dark-haired young woman seated there. Bayta had been my sort-of-informal partner for the past several months, ever since I’d gotten myself involved in this strange twilight war between the Spiders and the group mind known as the Modhri. She was looking up at Smith, her face showing her usual wariness of strangers but nothing that might indicate she knew anything more ominous about the man. “Fine, but only a moment,” I told Smith. “As you can see, we’ve just started dinner.”
“My apologies for that,” Smith said. Pulling over a chair from the unoccupied table beside us, he sat down. “To put it bluntly, I’m on my way into a situation that might require a man of your abilities and experience. I thought I might be able to persuade you to join me.”
“What specific abilities and experience are you referring to?” I asked.
He smiled. “Come now, Mr. Compton, let’s not be modest. Your record of service in Western Alliance Intelligence speaks for itself.”
“You might possibly have missed the last page of that record,” I suggested. “The page where Westali summarily booted me out.”
Smith snorted in a genteel sort of way. “For your very proper attempt to alert the world to the Yandro colonization boondoggle,” he said. “Personally, I consider that a point in your favor.”
“Nice to see someone appreciates it,” I said. “Unfortunately, as to your job, I’m afraid I’m otherwise engaged at the moment.”
“This would take very little of your time,” he assured me. “I’m on my way to Bellis to negotiate the purchase of a small but very valuable item.”
I felt my ears prick up. As it happened, Bayta and I were also on our way to Bellis, the capital world of the Bellidosh Estates-General. “What sort of item?”
“A piece of artwork,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say anything more right now. I assure you, though, the transaction will be completely legal.”
“I’d certainly hope so,” I said. “And my part in this transaction would be . . . ?”
“I merely want someone competent and trustworthy at my side,” Smith said.
I nodded toward his fancy suit jacket. “It seems to me a man of your means should be able to hire carloads of extremely competent people.”
His lip twitched. “The competency part isn’t the trick,” he said. “And you come highly recommended.”
“Really,” I said, intrigued in spite of myself. There were very few people out there these days who would recommend me for any job higher than that of chief sewage handler. “May I ask by whom?”
He considered, then shrugged. “I suppose it’s not really a secret. Deputy UN Director Biret Losutu.”
I looked again at Bayta, saw my own surprise reflected in her eyes. “Interesting,” I said.
“Isn’t it?” Smith agreed. “Especially since I would have expected your part in the Yandro affair to have earned you a certain degree of hostility from him. You must be very special for his opinion to have turned around that completely.”
He had that right, anyway. My whistle-blowing on the Yandro affair three years ago had made me an enemy in Losutu’s eyes. A few months ago, when we’d next met, that status had eroded to the point where I merely qualified as an irritant.
But that was before Losutu himself had been dragged into this quiet war.
The fact that Smith had dropped Losutu’s name made this a shade more intriguing. Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing whether or not he was telling the truth about Losutu having recommended me to him.
Even if he was, there was the whole question of whether I was willing to trust either of them. “You and Director Losutu are very kind,” I said. “But as I said, I’m otherwise engaged.” I picked up my fork, trusting Smith would take the hint.
He didn’t. “Mr. Compton, let me put my cards on the table,” he said, making no move to get up. “I postponed my trip to Bellis in hopes of linking up with you. In fact, I ended up staying on Terra Station for an extra six hours waiting for you to get back from wherever it was you were.”
I eyed him closely, the hairs at the back of my neck doing a gentle tingle. I had in fact been almost exactly six hours off my original timetable in returning to Terra Station, a timetable Losutu was very much aware of. That part, at least, checked out.
Problem was, Losutu wasn’t the only one who would have known the timing on that mission. “Sorry for the inconvenience,” I said.
“Oh, I wasn’t blaming you,” Smith hastened to assure me. “I was simply pointing out that the delay made the whole thing a bit more awkward. Especially since Losutu wouldn’t tell me where you were coming in from, but only when you were expected back. That meant I had to keep an eye on every incoming train.”
Customer Reviews
An unexpected sequel
Here we are treated to a Zahn sequel which, amazingly enough, has nothing to do with Star Wars.
I was a bit surprised to find that Zahn chose to write a sequel for the book Night train to Rigel. Surprised simply because when compared to other amazing works (Icarus Hunt for one) I can imagine much more deserving stories which need another book.
The first book of this series worked well in the same way that Icarus Hunt did. It dropped you in the middle of a story and left you curious, interested and confused for the rest of the book. Sadly, this book lacks a large amount of the mystery which made Rigel so interesting. Knowing the enemy, the setting and all of the background before the book started actually destroyed the fun.
It is told in the same quirky, fast paced, first person view that many of Zahn's stories are told. Although, I have to admit, the constant self-assured and cocky attitude of the main character did get old after a while. It did keep me interested through the whole book and it comes off as a short read since most of the scenes blend so seamlessly into each other.
If you have actually read Night Train to Rigel and liked it, then pick up this book and you will still find some enjoyment out of it. If you are new to the works of Timothy Zahn, well then I would recommend you pick up Icarus Hunt or the Conquer's Trilogy long before you set sites on this.
Enjoyable space detective story
Former spy Frank Compton is fighting a lonely battle against a life form (the Modhri) who can create a colony of himself in virtually any living thing, either influencing or taking over the entire life form. Fortunately, he's got Bayta, an assistant who is not only capable, but who can telepathically commuicate to the spiders who run the train system that communicates the multiple space-traveling civilizations--and who can make sure he travels first class. It's when he's traveling first class that another human approaches him with a strange (not to say suspicious) story about an art object. When the man is murdered shortly later, Compton becomes a suspect. But Compton learns that the Modhri is interested in the art objects--and anything the Modhri wants, Compton intends to make sure they don't get.
Being suspected of murder puts a bit of a cramp on Compton's normal abilities--especially when his alien bosses decide he's more of a liability than an asset and fire him. Still, through a combination of fast talking, judicious blackmail, and rash promises, he manages to stay alive and put himself on track of the last of the artworks. He even comes up with a theory of why the Modhri is interested, and it isn't because the Modhri has decided art collecting is more worthwhile than galactic conquest.
Author Timothy Zahn combines a space-opera style with the hard-boiled detective story in an intriguing adventure. Compton, with his conflicted feelings about Earth and Bayta, makes an interesting character--maybe too smart and sure of himself to be really likable, but interesting. Bayta is a great side-kick, her talents exactly matching what Compton needs.
As with any good detective story, Zahn throws one danger after another, and mixes them up with plenty of twists. As he travels the galaxy in search of rare artworks, Compton needs to outsmart, outfight, and ultimately outmaneuver the Modhri. Early in the novel, there were a few moments where I wanted Zahn to get on with the story, but once he started cranking, he turned out a fully enjoyable read.
Hodge podge of mystery and sci-fi.
Zahn is generally an excellent author, but I feel that The Third Lynx is a bit sub-par compared to his Star Wars novels. I didn't get the impression that Morse was British until the 2nd half of the book, where he began to use "bloody" in almost every other dialogue. The use of the Quad-rail space trains and the ports started to get boring after the first quarter of the book, and it resembled an old-fashioned "whodunnit" on the Orient express. The description of the characters is rather dry, and all of the different aliens did not quite add to the story as much as a Sci-Fi enthusiast would have wanted. Overall it was not a bad story, but it would have flowed better with less talk about first class seating in the quad-rail and if the entire war between the Chahwyn and Mohdrids was compressed into one larger story rather than split the novels into multiple parts. Compton makes way too many assumptions and the author writes this off as Compton's "Westali" training and military experience.
