by Annalinde Matichei
What the book blogs say:
This rare and exhilarating book is undeniably a must-read.
As a science fiction fan I adored this book…
The characters were all really awesome. My favourite was definitely Captain Antala. She was so kick-ass and fantastic.
The Flight of the Silver Vixen is a really great book. It’s filled with so much fun and adventure that I just had a blast reading it.
It’s a fun, all-girl, swashbuckling adventure that makes you giddy with joy, even as it causes you to pause every once in a while to reflect upon what’s happening beneath the story.
Unique, interesting, engaging, realistic action sequences … I, a person who is not even remotely interested in most things sci-fi, was drawn into this novel. I really enjoyed it and want to know what’s going to happen next.
By the end I didn’t want to read the book, I just wanted to devour it – I couldn’t turn the pages quickly enough.
Seven teens ride to the edge of the universe
She remembered the first night she had ridden with her in a duel on her great chrome-glistening hoverbike. The wind blowing in her hair; the thrill of the 150 mph frictionless glide over the long grass at Chevendil; the crazy head-on collision course with another bike doing the same speed. RairaiMela’s own nerve had cracked briefly that night.
“We’ll hit at 300 miles an hour,” she had screamed. “Merciful Dea, there’ll be nothing left of us.”
RaiAntala’s steely-calm voice sounded in her wireless earbuds. “She knows that too. She’ll chicken. Don’t worry.”
The other rider did chicken, of course. They always did. Riding against raiAntala, the only alternative was death. Riding with her meant taking one’s life in one’s hands. Sharing the thrills of a vaht’he daredevil who didn’t seem to care much whether she lived or died.
•
Click for Silver Vixen newspaper
This book is about a gang of seven teenage hoverbikers. They are all girls, which is not unusual because there are only females on the planet – or rather feminine beings of two sexes: melini (“brunette”) and chelani (“blonde”).
What is more unusual is that, rather than steal a car to joy-ride, they steal an experimental space-craft and when about to be caught by the Navy, they enter a space-warp, leading them to an unknown galaxy.
•
After a short way she found her path barred by a sleek tail-finned sports car, presumably stolen, deliberately parked across the road. Beside it stood a very large mascûl dressed in some form of heavy leather clothing that may well have been reinforced as protective armor. It wore a long sword at its side.
“I think I’ve run into our mascûl-chum,” said raiAntala to raiChinchi. “It is trying to bar my path.”
“What are you going to do?” asked raiChinchi. “Can you get by?”
“I could, but I think I might as well find out what it wants.”
“Be careful then.”
“Oh, you know me, raiChinchers. Cautious to the point of timidity.”
She dismounted and the mascûl stepped forward aggressively.
“Beautiful afternoon,” said raiAntala, smiling pleasantly.
“It might not be for you,” said the mascûl.
“Oh, but it is, I assure you,” said raiAntala. “And I hope I find you enjoying it equally.”
The mascûl walked forward and seized the handlebar of raiAntala’s Chandra with a fist that was easily the size of both her hands combined.
“Kindly remove your hand from my bike,” said raiAntala with undisturbed politeness.
“And why should I do that?” asked the mascûl.
“Because your greasy palms may smear the chrome,” said raiAntala. “And I shouldn’t like that.”
“You’ve got a lot of lip for a pretty girl. What do you think you are with that toy sword? A warrior?”
Unfortunately, the silver-plated practice sword with which raiAntala had insisted upon arming herself was little more than a toy. She hoped that the mascûl could not be too certain of that, though it really was not a terribly convincing weapon.
“I am a warrior in the service of my Princess,” she replied.
“A warrior.” The mascûl laughed in a way that had more unpleasantness in it than any laugh raiAntala had ever heard. She wondered if mascûls were always like this. “How many people have you killed?”
“Killed? Why, none.”
“And you call yourself a warrior?”
“I have never been off my home world until now.”
“What of that?”
“My people do not kill their own kind.”
“A warrior that never killed anyone. You women make me laugh.”
“I am not a woman.”
“I know what you are. One of these dark-haired melini. But you look like women, smell like women, and fight like women. You’re only good for doing what women do.”
“What an unpleasant creature you are. Please unhand my bike and I shall be on my way.”
The mascûl stood insolently, firmly gripping the handlebar.
“You know,” said raiAntala, “now that I think of it I have killed a few creatures. They were Captain Kang Shahtha and all its crew – I don’t know if they count as people.”
“You’re a liar.”
“No, I assure you it is perfectly true. They became rather impertinent, and I found it necessary to kill them.”
“I call you a liar.”
“Have it your own way. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I call you a liar, and you are afraid to fight me.”
“Afraid? Why would I be afraid?”
“Because where I come from we fight to the death.”
“But that is quite all right. I have no objection to killing outlanders.”
With a single movement, the mascûl drew its long, cruelly sharp blade and raiAntala drew her silver-plated practice sword..
About the Authoress
Annalinde Matichei is an affable alien from an all-feminine world. She says:
“They say you should write about what you know, so I do — all-girl realities. That is where I come from and where I am. If I tried to write about male/female peoples, that would be science fiction.”
