Hidden Empire (Orson Scott Card's Empire Series #2) [NOOK Book]

Overview


The war of words between right and left collapsed into a shooting war, and raged between the high-technology weapons on each side, devastating cities and overrunning the countryside.

At the close of Empire, political scientist and government adviser Averell Torrent had maneuvered himself into the presidency of the United States.  And now that he has complete power at ...

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Hidden Empire (Orson Scott Card's Empire Series #2)

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Overview


The war of words between right and left collapsed into a shooting war, and raged between the high-technology weapons on each side, devastating cities and overrunning the countryside.

At the close of Empire, political scientist and government adviser Averell Torrent had maneuvered himself into the presidency of the United States.  And now that he has complete power at home, he plans to expand American imperial power around the world.

Opportunity comes quickly.  There’s a deadly new plague in Africa, and it is devastating the countryside and cities.  President Torrent declares American solidarity with the victims, but places all of Africa in quarantine until a vaccine is found or the disease burns itself out.  And he sends Captain Bartholomew Coleman, Cole to his friends, to run the relief operations and protect the American scientists working on identifying the virus.  If Cole and his team can avoid dying of the plague, or being cut down by the weapons of fearful African nations, they might do some good.  Or they might be out of the way for good.


At the publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied.


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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Card combines flag-waving, political diatribe and Christian fervor in this bombastic sequel to 2007's Empire. The young American Empire is confronted with its first major crisis since the Progressive War: the appearance in Africa of a highly communicable and lethal disease. America quarantines the entire continent, while pompous President Torrent dispatches an elite team of supersoldiers to help slow the disease's spread. Young Mark Malich is compelled by his Christian principles to volunteer to help the benighted African natives, but he winds up in a Nigerian hospital targeted for destruction by malevolent Sudanese soldiers, leading to questions about Torrent's true goals. An evil dictator is named Idi De Gaulle, the bad guys machine-gun live babies, and FOX News gets prominent placement, but the only people likely to pick this up are those who share Card's politics, rendering subtlety less necessary. (Jan.)
Library Journal
In the near future, political scientist Averell Torrent has become President of the United States following a devastating civil war prompted by runaway technology and a polarization of conservatives and liberals. Only one man, Capt. Bartholomew Coleman, knows Torrent's true agenda and must find a way to prove it to the public before his enemies silence him. The award-winning author of Ender's Game and its sequels excels at cautionary fiction. VERDICT Card folds his empathic and compassionate views on politics and the human condition into compelling storytelling and believable characters, and this results in a fast-paced, well-crafted sf thriller—the sequel to Card's best-selling Empire.
Kirkus Reviews
In order to save the United States from a plague decimating Nigeria, President Averell Torrent orders a quarantine of all Africa. Pilloried as racist and inhumane, he switches tactics and sends his political advisor Cecily Malich, along with a team that includes the boy who unknowingly unleashed "the monkey sickness" on the world, to provide medical help. Plague turns out to be only part of Africa's problem. Sudanese soldiers are on a rampage, and EMP devices undercut the electronically enhanced exoskeletons and weaponry of the Special Ops team headed by Captain Bartholomew Coleman sent in to restore order. Is it possible that President Torrent, on a massive empire-building mission, has set in motion plans to realign Africa, making the new nations dependent on him for support? Did he also engineer a tiny civil war in the United States that caused the death of Cecily's husband Reuben and the imprisonment of Aldo Verus (Empire, 2006)? The Special Ops team concludes that assassinating Torrent is the only way to stop him. Coleman and Cecily must decide who can bring the greater global good-Torrent, Verus or the Ops boys-and act accordingly. A morality lesson for the video-arcade generation from Hugo and Nebula Award-winner Card (A War of Gifts, 2007, etc.).
From the Publisher
“[A] relentless thriller, which couldn't be timelier and is, for all its hyperactivity and flip, Hollywoodish one-liners, heartfelt and sobering…. Intriguing plot wrinkles come fore and aft of those basic developments, there are many deftly shaped supporting players, and major shocks explode in a split second (no Stephen King slo-mo for Card!). Moreover, all the action doesn't obscure the author's message about the dangers of extreme political polarization and the need to reassert moderation and mutual citizenship; indeed, it drives it home.”—Booklist on Empire

“Violent infighting has the American Empire on the brink of destruction in this look at a possible future.”

Library Journal on Empire

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781429971775
  • Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
  • Publication date: 1/5/2010
  • Series: Empire , #2
  • Sold by: Macmillan
  • Format: eBook
  • Edition description: First Edition
  • Edition number: 1
  • Pages: 336
  • Sales rank: 122,669
  • File size: 322 KB

Meet the Author

Orson Scott Card

Orson Scott Card is the author of the novels Ender's Game, Ender's Shadow, and Speaker for the Dead. Ender’s Game and Speaker for the Dead both won Hugo and Nebula Awards, making Card the only author to win these two top prizes in consecutive years. There are seven other novels to date in The Ender Universe series. Card has also written fantasy: The Tales of Alvin Maker is a series of fantasy novels set in frontier America; his most recent novel, The Lost Gate, is a contemporary magical fantasy. Card has written many other stand-alone sf and fantasy novels, as well as movie tie-ins and games, and publishes an internet-based science fiction and fantasy magazine, Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show.  Card was born in Washington and grew up in California, Arizona, and Utah. He served a mission for the LDS Church in Brazil in the early 1970s. Besides his writing, Card directs plays and teaches writing and literature at Southern Virginia University. He lives in Greensboro, North Carolina, with his wife, Kristine Allen Card, and youngest daughter, Zina Margaret.

Biography

Any discussion of Orson Scott Card's work must necessarily begin with religion. A devout Mormon, Card believes in imparting moral lessons through his fiction, a stance that sometimes creates controversy on both sides of the fence. Some Mormons have objected to the violence in his books as being antithetical to the Mormon message, while his conservative political activism has gotten him into hot water with liberal readers.

Whether you agree with his personal views or not, Card's fiction can be enjoyed on many different levels. And with the amount of work he's produced, there is something to fit the tastes of readers of all ages and stripes. Averaging two novels a year since 1979, Card has also managed to find the time to write hundreds of audio plays and short stories, several stage plays, a television series concept, and a screenplay of his classic novel Ender's Game. In addition to his science fiction and fantasy novels, he has also written contemporary fiction, religious, and nonfiction works.

Card's novel that has arguably had the biggest impact is 1985's Hugo and Nebula award-winner Ender's Game. Ender's Game introduced readers to Andrew "Ender" Wiggin, a young genius faced with the task of saving the Earth. Ender's Game is that rare work of fiction that strikes a chord with adults and young adult readers alike. The sequel, Speaker for the Dead, also won the Hugo and Nebula awards, making Card the only author in history to win both prestigious science-fiction awards two years in a row.

In 2000, Card returned to Ender's world with a "parallel" novel called Ender's Shadow. Ender's Shadow retells the events of Ender's Game from the perspective of Julian "Bean" Delphinki, Ender's second-in-command. As Sam to Ender's Frodo, Bean is doomed to be remembered as an also-ran next to the legendary protagonist of the earlier novel. In many ways, Bean is a more complex and intriguing character than the preternaturally brilliant Ender, and his alternate take on the events of Ender's Game provide an intriguing counterpoint to fans of the original series.

In addition to moral issues, a strong sense of family pervades Card's work. Card is a devoted family man and father to five (!) children. In the age of dysfunctional family literature, Card bristles at the suggestion that a positive home life is uninteresting. "How do you keep ‘good parents' from being boring?" he once said. "Well, in truth, the real problem is, how do you keep bad parents from being boring? I've seen the same bad parents in so many books and movies that I'm tired of them."

Critical appreciation for Card's work often points to the intriguing plotlines and deft characterizations that are on display in Card's most accomplished novels. Card developed the ability to write believable characters and page-turning plots as a college theater student. To this day, when he writes, Card always thinks of the audience first. "It's the best training in the world for a writer, to have a live audience," he says. "I'm constantly shaping the story so the audience will know why they should care about what's going on."

Card brought Bean back in 2005 for the fourth and final novel in the Shadow series: Shadow of the Giant. The novel presented some difficulty for the writer. Characters who were relatively unimportant when the series began had moved to the forefront, and as a result, Card knew that the ending he had originally envisioned would not be enough to satisfy the series' fans.

Although the Ender and Shadow series deal with politics, Card likes to keep his personal political opinions out of his fiction. He tries to present the governments of futuristic Earth as realistically as possible without drawing direct analogies to our current political climate. This distance that Card maintains between the real world and his fictional worlds helps give his novels a lasting and universal appeal.

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    1. Hometown:
      Greensboro, North Carolina
    1. Date of Birth:
      August 24, 1951
    2. Place of Birth:
      Richland, Washington
    1. Education:
      B.A. in theater, Brigham Young University, 1975; M.A. in English, University of Utah, 1981
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt


ONE
SICK MONKEYS
THIS IS a dangerous planet. Only a politician would try to tell you otherwise. And I’m not talking about wars—we’re America, we win our wars.There are earthquakes, storms, volcanos. Plagues can ap­pear out of nowhere and slaughter millions of people. Blights can wipe out our crops. A meteor the size of a bus could hit the earth and send us back to the Stone Age. An extraordinary solar .are could destroy our electronics or heat our atmosphere so much our crops all die and we starve.
And whom do we put in charge of helping us prepare to cope with such disasters? People whose only talent is for getting elected, and whose entire future consists of the runup to the next election. It’s not their fault— anybody who doesn’t think and act that way won’t win. It’s the fundamental problem with democracy. No long-range thinking. So we’re just sitting ducks, waiting for the next dis­aster.
If you want to know what destroyed the Roman Empire, it was two plagues, a century apart, that killed about thirty percent of the population each time. That’s why there weren’t enough soldiers to keep the legions at full strength.That’s why the emperors had to in­vite in the barbarian tribes to farm the abandoned land and .ll the abandoned cities.
Only now we’re talking about the whole world.Whom do we in­vite in to settle the empty land when it’s the whole world that’s been depopulated?
CHINMA WAS the fourth son of the third wife of the aging chief of his small tribe in the Kwara state of Nigeria.There was no shortage of
other sons, most of them adult, and nothing much was expected of Chinma. People constantly told him to shut up, even his mother, even when he wasn’t saying anything.
He got the idea at a very young age that his very presence was an­noying to everyone.
The easiest way to avoid getting cuffed or shoved or slapped or yelled at was to disappear. And the easiest way to disappear was to go up. People didn’t look up very much. He could go up into the trees and keep company with the monkeys.They yelled at him, too, and threw things at him, but they were more afraid of him than he was of them, so it was actually fun.
That’s why by the time he was twelve years old Chinma could climb any tree to the smallest branches that could bear his weight, and catch monkeys by enticing them with fruit while holding very, very still and looking in another direction until they were close enough for Chinma to make his grab.
All of this was useless to everyone until the happy day when Ire, the second son of the .rst wife, came back to the village from the big city, Ilorin, with news. “They’re paying money for white- face mon­keys, especially if you can get the whole family.”
Ire sat there in the yard in front of the big house, telling Father and the important brothers how much money, and who was paying, and how he found out about it, and then they started arguing about how they could go about catching the monkeys.
Meanwhile, Chinma ran to a good white- face monkey tree, climbed it, caught the papa- monkey, scampered back down, and brought the monkey to Ire.
All the men fell silent.
“What’s your name?” asked Father.
“Monkey- catcher,” said Ire. And that became Chinma’s new name.
Father was against paying Chinma anything for the monkeys he caught. “We’ve been feeding him for all these years, it’s about time he started earning his way.” But Ire said it was business, and in busi­ness you pay everybody something, so they’ll work harder.
So now Chinma was important and had money, a hundred naira for every monkey, .ve hundred for the papa monkeys, two thou­sand if he brought in a whole family. He almost always got the families— once he got the papa monkey, it was pretty easy to get the babies, and once he had the babies, he could use them as bait to get the mamas.
Ire bought cages for the monkeys and it didn’t take many weeks before all the white- face monkeys in their neighborhood were gone or hiding.
So they got in the family truck and began to range far out into the country. Father and Ire had bribed all the right people, so there was no trouble with police— or the roaming gangs of thugs and brigands who, as often as not, were the police out of uniform, or their brothers- in- law. It seemed like a safe way to make money— and it all depended on Chinma’s knack for climbing trees, winning the trust of monkeys, and bringing them down in good condition, every member of the family.
Ire said that somewhere far away— South Africa or Great Britain or America— scientists were studying the white- face monkey be­cause its cries seemed to be like language. “Not our language,” said Father, and everyone laughed. Only it wasn’t really all that funny, since only about three thousand people spoke their language, Ayere, and all of them lived right there in Kwara state.
They knew that other tribes had lost their language, for to survive in Nigeria you had to know at least one of the major languages— Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa— and if you had any hope of becoming edu­cated, you had to learn En glish as well. How many languages could one head hold?
“They ought to take us to America and study our language,” said Ire.
“With our luck,” said Father, “they’d take us to Liberia.”
But the truth was they were very lucky. This white- face monkey trade was bringing in cash, which there had never been very much of in their village of Oyi. “Our oil well,” Father called it. But he meant the monkeys— not Chinma, even though Chinma caught every single monkey they sold.
When he mentioned this thought to Mother, she slapped his shoulder, twice, and very sternly told him, “And who drives the truck? And who found out that these monkeys were worth something? And who fed you all your life till now? You think you’re so impor­tant.”
He apologized. But he was important, and he knew it. Nobody told him to shut up now, nobody in the family forgot his name. He was Monkey- catcher, and when the family was making money, he was right there, up a tree, catching it and bringing it down to them.
Until one day, in a remote stand of trees, not even large enough to call it a woods, surrounded by grassland on all sides, Chinma climbed a tree and found a troop of white- face monkeys that had no timidity at all. They did not scamper away from him. He did not have to coax them. They just sat there, waiting for him. The papa monkey hissed and showed his teeth. He snapped at Chinma, too. But he did not run away.
Chinma avoided the teeth and carried him down the tree. “He’s a biter,” said Chinma to Ire.
“So am I,” said Ire, and laughed. Whereupon the papa monkey twisted around in Ire’s hand and bit him savagely on the thumb. Ire shouted and dropped the monkey, but Chinma immediately caught it again— it was easy, because the monkey ran away so slowly.
“Are you all right?” Chinma asked Ire.
“Just put it in the cage,” said Ire testily, and he resumed sucking on the wound. “Get the rest of the family.”
As Chinma brought down each of the babies, it was one of the other brothers, not Ire, who put them in the cages. Ire sat in the cab of the truck sucking on his wound and keeping up a low mur­mur of cursing.
There were only two females— it was not a large troop, because it shared the stand of trees with an aggressive troop of red- bellied guenon monkeys. Chinma only recognized them because his family had brought him books about monkeys after he became valuable to them. These guenons were very rare, especially such a large group, and most people thought the only ones still alive were in the West Africa Biodiversity Hot Spot. It was very important that these monkeys were here.
Chinma decided not to tell the brothers about them.They would want to catch them and sell them, too, and Chinma knew it would take a lot more bribes because these monkeys were so endangered.
Instead, Chinma would tell a scientist about them, so they could get protected. Of course, that would mean going in to Ilorin, where they turned in the white- faces, which they had never let him do. But he had never asked, either. Maybe he was valuable enough now that they would let him.
Up a tree, he went for the largest female. Like the papa monkey, she didn’t try to move away. As Chinma inched closer, she seemed to snarl and he expected her to try to bite. But she didn’t. Instead, just as he got hold of her by the back and neck, she sneezed in his face.
Sneezed or gave him a raspberry— he wasn’t sure which— but it amounted to the same thing. Monkey spit and snot all over his face. And he couldn’t even wipe it off, because he needed one hand to hold her and the other hand to help him climb. And by the time he got down the tree, the stuff had dried on his face.
“This one spits,” he said. “Or sneezes.”
And this time he was listened to— they held the she- monkey away from them as they took her to the cages in the back of the truck.
When all the white- face monkeys were in the back of the truck, Ire slid over on the front seat. “I’m not driving,” he said.
“I will!” said Ade, who was the .rstborn son of Chinma’s mother.
“I don’t care,” said Ire.
Ade was stunned. Ire never let a son of one of the other mothers drive the truck. But when Ade climbed into the cab and turned the key to start the truck, Ire just looked out the window.
“Don’t go home,” said Ire. “We’re going straight to Ilorin.”
“Why?” asked Ade.
“Shut up,” said Ire. But then Ire looked at Chinma, who stood outside the window of the driver’s side. “How do you like this? I need a doctor.Your stupid monkey poisoned me.”
“I told you he bites,” said Chinma.
“You didn’t tell me it was poisoned!” said Ire .ercely. “You’re not getting paid for any of these monkeys.”
Ade shook his head at Chinma, as if to say, Don’t argue with him.
And Chinma realized that if they were going straight to Ilorin, they couldn’t drop him off at home and so he wouldn’t even have to argue in order to get taken there. He swung himself up into the back of the truck with the monkeys, and cooed and talked to them all the way there.
They were the unhappiest, least excited, most tired monkeys Chinma had ever seen. Ire was right. There was something wrong with them.
In Ilorin, Ire insisted they go to the clinic .rst, even before taking the monkeys to the scientists. He got out of the truck and staggered toward the clinic and Ade drove the truck off, as Ire had ordered. But Chinma was worried. What if the clinic didn’t have the right medicines? Most of the medicine that got into Nigeria was inter­cepted by high of.cials and sold on the black market, so clinics rarely had a good supply of anything.
They drove on down Highway A123 from the clinic and turned at a big traf.c circle. They crossed the railroad tracks and then turned right again on a narrow paved road with ware houses and small factories. It was one of the ware houses where Ade brought them and stopped the truck.
To Chinma’s disappointment, there were no scientists here, just a couple of Nigerian men without shirts. Scientists always wore shirts. Chinma’s brothers off- loaded the cages— they were still too big and heavy for Chinma to carry them— and took them inside the ware­house. Chinma stopped and looked around. There were lots of nimal cages here, though most of them were empty.
The brothers started to carry empty cages back out to the truck.
“What are you looking at?” one of the ware house men asked Chinma in Yoruba.
“I wanted to see a scientist,” said Chinma, in En glish because he didn’t know the Yoruba word for “scientist.”
The man laughed at him. “You think they come here? It’s stinky here.”
Chinma was disappointed, but then he thought: I can tell one of the doctors at the clinic.
That was why he was the .rst one off the back of the truck when they got to the clinic again— he didn’t want to give anybody a chance to tell him to wait out in the parking lot. He ran inside and went right up to the lady in a white dress who sat behind a table in the waiting room.
“I want to talk to a doctor,” he said in En glish.
“What’s your problem?” she asked.
“No problem, I have to tell something.”
She pointed to the other people in the waiting room. “These people all have problems.They need the doctor. If you don’t have a problem, then go away, little boy.”
That was all right. People were always saying no, and if you waited long enough sometimes you got a chance to do it anyway. Meanwhile, he had other business.
“How is my brother Ire?” asked Chinma.
“Your brother?” asked the lady.
“We leave him here. An hour ago,” said Chinma. “Then we take the monkeys and come back.”
“Did your brother have a bite on his hand?” asked the lady.
“Monkey bite,” said Chinma.
She stood right up and grabbed him by the wrist. “Come with me!”
One of the men waiting in a chair against the wall started to protest that he had been waiting much longer.
“Sit down or go home,” said the lady. And then they were through the door into the treatment room.
Chinma could see .ve beds, and all of them had somebody lying or sitting on them. Ire was not any of them.Then he realized that a curtained- off area must have another bed in it.The lady went there and pulled him inside the curtain.
Ire was on the bed. His eyes were wide open and he was breathing very thickly and heavily, his chest heaving.The doctor was on a cell­phone, talking to somebody. He waved the lady away.
“This is his brother,” said the lady, ignoring the doctor’s wave. “It’s a monkey bite.”
“Monkey bite,” said the doctor into the phone. “Wait. Listen while I question the brother.” Then the doctor turned to Chinma. “What is this man’s name?”
“My brother Ire. He works here. In Ilorin. At the factory, an accountant.”
“Where did he get this bite?”
“Long way down the highway,” said Chinma. “Long dirt road. Trees... alone...” He didn’t have enough En glish to describe the large but isolated stand of trees where the monkeys had been.
“We need to get someone out there to .nd the monkey that bit him,” said the doctor. “Can you lead us there?”
Chinma shrugged.“My brother Ade lead you.Why?”
“It’s a scienti.c matter that you wouldn’t understand,” said the doctor.
“Why go to the trees? The monkeys—”
“Quiet, little boy, I’m on the telephone,” said the doctor.Then he went back to talking medical language that Chinma mostly didn’t understand. After a while he .ipped the phone shut.
He told the lady in white to give Ire an injection. “We’ve got to get his blood pressure down or . . .”
Then the lady pointed to the corner of Ire’s eye. Blood was seep­ing out between the eyeball and the place where the eyelids joined, and dripping down his cheekbone toward his ear.
“Oh Lord in heaven,” said the doctor. “Give him the injection.”
“Not me,” she said, backing away.
“It’s not— what you think,” said the doctor.
“It’s close enough that you’re thinking the same thing,” said the lady in white.
The doctor took back the syringe and jammed it into Ire’s upper arm and pushed the plunger. Then he handed it to the nurse. “We can’t use this again,” he said.
“Of course not,” she said.
The doctor went outside the curtain and Chinma followed. “All of you!” the doctor said. The other patients looked at him. “You must get up and leave this building right now.”
“But I need . . .” an old lady began to say.
“Leave this building,” he said. His voice carried a lot of authority. But Chinma could also hear that he was afraid. Maybe the others could tell that, too, because they didn’t argue. He made them go out the back way, so they wouldn’t pass near to the curtained bed where Ire lay.
That was when Chinma knew that Ire was dying.
“So the monkey was poison like Ire said,” Chinma said.
“What?” asked the doctor. “Listen, boy. Some other doctors are going to be here very soon, and I need you to take them out to where you found the monkey. Do you know what kind?”
“White- face monkey.The papa monkey bit—”
“Just answer my questions, boy, there’s no time for nonsense! You mean a putty- face monkey?”
“Yes,” said Chinma.
“And you say your other brother can drive them there?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then let’s go get that brother.”
Chinma headed for the back door, but the doctor grabbed him. “The front way,” he said. “I need to clear the waiting room.”
As they walked toward the door to the waiting room, Chinma saw the nurse lady .nish rinsing out the syringe and put it with a stack of other syringes to dry. She must have forgotten that they weren’t supposed to use it again. Or maybe it was a different syringe and she had thrown Ire’s away.
“Ire will die?” asked Chinma.
“Shut up,” said the doctor. “Do you want to start a panic?”
I think sending all the patients out of the clinic through the back door is more likely to start a panic than anything I might say.
But Chinma kept his mouth shut and the doctor opened the door to the waiting room. “We’re closed now,” he said. “Go home.”
“But I’m very sick,” said the man who had complained before.
A mother with a three- year- old pointed to the whimpering child’s broken arm.
“Do your best, do your best,” said the doctor. “It’s for your own good.This clinic is not a safe place for anyone right now.”
As they left, the smell of medicines .nally got to Chinma and he sneezed on the sick man, who glared at him. “Sorry,” said Chinma, and he ducked to avoid the inevitable cuf.ng.
When the people were gone, Chinma led the doctor out into the parking lot. Ade strode up to them. “Where were you?” he de­manded in Ayere. “I went in but there was nobody at the table and a sick man told me to get out or he’d infect me.”
The doctor gripped Ade by the upper arm. “I need you to take me and a couple of other doctors out to where your brother got bitten.”
“Why?” asked Ade.
“If you want your brother to live, you’ll do it,” said the doctor.
“I’ll do it,” said Ade,“but it’s stupid.What does the place have to do with it?”
“Because we have to .nd the monkey that bit him, that’s why,” said the doctor.
Ade looked at Chinma, and Chinma rolled his eyes. “I tried to tell him but he told me to shut up,” said Chinma in Ayere.
“What is he saying?” demanded the doctor. “Speak a language somebody understands.”
Ade answered him. “We take all the monkeys.”
“All the putty- face monkeys,” said Chinma, trying to be accurate.
“Took them? Where?”
“A ware house, other side of the tracks,” said Ade.
The doctor glared at Chinma. “Why didn’t you make me—” But then he caught himself and grimaced. “Yes, I should have listened. I’ve turned into one of those adults.”
Five minutes later they were at the ware house.The men were al­ready loading the monkey cages into a panel truck but they hadn’t left yet. Excerpted from Hidden Empire by Orson Scott Card.
Copyright © 2009 by Orson Scott Card.
Published in December 2009 by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and
reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in
any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.
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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 71 Customer Reviews
  • Posted February 15, 2010

    Hidden Empire

    I am a long time Card fan and own most of his books. This is a right wing political nonsense book. I cannot believe Card wrote it or believes any of the stuff in it!

    6 out of 10 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 30, 2010

    Don't bother

    I've read and loved a great deal of Orson Scott Card books - but this is not one of them. If you read and liked Empire, don't put yourself through the pain of reading this sequel. The plot is all over the place, the best characters from the first book are only dim shadows of their original selves, and the ending resolves nothing.

    4 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 4, 2011

    Propaganda

    While the story itself was marginally entertaining, the book is essentially Christian and Fox News propaganda throughout. I do not think anything is wrong with that in and of itself, but it really ought to have been labeled as Christian fiction.

    Also the cover depicts events from the first book so I am not sure why they used it here.

    3 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 7, 2011

    You cannot go wrong with Orson Scott Card

    This is a fascinating book about a possible future for America and the world. Orson Scott Card is a fantastic Sci Fi writer and you can't go wrong with any of his books.

    The eBook editing is good on this book, too, no text flaws.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted February 20, 2012

    The worst

    This book is such a complete waste of time. The plot is ridiculous. If you liked Ender's Game run from this novel as fast as you can.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 28, 2011

    Great emersive read

    Dont let the negative reviews deter you. Just people taking themselves way too seriously... A wild fun ride any way you slice it!!!

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 6, 2014

    While somewhat right-wing, this book still represents a very possible threat. While reading, look past the right-wing-ish nature of the book and try to imagine the events depicted actually unfolding. It's not hard.

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    Posted June 22, 2010

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    Posted March 18, 2011

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    Posted March 9, 2010

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    Posted December 28, 2009

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    Posted October 23, 2010

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    Posted January 3, 2010

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    Posted January 9, 2010

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    Posted December 23, 2011

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    Posted April 24, 2011

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    Posted May 13, 2011

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    Posted January 22, 2010

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    Posted September 8, 2011

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    Posted February 1, 2011

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 71 Customer Reviews

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