WHEN HUMANS DISCOVERED THARGOS IV, it seemed the perfect place for a colony of desert-dwelling tribes: an arid planet, deserted but for the native leafless grasses and trees - named Calibans for their squat, ugly appearance - and a few animals. Terran grass and plants grew there with little persuasion. So the colonists came, and built a settlement, and farmed crops.
But the colony was going under. Promised supplies and equipment had never arrived to help the colonists establish themselves on-planet. And the sandstorms had become worse and more frequent.
14-year-old Bashir didn't expect what happened when he went to help his father at the souk one day. First, a tale of horses living as a wild desert herd; then a vision of a beautiful white stallion; and then he learned that the trees were not at all what they seemed as he watched them thresh their limbs from his prayer mat...
"I enjoyed this...a very assured style...tidy prose...a sound piece of writing." - Graham Joyce.
But the colony was going under. Promised supplies and equipment had never arrived to help the colonists establish themselves on-planet. And the sandstorms had become worse and more frequent.
14-year-old Bashir didn't expect what happened when he went to help his father at the souk one day. First, a tale of horses living as a wild desert herd; then a vision of a beautiful white stallion; and then he learned that the trees were not at all what they seemed as he watched them thresh their limbs from his prayer mat...
"I enjoyed this...a very assured style...tidy prose...a sound piece of writing." - Graham Joyce.
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