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O Sol Brilhante Demais
Um homem determinado busca vingança pela morte de um amigo, em batalha!
Em busca de vingança pela morte de um amigo há dez anos, Major Jake Nanden tem combatido seus demônios pessoais, com um fervor quase religioso, tanto em sua vida pessoal como em batalha.
Ele é um soldado tão altamente condecorado por bravura que sua fama o precede mesmo além da desolada lua em Júpiter, Io, onde seu batalhão está posicionado. No entanto, suas vitórias nas guerras Jupiterianas lhe parecem vazias, pois ele é um homem que teme sua própria alma.
Sua vida parece ser uma armadilha da qual não consegue escapar. Sendo de um pelotão replicante, que assim como clones, são odiados por todos.
Ataque ao Bunker de Hitler! – A invasão secreta da RAF para bombardear o Bunker de Hitler em Berlim que nunca aconteceu – provavelmente.
Rudolph Eineger foi deixado com o dedo dentro de um corpo morto. Repulsado, retirou-o e limpou-o na túnica preta da SS.
Richard Earlgood, um piloto de caça rebelde da RAF, e Michael Dorfmann, um ambicioso agente duplo da Luftwaffe, planejam um ataque audacioso a luz do dia usando caças Hurricane, carregados nas costas do bombardeiro quadrimotor Stirling para alcançar o quase completo… inexpugnável… Bunker do Führer neste livro de ficção ambientado na Segunda Guerra Mundial.
Anna Styles, uma decodificadora da Estação X, tinha um romance com Dorfmann em Oxford e está sendo forçada a “cuidar” do agente duplo. Ela ainda ama Dorfmann, mas se apaixona por Richard também. Esta invasão singular para bombardear o Bunker de Hitler pode vencer a Guerra, mas apenas um homem pode ganhar o coração de Anna Anna.
A maioria do pessoal de Hitler simplesmente não acredita que tal invasão seja possível, mas um oficial cruel da SS não vai descansar até pegar Dorfmann e derrotar os Britânicos.
In 2009 I paid for the National Archives to copy these Lay Subsidy Rolls (tax payments collected on cow hides), because nobody has previously requested this be done, so they were not available. These rolls (rots) may also be relevant to other genealogists, so I am sharing them here. I still have a record of the receipts.
Amounts are usually given in Pounds, Shillings and Pennies
The ‘j’ indicates the last penny of each amount
It would take me far too long to order these rolls (rots) according to their Borough, village or district and I could easily make a mistake, because they are so hard to read. Thus I will simply list them with their Roll file index name and leave it to others to dig further!
These are the relevant notes from the National Archives:
1. Document Reference(s): E 179/190/191
This certificate of assessment and individual assessment expressly relate to the levy in the rape of Pevensey in Sussex of the first payment of the subsidy granted to Henry VIII in 1543. The certificate, which also includes a list of the petty collectors appointed in the hundreds and boroughs, is dated 10 November 1543, and on its dorse is a note recording that the document was returned into the Exchequer on 29 November 1543. Aliens are listed separately, for the most part, and household servants of the wealthier payers are noted in the margins and bracketed, in some places.
Date Of Document 1543 Nov 10
Date Into Exchequer 1543 Nov 29
1) subsidy, 1543 Jan 22 x May 12, 1st: 1544 Feb 6
Instructions for Copying: Sheet showing all aliens (if separate sheet) and
then Hartfield, Rotherfield, Ardingly (not present), Mayfield,
cuckfield, Horsham Borough (if possible), Lewes (if
2. Document Reference(s): E 179/190/239
All the items in this roll are concerned with the second payment of the ‘relief’ granted to Edward VI in March 1549. All the documentation from each of the Sussex rapes has been stitched into the roll, some assessments facing the opposite way to others, so that the roll is confusing to find one’s way around. In addition, each rape’s assessments are on rotulets of different widths, and that for Bramber is on one long rotulet comprising 5 individual membranes. Readers should be warned that the roll is therefore unwieldy to handle. However, the place-names have been indexed in the order in which each assessment should be read, in the hope that this will assist readers who wish to use the document. The rotulets in the roll are as follows:
Rot 1: Certificate for Bramber rape, dated 18 April 1550, endorsed with a return date of 29 April 1550.
Rot 2 (5 mm): Assessment of Bramber.
Rot 3: Certificate for Hastings rape, dated 12 April 1550.
Rot 4: Appointment of collectors for Hastings rape.
Rots 5-9: Assessment of Hastings rape, rot 9 endorsed with a return date of 28 April 1550.
Rots 10-11: Certificate and assessment of Lewes rape, the certificate dated 4 March 1550, and the assessment endorsed with a return date of 3 May 1550. These two rotulets were inserted in reverse order, so that the certificate and the start of the assessment are on rot 11 and continue onto rot 10.
Rots 12-16: Certificate and assessment of Arundel rape, the certificate dated 19 April 1550, and the assessment endorsed with a return date of 25 April 1550. Also in reverse order, the certificate and beginning of the assessment forming rot 16 (2 mm) and continuing through to rot 12.
Rots 17-24: Certificate and assessment of Pevensey rape, the certificate dated 21 April 1550, and the assessment endorsed with a return date of 26 April 1550. Also in reverse order, the certificate being rot 25, and the assessment commencing on rot 23 and continuing through to rot 17.
Rots 25-26: Certificate and assessment of Chichester rape, the certificate dated 15 April 1550, and the assessment endorsed with a return date of 28 April 1550. These two rots are extremely wide and have been folded down the middle to fit them into the roll, being stitched only along half their connecting edges. Readers should open them out with care.
Date Of Document 1550 March 4 – April 21
Date Into Exchequer 1550 April 25 – May 3
My new romantic spy novel Screaming Angels published!
To celebrate, I will be giving away one, signed copy of Screaming Angels to my Newsletter readers in a competition on 16 October at 5pm BST. To sign up for the Newsletter before then, click here or go to the menu at the top of this page.
Yulia let the rare intimacy hang in the air. It floated away on the evening’s love.
“The biggest twist was at the end – I really didn’t see that coming” – Eileen Thornton
How the Soviets stole the secret of Rolls Royce’s best jet engine and built the greatest fighter in the world.
Don, the only member of his Rolls Royce Nene team that called his boss Ed, was a working-class Yorkshireman, Edward, a graduate from Dorking. They were Surrey chalk and Yorkshire cheese, but when Don had yelled “Pass Ed!” during a company football match, Edward let the term of endearment go with a smile and they had been close ever since.
“Right! Let’s tidy away and get testing!”
The seven men tightened every bolt on the jet engine’s outer casing, checked the test stand bolts for tension once more and wiped everything clean. Edward left the test chamber through the partition door and took up station with the rest of the team, behind the control panel. Don checked the last few hose connectors and left the chamber, closing the thick door behind him, but struggled to slide in the heavy draw bolt for a moment, with his back turned. Edward couldn’t see what Don was doing.
“Don’t touch the master door lock!” Edward joked.
“I never would. There! Got it!”
Edward completed the test form, pushing his spectacles up on the bridge of his nose to focus better:
Monday 22 July, 1946
RB.41 Nene MK.3 throttle-up test. Attending: Nene team, headed by Donald Hill. Manager: Edward Torrens.
“Right. Fire her up Don!”
Edward’s affable smile belied the tension in the small control room. The cream, concrete partitions had been designed to muffle the sound of WWII piston engines, not stop exotic alloy jet turbine blades, turning three or four times as fast, from exploding. Only a few weeks previously another of Edward’s Nene engineers had been injured when a fragment penetrated the wall and ripped part of his cheek away. As Don pressed the starter button, Edward wondered why such an alchemist’s brew of wires, alloys and unearthly, screaming power amounted only to the placid sounding ‘Nene’ in the Rolls Royce executives’ minds. Everything went well until Edward yelled into Don’s ear at the top of his voice:
Edward realised he had actually crossed his fingers, just before he heard a high-pitched, metallic ‘ping.’ He lunged for the red cut-off button and smashed it down with his fist.
Don and the others stared at him with blank expressions, as if trapped in a slow-motion movie clip.
“Duck!” Edward yelled, before dropping to the floor and scrambling under the bench, dragging Don with him.
The turbine’s shriek had dropped in pitch about half an octave in those few seconds, but then the air ripped apart with a giant explosion. The sound or rending metal, mixed with the sound of concrete being ripped apart and debris hitting the walls made them shut their eyes and pray.
Eventually, silence returned, followed a moment later by the blaring of alarms and the sound of rushing feet.
“I didn’t hear owt!” Don said between coughs. “Bloody good job the engine revs dropped a few thousand! Or else I don’t think any of us would be here!”
Covered in white concrete dust and debris, the others scrambled to their feet while Edward looked for his spectacles in the debris. He found the metal frames, but the round lenses were both missing.
“I heard it!” he muttered. “A fan blade breaking loose. One of the advantages of managing four test teams and attending all tests – not that Sanderson approves. You learn what to listen for! I lost my spectacles and I think some of the glass went in my eye. I can’t see!”
Brina didn’t remember what keelhauling was, but she decided she didn’t want to know. Many of the ship’s crew stared at their feet while others dragged her to the bow. “Do you think this a good idea?” she heard Devlin say to Brindley. “Suppose she dies? She probably will!” “Then we won’t be docking in Tasman.” “She’s only a woman!” “Shut up Devlin. Do it now!” The crewmen lowered Brina over the bow by the length of rope attached to her wrists while another sailor guided the other length of rope to the stern. He worked it under the moving ship’s hull and pulled it taught. “Ready!” he yelled from the stern. Six men lowered Brina to the crashing bow-waves, while three others hauled on the stern rope. Her feet touched the cold water, so she began to take deep breaths, taking her last a moment before her head went under. After that, she understood little of what happened, except that the sea battered her against the barnacle-studded planks of the hull and her lungs began to scream with the agony of asphyxiation. She held on as long as she could, feeling her chest convulse with its primitive urge to breath. The last thing she saw was a patch of light in the bottle-blue water behind her thrashing legs. “You’re a lucky bitch!” a male voice said. “The Captain wouldn’t have revived anyone else but you!”
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Amit Bobrov is a great writer from Israel. His first fantasy novel is the first volume of a sweeping epic.
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Only available in kindle, this is from a new writer Lami Kamikaze. Its very funny and takes an unusual view of the conflicts shaping the modern world.
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— Omah wakes up after an unknown period of cryo-sleep. He’s not sure where he is or why the woman looks the way she does. —
The blue woman began to unfasten Omah’s sleep corset with practiced skill. “My name’s Soother.” Omah wasn’t a tall man and always felt inadequate until he knew whether a woman stood taller than him or not, and when he felt inadequate, he tended to be aggressively sarcastic: “Soother? Is that your boyfriend’s pet name for you?” “You can cut the jokes. I don’t have a boyfriend. Such concepts died long ago.” “They did? Nobody told me.” “How do you feel?” “Hm. A bit angry. I think I argued with somebody last night. My partner?” “If you did, she’s long gone. You should forget the argument.” “What? What year is this? I think I feel sick.” “Never mind the year. It’s a long time after your last memories. You’re a survivor.” “Well that makes me feel a little bit better.” “Do you feel like walking? It’s good to walk if you can manage it. It will help you to recover quicker.” “Well, I don’t think I can walk. My legs feel like jelly. But I would like to take a look around … . If you don’t mind?” “Not at all. I’ll get a buggy.” Omah noticed the second disconcerting thing. It had been on his periphery for some time, but he had managed to ignore it. Now he no longer could. His arms were blue too.
— Omah wakes up after an unknown period of cryo-sleep. He’s not sure where he is or why the woman looks the way she does. —
My brother had a ball. When you tried to kick it, it moved away from you. I grew tired trying to hit the thing. “Don’t think about kicking it,” he told me. “The ball is designed to read your intentions. Think about nothing.” It felt very satisfying when I finally got a foot on it and sent it into the back of the net. A ‘beeping’ interrupted his memories. So I have been asleep? He tried to open one eye, but it felt gummed up. Screwing his face up to make tears, he eventually managed to open one, only to see a panel, which proved to be the source of the ‘beeps.’ A sign flashed, ‘Hello Omah,’ in in red letters. You’re in waking up phase. I’m administering stimulants.’ “Oh great! Thanks! I hate cryo-sleep!” A distant hum occurred at the same time as his cryo-chamber began to incline. The glass-lidded container, little more than a box, began to raise at his head’s end and continued inclining until he lay at a forty-five-degree angle. The lid opened and straps released his arms and legs. He felt sharp stabs of pain as a needle retracted from each arm, but didn’t have the energy to say: “Ouch!” His legs felt distinctly wobbly, so it came as a relief to see an attractive woman approaching him in a white jumpsuit. The only problem; her skin was blue.