Short Fiction by Poul Anderson (free ebook novel .txt) π
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Poul Andersonβs prolific writing career began in 1947, while still an undergraduate physics student at the University of Minnesota, and continued throughout his life. His works were primarily science fiction and fantasy, but he also produced mysteries and historical fiction.
Among his many honors, Anderson was a recipient of three Nebula awards, seven Hugo awards, three Prometheus awards, and an SFWA Grand Master award. He was inducted into the Science Fiction Hall of Fame in 2000.
This collection consists of short stories and novellas published in Worlds of If, Galaxy SF, Fantastic Universe, and other periodicals. Presented in order of publication, they include Innocent at Large, a 1958 story coauthored with his wife and noted author Karen Anderson.
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- Author: Poul Anderson
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By Poul Anderson.
Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint Star Ship I II III IV V VI Tiger by the Tail I II III IV V Witch of the Demon Seas I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X World of the Mad Duel on Syrtis Inside Earth I II III IV V VI VII VIII The Virgin of Valkarion I II III IV V VI Lord of a Thousand Suns Swordsman of Lost Terra I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX Sargasso of Lost Starships I II III IV V VI VII Captive of the Centaurianess I II III IV V VI VII Security Sentiment, Inc. I II III IV The Chapter Ends I II III IV The Sensitive Man I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX Snowball Out of the Iron Womb I II III IV V VI Catalysis What Shall It Profit? The Valor of Cappen Varra Innocent at Large Industrial Revolution Colophon Uncopyright ImprintThis ebook is the product of many hours of hard work by volunteers for Standard Ebooks, and builds on the hard work of other literature lovers made possible by the public domain.
This particular ebook is based on transcriptions produced for Project Gutenberg and on digital scans available at the Internet Archive.
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Star Ship IWith sunset, there was rain. When Dougald Anson brought his boat in to Krakenau harbor, there was only a vast wet darkness around him.
He swore in a sulfurous mixture of Krakenaui, Volgazani, and half a dozen other languages, including some spacemanβs Terrestrial, and let down the sail. The canvas was heavy and awkward in the drenching rain; it was all he could do to lash it around the boom. Then he picked up the long wooden sweep and began sculling his boat in toward the dock.
Lightning flared bluely through the rain, and he saw the great bay in one livid flash, filled with galleys at anchor and the little schooners of the fishing fleet. Beyond the wharfs, the land climbed steeply toward the sky, and he saw the dark mass of the town reaching up to the citadel on the hilltop. Darkβ βdark! Hardly a light showed in the gloom.
What in the name of Shantuzik was up? The waterfront, at least, should have been alive with torches and music and bawdy merriment. And the newly installed street lights should have been twinkling along the main avenues leading up to the castle. Instead Krakenau lay crouched in night, andβ β
He scowled, and drove the light vessel shoreward with rhythmic sweeps of the long oar. Uneasiness prickled along his spine. It wasnβt right. Heβd only been gone a few days. What had happened in the meantime?
When he reached the pier, he made fast with a quietness unusual to him. Maybe he was being overcautious. Maybe it was only that the king had died or some other reason for restrained conduct had arisen. But a man didnβt spend years warring among the pirates of the outer islands and the neighboring kingdoms around Krakenau without learning to be careful.
He ducked under the awning in the bows which was the boatβs only shelter, and got a towel from the sea chest and rubbed his rain-wet body dry. Heβd only been wearing a tattered pair of breeches, and the water ran along his ribs and down his flanks. Then he shrugged on a tunic, and a coat of ring-mail over that. A flat-bladed sword at his side and a helmet over his long yellow hair completed his outfit. He felt secure now, and jumped up to the pier.
For a moment he stood in thought. The steady rain washed down over his leather cape, blurring vision a few meters away, and only the intermittent flicker of lightning broke the darkness. Where to go? His fatherβs house was the logical place, perhaps. But the Masefield dwelling was a little closer to here, and Ellenβ β
He grinned and set out at a long stride. Masefieldβs be it.
The street onto which he turned opened before him like a tunnel of night. The high steep-roofed houses lay dark on either side, walling it in, and the fluoroglobes were unlit. When the lightning blinked, the wet cobblestones gleamed; otherwise there was only darkness and rain.
He passed one of the twisting alleys, and glanced at it with automatic caution. The next instant he had thrown himself to the ground, and the javelin whipped through the place where his belly had been.
He rolled over and bounded to his feet, crouched low, the sword whining out of its scabbard into his hand. Four Khazaki sprang from the alley and darted at him.
Dougald Anson grunted, backed up against a wall. The natives were armed and mailed, they were warriors, and they had all the unhuman swiftness of their species. Four of themβ β!
The leading attacker
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