LITMIR.BIZ

He came to her handsome and youthful in appearance. He had been alive far longer than she could have imagine. In that time he had faced many dangers, but was she the danger that would undo him and send him to eternal damnation?

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In 'The Planet Savers' Marion Zimmer Bradley introduced the world to her amazing Darkover series. A disease threatens all of Darkover and the only man that can save Darkover has a multiple personality disorder. He is two distinct men, but two men who hate one another and vie for possession of their one body. But to save Darkover they must work together.

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They asked me about it, of course, before I boarded the starship. All through the Western sector of the Galaxy, few rules are stricter than the one dividing human from nonhuman, and the little Captain of the Vesta-he was Terran, too, and proud in the black leather of the Empire's merchant-man forces-hemmed and hawed about it, as much as was consistent with a spaceman's dignity. «You see, Miss Vargas,» he explained, not once but as often as I would listen to him, «this is not, strictly speaking, a passenger ship at all. Our charter is only to carry cargo. But, under the terms of our franchise, we are required to transport an occasional passenger, from the more isolated planets where there is no regular passenger service. Our rules simply don't permit us to discriminate, and the Theradin reserved a place on this ship for our last voyage.» He paused, and re-emphasized, «We have only the one passenger cabin, you see. We're a cargo ship and we are not allowed to make any discrimination between our passengers.» He looked angry about it. Unfortunately, I'd run up against that attitude before. Some Terrans won't travel on the same ship with nonhumans even when they're isolated in separate ends of the ship. I understood his predicament, better than he thought. The Theradin seldom travel in space. No one could have foreseen that Haalvordhen, the Theradin from Samarra, who had lived on the forsaken planet of Deneb for eighteen of its cycles, would have chosen this particular flight to go back to its own world.

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Xanadu. Not the Xanadu of Coleridge's poem, but-to the half-forgotten space drifter who discovered the place thirty years ago-a reasonable facsimile. It was a cloistered nun of a city, hidden behind a wide skirt of the most impassable mountains on Mars. And the city was more impassable than the mountains. No human being had ever entered it-yet. They'd tried. Two expeditions, twelve years apart, had vanished without trace, without explanation other than the dusty notebook Andrew had unearthed, today, from the rotted shreds of a skeleton's clothing.

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Sure, Larry Connaught saved my life—but it was how he did it that forced me to murder him!

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After space, there was always one more river to cross . . . the far side of hatred and murder!

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Steena of the spaceways—that sounds just like a corny title for one of the Stellar-Vedo spreads. I ought to know, I’ve tried my hand at writing enough of them. Only this Steena was no glamour babe. She was as colorless as a Lunar plant—even the hair netted down to her skull had a sort of grayish cast and I never saw her but once draped in anything but a shapeless and baggy gray space-all.

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Society has grown dependent on super-intelligent robots, but are they being given the respect they deserve?

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An experiment in robotic law enforcement goes awry in this thought-provoking read from the golden age of science fiction.

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In a tale “too horrible for the tender sensibilities of a delicately nurtured publick,” a man uncovers his family’s dark, cannibalistic past.

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