When evidence of an advanced civilization is discovered by SETI astronomers, an expedition into the far reaches of the galaxy is planned and an eclectic team of scientists is chosen to make the trip. But because the origin of the alien signals is thousands of light-years away, the crew will age only a few years while millennia pass on Earth. And though they are ready to face the ramifications of such a voyage, none of the starfarers are prepared for what awaits them at the outer edge of the cosmos--or back at the planet they once called home. "One of the field's greatest writers." -- Orlando Sun-Sentinel "Anderson, far more than many newer science fiction writers, takes the trouble to envision a genuinely strange, complex future for mankind." -- The Washington Post "The winner of seven Hugos and three Nebulas returns with a spectacular novel written in his classic manner...To longtime fans, this novel will closely recall one of his greatest, Tau Zero, and for newcomers it provides a valuable introduction to one of the towering figures of modern SF and fantasy." -- Publishers Weekly (starred review) "One of science fiction's most revered writers." -- USA Today The bestselling author of such classic novels as Brain Wave and The Boat of a Million Years , Poul Anderson won just about every award the science fiction and fantasy field has to offer. He has won multiple Hugos and Nebulas, the John W. Campbell Award, The Locus Poll Award, the Skylark Award, and the SFWA Grandmaster Award for Lifetime Achievement. His recent books include Harvest of Stars, The Stars are also On Fire, Operation Chaos, Operation Luna, Genesis, Mother of Kings, and Going for Infinity , a collection and retrospective of his life's work. Poul Anderson lived in Orinda, California where he passed away in 2001. 1 "Man down." Ricardo Nansen was floating weightless, looking out a viewscreen, when the alarm shrilled and the words followed. He never tired of this sight. As the ship orbited into morning and the sun rose red from a peacock band along the edge of the planet, blue-and-white marbled beauty drove night backward across the great globe. He could almost have been at Earth. But the sun was Epsilon Eridani, there was no moon, and here Sol shone only after dark, a second-magnitude star in Serpens Caput. That fact turned splendor into a miracle. The call snatched him from it. He took off, arrowing along a corridor. Captain Gascoyne's voice rang from every intercom: "Pilot Nansen, prepare to scramble." "On my way, sir," he replied. "Who's in trouble?" "Airman Shaughnessy. Wrecked. And that was the only flyer currently operating." Mike Shaughnessy ! shocked through Nansen. The man was his best friend in the crew. This shouldn't have happened. Aircraft, like spaceboats, had been tested for reliability, over and over, under the harshest available stresses, before the expedition set forth. Thus far they had come handily through everything they met. And Shaughnessy had simply been on his way back to Main Base after delivering supplies to a team of biologists on an offshore island. At least he lived. Nearly eleven light-years from home, any human life became boundlessly precious. Second Engineer Dufour waited at the launch bay of Nansen's craft of help him make ready. Ordinarily that wasn't needful, but urgency ruled today. While she got him dressed and otherwise outfitted, he kept his attention on the intercom screen at the site. His briefing snapped out at him, verbal, pictorial, mathematical. Information was scant. Shaughnessy had radioed a report of sudden, total engine failure. He didn't think he could glide to a landing and was going to bail out. Minisatellite relays carried his message to the ship. When he swung above his horizon, her optics found him at the wreckage. Evidently he'd guided his motorchute to chase the crashing flyer. His communications were dead, though, even the transceiver built into this backpack. He seemed unhurt, but who could tell? Certain it was that his tanked air would shortly give out. To make matters worse, a hurricane raged along the sea-coast west of him. To wait in orbit till the window for an approach from the east opened would squander time. Besides, weather along that flight path had its own nasty spots. This atmosphere was not Earth's. Steep axial tilt and rapid rotation increased the treacherousness. Meteorologist Hrodny was still struggling to develop adequate computer programs. Crewfolk argued about whether to recommend naming the planet Satan or Loki. "We have a course for you that should skirt the big storm," Gascoyne said. "Do you accept it?" "Yes, of course," Nanasen answered. "Good luck," Dufour whispered. " Bonne chance, mon bel ami ." She kissed him, quickly. He cycled through the airlocks. As he harnessed himself before the control panel, the boat told him, "All systems checked and operative. Launch at will." Nansen grinned. "¡ Ay, la sensación del poderío absorluto!" Benea