Contents (53)
- Call Me Joe
- Editor’s Introduction
- Poul Anderson by Greg Bear
- Call Me Joe
- Prayer in War
- Tomorrow’s Children
- Kinnison’s Band
- The Helping Hand
- Wildcat
- Clausius’ Chaos
- Journey’s End
- Heinlein’s Stories
- Logic
- Time Patrol
- The First Love
- The Double-Dyed Villains
- To a Tavern Wench
- The Immortal Game
- Backwardness
- Haiku
- Genius
- There Will Be Other Times
- The Live Coward
- Ballade of an Artificial Satellite
- Time Lag
- The Man Who Came Early
- Autumn
- Turning Point
- Honesty
- The Alien Enemy
- Eventide
- Enough Rope
- The Sharing of Flesh
- Barbarous Allen
- Welcome
- Flight to Forever
- Sea Burial
- Barnacle Bull
- To Jack Williamson
- Time Heals
- MacCannon
- The Martian Crown Jewels
- Then Death Will Come
- Prophecy
- Einstein’s Distress
- Kings Who Die
- Ochlan
- Starfog
- Want to read more?
- About the Author, Artist, and Publisher
- Publication History
- Acknowledgments
- Praise for the works of Poul Anderson
“But we had no industry to speak of. We don’t even now.”
“I wasn’t counting on our factories, I said, but on our science. When you told me about that horrible virus weapon being suppressed, you confirmed my hopes. We aren’t saints. Our government wouldn’t have been quite so quick to get rid of the plague—would at least have tried to bluff with it—if there weren’t something better in prospect. Wouldn’t they?
“I couldn’t even guess what our scientists might develop, given two generations which the enemy did not have. I did think they would probably have to use physics rather than biology. And why not? You can’t have an advanced chemical, medical, genetic, ecological technology without knowing all the physics there is to know. Can you? Quantum theory explains mutations. But it also explains atomic reactions, or whatever they used in those new machines.
“Oh, yes, Ivalo, I felt sure we’d win. All I had to do myself was work to get us prisoners—especially me, to be quite honest—get us there at the victory.”
He looked at her with awe. Somehow that brought back the heaviness in her. After all, she thought..sixty-two years. Tervola abides. But who will know me? I am going to be so much alone.
Boots rang on metal. The young squad leader stepped back in. “That’s that,” he said. His bleakness vanished and he edged closer to Elva, softly, almost timidly.
“I trust,” said Ivalo with a rich, growing pleasure in his voice, “that my lady will permit me to visit her from time to time.”
“I hope you will,” she murmured.
“We temporal castaways are bound to be disoriented for a while,” he said. “We must help each other. You, for example, may have some trouble adjusting to the fact that your son Hauki, the Freeholder of Tervola—”
“Hauki!” She sprang to her feet. The cabin blurred around her.
“—is now a vigorous elderly man who looks back on a most successful life,” said Ivalo. “Which includes the begetting of Karlavi here.” Her grandson’s strong hands closed about her own. “Who in turn,” finished Ivalo, “is the recent father of a bouncing baby boy named Hauki. And all your people are waiting to welcome you home.”
The Man Who Came Early
Yes, when a man grows old he has heard so much that is strange there’s little more can surprise him. They say the king in Miklagard has a beast of gold before his high seat, which stands up and roars. I have it from Eilif Eiriksson, who served in the guard down there and he is a steady fellow when not drunk. He has also seen the Greek fire used, it burns on water.
So, priest, I am not unwilling to believe what you say about the White Christ. I have been in England and France myself, and seen how the folks prosper. He must be a very powerful god to ward so many realms…and did you say that everyone who is baptized will be given a white robe? I would like to have one. They mildew, of course, in this cursed wet Iceland weather, but a small sacrifice to the house elves should—No sacrifices? Come now! I’ll give up horseflesh if I must, my teeth not being what they were, but every sensible man knows how much trouble the elves make if they’re not fed.