THE MANY WORLDS OF
Many, many years from now will rise a new religion, founded in the Last War and surrounded by mystery. And it will have its heretics...
A group of survivors sets forth to determine whether they are truly alone...
Four men guarding a precious secret face a band of well-armed marauders. But a few true professionals can sometimes equal an army...
The stranger wasn't welcome in Chilmark, but he was given one meal and pointed to the right road...
THE OLD EYES FLICKERED, DEEP AND CALM AND PAINED
"An oracular message, lord Desan. A message into the dark of their own future, unaimed, unfocused. Without hope of answer. We know its voyage time. Eight million years. This probe went out, and they fell silent shortly afterward—the depth of this dry lake of dust, lord Desan, is eight and a quarter million years."
"I will not believe that."
"Eight and a quarter million years ago, lord Desan. Calamity fell on them, calamity global and complete within a century, perhaps within a decade of the launch of that probe. Perhaps calamity fell from the skies; but demonstrably it was atomics and their own doing. They were at that precarious stage. And the destruction in the great centers is catastrophic and one level. Destruction centered in places of heavy population. Trace elements. That is what those statistics say. Atomics, lord Desan."
-From "Pots," by C.J. Cherryh