The Door Through Space
... _across half a Galaxy, the Terran Empire maintains its sovereignty
with the consent of the governed. It is a peaceful reign, held by
compact and not by conquest. Again and again, when rebellion threatens
the Terran Peace, the natives of the rebellious world have turned
against their own people and sided with the men of Terra; not from fear,
but from a sense of dedication._

_There has never been open war. The battle for these worlds is fought in
the minds of a few men who stand between worlds; bound to one world by
interest, loyalties and allegiance; bound to the other by love._

_Such a world is Wolf. Such a man was Race Cargill of the Terran Secret
Service._


* * * * *

RENDEZVOUS ON A LOST WORLD
Copyright (c), 1961, by Ace Books, Inc.

Printed in U.S.A.

* * * * *


=Author's Note:--=

I've always wanted to write. But not until I discovered the old pulp
science-fantasy magazines, at the age of sixteen, did this general
desire become a specific urge to write science-fantasy adventures.

I took a lot of detours on the way. I discovered s-f in its golden age:
the age of Kuttner, C.L. Moore, Leigh Brackett, Ed Hamilton and Jack
Vance. But while I was still collecting rejection slips for my early
efforts, the fashion changed. Adventures on faraway worlds and strange
dimensions went out of fashion, and the new look in
science-fiction--emphasis on the _science_--came in.

So my first stories were straight science-fiction, and I'm not trying to
put down that kind of story. It has its place. By and large, the kind of
science-fiction which makes tomorrow's headlines as near as this
morning's coffee, has enlarged popular awareness of the modern,
miraculous world of science we live in. It has helped generations of
young people feel at ease with a rapidly changing world.

But fashions change, old loves return, and now that Sputniks clutter up
the sky with new and unfamiliar moons, the readers of science-fiction
are willing to wait for tomorrow to read tomorrow's headlines. Once
again, I think, there is a place, a wish, a need and hunger for the
wonder and color of the world way out. The world beyond the stars. The
world we _won't_ live to see. That is why I wrote THE DOOR THROUGH
SPACE.

--MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY

* * * * *




CHAPTER ONE


Beyond the spaceport gates, the men of the Kharsa were hunting down a
thief. I heard the shrill cries, the pad-padding of feet in strides just
a little too long and loping to be human, raising echoes all down the
dark and dusty streets leading up to the main square.

But the square itself lay empty in the crimson noon of Wolf. Overhead
the dim red ember of Phi Coronis, Wolf's old and dying sun, gave out a
pale and heatless light. The pair of Spaceforce guards at the gates,
wearing the black leathers of the Terran Empire, shockers holstered at
their belts, were drowsing under the arched gateway where the
star-and-rocket emblem proclaimed the domain of Terra. One of them, a
snub-nosed youngster only a few weeks out from Earth, cocked an
inquisitive ear at the cries and scuffling feet, then jerked his head at
me.

"Hey, Cargill, you can talk their lingo. What's going on out there?"

I stepped out past the gateway to listen. There was still no one to be
seen in the square. It lay white and windswept, a barricade of
emptiness; to one side the spaceport and the white skyscraper of the
Terran Headquarters, and at the other side, the clutter of low
buildings, the street-shrine, the little spaceport cafe smelling of
coffee and _jaco_, and the dark opening mouths of streets that rambled
down into the Kharsa--the old town, the native quarter. But I was alone
in the square with the shrill cries--closer now, raising echoes from the
enclosing walls--and the loping of many feet down one of the dirty
streets.

Then I saw him running, dodging, a hail of stones flying round his head;
someone or something small and cloaked and agile. Behind him the
still-faceless mob howled and threw stones. I could not yet understand
the cries; but they were out for blood, and I knew it.

I said briefly, "Trouble coming," just before the mob spilled out into
the square. The fleeing dwarf stared about wildly for an instant, his
head jerking from side to side so rapidly that it was impossible to get
even a fleeting impression of his face--human or nonhuman, familiar or
bizarre. Then, like a pellet loosed from its sling, he made straight for
the gateway and safety.
1100069066
The Door Through Space
... _across half a Galaxy, the Terran Empire maintains its sovereignty
with the consent of the governed. It is a peaceful reign, held by
compact and not by conquest. Again and again, when rebellion threatens
the Terran Peace, the natives of the rebellious world have turned
against their own people and sided with the men of Terra; not from fear,
but from a sense of dedication._

_There has never been open war. The battle for these worlds is fought in
the minds of a few men who stand between worlds; bound to one world by
interest, loyalties and allegiance; bound to the other by love._

_Such a world is Wolf. Such a man was Race Cargill of the Terran Secret
Service._


* * * * *

RENDEZVOUS ON A LOST WORLD
Copyright (c), 1961, by Ace Books, Inc.

Printed in U.S.A.

* * * * *


=Author's Note:--=

I've always wanted to write. But not until I discovered the old pulp
science-fantasy magazines, at the age of sixteen, did this general
desire become a specific urge to write science-fantasy adventures.

I took a lot of detours on the way. I discovered s-f in its golden age:
the age of Kuttner, C.L. Moore, Leigh Brackett, Ed Hamilton and Jack
Vance. But while I was still collecting rejection slips for my early
efforts, the fashion changed. Adventures on faraway worlds and strange
dimensions went out of fashion, and the new look in
science-fiction--emphasis on the _science_--came in.

So my first stories were straight science-fiction, and I'm not trying to
put down that kind of story. It has its place. By and large, the kind of
science-fiction which makes tomorrow's headlines as near as this
morning's coffee, has enlarged popular awareness of the modern,
miraculous world of science we live in. It has helped generations of
young people feel at ease with a rapidly changing world.

But fashions change, old loves return, and now that Sputniks clutter up
the sky with new and unfamiliar moons, the readers of science-fiction
are willing to wait for tomorrow to read tomorrow's headlines. Once
again, I think, there is a place, a wish, a need and hunger for the
wonder and color of the world way out. The world beyond the stars. The
world we _won't_ live to see. That is why I wrote THE DOOR THROUGH
SPACE.

--MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY

* * * * *




CHAPTER ONE


Beyond the spaceport gates, the men of the Kharsa were hunting down a
thief. I heard the shrill cries, the pad-padding of feet in strides just
a little too long and loping to be human, raising echoes all down the
dark and dusty streets leading up to the main square.

But the square itself lay empty in the crimson noon of Wolf. Overhead
the dim red ember of Phi Coronis, Wolf's old and dying sun, gave out a
pale and heatless light. The pair of Spaceforce guards at the gates,
wearing the black leathers of the Terran Empire, shockers holstered at
their belts, were drowsing under the arched gateway where the
star-and-rocket emblem proclaimed the domain of Terra. One of them, a
snub-nosed youngster only a few weeks out from Earth, cocked an
inquisitive ear at the cries and scuffling feet, then jerked his head at
me.

"Hey, Cargill, you can talk their lingo. What's going on out there?"

I stepped out past the gateway to listen. There was still no one to be
seen in the square. It lay white and windswept, a barricade of
emptiness; to one side the spaceport and the white skyscraper of the
Terran Headquarters, and at the other side, the clutter of low
buildings, the street-shrine, the little spaceport cafe smelling of
coffee and _jaco_, and the dark opening mouths of streets that rambled
down into the Kharsa--the old town, the native quarter. But I was alone
in the square with the shrill cries--closer now, raising echoes from the
enclosing walls--and the loping of many feet down one of the dirty
streets.

Then I saw him running, dodging, a hail of stones flying round his head;
someone or something small and cloaked and agile. Behind him the
still-faceless mob howled and threw stones. I could not yet understand
the cries; but they were out for blood, and I knew it.

I said briefly, "Trouble coming," just before the mob spilled out into
the square. The fleeing dwarf stared about wildly for an instant, his
head jerking from side to side so rapidly that it was impossible to get
even a fleeting impression of his face--human or nonhuman, familiar or
bizarre. Then, like a pellet loosed from its sling, he made straight for
the gateway and safety.
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The Door Through Space

The Door Through Space

by Marion Zimmer Bradley
The Door Through Space

The Door Through Space

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

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Overview

... _across half a Galaxy, the Terran Empire maintains its sovereignty
with the consent of the governed. It is a peaceful reign, held by
compact and not by conquest. Again and again, when rebellion threatens
the Terran Peace, the natives of the rebellious world have turned
against their own people and sided with the men of Terra; not from fear,
but from a sense of dedication._

_There has never been open war. The battle for these worlds is fought in
the minds of a few men who stand between worlds; bound to one world by
interest, loyalties and allegiance; bound to the other by love._

_Such a world is Wolf. Such a man was Race Cargill of the Terran Secret
Service._


* * * * *

RENDEZVOUS ON A LOST WORLD
Copyright (c), 1961, by Ace Books, Inc.

Printed in U.S.A.

* * * * *


=Author's Note:--=

I've always wanted to write. But not until I discovered the old pulp
science-fantasy magazines, at the age of sixteen, did this general
desire become a specific urge to write science-fantasy adventures.

I took a lot of detours on the way. I discovered s-f in its golden age:
the age of Kuttner, C.L. Moore, Leigh Brackett, Ed Hamilton and Jack
Vance. But while I was still collecting rejection slips for my early
efforts, the fashion changed. Adventures on faraway worlds and strange
dimensions went out of fashion, and the new look in
science-fiction--emphasis on the _science_--came in.

So my first stories were straight science-fiction, and I'm not trying to
put down that kind of story. It has its place. By and large, the kind of
science-fiction which makes tomorrow's headlines as near as this
morning's coffee, has enlarged popular awareness of the modern,
miraculous world of science we live in. It has helped generations of
young people feel at ease with a rapidly changing world.

But fashions change, old loves return, and now that Sputniks clutter up
the sky with new and unfamiliar moons, the readers of science-fiction
are willing to wait for tomorrow to read tomorrow's headlines. Once
again, I think, there is a place, a wish, a need and hunger for the
wonder and color of the world way out. The world beyond the stars. The
world we _won't_ live to see. That is why I wrote THE DOOR THROUGH
SPACE.

--MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY

* * * * *




CHAPTER ONE


Beyond the spaceport gates, the men of the Kharsa were hunting down a
thief. I heard the shrill cries, the pad-padding of feet in strides just
a little too long and loping to be human, raising echoes all down the
dark and dusty streets leading up to the main square.

But the square itself lay empty in the crimson noon of Wolf. Overhead
the dim red ember of Phi Coronis, Wolf's old and dying sun, gave out a
pale and heatless light. The pair of Spaceforce guards at the gates,
wearing the black leathers of the Terran Empire, shockers holstered at
their belts, were drowsing under the arched gateway where the
star-and-rocket emblem proclaimed the domain of Terra. One of them, a
snub-nosed youngster only a few weeks out from Earth, cocked an
inquisitive ear at the cries and scuffling feet, then jerked his head at
me.

"Hey, Cargill, you can talk their lingo. What's going on out there?"

I stepped out past the gateway to listen. There was still no one to be
seen in the square. It lay white and windswept, a barricade of
emptiness; to one side the spaceport and the white skyscraper of the
Terran Headquarters, and at the other side, the clutter of low
buildings, the street-shrine, the little spaceport cafe smelling of
coffee and _jaco_, and the dark opening mouths of streets that rambled
down into the Kharsa--the old town, the native quarter. But I was alone
in the square with the shrill cries--closer now, raising echoes from the
enclosing walls--and the loping of many feet down one of the dirty
streets.

Then I saw him running, dodging, a hail of stones flying round his head;
someone or something small and cloaked and agile. Behind him the
still-faceless mob howled and threw stones. I could not yet understand
the cries; but they were out for blood, and I knew it.

I said briefly, "Trouble coming," just before the mob spilled out into
the square. The fleeing dwarf stared about wildly for an instant, his
head jerking from side to side so rapidly that it was impossible to get
even a fleeting impression of his face--human or nonhuman, familiar or
bizarre. Then, like a pellet loosed from its sling, he made straight for
the gateway and safety.

Product Details

BN ID: 2940014094481
Publisher: SAP
Publication date: 02/01/2012
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
File size: 118 KB

About the Author

About The Author
Marion Zimmer Bradley was writing before she could write. As a young girl, before she learned to take pen in hand, she was dictating stories to her mother. She started her own magazine -- devoted to science fiction and fantasy, of course -- as a teenager, and she wrote her first novel when she was in high school.

Given this history of productivity, it is perhaps no surprise that Bradley was working right up until her death in 1999. Though declining health interfered with her output, she was working on manuscripts and editing magazines, including another sci-fi/fantasy publication of her own making.

Her longest-running contribution to the genre was her Darkover series, which began in 1958 with the publication of The Planet Savers. The series, which is not chronological, covers several centuries and is set on a distant planet that has been colonized by humans, who have interbred with a native species on the planet. Critics lauded her efforts to address culture clashes -- including references to gays and lesbians -- in the series.

"It is not just an exercise in planet-building," wrote Susan Shwartz in the St. James Guide to Science Fiction Writers. "A Darkover book is commonly understood to deal with issues of cultural clash, between Darkover and its parent Terran culture, between warring groups on Darkover, or in familial terms."

Diana Pharoah Francis, writing in Contemporary Popular Writers, noted the series' attention on its female characters, and the consequences of the painful choices they must make: "Struggles are not decided easily, but through pain and suffering. Her point seems to be that what is important costs, and the price is to be paid out of the soul rather than out of the pocketbook. Her characters are never black and white but are all shades of gray, making them more compelling and humanized."

Bradley's most notable single work would have to be The Mists of Avalon. Released in 1983, its 800-plus pages address the King Arthur story from the point of view of the women in his life -- including his wife, his mother and his half sister. Again, Bradley received attention and critics for her female focus, though many insist that she cannot be categorized strictly as a "feminist" writer, because her real focus is always character rather than politics.

"In drawing on all of the female experiences that make of the tapestry of the legend, Bradley is able to delve into the complexity of their intertwined lives against the tapestry of the undeclared war being waged between the Christians and the Druids," Francis wrote in her Contemporary Popular Writers essay. "Typical of Bradley is her focus on this battle, which is also a battle between masculine (Christian) and feminine (Druid) values."

And Maureen Quilligan, in her New York Times review in 1983, said: "What she has done here is reinvent the underlying mythology of the Arthurian legends. It is an impressive achievement. Greek, Egyptian, Roman, Celtic and Orphic stories are all swirled into a massive narrative that is rich in events placed in landscapes no less real for often being magical."

Avalon flummoxed Hollywood for nearly 20 years before finally making it to cable television as a TNT movie in 2001, starring Joan Allen, Anjelica Huston, and Julianna Margulies.

Two years before she died, Bradley's photograph was included in The Faces of Science Fiction, a collection of prominent science fiction writers, such names as Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury. Under it, she gave her own take on the importance of the genre:

"Science fiction encourages us to explore... all the futures, good and bad, that the human mind can envision."

Date of Birth:

June 30, 1930

Date of Death:

September 25, 1999

Place of Birth:

Albany, New York

Place of Death:

Berkeley, California

Education:

B.A., Hardin-Simmons College, 1964; additional study at University of California, Berkeley, 1965-1967
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