Fox B. Holden

Biographical details

Fox B. Holden Task Mission

Captain Nicholas Joel paced the fore-waist bridge. There was a full, untouched flagon on the mahogany desk, and the bottle of Martian Colony Bond stood, tightly corked, beside it.
He sat down, hating the feel of the chair of command beneath his big body.
What he was thinking was wrong, of course. But no man could be two men; a man could not split himself down the middle and say: this is your life here, this is your life there, for it is unthinkable that a man be prisoner of one life only—No, a man could not do that; a man had only one life.
Source: Gutenberg

Fox B. Holden Dearest Enemy

They had never thought he, Thorn, was really sane. What really sane man who had flown twice too many missions in one war would volunteer to fly in the next that followed? What sane man would go begging for military flight-test assignments in weird ships that had never been flown anywhere but in a wind-tunnel and on computer-tapes. And what sane man—God help him—what man in his senses would ask to be fired a thousand miles off the Earth with only the knowledge that a thing the size of a basketball had circled the planet successfully for almost a year before it fell back and burned up?
Source: Gutenberg

Fox B. Holden The Man the Tech-Men Made

There was only the space of seconds before the round slab of metal began opening! She tensed, and with her helmet touching the ground, heard the sound of heavy footsteps climbing upward, making the hollow, clanging sounds of space boots on metallic ladder rungs.
A space helmet suddenly thrust itself above the opening, and for a frozen second, she could see the man's face. It was not Jon's! There was a look of stunned surprise upon it for that timeless moment, and Deanne knew even as she moved that it was this space between seconds or never at all.
Source: Gutenberg

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