Poul Anderson

Poul Anderson

Summary

Portrait of Poul Anderson Poul Anderson The high ones (1958)

Svenstrup skinned his teeth. "A hundred humans, one spaceship, against a whole planet?"
The young woman rose to her feet. Even through the baggy green tunic and breeches of her uniform—she had clung to it after the mutiny, Red Star and all—she was big and supple. Holbrook's heart stumbled, rose again, and hurried through a dark emptiness. She clapped a hand to her pistol and said: "But they do not belong on this planet. They must be strangers too, as far from home as we. Shall we run just because their technology is a little ahead of ours?
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Poul Anderson Poul Anderson The high ones (1958)

I say here we stop, live or die. Even from here, it will be a weary way to Earth."
"Forget about Earth," said Holbrook out of tautness and despair. "No one is returning to Earth before Novaya is strong enough to stand off a Soviet fleet. Maybe you like to wear the Party's collar. I don't!"
Ekaterina regarded him for a long time. Even through the dehumanizing helmet and nose-piece, he found her beautiful. She replied: "What kind of freedom is it to become the client state of an almighty Zolotoy? The Soviet overlords are at least human."
"Watch your language, Comrade Saburov!" snapped Grushenko.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Poul Anderson Poul Anderson The high ones (1958)

And then suddenly she went to a corner, sat down and hugged her knees and buried her face against them.
Holbrook lowered himself. His heart thuttered, wild for oxygen; he felt the cold strike into his throat. He had not been so close to weeping since the hour his mother died.
But—
He avoided Grushenko's hooded stare; he retreated into himself and buckled on the armor of an engineer's workaday soul. There were problems to solve; well, let them be solved, as practical problems in a practical universe. For even this nightmare planet was real. Even it made logical sense
Source: Gutenberg

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