By Larry Niven, Gregory Benford
During this first collaboration by means of technology fiction masters Larry Niven (Ringworld) and Gregory Benford (Timescape), the boundaries of ask yourself are redrawn once more as a human excursion to a different celebrity procedure is jeopardized via an come across with an astonishingly gigantic artifact in interstellar house: a bowl-shaped constitution half-englobing a celebrity, with a liveable region resembling many thousands of Earths…and it’s on a right away course heading for a similar process because the human ship.
A touchdown occasion is shipped to enquire the Bowl, but if the explorers are separated—one crew captured by means of the big structure’s alien population, the opposite pursued throughout its unusual and hazardous landscape—the secret of the Bowl’s origins and goal propel the human voyagers towards discoveries that would remodel their realizing in their position within the universe.
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Additional info for Bowl of Heaven (Bowl of Heaven, Book 1)
To the north of his position, the conflict in the Boeotian citadel underlit the horrendous black roof of the sky, a bonfire shaped like a city. The blackness of the vast smoke canopy was all around, as dense as Old Night itself. Gusting pillars of bright flame came and went in the distance as the smoke shifted. This, he remarked to himself with leaden irony, was what the great era of Unification looked like. According to history tracts that were already published and in circulation, that were already being taught in scholams, for goodness sake, the glorious Unification Wars had brought the Age of Strife to an end over a century and a half earlier.
Hawser wondered what Legion the warrior belonged to. He couldn’t see any insignia properly. What was it that people were calling them these days, now that the bulk of all Astartes forces had deployed off Terra to spearhead the Great Crusade? Space Marines. That was it. Space Marines. Like the square-jawed heroes of ha’penny picture books. This was no square-jawed hero. This wasn’t even human. It was just an implacable thing, a giant twice the size of anybody else in the chamber. Hawser felt he ought to have been able to smell it: the soot on its plating, the machine oil in its complex joints, the perspiration trickling between its skin and its suit-liner.
Fith dropped the sea sails, and they filled in an instant. The canvas cracked like thunder as it took the world’s breath. There was a hard snow-wind that morning, and he’d barely noticed it. The anchor lines creaked and strained as the wyrmboat mithered on the ice, impatient to slip. ’ Fith yelled out. Guthox looked at him from the stern, where the wind-pull was chaffing the taut lines against the rail. ’ he asked. ’ ‘The chief. ’ ‘He’d be here if he was coming,’ said Fith. They heard cracking sounds like green wood spitting in a fire.