A grim, haunted expanse of space, vast lightyears filled with dead, empty worlds. A dark place, the graveyard of an empire…and a frontier where vast riches can be had by those with the courage—and the luck—to survive. But trade in old tech is not for the timid. Prospectors face rival crews, ancient imperial security systems, and the ever-present shadow of the Union’s dread spy agency, Sector Nine, as they plunge forth in search of artifacts worth vast fortunes. Andi Lafarge and the crew of Pegasus are among the elite of the strange brotherhood that ventures forth, seeking the remnants of humanity’s lost past. She and her people will face the deadliest challenges, fight constant battles, and plunge forth into the darkest corners of the lost region of space. Pegasus has a new mission, one far more important than even Andi had her crew realize, a search for ancient technology that could determine the outcome of the next Confederation-Union war. To get it, they must travel to a vast ocean world…and they must find what they seek before Sector Nine does. They will fight, suffer, endure. But they will never fail. Not while Andi Lafarge still draws breath. The Andromeda Chronicles Andromeda Rising Wings of Pegasus Into to Badlands (Coming) Blood on the Stars Book 1 - Duel in the Dark Book 2 - Call to Arms Book 3 - Ruins of Empire Book 4 - Echoes of Glory Book 5 - Cauldron of Fire Book 6 - Dauntless Book 7 - The White Fleet Book 8 - Black Dawn Book 9 - Invasion Book 10 - Nightfall Book 11 - The Grand Alliance Book 12 - The Colossus Book 13 – The Others Book 14 – The Last Stand (Coming)

    Her clients are rich and they demand items and experiences with only the finest verifiable provenance. Other people’s lives have value, after all.But when her A.I. suddenly stops whispering in her ear she finds herself cut off from the grid and loses communication with the rest of the world.The man who stepped out of the trees while hunting deer cut her off from the cloud, took her A.I., and made her his unwilling guest.There are no Authenticities or Captures to prove Katya’s story of what happened in the forest. You’ll just have to believe her.

    Now at the dawn of the mechanical 19th century, only the five clans united can hold back the blood-red tide of industrial apocalypse. Unless they dive into it laughing. I did say 'mad' Rayne Gray is a cheerful, charitable bear of a man. Philosophical about his life of violence, optimistic about the dawning 19th century. A man watching for daggers in the dark, he still holds a candle for others. Alas, the wheel of fortune shifts, he is on his own, three steps from madness, two steps from arrest, one step from death. And this dance puts Rayne on the path to the Family, a mad collection of clans more deadly than any alley of assassins. And more mad than a battle in Bedlam. But there was never a man better at keeping alive and sane, than Rayne Gray. From the book: She stood, placing sketch-board upon the grass. Brushing wrinkles from her skirt, dust from her behind. “Now stand, Master Gray, for I’ve a bit of wisdom for you.” Was she taller than I’d thought? No. But the fetching quality lay shadowed by something that arched over and behind. The determined look, perhaps, inspiring the sunlight about her. “I am standing,” I pointed out. I let hand slip towards rapier-handle, casual as an itch. “Ah, so you are.” She held up four fingers, counted upon them. “First: never believe the dead are stronger than the living. The grave-touched draw strength from the blood and breathe of life. They scrape by on ash and embers. Tis the living that hold the flame.” I considered these words. The theory ran sound. Only mere observation complicated the issue. “Second,” she continued, “never believe the mad are wiser than the sane. He who makes a beast of himself, escapes the pain of being a man. And so loses the wisdom.” Excellent. As the sanest man in ten thousand miles, I rejoiced to hear it. “Third. Never believe a name has power. You may name the stars or waves or faces in the mirror, but they will not own you for master when you call. They are the things themselves, never the name of the thing. So also, you.” She turned away. “Good luck to you, then.” I blinked, feeling no wiser. “That made three. Wasn’t there a fourth?” She stopped, spoke without turning. “Ah. Right enough. Well, fourth, then. You cannot come out this alive, Rayne Gray. Too many seek the prize you’ve set to bed. And the prize herself is a drinker of life, same as you. Can a man challenge his reflection?”

    It was first published in the May 1944 edition of Weird Tales, and later collected in Bradbury's collections Dark Carnival, The October Country, and The Stories of Ray Bradbury. Bradbury believed it was one of the finest stories he'd ever written.