THE LUNAR MONASTERY TAUGHT PEOPLE HOW TO LIVE IN SPACE . . . AND THEN ONE OF ITS STUDENTS WAS MURDERED Who owns the future? Homicide detective Raimy Vaught is a losing contestant on the biggest reality show ever: the colonization of Mars. Brother Michael is a Benedictine monk who just wants to help the future happen. Andrei Bykhovski is an asteroid miner desperately escaping indentured servitude. Bridget Tobin is a hydroponic farmer studying the greenhouses of Luna. But when a fellow Mars contestant drops dead at a Lunar monastery, these four souls will find themselves on a collision course with forces far beyond the control of trillionaires or nation states. As labor disputes erupt across cislunar space, the actions of individual people will determine whose future will prevail . . . and whose will perish. Praise for Poor Man's Sky: "Full bore show-your-work SF and a tense lunar mystery! A thrilling read." --Max Gladstone, Hugo and Nebula Award-winning author "Wil McCarthy's skill at crafting a believable, deeply science-grounded future is on full display. He brings us the mother of all locked-room mysteries wrapped in a vision of lunar colonization that rings a bit more true than we might be comfortable with. Small, gritty moments of inspired futurism pepper Poor Man's Sky and remind us that no matter where we go, our human nature follows." --Kimberly Unger, author of The Extractionist and Nucleation Praise for Rich Man's Sky: "Action SF built on a hard foundation of cutting-edge science." --Walter Jon Williams "An action-crammed story that darts at hyper-speed from Burning Man, Nevada, to Suriname to a convent on the Moon to an orbiting colony that's clearly up to something. A jam-packed adventure fizzing with mind-blowing concepts, and a great read!" --Connie Willis "A hard science fiction tour de force, populated by memorable characters in a tale of intrigue, adventure, and irresistible market forces." --Linda Nagata Praise for Antediluvian: ". . . gripping and . . . grounded in archaeology." --Publishers Weekly ". . . plenty of verisimilitude . . . superbly intriguing and captivating . . . bravura historical recreations, full of conjectural material. . . . Presenting us with a colorful cast of characters from across the millennia who have thick and rich existences, and affirming that the cosmic stream of life flows forcefully despite all small blockades, McCarthy has written a novel that looks both forwards and backwards, thus making a stellar return to the field." --Locus Praise for Wil McCarthy: "McCarthy is an entertaining, intelligent, amusing writer, with Heinlein's knack for breakneck plotting and, at the same time, Clarke's thoughtfulness." --Booklist "Imagination really is the only limit." --The New York Times "The future as McCarthy sees it is a wondrous place." --Publishers Weekly "A bright light on the SF horizon." --David Brin "Wil McCarthy demonstrates that he has a sharp intelligence, a galaxy-spanning imagination, and the solid scientific background to make it all work." --Connie Willis "In nearly every passage, we get another slice of the science of McCarthy's construction, and a deeper sense of danger and foreboding . . . McCarthy develops considerable tension." --San Diego Union-Tribune "An ingenious yarn with challenging ideas, well-handled technical details, and plenty of twists and turns." --Kirkus "McCarthy's writing is prescient and engaging. Always a great read!" --Tim Akers

Once the Queendom of Sol was a glowing monument to humankind's loftiest dreams. Ageless and immortal, its citizens lived in peaceful splendor. But as Sol buckled under the swell of an "immorbid" population, space itself literally ran out. . . .

In the eighth decade of the Queendom of Sol, three commodities rule the day. The first is wellstone, a form of programmable matter capable of emulating almost any substance: natural, artificial, even hypothetical. The second is collapsium, a deadly crysta

Once the Queendom of Sol was a glowing monument to humankind's loftiest dreams. Ageless and immortal, its citizens lived in peaceful splendor. But as Sol buckled under the swell of an immorbid population, space itself literally ran out. . . . Conrad Murs