Empire's End by Chris Bunch; Allan Cole

Author:Chris Bunch; Allan Cole [Cole, Chris Bunch; Allan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781841490830
Google: 9c6RHAAACAAJ
Amazon: 1841490830
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2001-09-30T11:00:00+00:00

Just like you told the company no.

He had heard the rumors about Operation Alva even before he had been approached by Captain Selfridge to join the crew. Word was that a routine scan of the remote Alva Sector had come up with a strong but intermittent disturbance in the normal background radiation. The pulse came from an area no known body existed. It was not a black hole. Or any of the theoretical formations posed by twenty-second-century physicists to explain the newly unexplainable. Also, as far as anyone could tell, the blips or buzzes showing up against the radiation background charts came from a “natural” source.

Kea was oddly stirred by rumors of the unexplained phenomenon. The small-boy/adventurer in him wanted badly to see for himself. To be the first to know a thing before anyone else. To rediscover his sense of wonder. Then his hard-won cynicism reasserted itself. Unless there was proven money in it, the company would ignore the whole thing. The required government report would eventually be drawn up, filed, and forgotten in a bureaucratic black hole. So, he’d returned to the room the company provided ‘tween-contract workers and buried himself in his steadily growing collection of historical works. Then he had gotten the news of Dr. Fazlur’s arrival. The scientist was reportedly an expert on alternate-universe theory. Kea had nearly dismissed tins news outright. He had met too many of the company’s pet experts. They always proved to be nothing more than PhDs for hire, with no qualms about bending fact to meet an employer’s expectations. He had figured Fazlur was there merely to draw up the report, to maintain the company’s license requirements with die government. This guess had been reinforced when he heard about Fazlur’s gorgeous “assistant”—Dr. Ruth Yuen—and how he liked to nuzzle and paw at her in public. The man was obviously more playboy than scientist. Then he’d heard about the many metric tons of equipment being unloaded from the ship that had borne Fazlur and Yuen to Base Ten.

“Company’s turned on the money machine,” an old space jock had said at one of Kea’s favorite dives. “Somethin’s gotta be up!”

A small forest of special antennas had been erected on Base Ten’s exterior skin by around-the-clock crews. Kea had seen it for himself upon his return from a quick, one-week hop. As his ship had floated toward Base Ten’s docking bay, he had noted the odd configuration Fazlur had ordered constructed: wires knitted together and strung from towers until they formed an immense gill-net receiver. The old space jock had not exaggerated when he talked about the money machine going full bore. Something was up, indeed.

Kea had paced his room. Picked up Gibbon. Tossed it. Flipped through the Anabasis. Tossed it, too. Ditto Plutarch’s

Lives. And Churchill. Too many hours dragged by. When he had gotten the message from Captain Selfridge that he was putting together a crew for an expedition to the Alva Sector, he had bounded to the meeting as fast as a strong young man can bound in three-quarters gravity.

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