"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.
"Company thinks real well of you, Richards," Selfridge had said.
"Thanks, Captain."
"Hey, none of that captain business," the man had protested. "I like my ship loosey-goosey. Informal. Makes for a better team. That way we all pull together when you know what hits the fan... Call me Murph."
"Sure... Murph," Kea had said, thinking then and there he ought to blow out. Only a fool would sign on a ship run by a captain who said, "Call me Murph."
"That's right, Richards. Loosey-goosey. And we'll get on fine. Anyway. Company put you top of my list for the chief engineer's slot. Now that I metcha, and we talked... I can see why."
Kea hadn't responded. He would have blown the deal. He had spoken maybe fifteen words since he had arrived at the captain's temporary HQ. If old Murph spent an equivalent time checking out the others, they'd wind up with a crew that would give Long John Silver the heebie-jeebies. "One thing I oughta mention," Murph had continued. "I gotta Osiran for my new first officer. Name's Vasoovan. Any problem with that?"
Murph had instantly misunderstood Kea's raised eyebrow. "Now, I won't blame you if you're sorta prejudiced against Osirans. Taken a good man's job, and all. But this Vasoovan comes highly recommended. Even if she is a bug."
"No. I've got no problems with Osirans... Murph," Kea had finally said. This was no lie. He was too much a mongrel himself to be prejudiced. He had heard fine things about Osirans in general. But not as company employees. Osirans were a pretty proud group. Hated the idea of being beholden to humans because they'd been the ones to make first contact. The only ones who would work for humans, Kea knew very well, were malcontents and incompetents. Which meant Murph's first officer was a likely loser with an attitude. Another bad sign. So, if his own name was on the recommended list, what did that make him?
"Now, this is a real ticklish mission we got here," Murph said. "So you get hazardous-duty pay. And that's triple time, friend. One year guaranteed."
Kea had smiled, acting pleased. So that explains it, he had thought. As one of the company's youngest chief engineers in grade, triple time would be pretty cheap. Which explained the Osiran. Rock-bottom wages mere. And good old Murph looked like the sort of guy who had to work cheap. "Plus bonuses if we bring home the bacon," Murph had said.
"What exactly are we after?"
"You probably heard the scuttlebutt in the bars about the weird readings they're gettin‘ out of Alva Sector, right?"
"Yeah. Everybody heard."
Laughter. "Figured that. No secrets on Base Ten. Anyway, they got the readings. Clerk drew up a filing, like we're supposed to. Law says the company's gotta report unexplained stuff like that. Part of the license with the Powers That Be. Public duty, and all that BS."
Public duty, meaning pure research and intellectual development, was a sop the big companies threw the opposition when they won the right to commercialize space. Little money was actually spent. Space Ways and its fellow franchisees met only the vaguest spirit of the law.
"The report got punted forward," Murph continued, "and everybody figured that was that. It'd get buried along with all the other jerkoff stuff. Which is where Fazlur comes into the story. The doc's an expert on alternate-universe theory. Don't ask me to explain it, I'm a space jockey, not a domehead."
"I promise I won't," Kea had said.
"So Fazlur sees the report. Gets all excited. Runs it through the computers, and bingo, it comes up three cherries. Proof there's an alternate universe, he says. A leak in space."
"Why is the company listening?" Kea had kept his features bland. Inside, his heart was hammering. "What do they care? Unless there's money it in for them."
"No money," Murph had said. "Not a chance. This expedition is, and I quote, ‘purely in the interest of the advancement of science,' end BS quote."
Kea had just stared at him—a working stiff's Don't Con Me stare. Murph had laughed. "Yeah. Right. Actually, what's goin‘ on is that our fearless parent company—SpaceWays—has got its tit in a political wringer. Some government types say they're skinnin' the research credits too fine."
"So they're looking for a nice bone to throw to the dogs, right?" Kea had guessed.
"You got it. And so did Fazlur. He may be a domehead, but he's got a good business nose. He pulls some strings. A junior veep sees a chance to make senior. And son of a gun, all of a sudden, we got us a scientific mission."
So, that's all it was, Kea had thought. A little cheapie non-effort to spread oil on troubled political waters. This thing was bound to be screwed from the get-go.
"So, Richards. I did my dance. Give you my best dog-and-pony show. What do you say? You with me?"
Kea had rolled it over. And over again. It still didn't look good. However... An alternate universe? The other side of God's coin? And there was a measurable leak... A door. Into...
What?
Richards had to know. "Yeah," he'd said. "I'm with you."
Kea watched Ruth ankle down the corridor. She paused at the door, turned, flashed that wicked grin, then the door hissed open. She disappeared inside. He waited a few moments. It wouldn't do for them to arrive together.
Murph's call for a meeting had caught them in the middle of another wild session of lovemaking. The voice on Kea's room speaker had barely died away, before they were pulling on their clothes. Now he was cooling his heels to allay any suspicions Fazlur might have. Kea cursed himself for getting into the predicament. The woman had come on from the start. She had a body and look that dared you to find out what she knew. Which was a helluva lot. She had told him Fazlur was a pig. She put up with his demands because it was the only way she could keep her job. Otherwise she would be just another scientist with a sheepskin for hire.
"I have to use what nature gave me," she'd said, tracing a shapely finger along even more shapely naked flesh. But Kea had noted that for her the danger of getting caught—and the ensuing trouble it would cause—lent heavy spice to sex. Again, like Tamara. Don't point fingers, Richards, he thought. It gets to you, too. Every time she comes knocking... you open the door.