Galactic Empires Read Online Free PDF

weapons. Unless he was ready and protected.
    The icons turned blue and the entry team charged in. Fiech was sprawled on a couch in the living room, still wearing the yellow shirt Paula had seen through so many camera images. His head was flung back, hanging over the edge of the cushions as his limbs shook from the aftermath of the jangle. Drool leaked out of his gaping mouth.
    Paula was running down the corridor, turning the corner. The wreckage of the door was in front of her. Four more team members were charging through it into the apartment. She followed them in. Fiech was still spread out across the couch. One of the suited figures was pressing an ion pistol to his temple. The second was providing cover. The remainder spread out through the apartment, guns held ready, sensors on full power, scanning ahead.
    “Clear,” the squad sergeant called.
    Fiech was given a full deep scan. His body had a few inserts and a couple of OCtattoos, simple Unisphere interfaces, and a standard memorycell, none of them combat grade. They turned him over and secured his wrists. Two ion pistols remained trained on him. He was white and shaking now, on the verge of vomiting.
    Paula removed her helmet, shaking out her hair. Fiech gave her a terrified stare.
    “It’s going to be rough on you,” Paula said. “Even if you cooperate, memory reading is never pleasant. But if you give us the names and structure of your movement, we can keep it to a minimum. We’ll just verify your information. Trust me, it’s worth it.”
    Fiech started sobbing, tears tricking down his cheeks. “What the fuck is happening?” he wailed. “What is going on?”
    Paula gave him a contemptuous look. She’d expected more professionalism. “Take him down to the office. Prep him for a memory read. I’ll run it myself.”
    A whimpering Fiech was dragged past her. Christabel came into the apartment, taking her helmet off to look round. “I’ll get forensics in, rip this place apart.”
    “Sure.” A formality, Paula knew. The apartment was part of his cover, it’d be clean.
    “Hell of a first day back, boss. What are you going to do tomorrow?”
----
    WHAT I KNOW HAPPENED
    I was up early that morning, just like bloody always these days. Damn company is squeezing its staff to husks, always raising our performance targets. You can’t keep doing that year after year, people can only do so much.
    Anyway… the first wave of commuters was buzzing about on the streets when I left the tower lobby. Poor bastards. Just like me. Squeezed on all sides. You can see it in their null expressions. All that effort and angst etched into their faces, and it was only five past seven.
    I walked down O’Connal Street to the underground metro station. It’s steep ground just behind Sydney harbor, and the skyscrapers are so high you don’t see sunlight that time of the morning. Some of my fellow sufferers were gulping down Bean There coffee from plastic cups. I hate that. Food on the run gives me really bad indigestion.
    The metro station has a direct line to the CST station on the south side of the city. It took eleven minutes. Three longer than usual. Every bugger is conspiring to make my life worse.
    I missed the first train to Wessex. Typical. So I waited on the big platform, with its white wing roof. Me and two hundred others. Time was, I used to be excited just being in CST’s Sydney station. Think of it. Out there past the end of the platform there’s eighteen wormhole generators, each one with tracks leading to a different phase one world. One line goes to Wessex, the junction to phase two space, with another twelve worlds beyond that. They’re going to open five more in the next three years. All that opportunity, the potential out there, and what does my life amount to? Bugger all. Corporate drone, that’s me. Worlds aren’t new starts and fresh hope, all that crap in the brochures. I’ve been to all of them. They’re just more developments that I’ve got to