Solaris Rising 3: The New Solaris Book of Science Fiction
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Following the exceptionally well received, Solaris Rising 1 and and the Philip K. Dick Award-nominated Solaris Rising 2 series editor Ian Whates brings even more best-selling and cutting edge SF authors together for the latest extraordinary volume of new original ground-breaking stories.
These stories are guaranteed to surprise, thrill and delight, and continue our mission to demonstrate why science fiction remains the most exiting, varied and inspiring of all fiction genres. In Solaris Rising 1 and 2 we showed both the quality and variety that modern science fiction can produce. In Solaris Rising 3, we'll be taking SF into the outer reaches of the universe. Nina Allan, Aliette de Bodard, Tony Ballantyne, Chris Beckett, Julie Czerneda, Ken Liu, Alex Dally MacFarlane, Ian R MacLeod & Martin Sketchley, Gareth L Powell, Adam Roberts, Benjamin Rosenbaum, Cat Sparks, Benjanun Sriduangkaew, Ian Watson and Seam Williams are just some of the names set to appear.
killed last week. Who are you trying to fool?” Loy chuckled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” “Where did you get these?” Lydia asked. Loy looked to Thias, who answered by telling some long story in Ambonese. He made exaggerated gestures, and Lydia listened, rapt. “What did he say?” Benjamin asked. “He says he got it out of the stomach of a dead shark.” She turned back to Loy and Thias. “Maybe he can do something with it. But you have to be reasonable.” “Five hundred then,” Loy said,
to analyse in the lab that afternoon. The seas were particularly beautiful that morning as I made my way back in the clear globe of the jet. The light from the sun trickled through the water, and all was varying shades of orange, pink, and yellow. Pillars of pale coral rose on either side, and the nearly transparent fish-like creatures darted to and fro. Trailing strands of red seaweedshifted in the current. I never grew tired of travelling through the sunset seas of Anthemusa. It’s still
climbing up ramshackle poles. From the air, Luto settlements resembled patches of green mould. Anna was sitting on the steps of the rickety veranda. She was a young woman of twenty-three, but a stranger might easily have mistaken her for a ten-year-old boy, for she was less than five foot tall, wore boy’s clothes, and had her hair cropped to within a few millimetres of her scalp. Right now, she was clearly not happy. She was holding her face in her hands, rocking back and forth, and softly
perhaps a little too loud – and kept jabbing at the remote until he reached News 24, where they were confronted by an image of the marsh and the same bubbly young reporter whose enthusiasm refused to be dampened by drizzle, behind her the same pontoon and men in orange rubber suits. “That’s it, isn’t it?” said Grace. “That’s where they’ve found the Vulcan.” The young woman was talking about the Cold War, Britain’s V-bomber force, its role in the Cuban Missile Crisis, World War Three, Macmillan,
shaded areas with little symbols and figures. What on Earth was going on in his head? As doors banged and someone laughed in the corridor outside her room, Grace rolled onto her side and pulled the duvet tight around her. Perhaps tomorrow she would find out more, but she couldn’t help wonder whether everyone back in Perth had been right, with all their warnings of sleeping dogs, skeletons and closets. SHE COMES TO you one evening. Out of the blue. Out of the airfield dark. You’re not proud of