Galaxy Blues (2 page)

From the thigh pocket of my discarded suit, I pulled out a pair of faux-leather boots. I put them on, then stood erect and checked my appearance in the glass window of the inner hatch. What I saw pleased me: a young guy in his early twenties, well dressed and obviously wealthy, but otherwise inconspicuous. Not an immigrant or a tradesman, but rather the sort of person who'd have enough money to spend on a vacation to the new world. No one would guess that I was a former Union Astronautica officer desperate enough to escape from Earth to stow away aboard a starship with little more than the clothes on my back.

Yet I was more than what I wore. Once again, I patted the inside pocket of my jacket. The documents I'd need to prove my identity were there, along with
L
2,000 that I had converted into colonial dollars—
C
1,200 at the current rate of exchange—at the Banque Americano branch on Highgate just two days ago. These things would come in handy once I reached my destination.

At the moment, I was a stowaway. Very soon, though, I'd play the role of a passenger…and once I set foot on Coyote, I'd become a defector.

IV

Four bells through the loudspeaker, followed sixty seconds later by a vibration passing through the floor, told me that the
Lee
had activated its differential drive. The ship was now on the way to rendezvous with Starbridge Earth.

A quick glance through the hatch window to make sure I was alone, then I turned the wheel counterclockwise. Beyond the airlock lay an EVA ready room, its walls lined with suit lockers. I found one that was empty and shoved my suit inside, then eased open the door and peered out.

I was on Deck One, the ship's lowest level, about one-third of the way back from the bow. The central passageway was deserted, yet I knew that it was only a matter of minutes before the captain called an end to GQ and the crew would be able to move about freely. Closing the hatch behind me, I moved quickly down the narrow corridor, heading toward the bow.

From either side of me, I heard voices from behind the closed doors of various compartments. If an encounter was unavoidable, I was prepared to play stupid:
whoops, silly me…you mean this isn't the way to the lounge?
Yet I didn't run into any crew members before I found the ladder leading to Deck Two. A quick jog up the steps, and from there it was a short walk down another passageway until I reached the hatch to the passenger section.

I peeked through the window. No one in sight. I took a moment to straighten my cravat and run my fingers through my hair, then I grasped the wheel. The hatch opened with a faint sigh as I stepped out into the narrow alcove leading to the restrooms. The signs above the doors showed that they were all unoccupied. I quietly opened the door of the nearest one, shut it just loudly enough to be heard, and then commenced down the center aisle.

Before it was seized by the Coyote Federation during Parson's Rebellion—an incident that was something of a coda to the Revolution—the
Robert E. Lee
belonged to the European Alliance, where it'd been known as the EASS
Francis Drake
. Once it was rechristened and became the flagship of Coyote's fledgling navy, the vessel had undergone a major refit that allowed it to serve as the principal means of transportation from Earth to the new world. Although most of Earth's major governments had signed trade and immigration agreements with the Coyote Federation, the easiest way to get to 47 Ursae Majoris was to buy passage aboard the
Lee
. Tickets were cheaper, tariffs were lower, and—provided that one possessed the proper credentials—the customs hassles were fewer.

When I arrived on Highgate ten months ago, I didn't have a ticket, nor did I possess a tourist visa. Circumstances made it impossible for me to obtain either one, or at least not by legal means. Over the course of the last ten months, though, I'd scraped up enough money to buy first-class passage aboard the
Lee
, and the same sources who'd provided me with Lucius Guthrie's identity were happy to do the same again, this time with fake documents proving that I was a gent by name of Geoffrey Carr. The real Geoffrey Carr was a naïve young lad from England who had become stranded on Highgate after failing to make a living as a nightclub comedian. As luck would have it, he'd run into Lucius Guthrie, who'd been willing to provide him with a ticket home in return for a little subterfuge on his part, no questions asked.

So it was Geoffrey Carr who had a private cabin reserved for him aboard the
Lee
, along with the visa that would allow him to pass through customs once he reached Coyote. All he had to do was show up at the right gate at the right time, present his credentials and ticket…and once they were scanned, disappear into the loo just before the passengers were allowed to board ship. If Geoff did all that, he'd find a third-class ticket back to Earth waiting for him in my abandoned quarters, along with forged documents that he'd use to establish his identity as Lucius Guthrie.

This was the only part of my plan that depended upon me trusting someone else. I was confident that Geoff wouldn't let me down—in his own way, he was just as desperate as I was—nonetheless, I couldn't help but feel a certain twinge of anxiety as I strolled through the second-class cabin. I distracted myself by sizing up my fellow travelers. Seated four abreast on either side of the aisle, some were immigrants heading for a new life on another world; mothers and fathers held their childrens' hands as they gazed through the portholes, taking one last look at the planet they'd once called home. A pair of clergymen in black suits, both wearing the helix-backed crucifixes of Dominionist missionaries. A couple of rich tourists, dressed in expensive clothes, speaking to each other in German. Businesspeople in business suits, studying business notes for business meetings in hopes of making business deals on the new world. And dozens of others, of all nationalities—except, of course, citizens of the Western Hemisphere Union, who were forbidden under law to use space transportation not chartered by the WHU—about whose reasons for being aboard I could only speculate.

I'd almost reached the front of the cabin when a uniformed steward stepped out of the galley. Surprised to see a passenger up and about, her eyes widened when she spotted me. “Sir, what are you doing out of your seat?”

“Very sorry. I had to use the…um, facilities.” I feigned embarrassment. “Just a little nauseous, I'm afraid,” I added, clutching my stomach. “Shouldn't have eaten before coming aboard.”

A sympathetic nod, yet her eyes remained suspicious. A quick glance past my shoulder told her that all the second-class seats were occupied. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“That way.” I nodded toward the bow. “Cabin…”

All of a sudden, I realized that I'd forgotten its number. After everything I'd just been through, that one small detail had slipped my mind. “Sorry, can't recall,” I mumbled. “But it's just over here…”

I started to step around her, but the steward moved to block my way. “Let me help you. May I see your ticket, please?”

“Of course.” I reached into my jacket, pulled out the plastic wafer. There was a scanner attached to her belt. If she used it to examine my ticket, she'd see that, although Geoffrey Carr had passed through the passenger gate, for some reason his ticket hadn't been processed before he entered the pressurized gangway leading to the ship. If that happened, I'd have to hope that my only possible excuse—
someone at the gate neglected to process my ticket; why, is that a problem?
—would be enough to convince her.

Yet the steward didn't unclip her scanner. Instead, she glanced at the name and number printed on the card. “Cabin 4, Mr. Carr,” she murmured, then glanced up at me. “Wonder why I didn't see you earlier.”

“My mistake.” I assayed a weak smile. “Haven't been to my cabin yet. Went straight to the head as soon as I came aboard.” I hesitated, then moved a little closer. “You may want to have the other passengers avoid using it for a while. I switched on the fan, but still…”

“Yes, right.” The steward hastily turned toward the passageway leading to the first-class cabins. “This way, please…”

My accommodations were no larger than the airlock I'd cycled through, with barely enough room for two persons. Two seats facing each other across a small table, all of which could be collapsed into the bulkheads to make room for a pair of fold-down bunks. It's questionable whether being able to stretch out and sleep during the sixteen-hour voyage was worth two months' salary as a longshoreman, but the added measure of privacy was priceless. However remote the possibility that I would encounter someone who'd met either (the fake) Lucius Guthrie or (the real) Geoffrey Carr, that was a risk I didn't want to take. Hence the private cabin.

The steward showed me how everything worked, then inquired whether I would like anything from the galley. My throat was dry, so I asked for orange juice. She left, returning a few minutes later with my drink. Another admonishment for not being where I should've been during launch, but this time it was only a mild rebuke, like that given to a mischievous child. I accepted the scolding with good grace, and then she left me in peace, sliding the door shut behind her.

Alone again, I settled back in the forward-facing seat, sipping my OJ as I watched the Moon drift past the starboard window. Too bad I wasn't seated on the other side of the ship; if so, I could have bid Earth a fond farewell. Perhaps it was just as well, though, and maybe even appropriate. I'd turned my back on home a long time ago…

Considering this, I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath. No, that wasn't quite right. I had covered the bases. It was about time to steal home.

V

It took nearly six hours for the
Lee
to reach Starbridge Earth. I passed the time by playing solitaire on the table comp, now and then glancing up at the small wallscreen on the bulkhead. It displayed the ship's trajectory as it traveled from Highgate toward the starbridge, with occasional departure-angle views of Earth and the Moon. The steward stopped by to offer the lunch menu. I ordered Swedish meatballs with spinach pasta, and after I ate, I switched on the
DO NOT DISTURB
light, put my legs up, and took a nap.

A birdlike chirp woke me. I opened my eyes just as a woman's voice came through the wallscreen speaker.
“This is Commodore Tereshkova from the flight deck. We're now on primary approach to the starbridge, with final approach to hyperspace insertion in about ten minutes…”

Realizing who was speaking, I sat up a little straighter. I wondered how many of my fellow travelers recognized the captain's name. Anastasia Tereshkova, former commanding officer of the
Drake
and, before that, the EASS
Columbus
, the first European starship to reach 47 Ursae Majoris. After she'd led the
Drake
's crew in mutiny against the European Alliance, Captain Tereshkova had defected to the Coyote Federation, where President Gunther had subsequently appointed her commodore of its navy. To be sure, her fleet consisted of one starship and a small collection of shuttles and skiffs, but nonetheless I was surprised that she was still on active duty. Apparently the commodore wasn't ready to hang up her astronaut wings just quite yet.

“As a necessary part of our maneuvers, we will soon deactivate both the main drive and the Millis-Clement field,”
Tereshkova continued.
“This means that we will lose artificial gravity within the ship. For your safety and comfort, we ask that you return immediately to your seats. Put away all loose items, then fasten your seat straps and make sure that they are secure…”

I located my waist and shoulder straps and buckled them into place. Outside the door, I could hear stewards moving past my cabin.

“Once we enter the starbridge, the transition through hyperspace will take only a few seconds. The entire event will be displayed on your screens. However, if you are prone to vertigo or motion sickness, we strongly recommend that you switch off your screens, lean back in your seats, and close your eyes. Stewards will provide you with eyeshades if you so desire…”

The last thing I wanted to miss was going through hyperspace. Yet I could already imagine some of the passengers making sure that vomit bags were within reach, while perhaps regretting that they'd ordered lunch only a few hours ago.

“Once we're through the starbridge, our flight to Coyote will take another ten hours, at which point you will board shuttles for transfer to the New Brighton spaceport. In the unlikely event of an emergency, please be reminded that this ship is also equipped with lifeboats, which may be boarded from Deck One below you. Stewards will escort you to those lifeboats, which in turn will be operated by a crew member…”

I couldn't help but snort at this. Although the
Lee
could still serve as a military vessel in a pinch, insurance underwriters on Earth had insisted that, once it was refitted as a civilian transport, certain accommodations had to be provided to ensure the safety of her passengers just in case there was a catastrophic accident. I doubted that the lifeboats had been jettisoned since their test flights.