Galaxy Blues Read Free Page A

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?”
    â€œVery 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?”
    â€œThat 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?”
    â€œOf 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