GALAXY BLUES:

PART TWO OF FOUR:

THE PRIDE OF CUCAMONGA

by Allen M. Steele

 

* * * *

 

Synopsis of Part One:

 

My name is Jules Truffaut, and this is the story of how I redeemed the human race.

 

It all began when I stowed away aboard the starship Robert E. Lee for its monthly voyage to Coyote, humankind’s first interstellar colony. Technically speaking, I was a first-class passenger, having already booked passage to 47 Ursae Majoris. However, as a former ensign in the Union Astronautica of the Western Hemisphere Union—whose relationship with Coyote is strained at best—it was necessary for me to sneak aboard the ship just before it departed from Earth.

 

My plan was to travel to Coyote under an assumed identity; once there, I would plead for political asylum. But my scheme backfired when a steward who’d found me became suspicious. Checking the manifest, she discovered that, although I had indeed purchased a ticket, there was no record of me actually boarding the ship. So shortly after the Lee jumped through Earth’s starbridge to 47 Ursae Majoris, the chief petty officer placed me under arrest.

 

On the bridge, I met the Lee’s commanding officer, Anastasia Tereshkova. Realizing that I was in serious trouble, I revealed my true identity and informed her that I was seeking amnesty. However, I’d overlooked the fact that one has to actually set foot on foreign soil in order to defect. Since the Lee was still in space, Tereshkova was obliged to take me back to Earth and turn me over to the authorities.

 

So I took matters into my own hands. On my way to the brig, I escaped from my captors and stole one of the ship’s lifeboats. I was trained as a pilot, so I was able to guide the craft to a safe touchdown on Coyote. However, almost as soon as I landed, I was apprehended by the colonial militia.

 

The soldiers brought me to Liberty, Coyote’s largest colony, where I was thrown in jail. I had little doubt that the local magistrates would order my deportation. Before that happened, though, I had two visitors. The first was a mysterious figure who appeared at my cell window. As he stared at me, a door opened in my mind, releasing all my memories. I fell unconscious; when I awoke, the stranger had disappeared.

 

The second was Morgan Goldstein, the billionaire founder of Janus, Ltd., an interstellar shipping company. Impressed by the way I’d escaped from the Lee, he offered a way out of my predicament. Goldstein was recruiting a crew for an expedition to Rho Coronae Borealis, with the intent of opening trade with its inhabitants, the alien hjadd. If I signed on as shuttle pilot, he would make sure that I wasn’t deported. Having little choice, I agreed to work for him.

 

After arranging for my release, Goldstein took me to a tavern where I met the rest of the crew: the captain, Ted Harker, and his wife and first officer, Emily Collins, both of whom were on the first ship to contact the hjadd; the helmsman, Ali Youssef; and the cargo master, a lovely young woman by the name of Rain Thompson, who was oddly cold toward me. And finally, another passenger besides Goldstein himself: Gordon Ash, whom I recognized as the stranger who’d visited me in jail.

 

This was going to be a weird trip, indeed.

 

* * * *

 

SIX

 

Downtime ... the night life on Coyote ... the mysterious tenant ... a tense breakfast during which various matters are discussed.

 

I

 

We hung around Liberty for another week, local time, more out of necessity than anything else. Our ship had recently undergone refit at Janus’s shipyard in Earth orbit, and we were told that it wouldn’t be delivered to Coyote until the chief engineer was satisfied that all the new work was up to spec. So we had little to do until then but wait for our ride to arrive.

 

Before I left Lew’s Cantina, Ted handed me a data fiche for a Zeus-class shuttle. It was a different sort of boat than the ones I’d been trained to fly—a single-stage-to-orbit heavy lifter—but I had little doubt that I could handle it. The next day, I wandered around town until I found the comp store I’d spotted while Morgan was driving me to the inn, and used a good chunk of the money I’d brought with me to buy a new pad, complete with hologram heads-up. Once I loaded the fiche, I was able to pull up a 3D simulation of the flight controls, which I used to familiarize myself with what I’d find once I climbed into the cockpit.

 

I used most of the remaining cash to buy other stuff. Goldstein had given me new clothes, sure, but he hadn’t anticipated everything that a well-dressed spacer might need. It took a while, but I finally managed to locate a shop that catered to pros like myself. I picked up a pair of stick-shoes for zero-g work, a pilot’s watch—electronic analog, with three programmable time zones, a radiation counter, and a bevel—and a pair of sunglasses, along with a utility vest and a miniature tool kit to go with it. The sort of stuff I’d carried when I belonged to the Union Astronautica, but which I’d been forced to give back when I was kicked out of the service.

 

So I shopped, and I studied, and otherwise looked for ways to kill time until my ship came in. That turned out to be harder than I’d expected. Liberty was the largest colony on Coyote, but that didn’t exactly make it a hoppin’ party town. Most people there possessed a puritanical work ethic—get up in the morning, have breakfast, go off to work, come home in the evening, have dinner, go to bed—they had inherited from the original settlers. Once the sun went down, the streets were just about dead. Oh, there was a theatre ensemble—one evening I caught a performance of a play written by a local author, a comedy packed with topical references that might have been side-splitting if I’d known what they were about—and I eventually found a bar on the other side of town that had a half-decent folk trio, if you like music played so slow and soft that you could fall asleep between songs. But even then, everything closed down long before midnight, leaving me to walk home as Bear ascended into the night sky, its silver rings illuminating deserted sidewalks and houses where the lights were going out one by one.

 

A couple of other things gave me interest. One was baseball. Late in the afternoon, once I got through my daily routine of memorizing the layout of the shuttle cockpit and practicing the tutorials, I would mosey over to the Colonial University and watch the Boids practice. For a bunch of kids who’d never set foot on Doubleday Field, they weren’t bad. Not great, by any means, but they had their hearts in the right place. I sat in the right-field bleachers and watched the team while they divided into two squads and played off against each other. At first, I winced while these boys and girls committed errors that would have put a Little League team to shame, until I gradually realized that these were third-generation colonists who’d inherited the game from their fathers and grandfathers. Once I came to accept this, I stopped cursing the pitcher every time he walked a batter. Even so, I found myself wishing I could be out there, if only to show these guys how baseball was really played.

 

My other distraction was Rain.

 

Most of the crew had places to live besides the inn. Goldstein flew back to Albion, where I was told he had an estate just outside New Brighton. Ted and Emily had a house in town, and Ali lived in an apartment above a cheesemaker’s shop; I’d run into them from time to time, usually while I was out doing errands. Ash had a room at the inn, too, just down the hall from mine, but I rarely saw him, and then only late at night, when he’d lurch back to the Soldier’s Joy from Lew’s Cantina. He never spoke to me, and from what I could tell, he seemed to be perpetually drunk. On occasion I’d hear the sounds of a guitar being played in his room, but that was about it. Altogether, everything about him was ominous—there’s nothing worse than having a jughead aboard ship—but since he was Morgan’s passenger, there was little I could do about it.

 

Rain had been put up at the inn as well, something I didn’t know until the morning of my third day there, when I spotted her in the dining room. She’d arrived before I did, though, and it was clear that she wasn’t thrilled to see me. Before I could go over to ask if I could join her for breakfast, she hastily stood up, dropped a few colonials on the table, and scurried out the garden door. When the innkeeper’s wife came by to take my order, I asked if the young lady who was just here was another guest. She told me, yes, she was indeed ... and pointedly added that her room was on the ground floor, just across the hall from the apartment where she and her husband lived. Just in case, I suppose, that I might be a little too interested.

 

Which I wasn’t. The last thing I wanted to do was waste my time pursuing a girl who acted as if I had spinach stuck between my teeth. Yet Rain Thompson wasn’t just another girl. She was also a shipmate, which meant that we’d have to work together for the duration of our voyage. It wouldn’t do either of us any good if she refused to talk to me. One way or another, I’d have to make peace with her.

 

That turned out to be difficult. Over the course of the next few days, I’d see her every so often, but always from a distance ... a distance that she seemed determined to keep between us. Several times while walking through town, I saw her coming the other way, but when I quickened my pace to catch up with her, she’d either cross the street to avoid me or duck down an alley and disappear. Once, while watching the Boids work out, I caught a glimpse of her strolling across the university campus, but she’d vanished by the time I came down from the bleachers. On another occasion, I spotted her through a shop window ... but that time I held back, not wanting her to feel like she was being cornered.

 

Yet even as she and I played this little cat and mouse game, I found myself becoming intrigued by her. I’d seen plenty of women who were more beautiful—and to be honest, I’d even slept with a few of them—but there was something about her that fascinated me. I liked the way she moved, the way she dressed, the way she let her hair fall around her shoulders. The only thing I couldn’t stand was the coldness in her eyes whenever she looked my way ... but even then, that was just one more part of the mystery that was Rain Thompson.

 

On my eighth day in Liberty, I resolved to solve this enigma once and for all. She got up early in the morning. Well, so would I. That night, I set my watch alarm for five AM, laid out my clothes so that I could get dressed as quickly as possible, and went to bed early. By sunrise, I was seated in the ground floor parlor, casually reading yesterday’s edition of the Liberty Post, when I heard a door open and shut just down the hall.

 

Keeping the newspaper in front of my face, I waited until I heard her walk into the parlor. The dining room wasn’t open yet, though, and her footsteps stopped by the door. She hesitated, turned around ... and that was when I lowered the newspaper.

 

“Good morning,” I said.

 

Rain’s eyes went wide, and for a second I thought she’d leap a foot into the air. “Oh my god!” she snapped. “Don’t do that!”

 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to surprise you.” Sure, I did, but there was no point in letting her know that. “Coming in for breakfast? So am I.”

 

“Well, I ... I...”

 

“Nothing else open at this hour, so far as I know. Unless you’d like to take a walk.”

 

Her eyes darted toward the front door. “As a matter of fact, I...”

 

“Good. I’ll go with you.” I put aside the paper and stood up. “A little constitutional first thing in the morning is good for the heart, don’t you think?” She was still trying to figure out how to answer this when the dining room door clicked from the inside, and the innkeeper’s wife pushed it open. “Or maybe some breakfast first,” I added. “Shouldn’t exercise on an empty stomach, you know.”

 

Rain looked first at the dining room, then at the front door, and finally at me. Unless she wanted to flee back to her room, she was trapped, and she knew it. “Well ... all right,” she said, her expression lapsing into sour resignation. “If you insist.”

 

“Breakfast? Or a walk first?” She shrugged, as if the choice mattered little to her. “Breakfast, then.” I raised two fingers to the landlady. “Table for two, please ... and yes, we’d like coffee.”

 

* * * *

 

II

 

Rain wore a calf-length hemp skirt and a thin wool sweater. When I pulled back the chair for her, I noticed the silver ankle bracelet above her left foot, and the turquoise pin with which she’d pulled back her hair that morning. As always, she wore her clothes with elegant simplicity. I’d known women on Earth who spent hours primping before a mirror to achieve the look she managed to capture with casual ease.

 

She let me seat her, but said nothing while we glanced at our menus. The Soldier’s Joy offered the same breakfast every morning, so the choice wasn’t difficult to make: I took two scrambled eggs, a rasher of bacon, toast, and a glass of tomato juice, while she ordered a poached egg, toast, and water. A pot of black coffee was already on the table; once the landlady disappeared into the kitchen, I picked it up and poured a cup for myself.

 

“You were waiting for me, weren’t you?” she asked.

 

My first thought was to pretend that this was nothing but a coincidence, but she was too sharp for that kind of nonsense. “Uh-huh,” I said. “Got up early, waited until you showed up.” A yawn rose from my chest as I put down the coffee pot, and I raised my hand to my face. “Pardon ... little early for me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well...” I picked up my cup, took a sip. “First off, you and me are going to have to work together, and my experience has been that it’s best to make friends with your shipmates ... or at least get to know them a little better.” The coffee was strong that morning; I added a splash of goat’s milk to tone it down. “Second, I’m wondering why you keep trying to avoid me, when ... so far as I know, at least ... I’ve done nothing to offend you.”

 

“Is that a fact?” She sat back in her chair, arms folded across her chest.

 

“That’s a fact.” I took another sip. “Your turn.”

 

She regarded me for a few moments, as if sizing me up. “Very well, then,” she said at last. “The fact of the matter is that I don’t trust you.”

 

Of all the things she could have said, that was the one that I least expected. At least she could have waited until I didn’t have a drink in my hand. Hot coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup and scalded the web of my thumb, causing me to wince. “Damn,” I muttered, hastily putting down the cup and picking up a napkin. “Don’t mince words, do you?”

 

An offhanded shrug. “You asked.”

 

“So what makes you think I can’t be...?” A thought occurred to me. “Oh, right. You mean the way I got here. Look, it’s a long story, but if you’ll let me explain...”

 

“Don’t bother. I know all about that already.” Rain poured coffee for herself; she took it black, ignoring both the milk and sugar on the table. “The fact that you’re a stowaway only confirms my suspicions ... although, I have to admit, the way you pulled it off was pretty clever.”

 

“Right up until I got caught, sure.” She said nothing as I folded a corner of the napkin, dipped it into the water glass, and used it to nurse my burned hand. “But why do you say that confirms your suspicions of me?”

 

Rain absently toyed with a fork, running a finger along its handle. “When Morgan became interested in you, he got someone who works for him to check you out....”

 

“He told me he did this. I assume one of his people managed to access my service record.”

 

“Morgan has his resources.” She picked up her coffee. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

 

I had to smile at this. “How kind of you to say so.”

 

She wasn’t amused. “Your brother Jim probably thought so, too. Right after you betrayed him.”

 

Suddenly, this conversation was no longer as charming as it might have been. I stared at her from across the table, trying to decide how much of a gentleman I wanted to be. “That’s—” I took a deep breath “—none of your business.”

 

“It isn’t?” Rain stared back at me. “You said it yourself ... people should get to know one another if they’re going to work together on a ship.” She shook her head. “And what I found out about what you did to your brother...”

 

“You don’t know squat about...!”

 

The landlady chose that moment to come through the kitchen door with our plates in each hand. She must have noticed the tension between us, because she hesitated for a moment before she approached our table and, without a word, put the plates in front of us. Neither Rain nor I spoke until she vanished once more. I’d lost my appetite by then, but at least the interruption gave me a moment to get my temper back under control.

 

“Did it ever occur to you,” I said, trying hard to remain calm, “that what’s in my files may not be the truth? Or at least not all of it?”

 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Rain picked up her fork, used it to pierce the yolk of her poached egg. “There’s no reason for anyone to lie.”

 

“Oh, yes, there is. Especially when it has to do with the Academia del Espacio.” I let out my breath. “Look, let me tell you about what happened to Jim....”

 

* * * *

 

III

 

Jim Truffaut is my younger brother. My mother and my father had already decided that they wanted to have two sons, so genengineering assured them that I didn’t have a sister instead. Since our folks were also fans of classic cinema, they decided to take advantage of our family name to christen us after one of their favorite French films. You can look it up if you don’t catch the allusion; reference TRUFFAUT, FRANCOIS, DIRECTOR, and go from there.

 

Skip forward eighteen years. Since my lifelong dream had been to become a spacer, once I graduated from high school, I applied to the Union Astronautica. In the Western Hemisphere Union, this was the only way to get into space. My grades were good, and with my father’s assistance—which included a nice bribe to the local Matriarch for whom he’d done a few favors as a loyal Party member—I was accepted into the Academia del Espacio, the UA’s training school for its astronaut corps.

 

Jim didn’t necessarily want to go to the stars, but neither did he want to live in Kansas for the rest of his life. The same Matriarch wrote a recommendation for him, and Jim entered the Academy as a plebe just as I was entering my senior year. But while I sailed through the program without much of a hitch, Jim had problems from the moment he set foot in the Academy. And let’s face it: although social collectivism dictates that all men are created equal, the fact of the matter is that some of us are more equal than others. I had spacedust in my blood, but Jim had to struggle every waking moment just to get through his classes.

 

I tried to help him as much as I could, and as an upperclassman I was able to do so. But the day finally came when I graduated from the Academy, with the subsequent rank of Ensign First Class, and I had to leave my brother behind. Jim’s poor grades had already caused him to fall back a semester; he’d been put on probation and was in danger of washing out by the time I was assigned to a Mars cycleship. My future was bright, but his lay in shadow.

 

I’d promised him, though, that I’d try to help him as much as I could, and see that he’d get posted on my ship once he graduated. Jules and Jim, off to conquer the universe. That was a promise I’d live to regret, because I’d just finished my first tour on the Victory when I received a coded communiqué from Jim. His finals were coming up in two weeks, and he was having problems remembering vital equations he needed to know in order to pass. Could I help him in any way? Hint, hint.

 

I knew the written part of the exams like the back of my hand. I’d also learned, from idle small talk with fellow junior officers aboard the Victory, that the questions hadn’t changed in at least five or six years. So, using a bypass that would circumvent Academy mail filters, I sneaked those questions to Jim, along with the appropriate answers.

 

Sure, I was helping Jim cheat. And I didn’t feel much guilt about doing it, either. All that stuff I’d been forced to memorize was already loaded into every pad and comp I’d used aboard ship; the Academy only wanted its cadets to know them in the unlikely event of a system crash. So sliding him the answers to a redundant part of a written exam ... where was the harm, in the most practical sense?

 

The harm was that it was cheating, plain and simple. The instructors who examined Jim’s test didn’t notice any discrepancies; however, as a matter of routine, the test was fed to a comp, which matched its answers against those given by other cadets in previous years. The comp immediately saw that two questions I’d gotten wrong during my finals were identical to those Jim failed to answer correctly during his. Given our relationship, this caused a red flag to be raised. And when the board of inquiry came to me...

 

My eggs had gone cold by then, my bacon as brittle as a lie. The only thing on my plate that was still worth eating was the toast; I daubed some jelly on it only because it gave my hands something to do.

 

“I didn’t have a choice,” I said, reluctant to look Rain straight in the eye. “Even being suspected of cheating on an exam is enough to sink a cadet.”

 

“And so you sold out your own brother.” Her gaze was remorseless. “To save your career.”

 

“That what you were told?” I looked up at her. “That I finked on him?”

 

“Yes. And...”

 

“Get it straight ... I denied everything!”

 

She blinked. “But I thought...”

 

“Forget what you’ve heard. Do you honestly believe that I’d burn my own brother just to save my skin?” Before she could answer, I went on. “When I was called before the board, I stood before six Patriarchs and Matriarchs and told them that I’d never passed any information to Jim.”

 

“Then how did they find out?”

 

“Because Jim had already confessed. He was so scared, he told his advisor about what he’d done even before the board called him up. But they kept us from seeing each other, and so when I walked into the room, all I knew was that my brother was under suspicion.” I sighed, shook my head. “I figured that, if both of us denied everything, all they’d have was statistical probability, and that wouldn’t be enough to prove anything. What I didn’t count on was Jim fessing up.”

 

“So you lied to save your brother.”

 

“Uh-huh ... and my own ass, to tell the truth.” I picked up my coffee. It had gone lukewarm by then, but I slugged it down anyway. “Didn’t work. With Jim’s confession on record, they had both of us nailed. So they expelled him from the Academy and tossed me out of the service.”

 

“The Union Astronautica would do that?” She stared at me. “Kick out one of its own just because...?”

 

“Yes, it would.” She clearly didn’t understand. “Look,” I went on, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the table, “in a system like the one I grew up in, the rights of the individual matter less than the rights of society. Not much grey area in between. You’re either right or wrong, with us or against us.” I raised a fist in a mock Union salute. “All hail the glory of social collectivism, and all that happy crap.”

 

“I can’t believe that,” she murmured, her gaze falling to her plate. I noticed that she hadn’t touched her food either.

 

“Well ... sorry, but there it is. I’ve told you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” Even though my breakfast had gone cold, I wasn’t about to let it go to waste. I picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled on it. “You can believe me, or you can believe a UA file you’ve managed to hack. Doesn’t matter either way. Morgan hired me, and that’s what counts.”

 

Something I said rekindled her anger, because her eyes flared when she looked up at me again. “All that tells me is that you can’t be counted on. Maybe you tried to save your brother, but you lied to people who trusted you not to do so....”

 

“Aw, c’mon...!”

 

“And then you went further. You faked your identity ... twice, if I understand it right ... in order to stow away aboard a Coyote starship, when you could have simply purchased a ticket...”

 

“I did buy a ticket. Under another name, sure ... but I wasn’t a freeloader.” She looked confused, and I went on. “When I was thrown out of the service, the government revoked my passport. The last thing they wanted was to have a former UA officer leave the country and take their secrets with him ... that had happened before, until they clamped down on it. That’s why I had to sneak aboard the Lee ... there was too much of a chance of having red flags go up if I’d tried to ship out any other way.”

 

“Uh-huh.” She remained skeptical. “And when you got caught, you hijacked a lifeboat and...”

 

“Oh, for the love of...” Angry again, I tossed the rest of the bacon on the plate. “What kind of dream world do you live in? I’d hit rock bottom. At least Jim was able to return to Salina and get his life back ... he hadn’t really wanted to go into space, so all he lost was a job he hadn’t been cut out for in the first place.”

 

“Sounds like you’ve got a bone to pick with him.”

 

“We’re not on speaking terms anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.” I didn’t add that Jim had never bothered to apologize for ratting me out to the board, or that he’d told our folks that it had been my idea to pass the test answers to him. “After what happened, I had nothing left. I couldn’t get hired by anyone else because, in the WHU, there is nothing else. You want to be a spacer, you join the UA. Or ... well, that’s it. Nothing else. Unless you decide to play dirty.”

 

“Play dirty?”

 

“Sure. You scrounge up what little cash you have, buy a phony I.D. and passport on the black market, and leave the continent on whatever suborbital freighter you can find. Then you land somewhere in Europe, hitchhike your way across another continent until you reach a spaceport where you can bribe your way aboard a ship bound for Highgate. Then...”

 

This was quickly turning into a rant. I pulled myself up short. “Anyway, please don’t tell me about the virtues of a clean and honest life unless you’ve lost everything you once had, or had a brother who’s a worthless piece of...”

 

“Don’t you talk about my brother!”

 

That came as an angry shout, one that would have silenced the entire room if anyone else had been there. Rain’s face had gone red; now it was her turn to be pissed off. Past her shoulder, I caught a glimpse of the kitchen door easing open a crack as the landlady peered out at us. I looked back at her and shook my head ever so slightly; satisfied that the guests weren’t about to start throwing furniture at each other, she eased the door shut once more.

 

“My apologies,” I said, keeping my voice as low as possible. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”

 

Realizing that I hadn’t meant any harm, she closed her eyes as she sought to regain control of her emotions. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what ... I mean, you couldn’t know about...” A deep sigh, then she straightened her shoulders. “Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot there.”

 

“I think so, yeah.” Finding nothing else to say, I looked around the table. “More coffee?” I asked, picking up the pot. “It might still be...”

 

“No ... none for me, thanks.” Rain’s hands trembled as they found the napkin in her lap, brought it to her face. I was surprised to see that the corners of her eyes had become moist. “I just ... sorry, but something you said...”

 

“I...”

 

“Forget it.” She snuffled back tears. “Didn’t mean to bark at you like that. I just...”

 

Whatever she intended to say to me, I didn’t get a chance to hear it, for at that moment the dining room door opened, and I looked around to see Ted come in. The captain spotted Rain and me, and quickly walked over to our table.

 

“Good. You’re both up.” He glanced at our plates. “Sorry to interrupt. Just started?”

 

“Yeah, but...” I glanced at Rain; to my relief, she’d dried her tears and put away the napkin. “I don’t think either of us is very hungry. Why, what’s going on?”

 

“Just got a call from Morgan.” Ted pulled back an empty chair, sat down. “Our ship’s here. Came through the starbridge about an hour ago, and it’ll be in orbit later today. We’re to pack up and grab the noon gyrobus to New Brighton.”

 

“We’re shipping out? Just like that?”

 

“Just like that.” Ted picked up a piece of toast from my plate and munched on it. “Hope you’re ready to pilot that shuttle, because you’re about to get your chance.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” After all the hours I’d put in on the tutorials, I could fly it blindfolded if I had to. “But what’s the rush? I mean, don’t we have to load the cargo and...?”

 

“Cargo’s already at the spaceport, ready to go aboard the shuttle once it lands.” Ted looked over at Rain. “Ready for this, sweetie?”

 

“No problem here, skipper.” I was amazed by how quickly she’d recovered. No clue on her face that, only a few minutes ago, she’d been on the verge of tears. Or, just before that, ready to belt me across the room. “Just get me to New Brighton. I’ll handle the rest.”

 

“That’s my girl.” Ted gave her a fond smile, then checked his watch. “Gyro leaves in a few hours. Go upstairs and pack your gear. I’ll check you out of your rooms and call a cab.” He looked around. “Anyone seen Ash this morning?”

 

I was about to say that I never saw him before sundown when Rain supplied the answer for me. “Still in his room, I think.” She hesitated, than quietly added, “I doubt he’s in much condition to fly.”

 

Oh, so she’d also noticed the inebriated state in which our mystery passenger constantly resided. Yet there was something in the way she and Ted looked at each other that gave me reason to think that they knew more about Ash than anyone had divulged to me. “I’ll wake him up,” Ted said, standing up again. “He’s coming with us, whether he wants to or not.”

 

I reached into my pocket, pulled out a couple of colonials and put them on the table. If no one wanted to tell me about Ash, I’d just have to live with it. Yet there was something else I deserved to know.

 

“Pardon me, Captain,” I said as I pushed back my chair, “but just one little thing....”

 

“Yes?”

 

“The name of our ship ... what is it?”

 

Ted didn’t reply at once. Then he pulled back his shoulders, hitched his thumbs within his belt, and looked me straight in the eye.

 

“Mr. Truffaut,” he said, “the name of our ship is the Pride of Cucamonga.”

 

I almost laughed out loud. “What kind of a name is that for a...?”

 

“We’re getting whatever Mr. Goldstein has decided to give us.” He shrugged. “Our job is to fly it.”

 

* * * *

 

SEVEN

 

Shipping out ... Loose Lucy and her motley crew ... caution: weird load ... and an even weirder passenger to go with it ... shake, rattle, and roll.

 

* * * *

 

IV

 

The New Brighton spaceport was more sophisticated than I expected. I’m not sure what I’d anticipated—an overgrown meadow, perhaps, with goats grazing among rusted-out fuel tanks and some old codger sitting on the front porch of a log cabin (“A-yuh, we have spaceships landing here now and then”)—but what I found instead were several square miles of steel-reinforced concrete, with service vehicles moving among gantries that looked as if they’d been built yesterday. At one end of the field was a sleek new passenger terminal; next to it rose the slender pylon of a control tower, its roof bristling with antenna and sat dishes. Even Port Olympus on Mars didn’t look so good.

 

The gyrobus touched down on the commercial side of the spaceport, not far from a row of hangars where several shuttles were parked. Everyone aboard the afternoon flight from Liberty was a pro spacer, with most of them working for the Federation Navy; before we’d boarded the gyro, Ted had quietly told us to say nothing to them, and refrain from talking about our mission. So we kept to ourselves, drawing curious glances from the Federation guys but little more. We waited until they disembarked before we picked up our bags and filed out of the aircraft, walking down the steps into the warmth of the equatorial sun.

 

We’d been told that someone would be there to meet us, but apparently they hadn’t gotten the message. While Ted got on the phone to make a hurry-up call, I took a good look at the people whom I’d be flying with. No wonder the Feds had given us the fish-eye; none of us looked as if we’d ever set foot aboard a spacecraft, let alone served as its flight crew. No one wore uniforms of any sort. Rain had changed out of her skirt into a long-sleeved tunic and a pair of drawstring trousers, while Ted wore an old Galileo ball cap; Ali carried a rolled-up prayer mat under his arm, and Emily had brought along a knitting bag. Ash was obviously hungover; sitting on his duffel bag, his shoulders slumped forward and the hood of his dark brown robe pulled up over his head, he stared at the ground as if he was about to throw up at any minute. I noticed a battered guitar case among his belongings, and wondered if he had a bottle of booze stashed in there.

 

After awhile, an open-air hovercart showed up, driven by a kid barely old enough to shave. With mumbled apologies for being late, he helped us load our belongings into the rear, then climbed behind the wheel. The cart took a one-eighty turn and purred off across the field, the driver dodging cargo loaders and fuel trucks as we passed the hangars. From the other side of the spaceport, there was a roar as a passenger shuttle lifted off, no doubt headed for orbital rendezvous with the Robert E. Lee. We’d just heard the loud boom of it going supersonic when I caught my first look at my new craft.

 

The CFS Loose Lucy was eighty feet tall from the pads of its landing gear to the blunt cone of its nose faring, forty feet abeam where the nozzle of its nuclear engine protruded from the oblate plate of its stern. Judging from the dents, scratches, and scorch marks along the sides of its bell-shaped hull, it was apparent that Lucy had more than a few flight-hours on her. Not a very promising sign.

 

I glanced at Ted and Emily, saw the dubious expressions on their faces. Ted looked back at me and shrugged. “No one promised us a new boat,” he said quietly, trying to make the best of it. “And I’ve been told it’s flightworthy. Think you’ll have any trouble?”

 

“Sure ... if it doesn’t fall apart during takeoff.” Behind me, Ali was whispering something in Arabic that sounded vaguely like a prayer.

 

A gantry tower had been rolled up beside the shuttle, with a gangway leading to the passenger hatch at the top of the craft. Lucy’s mid-deck cargo hatch was open; the shuttle’s freight elevator had been extended upon its T-bar crane, its cage lowered to the ground. A cargo loader was parked next to the craft, and as the cart coasted to a halt, a familiar figure detached himself from a group of pad rats and walked over to greet us.

 

“Glad to see you made it,” Goldstein said, as if we had any choice in the matter. “Sorry this was on such short notice, but I didn’t know exactly when the ship was supposed to arrive until early this morning.”

 

“Not a problem, boss.” Ted shook his hand, then stepped back to gaze up at the shuttle. “It ... well, looks like it’s been quite well broken-in.”

 

“And put back together again,” I muttered.

 

Emily scowled at me, and Ted chose to ignore my comment, but Morgan’s expression darkened. “Sorry, Mr. Truffaut,” he said, cupping an ear. “I didn’t quite hear that.”

 

“I said, she looks solidly put together, sir.” For something that looks like it came straight from the salvage yard, I silently added.

 

“Don’t let looks fool you. She’s had long and dependable service. I went for nothing but the best.” The rest of us looked askance at one another, but no one said anything as Goldstein continued. “We’ve almost finished loading the cargo. Rain, you may want to take a look at the manifest, make sure that everything is...”

 

“Pardon me,” I said, “but would someone finally tell me what we’re going to be hauling?” I was looking at the cargo loader. Stacked on its flatbed were enormous rolls, tightly wrapped in white nylon and lashed together with coils of rope. They somewhat resembled the bales of winter hay one might see in a cow pasture back on Earth, but I couldn’t imagine hay being exported to Rho Coronae Borealis.

 

“Hemp,” Morgan replied.

 

“Hemp?” I raised an eyebrow. “You can’t be...”

 

“Well, not exactly.” He hesitated. “Female cannabis sativa, dried and cured, to be more precise...”

 

“Marijuana,” Rain said.

 

I stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

 

She calmly looked back at me. “No, I’m not kidding. Five thousand pounds of marijuana, from hemp plantations just south of Shuttlefield.”

 

“What the...?” I was having a hard time keeping my jaw from hitting the ground. “What the hell does the hjadd want with two and half tons of marijuana?”

 

Ted let out his breath. “It’s a long story, but ... to make it short, when the hjadd rescued Emily and me from Spindrift, one of the things they found aboard our shuttle were a few grams of marijuana our companion happened to be carrying for his own consumption. The hjadd discovered that it was an edible herb they could use in their own food.”

 

“They eat marijuana?”

 

“Think of it as tea, or perhaps chocolate.” Goldstein smiled as he led the way over to the loader. Its operator was using the crane to lift one of the bales from the flatbed and place it on the freight elevator. “The hjadd are vegetarian by nature, so they consider it to be a rare delicacy. Fortunately, the sample Dr. Ramirez had with him was the seedless variety, so they’ve been unable to cultivate it on their own world. Therefore, if they want more, they need to come to us.”

 

He reached up to pat one of the bales. “As luck would have it, the colonists have been growing hemp for years, for use in clothing, paper, natural oils, whatever. The female plants are necessary for cultivation, of course, but they’re usually discarded during processing. After all, no one smokes the stuff anymore, except for the occasional eccentric like Ramirez. So...”

 

“So Coyote has tons of the stuff, and the hjadd are willing to trade for it.”

 

“You’re catching on.” Morgan grinned. “We’ve already given them fifty pounds ... a free sample, to whet their appetites ... but this is the first large shipment. If all goes well, it’ll become a major export item, with more to follow....”

 

“Sure.” I shrugged. “And who knows? After this, we can introduce them to tobacco. Maybe even opium.”

 

Morgan glared at me, then turned to Ted. “Captain Lesh is over there. If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you so you can make the change of command.”

 

“Thanks.” Ted looked at Emily. “Emcee, once Rain checks the manifest, take everyone upstairs and get them settled in.” He glanced at me. “You know your job, right?”

 

“Prep the boat for launch. Right.” Once again, I gazed up at Loose Lucy. “When do you want to go?”

 

“Soon as possible,” Morgan said, before Ted could respond. “And Mr. Truffaut ... I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from unkind remarks about my business. That last one was uncalled for.”

 

I suppose I should have apologized, but I didn’t. Instead, I just shrugged. Morgan gave me one last look, then turned to lead Ted away. Emily watched them go, then stepped closer to me.

 

“Word of advice,” she said quietly. “Don’t push it with Morgan. He could land you back in jail any time he wants.”

 

I was tempted to ask where he’d find another shuttle pilot. Emily meant well, though, and there was no reason to piss her off. Besides, she was right. As affable as Morgan Goldstein might appear, there was little doubt that he was a cunning businessman. People like that don’t let anyone get between them and their money.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, “but if...”

 

Suddenly, I forgot what I was about to say, for at that moment I looked past her to see a figure approaching us. And that was when I caught my first sight of Mahamatasja Jas Sa-Fhadda.

 

* * * *

 

V

 

The moment I laid eyes on the Prime Emissary, I immediately knew who he ... or rather, heshe ... was. Even though heshe was dressed head-to-toe in a grey environment suit whose opaque faceplate rendered hisher features invisible, everyone on Earth had seen pictures of the hjadd chief delegate to Coyote. And I’d already been told, of course, that heshe was going to be another passenger on this voyage. Nonetheless, I was stunned to see himher walking toward us, escorted by two blueshirts.

 

Nor was I the only person in our group to be surprised. Ali took an involuntary step back, almost as if frightened by a creature that was a head shorter than any of us. Rain had been talking to a longshoreman; when she spotted the Prime Emissary, she quickly ended the conversation and hurried over to join us. And for the first time since our arrival at New Brighton, Ash seemed to take notice of what was going on.

 

“Hello, Jas.” Emily raised her right hand, palm out and fingers spread apart. “Good to see you again.”

 

“It is good to see you again as well.” The voice that came from the grille beneath the faceplate was deep-throated yet oddly androgynous, almost as if an opera singer was concealed inside the suit. That notion was forgotten the moment the hjadd raised hisher own right hand; six webbed fingers, blunt but taloned, spread apart in an identical greeting. “Is this another member of your crew?”

 

Heshe meant me. “Umm ... yes, I am,” I replied, instinctively offering my hand. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Sa-Fhadda. My name is Jules Truffaut. I’m...”

 

A frog-like croak from the grille as the hjadd recoiled from me, hisher hand dropping to hisher side. I suddenly realized that I’d made a mistake. Before I could say anything, though, a voice spoke from behind my left shoulder.

 

“The Prime Emissary is offended,” Ash murmured, standing close beside me. “Hjadd don’t like to be touched by strangers unless they invite such contact. Also, Sa-Fhadda isn’t hisher last name, but hisher caste and social status. Apologize at once.”

 

I didn’t know which was more surprising: the fact that a handshake could be offensive, or that Ash had finally spoken. “Sorry,” I said, lowering my hand ... and then, on sudden afterthought, hastily raising it again, in imitation of Emily’s gesture. “I didn’t know the correct form of address. Please forgive me.”

 

A short hiss that might have come from an angry cat, then the helmeted head bobbed once on its long neck. “You are forgiven, Mr. Truffaut,” heshe said. “You did not know better. And you may call me Jas.”

 

Jas formally extended hisher own hand. I hesitated, then carefully grasped it. Even through the thin plastic of Jas’s glove, I could feel the warmth of hisher touch, offset by the hardness of hisher talons as they briefly stroked the inside of my palm. The last thing I’d expected to do this morning when I woke up was to shake hands with an alien; definitely a moment for my memoirs.

 

“Good,” Ash said, still whispering to me. “Your apology has been accepted, and heshe has accepted you. Now release hisher hand, back away, and shut up.”

 

I did as I was told, without another word. As Jas turned toward Emily, I glanced back at Ash. “Thanks. I...”

 

“Be quiet.” His eyes flickered toward me from within his hood.

 

So much for gratitude. I looked back at Emily and Jas; the two of them had already walked away, involved in a quiet conversation. Ash slipped past me, his robe whisking across the concrete as he fell in behind them. Again, I was left to speculate about what his role in all this was. Liaison? Interpreter? How did he know what...?

 

“Nice going there.” Rain came up beside me. “Maybe you should leave diplomacy to the pros.”

 

“Is that what Ash is? A diplomat?”

 

A moment of hesitation, then a sly smile stole across her lips. “You could say that. If I were you, though, I’d steer clear of him. He could make life hell for you if he really wanted to.”

 

I remembered how I’d seen him standing outside my jail window, and the strange mental episode that I’d experienced a few moments later. I’d pretty much written off the incident as ... well, I didn’t know what it was, only that it was something I’d felt compelled not to explore. Before I could ask, though, Rain pushed a pad into my hands.

 

“Here’s the manifest. I’ve checked it out, and everything looks okay. All you need to do is sign it, and we’re good to go.” I found the blank space marked PILOT and used my fingertip to scrawl my signature across the bottom of the screen. “Thanks,” she said, taking it back from me. “Now let’s see if you can get through the rest of the day without screwing up again.”

 

“Hey, now wait a minute.” I thought I’d made my peace with her, but here she was, busting my chops again. It was really getting on my nerves. “I’d appreciate a little respect, if it’s not too much to ask.”

 

“Respect is earned, not given.” There was enough frost in her voice to turn a warm summer afternoon into a cold day in hell ... which apparently was when she’d have anything kind to say to me. “Get us into orbit without killing everyone aboard, and I’ll take it into consideration.”

 

Then she walked off, leaving me to wonder once again whether this job might be more trouble than it was worth.

 

* * * *

 

VI

 

Loose Lucy was aptly named. The cockpit looked as if it had been retrofitted at least twice since the shuttle rolled off the assembly line, with new control panels installed beside ones that probably had been in use when I was in high school. The first thing I did was check the control panels; the layout was slightly different from the one I’d learned to use in the tutorial, but they were nothing that I couldn’t handle. The pilot’s couch creaked noticeably as I sat down, though, and the left armrest was wrapped with frayed ducttape. I’d been in flight simulators that were in better shape.

 

As pilot and co-pilot, Ted and I were the first to climb aboard, with the rest of the crew following us through the hatch to take seats in the couches arranged around the passenger compartment. There were eight in all, with one remaining vacant; that would belong to the chief engineer, who was waiting for us aboard the Pride. I noted that one of the couches was different from the rest; on closer examination, I saw that it had been designed to fit a hjadd. As I watched, Jas settled into it, hisher short legs and long torso comfortably finding room in a space that would have been painful for a human.

 

From his seat beside me, Ted quietly watched while I went through the prelaunch checklist. Satisfied that I knew what I was doing, he turned to make sure that everyone was strapped in. Rain was the last aboard; she waited on the ground until she was certain that our freight was safely stowed away before closing the cargo hatch and climbing the ladder up to the flight deck.

 

As soon as she was in her seat, I ordered the passenger hatch to be sealed. Once Lucy was airtight, I pressurized the compartment, then got on the comlink and requested gantry roll-back. Bright sunlight streamed through the cockpit windows as the shuttle emerged from beneath the tower’s shadow; through my headset, I could hear the crosstalk among the ground crew as they cleared the pad. A few minutes later, traffic control informed me that airspace was clear and I had permission to launch.

 

One last check of all systems, with Ted making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, then I entered the flight program into the nav system and initiated the final launch sequence. At this point, I could have just as easily switched to autopilot, but I didn’t do that. Loose Lucy was new to me, and I didn’t know how much I trusted her. Besides, I wanted to show my new captain that I wasn’t some rookie who’d leave everything to the comps.

 

So I cranked my seat back into reclining position, pulled the lapboard closer to my chest, and grasped the yoke with my left hand and the throttle bar with my right. When I had green lights across my console, I flipped open a candy-striped panel and pushed the big red button beneath it.

 

Loose Lucy might be an old bird, but she was no turkey. She rose from the pad quickly and smoothly, g-force pushing us back in our seats. The hull shook and rattled a bit as the shuttle began its ascent, but the noise quickly subsided as I shoved the stick all the way forward, replaced by a loud roar as the main engine went full throttle. The clouds above leaped toward us, then the shuttle punched through them.

 

The sky gradually grew darker, blue fading to black, until stars began to appear. And then we were in space, on our way to orbit. I throttled back the engine, then fired the RCS thrusters to roll the craft to starboard.

 

Through the forward windows, Coyote hove into view, a vast hemisphere of white-flecked green, the Great Equatorial River visible as a broad blue band that stretched to the distant horizon. Beyond the limb of the moon, Bear rose as an enormous crescent, its rings jutting out into space. A hell of a sight; I found myself wishing I wasn’t a pilot, so that I could simply sit back and take it all in.

 

I didn’t have that luxury, though. Using the nav system to get a precise fix on our target, I found the Pride of Cucamonga right where it was supposed to be, parked in stationary orbit several thousand miles above the equator. I could have shut down the engine and simply allowed Lucy to coast the rest of the way to her mother ship, but that would have meant that we’d have to orbit Coyote a few times, adding six to eight hours to our trip. The gauge told me that we had more than enough fuel for a direct ascent, so I kept the engines throttled up one-quarter percent, and programmed the comp for a trajectory that would get us there in just a couple of hours.

 

Once I was satisfied that everything was copasetic, I switched to autopilot, then returned my seat to upright position. “Everyone okay back there?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder. “Wasn’t too rough, I hope.”

 

A mumble from Rain that might have been a complaint, but I couldn’t quite make out her words. “Gordon passed out,” Emily said, “but otherwise he’s all right.”

 

“Gordon? Who’s Gordon?”

 

“She means Ash. That’s his first name.” Ted cranked his own seat to horizontal position. “Good flying, kid. You can keep your job.” He looked back at our passengers. “Mr. Goldstein? Jas? How are you doing?”

 

“Fine. Just fine.” Judging from Morgan’s tone of voice, I didn’t have to see his face to know that it was probably a pale shade of green. “Jas is...”

 

“I am comfortable.” If there was any emotion in hisher voice, the translation device of hisher suit masked it. “Thank you, Mr. Truffaut. I compliment your skills as a pilot.”

 

I liked that. If the Prime Emissary didn’t have any complaints, then Rain was in no position to argue. As usual, Ali remained stoical, although I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. Pilots respect each other when they’re behind the stick; if he had any criticism to offer, he’d tell me once we were out of the cockpit.

 

“Thank you, Jas. I appreciate it.” I checked the comp again. “ETA in about two hours, thirty-six minutes, folks. So just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

 

* * * *

 

VII

 

Two and a half hours later, we rendezvoused with the Pride of Cucamonga.

 

Perhaps I was spoiled. The Robert E. Lee, after all, was a streamlined beauty to behold, and even cycleships like the Victory possessed a certain elegant symmetry. By comparison, the Pride was as ugly as a crowbar. About four hundred feet in length, the freighter was comprised of cylindrical subsections arranged in tandem, with the hab module at the bow and its massive fusion engine at the stern. Two enormous cargo modules, each resembling giant drums, protruded at perpendicular angles from either side of the hub just aft of the hab module, giving the ship a cruciform appearance. The service module at the midsection was jammed with maneuvering thrusters, auxiliary tanks, and radiators, while the deflector array stuck out from the prow like an immense wok.

 

As we drew closer, it became clear that the Pride was a spacecraft with more than a few billion miles to its logbook. Here and there along its hull, I spotted plates that were of a slightly different color than the ones surrounding them, an indication that the ship had recently undergone major refit. There were blackened scorch marks beneath the thrusters, and the telemetry dish appeared to be a replacement.

 

I wasn’t the only one who noticed these things. Ted studied the ship as I matched course with it, then looked back at Morgan. “Tell me again why we didn’t rate a new ship.”

 

“For its class, it’s the best one available.” Morgan unclasped his harness and pushed himself out of his couch. “Everything else in the Janus fleet is currently committed to other contracts. Besides, my engineers told me that it would be easier to refit an older vessel than build a new one.”

 

“Refit ... you mean repair, don’t you?” I didn’t look away from my controls.

 

“No, I mean refit. There were certain modifications that needed to be made for this mission ... particularly to the navigation system.” Taking hold of the back of my couch, Morgan pulled himself closer to the windows, inserting himself between Ted and me. “Once we show a profit, the company will have the capital to construct a new ship specifically designed for...”

 

“Mr. Goldstein, please...” Ted reached up to gently push the boss away. “Give us a little breathing room, okay?” He glanced at me. “How are you doing there?”

 

“So far, so good.” Keeping one eye on the lidar and the other on the comp screen, I fired the pitch and yaw thrusters to put Lucy on a direct line with the main docking port, located on the hub between the two cargo containers. Once I was holding station about five hundred feet from the ship, I touched my headset wand. “Pride of Cucamonga, this is Loose Lucy. Do you copy?”

 

A moment passed, then a gruff male voice came through. “Affirmative, Lucy. Have you in sight, and you’re clear to dock.”

 

That had to be the chief engineer. I guessed that he was on the bridge. Obviously a man of few words. “Roger that, Pride,” I replied. “Thank you.”

 

“Need any help?” Ted asked quietly.

 

“No, thanks. Got it covered.” To tell the truth, I was nervous as hell. Everything about both Lucy and the Pride gave me the uncertain feeling that neither craft was one hundred percent dependable, regardless of whatever Morgan had to say. Too late to chicken out now, though, so I opened the nose faring to expose the docking collar, and once I had the Pride’s hub port lined up within the crosshairs of the forward radar, I fired aft thrusters and gently moved in.

 

I shouldn’t have worried so much. Lucy was a good girl; she behaved herself as I coaxed her toward the docking port. Even so, I didn’t breathe easy until the forward probe slid home and I felt the telltale thump of the flanges being engaged. An enunciator buzzed, confirming that we’d made a solid connection.

 

“Nice job,” Emily said. “Couldn’t have done better myself.”

 

“Thank you.” I safed the engines, then reached up to pressurize the forward airlock. “We’re here, ladies and gentlemen ... um, no offense, Prime Emissary.”

 

“None taken.” Again, the short, cat-like hiss that I’d learned to recognize as the hjadd equivalent of a chuckle. “My kind answers to both.”

 

That earned a couple of laughs from everyone except Rain and Ash. I didn’t have to look back to know that she continued to be unimpressed with me. As for Ash ... well, he probably needed to either throw up or have a drink, whichever came first.

 

“All right, we’re here.” Ted unbuckled his harness, then pushed himself out of his seat. “So let’s go aboard and see what this tub is made of.”

 

* * * *

 

EIGHT

 

Doc at the airlock ... Rain in space ... a definition of the blues ... great minds think alike.

 

* * * *

 

VIII

 

The Pride of Cucamonga looked a lot better inside than it did on the outside. For a freighter that had put in plenty of time on the Jovian run, it was in pretty good shape. Nonetheless, with the chipped iron-grey paint of its bulkheads and exposed conduits running across low ceilings, no one could have mistaken it for a passenger liner. The Pride was a workhorse, plain and simple.

 

One of the luxuries it didn’t have was artificial gravity. Since the ship wasn’t equipped with diametric drive, it also lacked a Millis-Clement field generator. And although the hub could be rotated to provide centrifugal force to the cargo modules, since we weren’t carrying livestock the modules would be locked down for the duration of the journey. I was glad that I’d brought along a new pair of stickshoes; all the ones aboard had been used by the previous crew, and their insoles looked like fungal colonies.

 

The chief engineer met us at the airlock: Doc Schachner, a stocky gent in his mid-sixties who’d lost the hair on top of his head but made up for it with a thick white beard that went halfway down his chest. Doc knew Goldstein, and called him by his first name, something that Morgan seemed to tolerate only barely; I’d later learn that Doc had a history of disagreements with his boss that might have gotten him canned a long time ago were it not for the fact that the chief was almost always right.

 

And for good reason. I eventually learned that Edward J. Schachner had earned his nickname along with the doctorate in astronautical engineering he’d picked up at the University of Edinburgh. After spending a decade designing spacecraft for Janus, he’d decided that he’d rather fly spaceships than a drafting board. The Pride was one of the ships he’d built, and there probably wasn’t a wire or rivet aboard that he didn’t know like the back of his hand.

 

Doc wasn’t one for small talk. A brief self-introduction was all we got before he escorted us from the airlock to the central access shaft that led through the ship’s core. As he led us from the hub into the hab module, Doc paused every now and then to open pressure hatches leading from one deck to the next. As the last person in line, I quickly learned what it was like to be on the receiving end of his temper; when I neglected to close a hatch behind us, he made me go back and dog it tight, and after that made sure that each hatch was shut before we moved on. Ted might be the captain, but the Pride was clearly Doc’s ship, and he didn’t leave anything to chance.

 

Deck Two contained the crew quarters, but before we got there, Doc stopped at Deck Three. Opening the hatch, he asked Jas to accompany him; during the Pride’s refit, a separate cabin had been added specifically designed for hjadd passengers. So we waited in the shaft while Doc showed the Prime Emissary to hisher stateroom; when he returned a few minutes later, he took us the rest of the way to Deck Two.

 

Our quarters were located along a ring-shaped corridor that wound its way around the inside of the hab module. They were larger than the first-class cabins aboard the Lee, but not much; instead of bunks, we had sleep-sacks that could be strung up to form hammocks, and lockers instead of closets and shelves. No furniture, of course—a chair was unnecessary in zero-g, a desk worse than useless—but at least I had my own privy, even if the toilet had vacuum hoses and the bath stall was equipped with hot and cold running sponges. As luck would have it, my cabins were located next to Ash’s; noting that the walls weren’t very thick and that there was a vent between our rooms, I hoped that he didn’t snore.

 

I didn’t get much of a chance to make myself at home. I’d just swapped my boots for my stickshoes when Rain knocked on my door. Time to unload Loose Lucy, and she needed me to fly the cargo pod. So off I went to earn my paycheck.

 

And that’s when my troubles began.

 

* * * *

 

IX

 

Never take a job if you know you’re going to be working for someone who has less experience than you do.

 

Although the Pride was a civilian ship, nonetheless there’s a certain hierarchy aboard merchanteers that’s quasi-military in nature. In this instance, the quartermaster outranks the shuttle pilot when it comes to taking care of the payload. Therefore, Rain was my boss for this particular chore. Under any other circumstances, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but from the moment we suited up for EVA, I knew working with her would be difficult.

 

The Pride’s secondary airlock was located on the opposite side of the hub from where Lucy was docked. Before you cycled through it, you entered the ready room where the EVA gear was stowed. Prepping for a spacewalk isn’t for the modest; it entails stripping down to your birthday suit in order to put on the one-piece undergarment that, among other things, collects your sweat and urine to be recycled as water and oxygen for the life-support system. If nudity is a problem, then you can always keep your back turned ... but nonetheless, in a compartment little larger than a closet, it’s hard to keep from bumping into the other guy.

 

Rain wasn’t willing to trust me, despite my promises that I’d keep my hands to myself and not sneak a peek. Can’t say that I blamed her; in zero-gee, it can be hard to be gallant, especially since you’re having to use both hands to pull on the overgarment while attaching all the necessary lines and hoses. I had to wait outside while she suited up. That was my first indication that she had precious little experience, because nearly an hour went by before she let me in ... and then, as soon as I saw her, I noticed that she’d missed a couple of steps, not the least of which was neglecting to close the zipper on her left wrist, something that might have caused a blowout.

 

Rain didn’t like it very much when I pointed this out to her, nor was she appreciative when I properly attached the electrical line from her backpack to her chest unit. In fact, she squawked as if I was trying to grope her, until she realized what I was trying to do and why. Then she insisted on waiting for me in the airlock while I suited up ... a violation of safety protocols, since the buddy system calls for no one to enter an airlock alone.

 

Prude. I took my time getting into my gear, meaning that I was ready to go in twenty minutes. A final checkout of each other’s suits, followed by a comlink test, then we put on our helmets, pressurized our suits, and voided the airlock.

 

The cargo pod was docked on the hub’s outer hull. It was almost identical to the one I’d operated on Highgate, so nothing about it was unfamiliar. Nonetheless, I waited until Rain attached her safety line to a hook just outside the airlock, then made her way hand-over-hand along the outside of the hub until she reached Loose Lucy, before I climbed into the cockpit. She spacewalked well enough, but nonetheless I couldn’t help but notice a certain clumsiness in the way she moved. It was obvious that she hadn’t spent a lot of time in EVA.

 

Rain was ... how old? Nineteen, maybe twenty? I had time to think about this while I waited for her to find her way to the shuttle. How much previous experience could she have had before Morgan hired her? Probably very little ... especially since the Federation Navy only consisted of a handful of small ships, plus the Lee. So how come someone so young had gotten the job of quartermaster aboard a freighter, particularly one vested with such an important mission?

 

A bad sign, indeed. And it only got worse.

 

The way we were supposed to work was that, once Rain opened Lucy’s cargo deck and climbed inside, she’d untie each bale and, one at a time, push them to the hatch. I would then use the pod to transfer the bales to the cargo modules, alternating between Cargo One and Cargo Two so that the payload would be evenly distributed on either side of the ship. Once the bales were aboard, Rain and I would enter the modules and tie them down, making sure that they were securely lashed to the inside decks before we closed the hatches.

 

It should have been a simple operation, one that would’ve taken a few hours at most. If I’d been working with a seasoned grunt, that is. But Rain seemed to have little idea of what she was doing. She struggled to untie lines, tumbled the bales toward the hatch and swore at me when I had trouble catching them with the pod’s manipulators, and she frequently forgot the order in which we were supposed to reload them aboard the modules. Three times, I returned to the shuttle only to discover that she’d already pitched out another bale; on one occasion, I had to chase after a bale that had floated away from Lucy, barely managing to retrieve it before it drifted too far to be rescued.

 

None of these problems were her fault. They were always the result of my incompetence and stupidity. I was an oaf, an idiot, a doofus, an amateur, a complete zero, and God only knew how she’d been saddled with the likes of me. Even after Ted, overhearing her more unkind remarks over the comlink, told her to calm down and cooperate with me, she continued to insist upon doing things her way.

 

It wasn’t until Emily suited up and came down to give us a hand that we finally managed to get the shuttle unloaded. I docked the pod, but instead of helping them secure the bales, I went straight to the bridge. Didn’t bother to take off my suit; simply shelved the helmet, plugged the backpack into its recharger unit, took off my gloves, then hauled myself up the access shaft to Deck One.

 

The command center was a circular compartment ringed by rectangular portholes, with a hexagonal control console dominating the center of the room. A hologram image of the Pride floated above the table, with close-up views of the ship displayed on flatscreens suspended from the low ceiling. Ted was at the engineering station, peering over Doc’s shoulder as they ran through a systems check; on the other side of the table, Ali was seated at the helm. Everyone looked up as I entered through the floor hatch. The women’s voices were coming through the ceiling speakers, so no doubt they’d heard everything that had gone on between Rain and me.

 

“Something on your mind, Jules?” Ted turned to me as I used a ceiling rail to make my way across the compartment.

 

“Damn right.” I was trying hard to keep my temper in check, but I wasn’t succeeding. “I can’t work with her, skipper. She’s insane.”

 

“Hmm ... yes, I think I see your point.” He thoughtfully stroked his chin as if pondering a solution to the problem. “Well, I’d hate to lose you, but I suppose Emcee can do double-duty as shuttle pilot.” He reached to his earpiece. “I’ll put in a call to New Brighton, have someone bring up a skiff to take you home.”

 

“Whoa, wait a minute! That’s not what I...”

 

“You just accused one of your crewmates of insanity. Since I picked Rain myself, I suppose that means that you lack respect for my judgment. And if you’re unable to work with either of us...”

 

“Just a second! I...”

 

“I’ll give you—” Ted glanced at his watch “—sixty seconds. But that’s all. We’re rather busy just now.”

 

He wasn’t joking. Ted Harker might be an easy-going chap, but no one questioned his authority on the bridge of his ship and got away with it. I took a deep breath, started over again. “Sir, I have total respect for your judgment. And ... all right, maybe she isn’t insane. But you heard what happened out there....”

 

“I did, indeed. All of us did. That’s why my wife went down below.” His eyes narrowed. “Which is where you should be right now. Why aren’t you?”

 

“Because ... Captain, how much experience does Rain have with this sort of thing? Seriously?”

 

“Very little. In fact, this is only her third time in space ... and her first assignment as quartermaster.”

 

I stared at him. “Her first ... what did she do before then?”

 

“She worked groundside at New Brighton for eight months before signing on with Janus. After that, two orbital sorties aboard cargo shuttles, unloading freight from the Lee. True, she hasn’t logged as many hours as you have, but she takes her job seriously and I have complete confidence in her. I’m sorry that you have problems working for someone younger than you, but...”

 

“No, sir, that’s not it. It’s just that ... look, she’s been on my case ever since I met her. I’ve been trying to get along with her, but it’s gotten to the point where...” Again, I hesitated. “If you really want me to leave the ship, then I will. I can’t work with someone who carries a chip on her shoulder all the time.”

 

Ted didn’t say anything for a moment, and I wondered if I’d just talked myself out of a job. Behind him, Doc was quietly shaking his head. An old pro, he knew how petty feuds among crew members could escalate if left unresolved.

 

“Very well,” Ted said at last. “I’ll have a few words with Rain once she gets off duty, ask her to calm down. If she continues to harass you, I want you to let me know. As for now ... since you’re here, I have a small errand for you.” He glanced over his shoulder at Doc. “Can you get along without me for a minute?” The chief nodded, and Ted unstuck his shoes from the deck. Grabbing hold of a ceiling rail, he pulled himself around the console. “Come along, please.”

 

I followed Ted to the other side of the bridge, where we stopped beside a locker recessed in the bulkhead behind his chair. “One thing you should know about Rain,” he said quietly once we were away from the others. “She comes from a rather powerful family on Coyote, and they have a lot of pull with Janus.”

 

“So Morgan insisted that you hire her?” I was no stranger to cronyism—the Western Hemisphere Union is rife with it—but this was something I didn’t expect.

 

“Pretty much so, yes ... although I meant what I said about having confidence in her.” He produced a key ring from his vest and began sorting through it. “But the Thompson Wood Company is a major investor in Morgan’s company, and if Molly Thompson wants her great-niece to have a job...”

 

“I see.”

 

“Yes, well...” Ted inserted a key into the locker. “Off the record, I think she’s rather nervous about all this, so she’s taking it out on you. Once you get to know her, you may find that she’s actually quite nice. But she’s had a tough time lately, what with her brother and...” He stopped himself. “Sorry. Think I said too much. And it’s none of our business, besides.”

 

That was the second time I’d heard about Rain’s brother. The captain had clearly overstepped the boundaries, though, and I wasn’t about to press the issue, not when I’d come so close to getting fired. So I said nothing as he opened the locker and reached inside.

 

He withdrew a ceramic jug, its neck sealed with a cork stopper. Since I’d spent some time in Liberty’s taverns, I immediately recognized it for what it was: a quart of corn liquor, known on Coyote as bearshine.

 

“I’ve trusted you with one secret already,” Ted murmured as he handed it to me. “Now I’m going to trust you with another. I want you to take this to Ash, and be quiet about it.”

 

“Yeah. Okay.” I tucked the jug under my left arm; Ted added an empty squeezebulb, which I stuck in a thigh pocket of my suit. “He’s an alcoholic, isn’t he?”

 

“I suppose. But again, he’s here because Morgan insists, so what he does in his cabin isn’t our concern.” Ted closed the locker. “I’m keeping him on a short leash, though, and that means keeping his liquor supply under lock and key. This should be enough to get him to where we’re supposed to go ... after that, he’ll have to work for the rest.”

 

“And what is his job, exactly?”

 

“He ... ah, perhaps we should call him an interpreter, and leave it at that.” He nodded toward the floor hatch. “Now off with you. Change out of your suit, then pay a visit to Mr. Ash. I’ll have a word with Ms. Thompson. Fair enough?”

 

“Yes, sir,” I murmured. “Thank you.” Ted nodded, then began to make his way back across the bridge.

 

I stared at the jug of bearshine. A brat and a wetbrain. This mission was getting stranger by the minute.

 

* * * *

 

X

 

I heard Ash’s guitar as soon as I opened the hatch to Deck Two, melancholy chords that drifted down the corridor. Whatever he was playing, it had no clear rhyme or pattern, but nonetheless spoke of loneliness and regret. Like finding a bouquet of dying roses in the heart of a machine.

 

I lingered just inside the deck hatch for a few moments before I remembered why I was there. Grasping the ceiling rail with my free hand, I pulled myself down the corridor toward Ash’s cabin. I was trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb him, yet the moment before I raised my hand to knock on his door, the music suddenly stopped.

 

“Come in,” he called out. “It’s not locked.”

 

How did he know I was there? Perhaps he’d heard the deck hatch open, but still ... trying to shake off the willies, I slid open the door.

 

Ash floated in midair, cross-legged and upside-down, one foot hooked on a ceiling rail, guitar nestled within his arms. Fashioned of fine-grained brown spruce, with silver strings running along a black fingerboard, it was as beautiful as the sounds it produced. It was the first time I’d seen him without his robe; he wore a tan cotton tunic and matching trousers, loose-fitting and almost monkish in appearance. Ash himself was older than I originally thought: lean and bony, with a mop of brown hair growing grey at the temples. His eyes were surrounded by dark rings, as if he hadn’t slept well in years.

 

“Hi, Gordon,” I began. “Captain sent me down here to...”

 

“Bring me a bottle. Yes, I can see.” He idly strummed at his guitar. “You can put it over there,” he added, nodding toward a net for personal items that dangled from the bulkhead next to his sleepsack. “I’ll get to it later.”

 

Apparently he wasn’t a social drinker. Well, that made sense; I’d met a few drunks, and the hard-core boozehounds drink alone. Twisting around so that I could attach my shoes to the floor, I stepped into the cabin. “Nice guitar. Heard it down the hall.”

 

“Thanks.” He didn’t look up at me. “And by the way, I prefer to be called Ash. No one calls me by my first name.”

 

“Sure ... sorry.” I stuck the jug into the net, then pulled the squeezebulb out of my pocket. “Ever use one of these before? You need to unscrew the top, see, like this—” I demonstrated by removing the cap “—then fit it over the...”

 

“I can manage.” Irritation crossed his face. “Incidentally, just so that you know ... I’m not an alcoholic.” His fingers plucked out sharp, discordant notes as he spoke, as if to accentuate his words. “Or a drunk, or a wetbrain, or whatever else you’ve decided to label me.”

 

That brought me up short. I stared at him, trying to figure out what I’d said or done to lead him to guess what I thought of him. “I didn’t...”

 

“Of course you didn’t. You’re being polite. But I can...” A brief glare, then he looked away again. “Never mind. Just in a mood, that’s all.”

 

“Sure. No problem.” He was making me nervous, so I screwed the cap back on the squeezebulb and stuck it in the net beside the jug. “Well, look, if you need anything else, I’m right next door.”

 

Ash didn’t respond. Seeing that my presence wasn’t wanted, I turned to leave. I was halfway to the door when he suddenly spoke up.

 

“‘Galaxy Blues,’“ he said.

 

I stopped, looked back at him again. “Excuse me?”

 

“The song I was playing ... it’s called ‘Galaxy Blues.’“ His hands returned to the strings, and once again I heard the same progression I’d caught while I was in the corridor. “Been working on it for awhile,” he went on, his eyes still avoiding mine. “Kind of weird, I know, but ... well, I’m getting there.”

 

“Sounds nice.” I hesitated. “Got any words for it?”

 

“Nope. No lyrics.” Ash glanced up at me, and I was surprised to see a sly smile on his face, as if he was sharing a private joke. “That’s what I like about music. You don’t need words to get a point across. Just screws things up, really, when all you really should have is...”

 

His right hand abruptly shifted further up the neck of his guitar, and he produced a quick succession of warbling, high-pitched notes. “That’s you ... trying hard to rationalize something that doesn’t really need to make sense.”

 

I felt my face grow warm, but before I could say anything, his smile became a knowing grin, and the progression drifted to a lower, more solemn bass sound. “And that’s what happens when you find that nothing really fits into your safe and conservative world-view. But believe me, out here in the great beyond—” a snake-like ramble of notes—”everything is strange. The sooner you get used to that, the better off you’ll be.”

 

He was beginning to piss me off. “What are you, some kind of...?”

 

Something cold crept down my back as I suddenly recalled the first time I’d seen him, peering in through the window of my jail cell. As incredible—let’s face it, as impossible—as it seemed, nonetheless it was the only explanation that made sense.

 

“Mind reader?” Ash chuckled as he pushed aside his guitar. Uncoiling himself from his lotus position, he pushed himself off the ceiling. “You could say that,” he said as he glided over to where I’d left the jug. “Or maybe I’m just an astute observer.”

 

Perhaps he was only that ... but all the same, his hands trembled as he uncorked the jug, and he swore under his breath as a few globular droplets of bearshine floated away before he managed to fit the squeezebulb around the neck. Ash finally managed to fill the bulb and close the jug again without wasting any more booze; he looked almost infantile as he put the bulb’s nipple to his lips and took a slug that would have choked anyone else.

 

“You can go now,” he rasped, as he pinched the bulb shut. “Come back again when you’ve got more of this.”

 

A brisk wave of his hand as he dismissed me. No doubt he’d spend the rest of the day getting bombed. Once again, I turned toward the door ... but not before he had some parting words for me. “She really does like you, y’know,” he murmured. “Just as much as you’re attracted to her. Too bad neither of you will admit it to yourselves.”

 

I almost asked how he could possibly be aware of these things ... but I already knew the answer to that, didn’t I? And just then, I only wanted to put a wall between us. Hoping that a bulkhead was enough to separate my mind from his, I hurried from his cabin, shutting the door behind me.

 

And found Morgan Goldstein waiting for me in the corridor.

 

“What are you doing in there?” It wasn’t a polite question, and there was no mistaking the anger in his eyes.

 

“Captain Harker told me to bring him a jug of bearshine.” I pretended innocence, even though it was clear that he’d been eavesdropping all the while. “Just stopped to have a chat. Anything wrong with that?”

 

“Yes.” Morgan kept his voice low. “From now on, you’re to leave him alone. If anyone asks you to bring him anything, you come to me first. I’ll...”

 

“Pardon me, sir, but if the skipper gives me an order, it’s my duty to carry it out. I’m under no obligation to ask your permission to do that.” I would have turned away from him, but he was blocking the way to my cabin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

 

“Of course ... you’re right.” His manner softened. “My apologies, Mr. Truffaut. I forgot that you were only following orders.” Morgan moved aside to let me pass. “But in the future, I’d appreciate it if you’d ... minimize your contact with Ash. He’s quite sensitive, and needs all the privacy he can get.”

 

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Unsticking my shoes from the floor, I started to push myself down the passageway. But then...

 

“Just one question, though,” I said, grabbing the ceiling rail and turning back to him again. “Does he drink so much to keep from hearing everyone else’s thoughts?”

 

Morgan’s face went pale. His mouth fell open, but for a moment he couldn’t respond. Maybe he was having trouble coming up with an adequate lie. Whatever the reason, I realized that my guess was right on target.

 

“He just drinks too much,” he said at last, his voice little more than a whisper. “If I were you, though, I’d keep my distance.” Then he twisted himself around and headed toward the deck hatch.

 

I went to my cabin, but even after I closed the door, I was aware of Ash’s presence. Through the wall vent, I heard the sound of his guitar. After a little while, though, it stopped, and all I could hear was his voice.

 

I couldn’t tell, though, whether he was laughing or weeping.

 

* * * *

 

NINE

 

Off to see the lizard ... peace with Rain ... the Order of the Eye.

 

* * * *

 

XI

 

We remained in orbit overnight, Coyote time, and next morning after breakfast the Pride of Cucamonga headed out for Rho Coronae Borealis.

 

As customary, all hands assembled in the command center for final countdown. As shuttle pilot, there was little for me to do; once I verified that Loose Lucy was ready to serve as a lifeboat in the unlikely event that we’d have to abandon ship, my only job was to take a seat and watch while everyone else went about getting the Pride underway. Yet Emily was nowhere to be seen until fifteen minutes before launch; when she finally showed up, Mahamatasja Jas Sa-Fhadda was with her.

 

This was the first time since coming aboard that I’d seen the Prime Emissary. Jas had remained in hisher quarters while the crew made preparations for the journey, and I’d expected himher to stay there until the Pride arrived at its destination. So I was surprised when the hjadd followed Emily through the manhole into the command center.

 

Everyone stopped what they were doing as the first officer led Jas onto the bridge. As always, the Prime Emissary wore hisher environment suit; I would’ve thought that heshe would be encumbered by it, yet heshe was surprisingly nimble. Reaching up to grasp a ceiling rail with a six-fingered hand, Jas lingered near the floor hatch for a few moments, the opaque faceplate of hisher helmet turning first one way, then the other, as heshe gazed around the deck.

 

“Guess heshe decided to come up and join us,” I murmured to Rain. We were seated off to one side of the control console, near the life support station; like myself, she had little to do just then. “Must have gotten curious about how we do things up here.”

 

Rain gave me a patronizing look, but if she had any insults in mind, she refrained from giving voice to them. “More than curiosity,” she whispered. “Without himher, we’re not going anywhere.”

 

This was the first time she’d spoken to me since our altercation the day before. When I’d seen her a couple of hours earlier, during breakfast in the wardroom on Deck Two, she had avoided me as much as possible. Ted must have had a few words with her. Well, if she was willing to bury the hatchet, so was I.

 

“How do you figure that?” I asked.

 

“You don’t know?” She darted a look at me, and I shook my head. “Watch and learn,” she added. “This is where it gets interesting.”

 

Ted unbuckled his harness and rose from his seat. “Prime Emissary, welcome,” he said, raising his left hand in the hjadd gesture of greeting. “The Pride of Cucamonga is ready to depart. If we may have your permission...?”

 

“You have my permission.” As before, an androgynous voice emitted from the mouth grille of hisher helmet. “Please direct me to the navigation system.”

 

“It would be my honor.” Careful to avoid touching the Prime Emissary, he extended a hand toward the helm. “This way, please.”

 

Jas followed Ted across the command center. As they approached the helm, Ali turned around in his seat. I couldn’t help but notice his sour expression, and wondered whether our pilot harbored a secret revulsion for the hjadd. I wasn’t the only one who saw this. On the other side of the deck, Ash was seated next to Morgan Goldstein. Although he once again wore his robe, I caught a glimpse of the sickened look on his face. Goldstein must have observed this, too, because he leaned closer to Ash and whispered something. Ash didn’t respond, but instead nodded ever so slightly. Ash had picked up on something ... that is, if I was right, and he was a telepath of some sort.

 

Ted stopped beside Ali’s console. “Mr. Youssef, if you will...”

 

Ali said nothing, but instead typed a few commands into his keyboard before shrinking away from Jas. If the Prime Emissary noticed the pilot’s reaction, heshe said nothing. Instead, heshe reached into a pocket of hisher environment suit, then pulled out a small object about the size and shape of a datafiche.

 

“That’s the bridge key,” Rain said quietly. “Until Jas uses it, we’re not going anywhere.”

 

Now I understood. One of the things the Galileo survivors had learned was that the hjadd belonged to something called the Talus, a loose coalition of alien races that developed the technology to build starbridges in order to travel to other worlds. The main purpose of the Talus was to provide trade and cultural exchange, but it also made sure that the galaxy remained at peace. In order to prevent one race from attacking or invading another, each member of the Talus protected the starbridges of their home systems by means of hyperlink transceivers, each of which was accessed via its own individually coded signal. Unless one race provided another with a key containing that signal, their starbridges would remain closed, and navigation through hyperspace would be impossible.

 

One of the conditions the hjadd had made upon establishing contact with humankind was that we would be unable to travel to Rho Coronae Borealis without their express permission. That could only be granted if they transmitted a coded signal via hyperlink to their own starbridge. This was the principal reason why no human ship had visited Hjarr since the return of the Galileo survivors; until now, only hjadd vessels were equipped with the proper navigation equipment.

 

“So Jas is carrying the hjadd key with him,” I whispered. “Guess they’re not quite ready to trust us.”

 

Rain nodded. We watched as Jas moved toward a rectangular box that had been installed in the center of the nav station. Featureless save for a narrow slot at its top and a reflective black surface beneath it, the box remained inert until the Prime Emissary slid the key into the slot. The panel glowed to life, emitting a blue-green glow. Jas removed the glove of hisher left hand, and I caught a glimpse of mottled brown flesh, leathery and reptilian, as heshe laid hisher palm against the panel.

 

Its surface became bright orange, and vertical bars of alien script that vaguely resembled Faesi scrolled down it. A small drawer slid open from the bottom of the box, revealing a narrow row of buttons. Extending the middle finger of hisher hand, Jas delicately pushed the buttons in what appeared to be a predetermined sequence. The script changed, the panel became purple, and the drawer slid shut once more.

 

“The code has been entered, Captain Harker,” Jas said, hisher voice a low purr. “You may proceed.”

 

“Thank you, Prime Emissary.” Ted turned to Emily. “Contact the gatehouse, Emcee, and inform them we’re on our way.” Then he tapped Ali on the shoulder. “Proceed with final countdown for main engine ignition.”

 

Ali nodded. He waited until Jas moved away from the helm, then swiveled his chair back toward the console and began entering commands into his keyboard. At her station on the other side of the table, Emily was murmuring into her headset, telling Starbridge Coyote that we were about to launch. Ted watched as Jas put his glove back on. “We’ll be ready to go in about five minutes. If you’d like to stay here, we can...”

 

“Thank you, Captain, but I would prefer to return to my quarters.” Turning away from him, Jas almost seemed to disregard Ted. “Would you please have a member of your crew take me back?”

 

“Certainly.” Ted looked around the command center. Emily was busy, and both Doc and Ali were needed on the bridge just then. On the other side of the deck, Goldstein was already unfastening his harness. Then Ted’s gaze fell upon me. “Jules, if you please...?”

 

Goldstein’s eyes widened, and there was no missing the scowl on his face. Before he could protest, though, I snapped open my harness. “I’d be glad to, sir,” I said, pushing myself out of my chair. “If it’s all right with the Prime Emissary, that is.”

 

Ted looked at Jas. Hisher head moved back and forth upon hisher long neck; at first I thought heshe was objecting, until I remembered that this was the hjadd equivalent of a nod. Then Rain spoke up. “Skipper, may I join them? With the Prime Emissary’s permission, of course.”

 

Ted looked dubious. “I don’t know why we need to send two...”

 

“You are curious?” Jas’s helmet turned toward her, and Rain nodded. “Very well. I would be delighted to have guests ... if your captain approves.”

 

Ted hesitated. “Very well ... but don’t overstay your welcome, either of you.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” Rain unbuckled her harness, then rose from her seat. “After you,” she said to me, gesturing toward the access shaft.

 

I’d be lying if I said that I was pleased to have Rain tag along. Perhaps we were getting along a little better, but I didn’t want to have her henpecking me all the way down to Deck Three. Besides, I wanted Jas all to myself. Call it selfish, but how often in life does one get the chance to have private time with an alien?

 

Nothing I could do about it, though, so I pushed myself over to the hatch and pulled it open. From the corner of my eye, I saw the jealous scowl on Morgan’s face, yet I couldn’t help but notice that Ash was grinning broadly, as if he was enjoying his own private joke ... or perhaps, savoring his patron’s irritation.

 

Then I ducked down the manhole and—with Jas close behind me and Rain bringing up the rear—began to make my way down the access shaft.

 

* * * *

 

XII

 

None of us said anything until we reached Deck Three, but three bells rang just as we entered the passageway, warning us that the main engine ignition was imminent.

 

I had just enough time to brace my hands against the corridor walls and rest my feet on the floor before a prolonged shudder passed through the ship. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that the others were all right; Jas’s broad feet had found the carpet as well, and although Rain had been caught off guard, she’d quickly recovered by grabbing hold of the ceiling rail and planting the soles of her stickshoes against the carpet. For the next fifteen minutes or so, we would enjoy one-third gravity while the Pride accelerated to cruise velocity.

 

“Well, we’re off,” I said, stating the obvious if only for the sake of conversation. Lowering my hands, I stepped aside to make way for Jas. “Prime Emissary, if you’d like to lead the way...?”

 

“Thank you.” As the hjadd moved past me, I caught my reflection in hisher faceplate. “There is no need to be so formal, Mr. Truffaut,” heshe added. “You may call me Jas.”

 

“Uh, sure ... right.” I’d forgotten that he’d told me so before. Behind us, Rain was closing the deck hatch. I waited until she’d dogged it shut, then followed Jas down the corridor. “Thank you for letting me ... I mean, both of us ... see your quarters.”

 

A sibilant hiss from hisher mouthpiece. “The courtesy is long overdue,” Jas said as heshe led us past the medical bay. “We have allowed only a few of your kind to enter our compound on Coyote. Perhaps the time has come for us to be less jealous of our privacy. Very soon we will be arriving at Talus qua’spah. A little cultural acclimation is desirable.”

 

“Talus pah-squa...?” I stumbled over the word. “I’m sorry, but what...?”

 

“Talus qua’spah. In your language, the House of the Talus.” Jas came a halt beside an unmarked hatch. A black plate had been set within it; once again, heshe removed hisher left glove, then placed hisher palm against it. “That is only an approximate translation of what it really means, but it will suffice.”

 

The panel turned purple, then the hatch slid open, revealing a small antechamber that I assumed was an internal airlock. Jas stepped into it, then turned to look back at us. “Please remain here until I summon you. I must prepare myself for visitors.” Then heshe touched a button beside the door, and the hatch closed once more.

 

That left Rain and me alone in the corridor. An uncomfortable silence settled between us. With nothing to say or do, I gazed at the bulkhead, idly speculating how much effort it must have taken Janus’s engineers to retrofit this part of the ship to hjadd specifications. I was beginning to count the rivets when Rain quietly cleared her throat.

 

“I just want to...” She paused, started again. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I mean, about what happened during load-in.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” I continued to study the bulkhead.

 

“No, really ... I mean it.” Putting herself between me and the wall so that I couldn’t ignore her, she looked me straight in the eye. “You knew what you were doing out there ... better than I did, to tell the truth ... and I was just trying to see if I could piss you off.”

 

“Yeah, well, you succeeded.”

 

“Uh-huh. I’ve been told I have a talent for that,” A crooked smile which quickly faded. “Ted told me that you almost quit.”

 

That wasn’t quite what had happened, but I wasn’t about to correct her if it made her feel guilty. “Believe me,” she went on, “that’s not what I want. I just ... look, can we still be friends? I promise that I won’t snap at you anymore.”

 

I could tell that this was a sincere effort to make up. I was still a little angry about the things she’d said to me, but if she was willing to apologize, it would have been churlish of me to refuse. “Yeah, all right,” I said, and as an afterthought offered my hand. “Case closed.”

 

“Okay. Case closed.” Rain grinned as she took my hand. I was surprised by how soft her touch was, and was almost reluctant to let go. “Glad to put that behind us.”

 

“Yeah, well ... so am I.”

 

Another silence fell between us. Perhaps we’d ceased fire, but there were still old wounds that hadn’t healed. The hatch remained shut, and I wondered what Jas was doing in there. But there was something else that roused my curiosity...

 

“Pardon me, but may I ask a personal question?”

 

“I don’t know.” She frowned. “Depends how personal it is.”

 

I hesitated. Too late to back down now, though, so I forged ahead. “Yesterday, when we were at breakfast and talking about my brother, I happened to mention yours, and that set you off.” There was a spark within her eyes, and I quickly raised my hand. “Hey, I’m not trying to pick another fight. I’d just like to know ... what was it that I said about him that got you so riled?”

 

“You didn’t know?” Rain stared at me. “No one told you?”

 

“I’m new around here, remember? I couldn’t find my way to the outhouse without a map.”

 

That brought another smile to her face. “At least you admit that,” she said with a slight laugh before becoming somber again. “It’s not something I like to talk about, but ... well, you’re not the only one with a black sheep in the family.” She looked down at the floor. “My brother killed my father.”

 

Of all the things she could have said to me, nothing could have been more unexpected. Now it was my turn to be apologetic. “I ... I’m sorry, I didn’t...”

 

“No, of course not. Like you said, there’s no reason why you should’ve known.” Rain shook her head. “I guess I’ve become so used to having people talk about him behind my back, it’s like I have it tattooed on my forehead.”

 

She let out her breath as a tired sigh. “My brother Hawk ... who’s about your age, by the way ... murdered my father. Our father, I mean. There’s a lot of people who say he had it coming ... my father was a mean drunk, and even my mother says he was a bastard, which was why they were separated ... but all the same, Hawk shouldn’t have...”

 

She broke off when the hatch abruptly slid open, a silent invitation for us to enter. “Guess that means we can come in,” I said, making a courtly bow. “Ladies first...”

 

“Thank you.” Rain seemed to be just as happy to be interrupted. Not that I could blame her, but Jas couldn’t have picked a worse moment. Yet I let the subject drop as we stepped into the antechamber.

 

* * * *

 

XIII

 

The airlock was a small foyer just large enough for the two of us, with an identical hatch on the opposite side. Once the outer hatch closed behind us, the ceiling lit with a pale yellow luminescence. “Welcome,” said Jas, his voice coming from a speaker beside a small control panel. “Before I repressurize the room you are in, you will need to put on breathing masks. You will find them in the compartment to your right.”

 

Rain turned around, located a small candy-striped panel recessed within the wall; inside were two full-face air masks. We slipped them on, and I helped Rain activate the miniature oxygen-nitrogen cylinders on either side of the lower jaw. Jas must have been observing us, because as soon as we were ready, there was a faint buzz and then the airlock began to repressurize.

 

We could’ve breathed the air within Jas’s quarters, but not for very long. Watching the digital gauge on the control panel, I saw the atmospheric pressure drop 250 millibars while the NO2 content increased by 30 percent. Without air masks, we would have succumbed to nitrogen narcosis before fainting from lack of oxygen. The change-out took about five minutes; when it was done, there was another buzz, then the inner hatch revolved open.

 

We walked into what had once been the ship’s lounge before it was converted into a cabin suitable for hjadd passengers: a large suite divided into three rooms, two of them serving as private sleeping quarters and the third as a sitting room. At least heshe had furniture, even if it was designed to accommodate their shorter legs and longer torsos; I noticed that the couch and chair were equipped with safety harnesses. There was even what appeared to be a small galley, no doubt stocked with vegetarian food palatable to the hjadd. If there was a privy, I didn’t see it. Yet other than a porthole, the cabin was spartan, the ceiling rails lending it the same utilitarian appearance as the rest of the ship.

 

But the surroundings didn’t catch my attention so much as Jas himherself. Now that the Prime Emissary no longer needed to wear hisher environment suit, heshe had changed into a long, toga-like robe that looked like silk yet seemed to shimmer with red and purple radiance. Hisher head, resembling that of a turtle only with a short fin on the back of hisher skull, rose from the high collar of hisher robe, while the hands I’d glimpsed earlier were folded together within bell sleeves embroidered with intricate designs.

 

“Please, come in,” heshe said, “Make yourselves comfortable.” A six-fingered hand, its talons white against the dark brown of hisher skin, emerged from a sleeve in the gesture of welcome. “I’m afraid I cannot offer refreshment, but I doubt you would enjoy anything that I eat or drink.”

 

When Jas spoke, I heard two voices: the familiar one that addressed us in Anglo, which came from the grille of a small device that heshe wore around hisher neck, and the low-pitched series of hisses, croaks, and whistles that matched the movements of hisher mouth. The Prime Emissary didn’t know our language; heshe merely possessed the means to have it translated for himher. The device heshe wore around hisher neck apparently did the trick; a slender prong was suspended in front of hisher lipless mouth, while thin wires led to small caps that covered the membranes on either side of hisher head.

 

“No need to apologize.” Rain recovered more quickly than I did; I was getting over my first sight of Jas without hisher environment suit. “Once we reach your world, maybe we will have a chance to sample your cuisine.”

 

“Uh ... yeah,” I stuttered. “I’d like that a lot, too.” I was at a loss for what else to say. “Umm ... nice place you have here.”

 

Lame, but Extraterrestrial Diplomacy 101 wasn’t a course I’d taken at the Academy. Whatever I said, though, was apparently enough to tickle hisher funny bone—where that was located, I hadn’t a clue—because it was received by a short, high-pitched hiss. Jas’s heavy-lidded eyes, which bulged from the front of hisher skull, closed slightly.

 

“Your people have done well to accommodate us,” heshe replied. “Perhaps we will be able to satisfy your curiosity about our food, once we have arrived at Talus qua’spah.”

 

I was still getting over the spooky way hisher eyes moved on their own when Jas stepped a little closer. “However,” heshe continued, “our time is short, and you will soon need to return to your duties. Therefore, I will ask the question that I would like to have answered, if I may.”

 

“Question?” That startled me. “Ah ... yeah, sure, whatever you...”

 

Rain’s cough was muffled by her air mask, but I heard it nonetheless. “Of course, Prime Emissary,” she said, interrupting me, “although you’ll have to forgive us if we’re not very helpful. After all, we’re ixnay on the alktay.”

 

I caught her meaning and dummied up, hoping that Jas’s translator wasn’t as efficient as it seemed. Apparently it wasn’t up to pidgin Anglo, because Jas went quiet for a moment, the fin on hisher head rising ever so slightly. “Yes, certainly,” heshe responded after a second. “I understand. But nonetheless, I’d like to know ... are there members of the Order of the Eye aboard this ship?”

 

I didn’t have to pretend ignorance. “Sorry. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I glanced at Rain. “You?”

 

“Neither do I.” She shook her head, but something in her eyes told me otherwise. “Is that something you’ve heard about on Coyote?”

 

Jas’s fin rose a little more, hisher eyes twitching back and forth. “A rumor, perhaps little more,” heshe responded, “yet enough to rouse our interest.” A short pause. “One of your passengers ... Gordon Ash ... we have reason to believe belongs to this group. Do you know anything of this?”

 

“Nope. Nothing at all.” I shrugged, hoping that my lie was convincing. “Just that he drinks a lot, that’s all.”

 

“Drinks?” The hjadd’s left eye rotated toward me.

 

“He means alcohol. An affliction among my kind.” Rain was about to continue when, from outside the room, we heard four bells, giving us the one-minute warning that the main engine was about to shut down. “We should go,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Many thanks for your hospitality, Prime Emissary.”

 

“The pleasure has been mine.” Jas folded hisher hands together and bowed from the waist. “Feel free to visit me again.”

 

Neither of us said much to each other as we cycled back through the airlock. The main engine cut off while Rain and I were still inside; we grasped handrails along the walls, and once the atmosphere returned to normal, we removed our air masks and returned them to their compartment. But as soon as we’d left the airlock and moved far enough down the passageway that I was sure Jas couldn’t hear us, I pulled her aside.

 

“All right, now,” I said, keeping my voice low. “How about telling me what’s going on?”

 

“What do you mean?” Her expression remained neutral.

 

“C’mon ... you know exactly what I’m talking about.” I nodded in the direction of Jas’s cabin. “This business with the Order of the Eye. You know something I don’t.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re...”

 

“Ash reads minds.” Her face went pale as I said this, and I went on. “I don’t know how he does it, but ... well, it’s there, and don’t try to pretend that I’m wrong.”

 

Rain glanced both ways, as if to make sure that we were alone. ““Okay, you’re right,” she replied, her voice little more than a whisper. “Ash is a telepath ... or at least strongly empathic. That’s why Morgan brought him along ... to verify whatever the hjadd have to say to us, since we still don’t know their language even though they’re able to interpret ours. We’ve tried to keep this from the hjadd, but apparently they’ve already figured it out.”

 

Despite the fact that she’d confirmed what I had already suspected, I couldn’t help but feel a chill. “How did Ash learn to do that? This is ... I mean, I’ve never met anyone who...”

 

“Not on Earth, no. But in the last few years, a few people on Coyote have developed the ability to read minds ... or at least pick up emotions.” She hesitated. “Rumor has it that it comes from long-term exposure to pseudo-wasps. Supposedly they belong to a cult that calls itself the Order of the Eye.”

 

I knew about pseudo-wasps: a flying insect native to Coyote, its sting contained a venom that produced low-level hallucinations among humans. There were even people who ingested the venom as a recreational drug; some of it had found its way to Earth, where it was sold on the black market. This was the first time I’d ever heard of it producing telepathic abilities, though. If it hadn’t been for my earlier encounter with Ash, I would have discounted it as hearsay.

 

“And Ash belongs to it?” I asked.

 

“I’ve heard that the Order got started by someone who used to work for Morgan. That’s how Ash was able to hook up with him ... Morgan has been bankrolling them on the sly.” Rain shrugged. “It’s only when Ash is drunk that he can’t hear what’s going on inside other people’s heads. That’s why Morgan had Ted bring along a couple of jugs of bearshine.”

 

I’d figured that out already. If Ash was loaded most of the time, he wouldn’t be able to hear the thoughts of everyone else aboard. Even Goldstein wouldn’t want Ash competent all the time, just when he wished Ash to be so ... say, when Morgan had to negotiate with the hjadd, and therefore wanted to have a level playing field.

 

“So Ash is Morgan’s ringer,” I said, and Rain nodded. “Sounds like Jas got wind of it, though. Are you going to tell him?”

 

Rain shook her head. “Not if I don’t have to,” she said, pushing herself toward the deck hatch. “None of my business, and I’d just as soon not have anything to do with Ash if I can help it.” She looked back at me. “And neither should you. The Order is ... well, if they really do exist, then they’re not something you’d want to mess with.”

 

That sounded like good advice. “Okay,” I said as I followed her toward the hatch. “I’ll take your word for it. Thanks for being straight with me. I appreciate it.”

 

Rain paused just before entering the access shaft. “You’re welcome,” she said, then favored me with a smile. “What are friends for, right?”

 

* * * *

 

TEN

 

A matter of trust ... transit to Rho Coronae Borealis ... Talus qua’spah ... an indelicate request.

 

* * * *

 

XIV

 

It took about ten hours for the Pride to reach Starbridge Coyote. Time enough for both lunch and dinner in the wardroom, along with a long nap in between. Ted could have cut it in half if he’d ordered the engines to remain at full thrust, but that would have meant spending fuel we might need later. The only person impatient to reach Hjarr was Goldstein, and Ted made it plain that, although Morgan might be the ship’s owner, it was the captain who called the shots.

 

That gave us nearly half a day to kill. Since the Pride was on autopilot, there was little reason for Ali to remain at the helm. Regulations called for a flight-certified crewman to be on duty in the command center at all times, though, and Ted, Emily, and Doc all wanted to be relieved. So Ali sat me down at his station and gave me the quick-and-dirty on how to drive the ship. The helm wasn’t that much different than those aboard the Victory: although the controls were a bit more complex, the thrusters controlling yaw, pitch, and roll were operated by the same sort of trackball I’d learned to use in the Academy.

 

Ali had already laid in the course for the rendezvous with the starbridge; he told me that Morgan had assured him that, once we were through hyperspace, the hjadd would transmit a signal that would interface with the newly installed nav system and automatically dock the Pride with Talus qua’spah. Even so, Ali had taken the precaution of programming an emergency override into the Pride’s AI; two fingerstrokes on the keyboard, and he could resume control of the helm at any time.

 

“I don’t care what Morgan says,” Ali said. “I’m not quite ready to trust the hjadd.”

 

I remembered the way he’d recoiled from Jas when heshe had inserted the code. “With the ship, or anything else?”

 

A wry smile crept across his face. “Let’s just say I prefer to err on the side of caution, especially when dealing with a race that looks like it might possibly eat its young.”

 

I considered reminding him that the hjadd were vegetarians, but decided against it. Nonetheless, I wondered how someone so xenophobic had come to be hired as command pilot for this particular mission. Perhaps the same reason why Goldstein had recruited me; pickings were slim on Coyote when it came to experienced freelance spacers, and Morgan had to settle for what he could find.

 

Once Ali was confident that I knew what I was doing, he left the bridge to grab some lunch and observe his midday prayers. For the first time since we’d departed Coyote, I found myself alone on the deck; everyone else had gone below. Through the starboard windows, I could see 47 Ursae Majoris-B as an immense blue and purple disk, its silver-yellow rings casting a broad shadow across its cloud bands. Hard to believe that, little more than ten days ago, I’d been here before, only then aboard a stolen lifeboat. Fate had dealt me an odd hand, to be sure.

 

I was still gazing at Bear when the deck hatch opened. Looking around, I saw Doc pull himself up through the manhole. Seeing me seated at the helm, he nodded with satisfaction.

 

“Good man ... you’re at your station.” A perfunctory nod, then he reached to his utility belt and unhooked a squeezebulb. “Here’s your reward ... catch!”

 

He tossed the bulb across the deck. I reached up to snag it from midair. Hot coffee, just what I needed. “Thanks,” I said. “Why, did you think I wouldn’t be here?”

 

“Not really, but you never know.” Doc closed the hatch, then turned a somersault that put him upside-down to me. “One time, when we were going through the Belt on the way back from Jupiter, the skipper put a rookie on watch during graveyard shift.” He tucked the toes of his shoes within the ceiling rail. “I came up here to get something and found him catching z’s, with an asteroid only eight hundred klicks off port bow. Stupid kid turned off the collision alert so that it wouldn’t interrupt his siesta. Never turned my back on a new guy since.”

 

“If I’d done that in the Union Astronautica, my old captain would’ve put me out the airlock.”

 

“That kid was Union Astronautica, too.” Doc unhooked another squeezebulb from his belt and opened its nipple. “So am I, for that matter.”

 

I’d gathered as much; his accent was Norte Americano, from somewhere out west. Which wasn’t surprising; I was hardly the first UA spacer to have defected. “Morgan recruited me from the European Space Agency,” he went on. “He’d just expanded his company and needed people to build ships for him. After awhile he let me leave the desk and do what I really wanted to do.”

 

“Why the name? This ship, I mean.”

 

“Pride of Cucamonga? After my home town ... Cucamonga, California. And before you ask, Loose Lucy was named after my ex.” Doc shook his head. “Word of advice ... never christen your ship in honor of your wife. Not unless you intend to stay married, that is.”

 

“I take it that’s why it’s called Loose Lucy,” I said, and he gave me a rare smile. “Well, I have to hand it to you ... the Pride doesn’t look like much, but she flies just fine.”

 

“Looks aren’t important. It’s how they’re built that counts. Only thing I don’t like is having to add equipment that I don’t know how to operate.” Doc scowled as he gazed past me at the black box on the console. “It came to us just as you see it. A few cables in the back, with instructions on how to hardwire them to the console. Soon as we turned it on, though, it interfaced with the main AI bus. But we can’t open it, and there’s no way for us to change its settings or anything. Only Jas can do that.”

 

I hesitated, wondering whether I should let him in on Ali’s secret. Doc was the chief engineer, though, so it was his job to know what was going on with his ship. “Ali told me he rigged a manual override. Says he can...”

 

“Did he now?” A sip of coffee, then he reattached his bulb to a vest loop and twisted himself until he was rightside-up. “Actually, that’s my doing. Ali’s just taking credit for it ... and don’t worry, Ted and Emily know about it, too. Just don’t let on to Morgan ... he’d throw a fit if he thought we didn’t trust the hjadd.”

 

This was beginning to sound like a familiar refrain. “I take it you don’t?”

 

“Oh, I trust ‘em, all right ... just not with my ship.” Another smile that quickly vanished. “Like with you. I have no problem with having a wet-behind-the-ears ensign standing watch, so long as I know you’re not going to take a snooze.”

 

“Yeah, well...” I shrugged. “Trust seems to be in short supply on this ship.”

 

Doc didn’t reply at once. Instead, he regarded me with what seemed to be sympathy. “Son, this isn’t the Academy,” he said at last. “They do everything by the book, and that way they minimize the risks. Out here, though, the book doesn’t apply. We’re pretty much making it up as we go along. Especially on this flight.”

 

As he spoke, Doc pushed himself over to one of the starboard windows. “With any luck, this’ll be pretty routine,” he said, gazing out at Bear. “We deliver cargo, we pick up cargo, we go home. But I’m not going to count on it, and neither should you. So if we don’t completely trust the Prime Emissary ... well, it’s because there’s a first time for everything, and trust is something you earn only from experience.” He reached up to fondly pat the ceiling. “But if you put your faith in this ship, and the people you’re working with, then you’ll get through this just fine.”

 

If I’d heard that from anyone else, I would’ve considered it to be hopelessly saccharine. Yet sweetness and light clearly weren’t part of Doc’s character; he was a pragmatic old spacer who’d been doing this for a very long time. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“Uh-huh ... well, that’s all I have to say about that.” Turning away from the window, Doc pulled himself back across the command center. “Okay, kid, the conn is yours. Don’t wreck my ship, or I’ll kick your ass.”

 

He opened the deck hatch and floated head-first down the access tunnel. The hatch closed behind him, and once more I was alone on the bridge. Yet I found myself remembering something Ash had said to me:

 

Out here in the great beyond, everything is strange. The sooner you get used to that, the better off you’ll be.

 

* * * *

 

XV

 

Six hours later, we were on primary approach to the starbridge. By then Ali had relieved me at the helm, and everyone had returned to the command center—including Jas, whom Goldstein had escorted up from Deck Three. Doc had installed a specially made couch for the Prime Emissary, into which heshe strapped himherself; I noticed that, although Jas tried to stay away from Ash as much as possible, Morgan traded chairs with his “interpreter” so that Ash was seated next to the hjadd. Funny how even the smallest of coincidences gained significance, now that I knew what was going on.

 

If Ted was aware of all this intrigue, he paid no attention. “Emcee, open a channel to the gatehouse,” he said, keeping an eye on the screens above the control console. Once Emily told him that she’d made contact, he touched his headset mike. “Starbridge Coyote, this is CFSS Pride of Cucamonga, requesting permission for hyperspace transition to Rho Coronae Borealis.”

 

A moment passed, then a voice came over the loudspeaker. “Roger that, Pride. Standing by to receive destination code.”

 

“We copy, gatehouse.” Ted glanced over his shoulder at his wife. “Send the key, please.”

 

Ali typed in a command that relayed the key code to Emily’s station; she transmitted the signal to the gatehouse, which in turn sent it via hyperlink to Rho Coronae Borealis. A minute went by, then we heard from the gatehouse again: “Code received at destination and confirmed. You have permission to commence final approach.”

 

“Roger that, gatehouse. Thank you.” Ted let out his breath. “Right, then ... Ali, interface AI with the gatehouse, then fire main engine on my mark.”

 

Ali tapped at his keyboard, studied his comp for a moment, then looked back at Ted. “Interface completed, skipper. Ready when you are.”

 

“Mark.”

 

A brief surge as the engine ignited. Looking up at the nearest screen, I saw Starbridge Coyote grow in size. Above the console, a holographic miniature of the Pride moved toward a three-dimensional funnel that grew from the ring. Remembering the turbulence I’d experienced a few days earlier, I cinched my harness a little tighter, then glanced over at Rain.

 

“Hang on,” I whispered. “This could be rough.” She nodded, and gave her own harness a quick yank. Although she said nothing, the perspiration on her face showed just how nervous she was. I remembered then that she was the only person aboard who hadn’t made a hyperspace jump; everyone else had gone through this at least once before, if only from Earth to Coyote. “Don’t worry,” I added. “It’ll all be over in just...”

 

“I know, I know.” Her voice was tight. “Don’t remind me.”

 

She didn’t want to be babied, so I left her alone. Ali had taken his hands from the console; now that the Pride’s guidance system was slaved to the gatehouse AI, there was nothing for him to do. Yet Doc continued to study his board, alert for any signs of trouble, while Ted and Emily watched the comp displays at their stations.

 

The engine cut off a few seconds later. Another glance at a screen told me that the Pride was only a few miles from the starbridge. Any moment now, we’d be entering the event horizon...

 

A sudden flash from within the ring, and then it felt as if we were being pulled into the wormhole. I was about to close my eyes when someone grasped the back of my wrist. Looking down, I was surprised to find that Rain had grabbed hold of me.

 

“Don’t watch,” I said quietly, taking her hand. “Just shut your eyes. You’ll be...”

 

I didn’t get a chance to finish, for at that moment we entered the starbridge.

 

This time, I saw what happened. Bright light in every color of the visible spectrum streamed through the windows as the command center turned upside-down, becoming a barrel that some malicious giant had decided to kick down a slope. For an instant, it seemed as if everything stretched, like matter itself had become little more than warm taffy. The holo flickered and went dead. From the other side of the bridge, I heard someone scream—Ash, perhaps, or maybe it was Morgan—and Rain’s grip became so hard that I almost yelped.

 

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. The light faded, the spinning stopped, everything resumed its normal proportions. We were through the starbridge.

 

Rain let out her breath, slowly opened her eyes. “Oh, god, that was...” Then she realized that she was still clutching my hand. “Sorry,” she muttered, and quickly released it. “Didn’t mean to...”

 

“That’s okay.” I couldn’t help but grin. “Any time.”

 

Her face had been pale; now it became red, and she looked away in embarrassment. Hearing the sound of someone retching, I turned to see Ash blowing his cookies into a bag while Goldstein regarded him with disgust. Everyone else was shaken and sweaty, save perhaps for Jas, whose turtle-like visage remained invisible behind the opaque mirror of hisher helmet.

 

“Well, now ... that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ted glanced around the deck. “Everyone all right? No casualties, I hope?” Satisfied that we were all in one piece, if perhaps a little worse for wear, he looked over at his wife. “Send a message back home. Tell them we’ve arrived in one piece.”

 

Emily pushed a damp lock of hair from her face as she opened a hyperlink channel to Starbridge Coyote. Ted turned back toward the helm. “A fix on our position, Ali, if you will.”

 

Our pilot seemed to shake himself awake, then hunched over the console. It took a minute for him to reactivate the holo and match it against the charts in the comp’s stellar catalog. “We’re in the HD 143761 system. Approximately one and a half A.U.’s from the primary, one thousand miles from...”

 

His voice trailed off as he slowly raised his eyes to the nearest window. “Allah’s blessings,” he muttered. “Will you look at that?”

 

I followed his gaze. Through the window, we could see a nearby planet, oddly Earth-like but with oceans larger than those of our own world. Hjarr, apparently, but this wasn’t what got our attention. In orbit above the planet was something that appeared at first to be a small constellation, yet obviously wasn’t of natural origin.

 

“Is that what I think it is?” Rain stared at it in astonishment. “I mean, I’d heard that it was big, but...”

 

Emily put a 3D image up on the holo, and now we could see the object more clearly: a vast, spiral-shaped structure, perhaps two hundred miles or more in diameter, like an elaborate toy cobbled together by some infant god. It slowly rotated upon a central axis, catching the light of a distant sun; all around it moved tiny specks that, I suddenly realized, were starships larger than the Pride.

 

A space colony, but much, much bigger than any built by humans. Even Highgate would have been dwarfed by this thing. I’d heard of it, of course, but in real life it was more awesome than anything I’d imagined.

 

“There it is ... Talus qua’spah.” Ted looked over at Jas. “Welcome home, Prime Emissary.”

 

“Thank you, Captain.” The hjadd had already unfastened hisher harness, and now floated free of hisher couch. “First Officer, will you please open a channel? The proper frequency has already been programmed into your system.”

 

“Sure.” Emily reached to her keyboard. “But what do you want me to...?”

 

“There is no need for you to speak. I will communicate for you.” Jas pushed himherself over to the console. “If you will...?”

 

“Skipper?” Ali continued to stare at the holo. “What do you want me to do?”

 

“Move us away from the starbridge, then hold position.” Ted watched as Emily entered commands into her keyboard. “Just wait.”

 

Emily raised an eyebrow, then looked up at Jas. Apparently the Prime Emissary had switched off hisher translator and activated an internal mike, for when heshe spoke again, it wasn’t in Anglo but rather the unpronounceable rush of hisses, clicks, and croaks that I’d heard in hisher quarters. A few seconds passed, then from the speakers we heard a response in the same tongue. Jas gave a short reply, then turned toward Ted.

 

“Our arrival has been acknowledged, and we have been welcomed,” heshe said. “If you will kindly relinquish control of your ship, our traffic control system will guide it to the appropriate docking port.”

 

From across the compartment, I saw Ali trade a wary glance with Ted. The captain gave him a wordless nod, and Ali entered a command into his console. “Helm control free,” he said, not at all happy about it. “But I don’t know how...”

 

A second later, there was an abrupt sensation of lateral movement as the maneuvering thrusters fired on their own, bringing the Pride around a few degrees to starboard. “Do not worry,” Jas said as heshe returned to hisher couch. “Your ship is quite safe, so long as you do not interfere. All you need do is complete final docking procedures.”

 

“Thank you.” Ted looked over at Rain and me. “Right, then ... you know the drill. Go below and prepare for arrival. We’ll use the primary docking port on Cargo Two.”

 

I unbuckled my harness and pushed myself out of my seat. “Do you want us to open the port hatch?”

 

Ted shook his head. “Not until we get there. Just pressurize the module and wait for us.”

 

“Wilco.” Grabbing hold of the ceiling rail, Rain pulled herself toward the deck hatch. “Let us know when you’re about to come down.”

 

“Sure.” Ted was no longer paying attention to us. Once again, he was gazing out the windows, watching Talus qua’spah as it steadily grew larger. One last glance behind us, then I followed Rain from the command center. She waited in the access shaft while I shut the hatch behind us.

 

“Is it just me,” I said once we were alone, “or does that thing scare the hell out of you, too?”

 

Rain thought about it for a moment. “No,” she said quietly as she pushed herself in the direction of the hub. “It’s not just you.”

 

* * * *

 

XVI

 

Although we were supposed to pressurize Cargo Two, standard operating procedure called for us to suit up first. So our first stop was the ready room.

 

Although Rain and I had made our peace, she still wasn’t inclined to share the compartment while she put on her hardsuit. I wasn’t about to press the issue, so I let her have her privacy, and instead pushed myself across the hub to Cargo Two and initiated pressurization. She didn’t take as long to suit up as she had the day before, so by the time she was done and I traded places with her in the ready room to put on my own gear, Cargo Two was fully pressurized and we were able to enter it without having to cycle through its airlock. We kept our helmet faceplates open, though, and left our pressure switches on standby.

 

Cargo Two was divided into four decks, with the marijuana bales securely lashed to grid-like floors. We floated past them as we made our way down the center shaft to the docking port, located at the far end of the module between the cargo hatches. We’d just reached the port hatch when Emily’s voice came through the comlink.

 

“Jas tells us we’re about to enter a gravity field,” she said. “You’re going to need to find something to hang onto.”

 

“We copy.” There were hand-rungs on either side of the hatch. I grabbed a pair on one side, and Rain held onto two more on the other. “All right, we’re ready.”

 

“Very good.” A pause. “On final approach now. We’ll be docking in a couple of minutes.”

 

I was about to respond when Rain gasped. “Holy ... get a load of that!”

 

She was peering through the small porthole in the center of the hatch. Moving beside her, I gazed out the window, and felt my breath catch. Past the flanges of the docking collar, several hundred yards away and getting closer with each passing second, we could see a giant, saucer-like construct, just one of the countless subsections that made up Talus qua’spah. As the Pride drew near, a dome at the bottom of the saucer opened like a clamshell. Beyond it lay an enormous bay, so vast that the Robert E. Lee could have been hangared inside.

 

“I think we’re expected,” I murmured. An obvious remark, yet Rain’s face was grim as she silently nodded. She was just as intimidated as I was.

 

Coasting in on little more than its thrusters, the Pride slowly entered the bay. Through the porthole, Rain and I watched as the ship glided into the center of a lattice-like cradle, its arms swinging aside to make room for our vessel. There was a hard thump as the freighter came to rest, then a tubular arm telescoped forward to mate with port hatch.

 

It had just connected with the docking collar when we felt the abrupt tug of gravity, and the airlock suddenly went vertical. Rain and I both swore as we scrambled to find footholds. Fortunately, there was a narrow ledge running around the inside of the hatch that we were able to stand upon.

 

“All right, we’re here,” Emily said. “How are you guys doing down there?”

 

Behind us, I could heard the bales shifting against their restraints; now they hung from the decks, which had become bulkheads. “We’re okay,” Rain said, “but I hope they’re able to fine-tune their gravity field. Otherwise unloading is going to be a bitch.”

 

A short pause, then Emily’s voice returned. “Jas assures us this won’t be a problem. All they have to do is shut down the field for the hangar. How’s the pressure on your end?”

 

I turned my head so that I could read the panel next to the hatch. All the lights were green. “Copasetic,” I replied, then I glanced through the porthole. An empty tunnel lay before us, an enclosed gangway illuminated by the Pride’s external lights. “Waiting for you.”

 

Another pause, then Ted came over the comlink. “It’s going to take us a bit to get things settled here. Go ahead and pop the hatch. We’ll be down in a few minutes.”

 

“Roger that.” The lockwheel was located on my side of the hatch. Hanging on with my left hand, I twisted the wheel clockwise, then put my shoulder against the hatch. There was a faint hiss as it swung open, and I looked at Rain. “Ladies first.”

 

“Oh, no.” She shook her head within her helmet. “I insist...”

 

I tried not to laugh. If the hjadd had a death-ray waiting for us, we would’ve known by now. But I wasn’t about to make fun of her for being nervous, so I ducked my head and climbed through the hatch.

 

The tunnel was octagonal, with each surface capable of serving as a floor. For a few seconds, all I could clearly see were the first dozen feet or so ... then the walls glowed to life with a soft radiance of their own, and now I saw that the gangway extended about forty yards until it ended at a circular door.

 

“Now what?” Rain entered the tunnel behind me. “Keep going, or wait for the others?”

 

“We wait.” There was no need for my helmet, and I felt foolish wearing it, so I took a moment to remove it, careful to keep my headset in place. “Always let the captain...”

 

Before I could finish, through, the door at the end of the tunnel split in half and slid open. Warm light spilled out into the passageway.

 

“On the other hand...” I murmured.

 

Rain had removed her own helmet. “You just said we should wait,” she said, regarding the door with suspicion. “Now you’re saying...”

 

“Hold on a sec.” I prodded my headset. “Ted, are you there?”

 

“Copy. What’s going on?”

 

“We’ve left the Pride, and now we’re in some sort of gangway. Looks like it leads to the station, and a door at the far end just opened. I think someone wants us to come aboard.” I paused. “Do we stay, or do we go?”

 

Several seconds passed, then Morgan’s voice came over the comlink. “Jas says that you should continue. An invitation has been made, and it would be considered rude if you declined.”

 

Ted’s voice returned. “I concur. We’re still in the command center. Go ahead, both of you. We’ll catch up.”

 

“Roger that.” I looked at Rain; she’d heard everything over her own headset. “Well, there it is. Ready to meet the neighbors?”

 

She still didn’t look happy about the thought of doing this alone. We hadn’t been given much choice in the matter, though, so we tucked our helmets beneath our arms and headed down the tunnel. I deliberately walked slowly, in order to give Ted and the others more time to join us, but it still didn’t take long for us to reach the end of the gangway.

 

We entered a circular room about twenty feet in diameter, with another round door on the other side. Its walls were featureless save for a set of floor-to-ceiling glass panels that emitted a dull blue glow. Above us was a transparent dome; through it, we could see the Pride, resting in vertical position within its docking cradle. We were still gazing up at our ship when, very quietly, the door slid shut behind us.

 

“Oh, hell,” Rain muttered. “I don’t like the looks of...”

 

At that instant, the wall panels lit up, each displaying a different image. A north polar projection of the Milky Way galaxy, overlaid with a halo grid upon which a star near the center of the Orion Arm was circled: Rho Coronae Borealis, if my guess was right. A schematic view of Talus qua’spah, with a tiny saucer near its outer edge highlighted; hjadd script appeared next to it, apparently meaning YOU ARE HERE. A wide-angle shot of the Pride, looking like a bug snared within a spider’s web. Vertical bars of hjadd script slowly scrolled upward, significant in some way yet meaningless to our eyes.

 

I was still gazing at those panels when Rain tapped my shoulder. Turning around, I saw another panel, this one showing a hjadd. Although heshe looked a little like Jas, I noticed that hisher face had a different skin pattern and a slightly larger fin. Heshe opened hisher mouth and addressed us in a series of hisses and clicks.

 

A pause, then the hjadd vanished, to replaced by something that looked like a hermit crab, only lacking a shell and with smaller claws. It chirped for a few seconds, stopped and waited for a moment, then disappeared. The next creature was a tall, skinny biped, with backward-jointed legs, arms that nearly reached the floor, and a head that vaguely resembled that of a horse; when it spoke, it gurgled like someone with a mouthful of water trying to tell a dirty joke. Another pause, then it went away, and now we saw something that could have been the Abominable Snowman were it not for four eyes and a tongue that slipped obscenely in and out of it furry mouth.

 

“I think...” Rain studied the panel, her anxiety replaced by fascination. “Maybe this is some sort of reception area.”

 

“You might be right, but I haven’t the foggiest what we’re supposed to...”

 

The panel suddenly went dark. A moment passed, then a human who looked a little like Ted, except with a shaved head and plucked eyebrows, appeared on it. “Greetings, and welcome to the House of the Talus,” he said, speaking Anglo in a voice that didn’t belong to our captain. “You have been identified as human. Please continue to visitor processing.”

 

A tinkling sound like wind chimes, then I felt a warm draft at the back of my neck. Looking around, I saw that the second door had slid open.

 

“Bad manners or not,” Rain said quietly, “I really think we should have waited.”

 

“Too late now. We’re committed.” Besides, I was curious. Rain glared at me, but followed me into the next room.

 

It was almost identical to the first, except that the ceiling was covered with translucent panels. Low, bench-like tables were placed here and there; cabinets were recessed within the reflective glass walls. The air was considerably warmer as well; about seventy degrees, comfortable without being too humid.

 

The door closed as soon as we were inside, and once again the not-quite-Ted appeared on a wall panel.

 

“This is the decontamination facility,” he said. “To begin this procedure, please remove all your clothes.”

 

Copyright (c) 2007Allen M. Steele

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)