Galaxy Blues

by Allen Steele

  “It’s okay to breathe,” Goldstein said after a moment. “I do it all the time. Good for the lungs.”

  I managed to give the pad back to him without dropping it. He was grinning like a fox as he closed it. “Now then, Dorothy…or may I call you Ensign Truffaut?”

  “Ensign Truffaut is fine.” I swallowed, tried to get us back to the informal level. “Jules is good, too.”

  “Jules, then…and you may call me Mr. Goldstein.” The grin faded as he slipped the pad back in his pocket. “So you know who I am and what I represent. Now I’ll tell you why I need you, and what I can do for you in return.” Another languid drag from his cigar. “You’ve heard of the hjadd, of course.”

  Who hadn’t? An alien race, their homeworld located in the Rho Coronae Borealis system, they’d made contact with humankind about three years ago, when they permitted the survivors of the EASS Galileo to return to Coyote after their ship was destroyed fifty-three years earlier. The Galileo had been sent out from Earth to investigate a deep-space object called Spindrift; a foolish mistake by the captain led to a lethal encounter with a hjadd starship, but the three surviving members of the expedition managed to convince the aliens that our race meant them no harm. This in turn led to the hjadd dispatching an emissary to Coyote, with a small delegation sent not long thereafter.

  First contact, in other words. “Sure,” I said. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to see one of them while I was here.”

  “Yes, well…you and me both, kid.” Goldstein knocked an ash to the floor. “They’ve had an embassy here nearly a year, by local reckoning. A compound on the other side of town, not far from the Colonial University. But it’s off-limits to everyone except a few people who they’ve accepted as go-betweens, and only rarely do any of them come out…and only then in environment suits so that we can’t see them.”

  “But we know what they look like.” I’d seen the same photos everyone else on Earth had: creatures that looked sort of like giant tortoises, only without shells, who stood upright on stubby legs and wore togalike garments that seemed to shimmer with a light of their own. “Pretty weird, but…”

  “Ah, yes…and it’s the ‘but’ that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it?” Goldstein studied the glowing end of his cigar. “A year on this world, and we still know little more about them than we did before they arrived. Although they know a lot about us…even Anglo, which their emissaries speak with the assistance of translation devices…they’re very protective of what we learn about them. Believe me, I’ve had my people working at this for some time now. The best insight that I’ve been given is that they’re probably descended from a ‘prey species’…a lesser form of life on their native world…that was subject to attack by predators until they learned how to compete. So they’re cautious by nature, not given to opening up to others.”

  “So you’re afraid of them?”

  Goldstein gave me a cold look. “No. Not at all. The Dominionists consider them a threat to their doctrine, but me…?” He shook his head. “If I really wanted, I could have their embassy nuked from orbit.”

  “I think someone tried that already.” I remembered what had happened to the Galileo.

  “True, and I have no desire to repeat that mistake. Besides, it would be contrary to my interests.” He took another drag from his cigar. “The hjadd want to pursue trade relations with humankind. Not with Earth, mind you…they don’t trust that place, not after what happened with the Galileo…but with us, here, on Coyote. We have something they want, and they’re willing to bargain for it.”

  “And that is…?”

  “Patience. We’ll get to that.” I shut up, and he went on. “I’m not a diplomat, nor am I a scientist.” Dropping his voice, Goldstein gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Fact is, I’m not that much of a spacer even though I own a fleet of commercial spacecraft. The reason why I was aboard your ship in the first place was because I had to tend to business interests back on Earth, and the accommodations aboard the Lee are more comfortable than the ones aboard my own vessels.”

  “I was wondering about that.”

  “Keep it to yourself.” Another puff from his cigar. “At any rate…I’m an entrepreneur, Jules. A businessman, and a damn good one if I may say so myself. Started out by buying a secondhand lunar freighter that was about to be decommissioned and went from there.” He patted the coat pocket in which he’d put his pad. “The trick to striking it rich is spotting opportunities when they come up and seizing them before anyone else does. And the hjadd…”

  “Are an opportunity.”

  “Kid, I’m beginning to like you even more. Yes, the hjadd are an opportunity. Better yet, they’re an opportunity no one else…particularly not my competitors…has managed to get their hands on. If Janus can reliably deliver what they want, then I stand to gain a monopoly upon whatever they have to trade in return. Not only that, but I’ll have access to any other races with whom they have contact. When that happens, my company will become the sole freight carrier between us and the rest of the galaxy.”

  “Uh-huh. And what does the Coyote government have to say about that?”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” Goldstein grinned. “They’re in on it, too. The Federation Navy only has one ship big enough to handle that amount of cargo, and the Lee is already committed to the Earth run. After that, they have nothing but shuttles. And since I have the ships they need, they’re just as willing to subcontract my company…for a generous share of the profits, of course.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got everything lined up.”

  “I’ve been working on this deal for the last six months, Coyote time. If all goes well, within the next two or three weeks we’ll be sending the first commercial freighter to Hjarr…their homeworld, that is. There’s just one last detail that needs to be taken care of…and that’s where you come in.”

  Goldstein glanced at the cell-block door, making sure that we were alone, then he shifted forward in his chair, leaning closer until his face was only a few inches from the bars. “One problem I had with this is putting together a crew,” he went on, his voice lowered once more. “I’ve got a lot of good people, but I know damn well that some of them are spies for my competitors…just as I’ve placed my own informants within their outfits. That’s the way business is. Everyone wants to know what the other guy is doing and tries to use that info to their advantage. But with something like this…well, the fewer risks I have to accept, the happier I’ll be.”

  He toyed with the cigar in his hand. “So instead of bringing in a crew from Earth or Mars, I’ve decided to build a new team from scratch.” He stopped himself. “Well, almost entirely a new team. Out of necessity, my chief engineer comes with his ship. But he’s been working for me for a long time now, and I trust him like I would my own brother. For all other positions, though, I’ve had to recruit local talent.”

  I could see where this was leading…and even then, I couldn’t quite believe it. “You want me?” I asked, and he nodded. “Why?”

  “Because you impressed me.” Goldstein exhaled a mouthful of smoke, then looked me straight in the eye. “It took a lot of guts to steal that lifeboat the way you did, and it took even more to bring it safely to the ground. I know those lifeboats, kid…I’ve got the same type installed on my own ships…and they’re a bitch to handle. And you managed to land one on your own, with no help from either the Lee or local traffic control. Like I said, I am impressed.”

  “Thank you.” Yet I remained skeptical. “How do you know I’m not just lucky, though?”

  “Once I found out who you were, I had my people check you out. You’re a rather interesting fellow, Jules. Graduated fourth in your class at the Academia del Espacio. Served as a junior officer aboard the…what was the name of that ship?”

  “The WHSS Victory of Social Collectivism on Mars.”

  “Oh, yes. Right.” He rolled his eyes in distaste. “Never could understand the Union Astronautica’s penchant for propagandizing ship names.”
He frowned. “You might have eventually earned your captain’s bars if it hadn’t been for that business with your brother.” A pause. “You realize, of course, you could’ve saved your career if…”

  “You’re not saying anything I haven’t heard before.” I didn’t like to talk about Jim, particularly not with strangers. And so far as I was concerned, Morgan Goldstein was still little more than a rich guy who’d come to visit me in jail. “So what is it you want me to do? Be your commanding officer?”

  Goldstein stared at me for a couple of seconds, then laughed out loud. “You certainly do have balls, don’t you?” Leaning back in his chair, he shook his head in obvious amusement. “I already have a CO, son, along with a capable first officer. What I need now is someone qualified to fly a shuttle, or just about any other small craft we may have aboard.” His smile reappeared. “I had one or two other people in mind, but when I saw that you’d worked as a longshoreman on Highgate…well, I knew I had my man.”

  If he meant to knock me down a peg or two, he did a good job of doing so. So I wasn’t being recruited for the big chair, nor even for the little one, but for a task that notoriously falls to Academy wash-outs, with my former employment as a pod jockey being the final selling point. If this was a job interview, I might have been tempted to walk out of the room…if I’d been able to, that is.

  “Thanks for considering me,” I murmured, trying to keep my temper in check. “So happy to hear that I’m suitable for your needs.”

  “More than suitable. You’re the very man I’ve been looking for.” Goldstein became more somber. “That is, of course, unless you want to go home. Then all I have to do is leave and let my friends among the magistrates know that you’re not interested. In that case, they’ll call you in first thing tomorrow morning. The legal system here on Coyote may not be very merciful, but it is quick. You’ll get a fair and speedy trial, and I have little doubt that you’ll be deported. After that…” He shrugged.

  “And if I sign up with you?”

  “Then I put in a good word for you with the maggies, informing them I’m willing to post bail for you if you plead nolo contendere. You get one year probation, the government takes into consideration your petition for political amnesty, and in the meantime you go to work for me.” Another smile. “I’ll even throw in a salary commensurate with that of a first-class spacer…nonunion, of course…and see what I can do about finding you a room at an inn here in town. So what do you say?”

  As if I had a choice? Besides, I had to admit, what he was offering was tempting under any circumstances. In the Union Astronautica, I might have eventually risen to the rank of captain…in which case I would have commanded a Mars cycleship, or even a Jovian freighter, and spent my life shuffling back and forth across the solar system.

  At one time, that sort of thing had been my highest ambition. But now I was being given the chance to travel to the stars, to see things no one else in my class had ever dreamed of seeing. Sure, maybe it wasn’t going to be from the vantage point of the captain’s chair…but better this than a lifetime of sleeping on a prison cot.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’d like that very much.”

  “Excellent. Pleased to hear it.” Standing up, Goldstein dropped his cigar on the floor. “I’ll have a chat with my friends,” he said as he ground the stogie beneath the heel of his shoe, “and send someone by to pick you up tomorrow morning.” He paused to look me over. “If you have a chance, write down your clothing sizes. That’s a fine outfit you’re wearing, but totally unsuitable for life here.”

  “I will. Thank you.” All this and a trip to the tailor, too. It suddenly felt as if I’d hit the jackpot.

  But not quite. Goldstein started to walk away when another thought occurred to me. “By the way…you didn’t say what sort of cargo we’re taking to the hjadd.”

  He stopped. For a second, I thought he was going to turn around, but instead he merely glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, did I forget that? Sorry.”

  And then he disappeared. The cell-block door creaked as it was opened from the outside, then it slammed shut once more. Leaving me to wonder if I’d just talked my way out of jail or negotiated a deal with the devil.

  ( FIVE )

  Good-bye, Your Honor…

  take me out to the ball game…

  where the aliens are…

  o, Captain! my Captain!…

  a cold Rain.

  XVII

  Morgan Goldstein was true to his word.

  Early next morning, not long after Chief Levin brought in breakfast—which I didn’t mind skipping; if the eggs had been any runnier and the bacon a little less fatty, I could have raced them against each other around my plate—another proctor showed up to take me to court. I straightened my clothes as best as I could, hoped that I didn’t smell too ripe, then let him put the cuffs on me and lead me from my cell.

  Two more proctors were waiting outside the stockade, along with a wagon drawn by an animal that looked like a cross between a water buffalo and a giant anteater. At least there was one creature on Coyote who stank worse than me. The shag farted at least twice on the way across town, and I seemed to be the only one who noticed; my guard and the driver had enough sense to pull scarves up around their noses.

  I got a good look at Liberty along the way. Clapboard houses and log cabins lined packed-dirt streets; men and women in homespun clothes walked to work on wooden sidewalks raised a half foot above storm gutters. We passed a schoolyard in which a crowd of children were at play, and from somewhere far off I heard a bell-tower clock strike eight times. Here and there, I spotted indications of advanced technology—sat dishes on rooftops, a hovercoupe parked in an alley, comps on display in a shop window—but otherwise the town looked as if had been transported across time and space from nineteenth-century America. Despite the opening of the starbridges, Coyote remained a frontier where the inhabitants had learned how to make do with what they could build with their own hands. I wasn’t sure whether I liked this or not.

  We finally arrived at Government House. The wagon trundled around the statue of Captain R. E. Lee, commanding officer of the URSS Alabama and founder of the colony, and came to a halt at a side door of the two-story wood-frame building. The proctors helped me climb down from the wagon; the shag passed gas one last time as a fare-thee-well, then I was marched inside.

  A quick walk down a short corridor, and then I was escorted into a small courtroom. On the other side of a low rail, two men were seated at a long, wooden table. One of them stood up as I walked in‚ and introduced himself as my court-appointed attorney. Rail-thin and affable, with curly hair that seemed to stand on end, he seemed more like someone you’d find throwing darts in the nearest pub. Better to have him on my side, though, than the other barrister, who barely nodded in my direction before returning sour eyes to his pad; I wondered if being a prosecutor was his way of compensating for going bald before he was thirty.

  My lawyer had just finished telling me, in a low whisper, not to speak unless I was spoken to, and only then to say just what was necessary—play dumb, and let me do the talking—when another door opened and the magistrates walked in. Two men and a woman, each wearing long, black robes, all of whom looked as if they’d had lemons for breakfast. Everyone rose as they strode to the bench, and we took our seats again when they did. The Chief Magistrate picked up her gavel, gave it a perfunctory smack on the table, and called court to order, and then we were off and running.

  And I do mean running, because we were in and out of there in less than twenty minutes. The head maggie asked the prosecuting attorney if he was ready and willing to press charges against the accused, identified as Jules Truffaut. He responded that he was indeed: two counts of identity theft, possession of forged documents, stowing away aboard an interstellar vessel registered to the Coyote Federation, two counts of assault against Federation Navy officers, theft of a spacecraft registered to the Federation, unauthorized intrusion into Federation airspace, and unauthori
zed landing upon territory in possession of a Federation colony.

  I didn’t need to be familiar with Colony Law to know that I was seriously up a creek, and not just one found on this planet. Forget deportation. Considering that there was no question that I’d committed every single offense, I would be lucky if I spent the rest of my days in the stockade…if they didn’t first ship my criminal ass back to Earth.

  When the Chief Magistrate asked how I would plead, though, my attorney calmly rose to tell her that I was pleading nolo contendere to all charges, on the grounds that, as a citizen of the Western Hemisphere Union who had grievances with his government, I had been forced to defect to Coyote with the intent of requesting political asylum. The magistrates took a few minutes to study their pads and murmur to one another, and then Her Honor summoned both attorneys to the bench. They spoke for five or ten minutes, their voices too low for me to hear. The lawyers returned to their seats, and my attorney barely smiled when the Chief Magistrate announced that my case would be remanded to a future date, as yet to be determined by the court. Until then I was free on bail, which had already been posted by a third party.

  Another bang of the gavel, and it was over and done. My attorney shook my hand, wished me good luck, then turned and walked away. The last I saw of him, he and the prosecutor were ambling together from the courtroom, chuckling over some small joke I didn’t catch. The magistrates had already disappeared; a brief glimpse of black robes gliding through the anteroom door, and they were gone. Even the proctors who’d brought me took a powder after one of them came forward to release my handcuffs; he clapped me on the shoulder, told me to stay out of trouble, and followed his pal out of the room.

  All at once, I was alone. Nowhere to go, with nothing to my name save for the clothes on my back and a few bucks in my pocket. I stood there for a moment, wondering what the hell had just happened…