Galaxy Blues

by Allen Steele

  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 a uniform of any sort. Rain had changed out of her skirt into a long-sleeve 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 any minute. I noticed a battered guitar case among his belongings and wondered if he had a bottle of booze stashed in there.

  After a while, an open-air hovercart showed up, driven by a kid barely old enough to peer over the steering wheel. With mumbled apologies for being late, he helped us load our belongings into the rear, then climbed behind the wheel. The cart did a one-eighty 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 fairing, 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?”

  “Nope…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 middeck 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 went on. “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 do the hjadd want with two and a 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 was 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 anytime 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 o
paque 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 left 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 left 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 froglike 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 my left hand, 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 weaved back and forth 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 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 that 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 there 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 to check the control panels; the layout was slightly different from the one I’d learned to use in the tutorial, but otherwise it was 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 duct tape. I’d been in flight simulators that were in better shape.

  As pilot and copilot, Ted and I were the first to climb aboard, with the rest of the crew following us through the hatch to take seats on 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 had 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 rollback. 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 that 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 this. 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 us leapt 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 that 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 copacetic, 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?”