Galaxy Blues by Allen Steele

Emissary. And they were in the same room, seated across the table from me…and I hadn’t even heard that they’d gotten married.
    Ted looked as if he was ready to blow a mouthful of beer through his nose. He swallowed with difficulty, then looked at Emily. “Morgan certainly enjoys his little games,” he grumbled, then returned his attention to me. “Yes, you’ve found us out. Not that we were trying to keep it from you, but—”
    â€œKeep what from whom?” a voice said from behind me, and I looked around to see a girl about four or five years younger than me. Shoulder-length hair the color of cinnamon, a narrow but pleasant face, nicely curved everywhere that mattered. Incredible eyes, the shade of green you find at twilight on a midsummer day.
    And then she looked at me and said, “Who the hell is this?” Like I was a bug she’d happened to find.
    â€œEnsign…sorry, I mean Jules Truffaut,” Ted said. “He’s our shuttle pilot.”
    â€œYeah. Okay.” She started to sit down but waited while the bartender hobbled over to the table with a fresh pitcher of ale. Carrie placed a mug in front of me, then quietly pulled back a chair for the girl. “Thanks, Carrie,” she said, giving the old lady a sweet smile. “Oh, by the way…” She crooked a finger, and Carrie bent closer while the younger woman murmured something in her ear. She nodded, then stood erect and shuffled back to the bar.
    â€œWhat was that about?” I asked once she was gone.
    â€œNo more paper in the outhouse. Thought she should know.” She shook her head, then glanced at the pitcher with distaste. “You guys already on another round? For the love of—”
    â€œYou can have mine.” I picked up my mug, offered it to her. “Too early for me.”
    â€œDon’t drink.” Ignoring me, she looked at Ted. “So who’s keeping what from whom?”
    â€œNever mind.” Ted picked up the pitcher and reached for his mug. “Jules, allow me to introduce you to Rain Thompson. Our quartermaster and cargo officer.”
    â€œHappy to meet you. I—”
    â€œLikewise.” Rain barely glanced my way. “Skipper, I just saw Morgan’s limo pull up. Looks like he’s brought someone with him…besides his bodyguard, I mean.”
    â€œIf you mean Mike Kennedy, I believe he prefers to be regarded as a valet.” Ted frowned. “Probably our other passenger. Anyone you recognize?”
    â€œNope. Thought it might be this guy here”—meaning me—“but now that I know better…” She shrugged.
    I was still trying to figure out what it was about me that put her off so much, or if she was naturally rude to people whom she’d just met, when the door opened and there was Goldstein. He hesitated just inside the door, looking back for a moment as if to see if someone was following him, then walked into the tavern. I noticed that he left the door open behind him…not by accident, but deliberately, as if to give someone lingering just outside a chance to make up his or her mind whether to come in.
    â€œGentlemen, ladies…good to see you again.” He stopped just behind my chair, placed his hand on my shoulder. “You found your way here, Jules. Excellent. And I trust you’ve introduced yourself to everyone?”
    â€œYes, sir, I have. Thank you, Mr. Goldstein.” From the corner of my eye, I caught a sour look on Ted’s face. Perhaps I was coming off as being just a little too deferential to a boss whom no one seemed to respect very much. No one likes a brownnose, especially when he’s the new kid in town. “I didn’t have any trouble finding my way here,” I added. “All I had to do was follow the cockroaches.”
    No one laughed. There was a cold silence as everyone stared at me. “If there are any cockroaches here,” Rain